One Month Later
Ragnar grit his teeth as Cloud brought down Event Horizon onto Ragnarok. It was amazing how strong he was, despite the fact he didn't look much bigger than him. He had to dig his feet in and struggle to hold back against him. Cloud pressed his own face in with his own teeth gritting, and the two men nearly touched as they shoved their weapons against each other. But in the end, Ragnar managed to twist his arms down, causing Cloud's own sword to be deflected. As the ex-mercenary's blade fell, Ragnar leapt back and got an opening. He then quickly darted forward again for the kill. However, Cloud was too quick. Though his main blade was still to the ground, it took only an instant for him to move one hand off of the handle, down to the sword, and then break off his smaller blade. As Ragnar advanced, Cloud began to back off, and blocked three successive strikes from the young general with his smaller sword. This was before he brought up both this blade and the larger one in a scissor grab, intercepting Ragnarok and forcing it into the air. Soon, both men were caught with their blades over their heads. Now open, Cloud took the opportunity to raise his foot and give Ragnar a powerful blow to the stomach.
The air went rushing out of the young man's lungs as the power of the hit sent him flying backward. He collided on the ground a moment later, the force of the attack causing his muscles to turn to jelly momentarily, leading him to release Ragnarok and let it fall to the ground at his side. Cloud, on his part, lowered his own weapons, but didn't rush in for the "kill". It was already obvious to both that he had won this spar again. After all…he always won. Instead, he put his two swords together again as he looked to Ragnar. The young general winced and rolled a bit for a moment, raising a hand to his middle. But in the end, he sat up, and managed to breathe more easily and recover. When he did, he looked up to Cloud again. His face became hopeful.
"See? It's not so bad."
Cloud gave a half-frown in response…although he had to admit, the kid was right. Cloud was currently dressed in a tan uniform similar to Ragnar's color. However, unlike him, his boots were more combat orientated, his pants were looser, and he wore only a shorter shirt with a sleeveless t-shirt underneath, lacking the uniform aspect. He did have embroidered patches on the arms of this shirt emphasizing his rank, and he did have a patch over his breast reading "General Cloud Strife" as well as a small flag over it showing that he had been involved in the Battle of the Cetra Valley. But it was still more organized for combat. Over his shirt, he wore a heavy set of shoulder and torso armor, similar to the kind he had worn years ago, only this time covering both halves of his upper body. These too were large and enabled mobility. Cloud's uniform had many modifications to it over the standard fair, per his request. He honestly couldn't find much wrong with it. But he sure wasn't going to admit that…
"I guess I can fight well enough in it." Cloud finally admitted, before putting his sword away and stepping forward to help Ragnar up.
The young man grinned, having known Cloud long enough at this point to know that meant he thought it was good. Moments later, he let Cloud take his hand and yank him back up to his feet. Once there, he turned to the side to take up his own discarded weapon.
The past month of reprieve from attack had been a big one for the emerging Planet Protector Army. News of their victory had helped generate more support for their forces. Ragnar's message continued to spread on the mainland, and he had issued two other messages since their first victory that also helped to recruit new followers. Shortly after the battle, they had managed to acquire a two old tugboats. Using them, they were able to ship supplies and troops more easily. Now, the town had swelled to having an army of a thousand. They had more tents now, and the area of the City of the Ancients had been divided into a true military encampment. There were specific barrack tents, command areas, supply tents, and other zones arranged in a sort of street format that constantly had traffic moving through it, be it families, soldiers, or playing children. They had more official mess areas now, ten different divisions, and true doctors and medical facilities. They no longer had to worry about shipping injuredpeople out. They didn't have the best care in the world, but they could manage them here.
They had divided their materia orbs again at this point, increasing their supply. They had plenty of ammunition and even more guns. They had managed to get two reclaimed artillery units from the Wutai-Shinra War and had them refurbished and armed, although they still needed a lot more. They had placed both at the barricade they had made in the last battle. They also had about eight heavy machine guns at this point, and had strategically placed them too. Their basic siegecraft had been improved and totally rearmed. They also had true armor and barricade material, rather than just whatever they could find. The valley was well protected.
The army was far better trained by now. They had more time to get them in shape and teach them how to use their weapons. The original three divisions could operate like a true military at this point, following orders and carrying out commands that required teamwork. Thanks to the training, they were also pretty deadly and formidable in combat. They had quite a few specialists in guns. Some soldiers had so much skill that Cloud started to train them in using swords, although there were only a fistful of them so far. In terms of hand-to-hand combat, only Zola and Noonian excelled among the raw recruits. They were fast and powerful in training, and they stunned Ragnar as well as his friends.
All in all, things were looking well. The army was more organized and better-equipped than it had ever been. They still needed more, but they were growing in strength. Ragnar hoped they could have a few more weapons, but for now all they could get were former wrecks or leftovers. New Shinra had been too thorough in cleaning up. However, they were accumulating more funds. Right now, the PPA was worth about 400,000 gil. Reeve had suggested investing that in a weapons firm, to actually set factories to work manufacturing artillery for them. That unnerved the young man a little…and so he had not elected in favor of it. That didn't mean things would change soon…
Ragnar had just finished taking up his sword to put it away when he heard a loud beeping from his side. The young general turned his head down, and looked to one of the latest additions to the army: walkie-talkies. He looked to Cloud for a moment, who only responded by looking up to him, and then turned back down to his side. He readily removed it, brought it to his mouth, and pressed the talk button.
"General Ragnar here, over."
There was a pause of silence, and then a crackle of static before a calm voice came through.
"This is Colonel Nanaki, General. We have a problem. We need your presence immediately, over."
Ragnar paused after hearing this, but in the end nodded. "Alright, we'll be right there. Over and out."
The young general clicked off his walkie-talkie and brought it back to his belt. As he did, he slowly sighed. His face began to look a bit troubled. He turned slightly behind him, looking back to Cloud. The man shrugged in resposne.
"It was going to happen sometime, kid. Just feel lucky that we had this much time between battles."
Ragnar exhaled and frowned, then shook his head and turned away from Cloud and back to the city. He immediately began to walk in that direction, already planning on going to the meeting tent. Cloud quickly fell in behind and walked after him. "I just wish we would have had more time… I wanted us to at least be up to 20,000 ourselves…"
"Can't always get what you want." Cloud simply answered. He ended that with a chuckle. "Come to think of it, where I'm concerned…we never get what we want."
Ragnar chuckled a bit himself at that, but then stayed silent. He and Cloud continued to walk forward. They usually trained on the outskirts of the City of the Ancients, although the inner area usually remained clear. Near the forest was just what they were used to. At any rate, one could barely see the city that much any more. With all the tents erected, it looked much more like a military encampment. However, Ragnar kept treating the city with respect. He didn't allow anyone to abuse it or deface it in any way. All latrines were outside of the camp, and people caught damaging or spreading graffiti on it were immediately punished. For the most part, people obeyed what he said, and for that he was grateful.
As they passed into the tent area, the two men went by a ramshackle sentry tower. It was really just a crow's nest with a single sniper on top of it, but it was better than nothing for now. It wasn't like they truly had to worry about what would come from the south, anyway. After this, they entered the "streets" of the camp, or the drags through the tents on either side. There was quite a bit going on here. Some people were moving supplies or weapons around on wheelbarrows and carts. One platoon of soldiers was marched by in neat rank and file, much better than last month. They wore their own tan combat uniforms now. The two men passed by a standard of the Planet Protector Army next, a white flag on a post that had a symbol of a shell in the center of it. It wasn't much right now, but it did represent the city where they were founded. Perhaps they'd do more to it later. Beneath the standard, a few children ran around kicking a muddy ball through the lanes. A few stopped and waved to the generals as they passed. Ragnar waved back and Cloud gave a nod, but then went on afterward.
After weaving their way through the camp for a little while, the two finally saw the meeting tent up ahead. It actually had its own standard, as well as a message on the side saying that it was for authorized personnel only. There were no guards here, but it didn't really matter. There wasn't anything in there to hide from the rest of the army. Cloud and Ragnar marched up to the closed flap. The latter pushed it back and walked right in with Cloud on his heels.
The interior hadn't changed much. There were still chairs making one side of the tent mostly a theater, while a table in front set the place up as a speaker's area. However, there was a real podium there now, and a projection screen was rolled up against the back canvas wall. There was also a map of their area posted, with a few icons tacked on representing their position and the enemy's. The main table itself had a map and a few figurines to represent positions and units. They were being used now. When Ragnar entered, he saw that Colonel Red XIII and Cait Sith were standing over it, with the stuffed cat pointing out areas on the map, and having the beast move figurines to the appropriate location. Aside from them, there were only two other officers in the area. Barret, with his normally grumpy expression, was leaned back in one chair with his arms crossed in front of him. Tifa was standing and looking partially at the table. However, when the two entered, she turned her full attention to Cloud and Ragnar instead.
Red XIII himself looked up from the map and leveled his one good eye at them when they arrived. He looked to Cloud and ran his gaze over him a moment first. "So you finally decided to wear the uniform." He addressed. "Good. I was about to complain about my own on the grounds that if you were not wearing yours, I would prefer to have mine off as well." Here, the creature indicated to his torso. A tan sash was across it, bearing the credits and distinction of Red XIII's rank. Naturally, Ragnar didn't expect him to wear a full uniform, but he thought this alone was necessary.
"I hope you didn't interrupt our sparring just to complain about the uniforms." Cloud stoicly answered.
"Not at all." Red XIII readily answered, turning his head back to the table before him. "Cait Sith here has just brought us word that we have trouble coming again from the north."
Ragnar frowned again and let out a slow exhale. So much for their break. He readily stepped forward to the map that the lion/wolf had set out. Cloud himself stepped up a bit, but then stood with his arms crossed. Barret snorted a bit from where he was. "So they're finally back… Took 'em long enough. Guess they had to cry for a while after how hard we spanked 'em."
"Personally, I hoped they would have stayed off a bit longer…" Tifa threw in uneasily. "But I guess we should be thankful that we got a whole month out of it."
"How bad is it?" Ragnar asked as he leaned over the map.
Cait Sith responded by pointing to the same area where the previous enemy encampment had been. His plush face twisted into anxiety. "They're not kidding around this time…assuming they were kidding around last time. They're sending two armies. That brings them up to over 40,000 troops."
Cloud's normally stern face actually widened a bit. "…40,000?" He echoed in some amazement. "Are they planning on making us run out of ammunition or something?"
Ragnar himself was a bit surprised…but not incredibly. After all…their army of 20,000 had proved to be futile against their group. It only made sense to send more. He looked a bit troubled at the map for a little while, but in the end gave a shrug. "Well…if they think the answer to this problem is to just send more at us, then they're in for a surprise. We still have the same size bottleneck. In the end, they'll only prolong how long it takes to beat them. And we're much better equipped this time."
"I was thinking similar thoughts." Red XIII answered, turning his head up to the general. "Which is exactly why I'm worried. They have to know what kind of defenses we have ready for them, and they have to have assumed that we have only dug ourselves in deeper than before. So why try simply sending more units at us?"
Barret snorted from where he was. "Who gives a damn. They're Shinra. They're stupid."
Ragnar, however, didn't take that comment as reassuring. Now that Red XIII brought that up…he too began to feel nervous. And he wasn't alone. He looked up to Cloud and Tifa, and saw that their faces were likewise turning to unease, and they stared back at the map uncomfortably. In the end, the general himself turned back to the map and shook his head. "Nanaki's right. This does seem too stupid. They have real military officers running their group. After the massacre we gave them last time, it'd be foolish to assume they were overconfident enough to think they could beat us just by overwhelming us with superior numbers. There's something not right here. They have to be planning something else."
Tifa continued to look uneasy, and crossed her arms and rubbed them uncomfortably before looking up to Ragnar. "Like what?"
"Maybe a new weapon…maybe a new strategy…" Cloud suggested.
Ragnar frowned again. "Whatever it is, I don't feel like waiting until the day of battle to find out." He looked up to Cait Sith shortly after. "How soon until they get here?"
"That's another thing." The stuffed robot replied uneasily. "They're already set up in the former camp. They're poised to march on us immediately. But my radio overheard their transmissions. They're supposed to wait there until tomorrow night. Then, they're supposed to march, but not be on us until about noon on the next day."
The others hesitated again at this, even Barret. He too could see that this wasn't right. Something was up. The enemy was trying some new strategy. Uneasily, they turned and looked up to one another, each one exchanging the same uncomfortable look. In the end, Ragnar inhaled once more and turned back to Cait Sith. His face became firmand commanding.
"…Cait…get back to their camp and find out as much information you can on how they plan to attack or what they plan to use. In the meantime…let's see if we can do anything to fortify our placement from last time, and get ready for the next battle."
Maritza set a similar case on the table to the one she had a month ago. However, on undoing the latches and opening it, she revealed something very different. A single, long, segmented device was there instead. She removed it at once, revealing that it had a set of wheels underneath each segment, and small sensors on the metal portion that looked like the "head". The woman beamed at her mechanincal triumph, setting it down on the table for all of the members at the meeting to see.
"Lovely, isn't it?" She announced. "I call it the 'ferret'. Motorized rock climbing grenade. Works on radio. A surveyor in a tank scans ahead and plots the potential areas. Then you set this baby to key in on the nearest one, up to about five hundred feet, and let it go. It'll climb sheer rock walls, roll to the coordinate, and then go off. Far more accurate, and far less conspicuous, than an RPG. The army doesn't have to worry about rockslides with this. The enemy will never see it coming. The last sound they'll hear is the miniature motor coming to a stop."
General Leers gave a nod from the head of the table. It was another meeting again…minus one member, of course, and plus an additional…"civilian". He was pleased with Maritza's work. She always found a way to get around a problem. It was her idea to build the Dome…and she had managed to make the experimental shield work. She also had detailed the plan for their ultimate weapon… But for now, he ignored that. The important thing was that she had found a way to deal with the enemy enclaves on the cliff walls. He was tempted to ignore the advice of their new "ally" in the wake of this, feeling that these "ferrets" would be enough…
A dark snort came from the opposite end of the table. "More children's toys, I see…"
Leers' expression turned dark, as he looked ahead to who had spoken. The other officers did as well, in addition to an indignant Maritza. By now, the General could weather this man well enough…despite the fact that the room always seemed to turn five degrees cooler as well as dimmer whenever he entered it. Everyone else was still rather uneasy. There was already a chair space between the end of the table and the officers…but now they backed away even more.
Nrevyw kept his small smile on his white, thin face as he regarded the new weapon with disdain. "This won't work, in addition to any other plan your small, temporal brains can think of, unless you trust in me."
Leers gave a frown in response, and leaned forward. "I told you that you would get your shot. You have until tomorrow night to do it, and yet I see you're still sitting here insulting our own plans."
"You should be kissing my feet." Nrevyw answered nonchalantly. "In two days, you will have wiped out their entire army thanks to me, which is something not even 20,000 of you were able to accomplish."
"I still have little reason to believe you're not a spy for them, no matter how much loathing you have for them…or seem to have." Leers retorted, still sharp and cold. "So you better be gone by the time we march in, or I won't hesitate to have you shot too."
Nrevyw merely snickered at this, seeming to find it genuinely amusing. Any threat that Leers made he reacted to as if it was a joke. The general frowned more at this, getting tired of having to deal with him. The dark man simply leaned back and waved a hand.
"Don't worry…this has been ordained since the beginning of time. Fate is on our side." Nrevyw calmly continued. "Just have your men ready to march on what's left of their army in two days. You can bring those little…" Here, he waved a dismissive hand at Martiza, causing the woman to glare daggers at him. "Weasels…or whatever you call them along if you like. But you won't be needing them. Just leave everything to me."
A day later, and the camp seemed even more like a military outpost.
With the news of the coming conflict announced, everyone was scrambling to get ready. Most of them would soon be seeing combat for the first time. Luckily, there were enough "veterans" to keep them in line. Children were being moved to safe areas. Weapons and ammunition were being carted to the front lines. Soldiers were being fully equipped and briefed on their responsibilities. People were running everywhere, getting the camp ready to weather an assault and preparing to move out.
Despite the news of the coming danger, most of the new recruits were enthusiastic. After all, their force had wiped out the enemy in much worse odds. They believed that the same would happen again, especially now that the odds were actually a bit better. They didn't realize that they were still severely outnumbered, nor did they care. Most of the newest members of the army weren't older men and veterans…but were raw, young, idealistic people. They were college students and environmentalists, loving the chance to literally fight for the well-being of the Planet. Some of them were far more reckless and wild than Ragnar, or anyone else, wanted. They hadn't seen anyone die around them their entire lives, and had a somewhat skewed and heroic vision of war. Nevertheless, their enthusiasm was welcome for now, and they were eager to see action for the first time.
And because of this, the air around the camp was that they would win again. They believed in their general, the mysterious ex-prisoner who had rallied them through his address to his cause. He was a hero for their generation, not so much because of his story as his act of "raging against the machine", so to speak. Ragnar didn't very well like that sort of reputation either. This wasn't about rebelling against an old authority or government to him. This was about making the world safe for everyone. Nevertheless, it did bring more to his cause, as did the legends about how he fought in battle. Young people didn't realize how much they still had to lose and what was ahead of them, and in their "live hard, die young" mentality, they were far more inclined to fight for a heroic cause. They relished the opportunity to do something such as this as they went around the camp.
That wasn't all, however. Ragnar wasn't aware of this, but when he spoke…he seemed to gain a new power. Some sort of inner light and force took control of him, and he transformed into another person. He turned into one that others believed in and trusted, and his feelings of passion and determination bled into them. His resolve became their resolve. He didn't know it…but many of them stayed and remained brave because he was certain and steadfast, committed to his goal. And as such, they too felt inspired and driven by him, the one whose words had persuaded them in the first place, and stayed at his side.
Night was falling on the next day when things began to wind down. The army had well prepared itself. They had four times as much ammunition at the overhead attack points, and they had built small barriers around them, knowing that the enemy would try to hit them in advance this time. They had more strategically placed charges for rockslides as well, and had them set by remote. They had more batteries for guns in play, and even a couple of artillery units to handle any approaching tanks. Everyone was well armed, and there were enough helmets for more than half of them. They were also far more accurate than last time. As the units started to turn in at dusk, getting a good night's rest for tomorrow's conflict, they felt certain that victory would be theirs again.
Confidence such as this…echoing loudly in the thoughts of the hundreds in the camp…was one reason why Bahamut felt worry.
Getting into camp was easy. There weren't enough restricted areas or people in uniform for soldiers to mind a civilian or two wandering around. To them, the mountain man looked like just another resident of the compound. As such, Bahamut found it surprisingly easy to slip in and lean against a pole bearing the standard of Ragnar's new "Planet Protector Army". He stood now with his arms crossed and his beaten clothing hanging off of him. His wide-brimmed hat was pulled low over his face, and his long white hair was put under it. He hadn't seen his pupil, but he didn't want to risk him picking up on him so soon. Knowing that his mere existence could signify his presence to Ragnar, as familiar with him as he was, Bahamut also suppressed his aura slightly.
The esper kept his human arms crossed and looked up disdainfully every time he saw an eager new recruit or a pair of soldiers talking about how they were eager to kill tomorrow. They were fools. They had no idea what war was really like. It was small wonder that humans had been so fond of war. Young as they were, lacking the wisdom that came with age, they were prone to making deadly mistakes. He hoped that Ragnar knew what he was doing by recruiting them.
That wasn't to say he wasn't pleased with his progress. Oh no…he was very impressed with how he had handled the Battle of Cetra Valley. But he still feared for him. He was still young and inexperienced, and his army was barely anything more than a gang of guerillas. He didn't feel confident enough yet to totally leave his side and return to Etteca. Despite his earlier statement of intent, Bahamut felt like hanging around a bit longer to keep an eye on him. Seeing the rawness of the recruits only strengthened his resolve in that sense.
However…that wasn't the only reason he stayed.
It wasn't the main one either.
Bahamut had not felt safe since he saw Zola and Noonian. He detected no lie on the mind of Zola, and since then, as he had been secretly watching and scanning him, he saw no sign of trickery either. Even a creature such as him was unable to keep his mind filled with false emotions all the time. And Bahamut could see through simple tricks with his new mind anyway. But seeing those two…seeing that they still lived…and were so close to the young man he had trained…he didn't feel at all at ease. Had Bahamut lacked a sense of justice, he would have simply gone up to Zola and Noonian and killed them both to be done with it. So far, they seemed genuine enough…
But Bahamut was feeling more uneasy over the past month. Something cold grasped him in his sleep, and he woke up panting from some nameless, formless fear. He would wander around the campground unseen sometimes…and then would catch a breeze of something familiar… It brought back old memories…dark memories. His flesh kept crawling from time to time…and his mind burned. It couldn't be possible… Even if he had survived the journey into space, his body was at least as ruined as Bahamut's had been. Returning to an environment with an atmosphere would have done nothing more than finished off what was left of his barely-living corpse… He had to be gone now…at least drifting endlessly in the void of space…
The road slowly began to clear around Bahamut. People weren't going to bed all together, but they were moving all to the side roads, and leaving the main drag clear save for a few people walking by. As night fell, the electric lights that had been mounted around the camp began to come on. Bahamut was soon alone against the post, and being bathed in pale white light. The esper slowly inhaled and exhaled. His precognition was still working, in a sense. He hadn't encountered anymore visions with the strange boy and doors…but whenever he meditated, he received general visions. The general one this time was showing that there was danger coming…something very bad and sinister. Every day that passed it came closer. And now, on the eve of battle, Bahamut felt as if it was almost right on top of them…
"…Mr. Tumahab."
Bahamut's ear raised at that…before his body turned rigid. It wasn't just to the name…but to the voice.
At once, his mind went blank. His blue eyes shrank into pupils. His mouth loosened. His heart froze in terror.
Impossible…
He's dead…
And yet, the same feeling of ice water running in his veins…the same feeling of his stomach turning into a knot…and the same feeling of horror as the familiar smell filled his nostrils occurred. It couldn't be true…
But…somehow…he had felt it this whole time. He had feared it more than anything…yet knew it was coming. He had always known. That was why he had stayed. Slowly, his head turned to his left.
The rest of the world seemed to go silent as the black boots slowly stepped against the rough ground. Each step was firm and hollow, and yet echoed down the entire lane. His black coat swept behind him like a living shadow. His white hands with long, talon-like nails were in fists and slowly swung next to him. His whole body seemed to be moving in slow motion. The whole world seemed to have slowed…all to focus on his arrival. His perfect black hair hung back over his head, and he smiled with a look that could curdle milk as his blood-red eyes focused on Bahamut's own.
Bahamut somehow willed himself to shut his mouth. He also managed to make himself stand. Despite the terror in his heart, the fear and shock gripping his soul, he forced himself to turn to him. His memory…filled with horrible pain…and the agony of death…began to flood his body with almost paralyzing thoughts. He felt colder just standing up to him…and yet he forced himself to take a few steps toward him. The living demon continued to calmly approach, smiling at him the whole time. He felt no fear whatsoever. He never feared Bahamut…only increased Bahamut's fear of him with every battle…making him associate his very face with agony and despair…turning himself into a living nightmare. Bahamut felt that same terror inside him, knowing the power and darkness within the man before him, as he came to a halt and waited for him to finish approaching. It took all he had to keep himself from panicking and keep a straight face as the man halted in front of him moments later.
Wyvern's smile widened a bit. "You seem a little surprised to see me. Are you?"
Bahamut glared expressionlessly back. For a few moments, he stayed totally silent. But in the end, he inhaled deeply. "…No, actually." He finally admitted.
Wyvern let out a small snort. "Good. That means you may finally be growing aware of the truth."
"And what truth would that be?" Bahamut instantly answered.
Wyvern smiled and chuckled again in response. "I think you know the truth already, Bahamut. Or if you don't…then you're either a fool, which I know you aren't…or you're lying to yourself. It becomes more and more obvious every time we meet."
"Why don't you enlighten me?" Bahamut asked with feigned interest.
The dark esper before him narrowed his gaze and smiled further. "…For years now…centuries…you have thought that I was the crazy one, Bahamut. You thought my plans were mad. You thought my purposes were misguided. You thought that your own way was the only thing that could truly matter, and that it, in fact, was the right way. And yet…in spite of doing so…throughout history…each and every one of your intentions has failed and been destroyed. Your Paladin…your dragoons…Terratopolis…the summoners…the children you spawned…even Terra and her little whelps. Each and every one of your plans for this world…your noble visions…have been crushed into nothingness, and have joined you in whatever grave I managed to throw you into.
"Yet time and time again…you keep coming back. You keep returning, and renewing whatever vision you have for Gaia. And what else happens, inevitably, is that I come back. I come back to destroy you, and you destroy me, and this world goes on without us. How strange…don't you think? No matter where you are…no matter where you come from…we always manage to meet up with each other again to renew our inevitable conflict.
"Certainly you must see the obviousness of the truth now, Bahamut. I'll admit, it deluded me for years as well. But now I see it…and the more I see it the more obvious it becomes. Don't you realize it at this point? None of our fights were due to coincidence or luck. It is by no circumstance that we two espers have so long outlived our race, and that time and destiny keeps our immortal battle going on every time we do. What you have denied for so long time and history has made truth."
"What truth?" Bahamut asked again, still unchanged.
Wyvern's smile widened again. "That you, Bahamut, are a curse upon Gaia…and that I am your ordained punishment for your sins."
Bahamut was stunned into silence at that sort of response…and yet it was said with such deadly seriousness that it rippled through his body with a new cold sensation.
"Look at you, Bahamut. Look at what you've done." Wyvern continued. "Ever since you betrayed me, each one of your plans ended in failure. The Paladin and dragoon used their powers to oppress their fellow man. The descendants of the summoners you let live enslaved your family and your people. Terratopolis, the great dwelling place…or should I say hiding place…of your race turned into a slaughterhouse. Your beloved's descendants live on a barren waste of a land where they are the lowliest of all people. Everything you've ever tried to do has been for nothing, and has only sped this world along on destruction.
"And the reason for all of this is simple…yet a truth you have refused to accept ever since it became obvious… You were supposed to die in that fight with Griever…die giving your brother the power he needed to win. After that, it was him, not you, that was supposed to usher in an era of peace on this world. But you undermined him. You hated him. You took the position of nobility and greatness from him, stabbing him in the back and sentencing him to banishment."
"You were the one who left, and refused to come back no matter how sorry I was." Bahamut accused.
Wyvern merely snorted. "All these years, Bahamut…you think I've been the one with the false memories. Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps I remember things the way they really are, and that you are the one who has been painting the illusions?"
The esper hesitated at that, surprised at such a response, and showed it.
"How many times have you warped my words, hm? How many times have you distorted my intentions, and the intentions of the Planet? How many things have you twisted from her so that it suited you? Think about it, Bahamut. See the obviousness of it all. See that I'm not lying. Without fail…I have been stronger than you for generations. And without fail…every time you come back from the dead, I come back stronger. Every time, I nearly kill you…and only luck saves you. I die again and again…only to come back stronger each time, no matter how much stronger you become. And during this time, everything that you worked for passes away and dies…and yet you remain. Both you and I remain. You keep coming back, trying to remake this world in your image…never once realizing the truth.
"The truth is that the Planet doesn't want your image for this world, Bahamut. The truth is that fate has ordained that all of your misguided creations will be destroyed, bringing chaos to the world in their wake. Don't you realize that now? Or have you been deluding yourself with more false memories to believe it wasn't so?"
Bahamut froze at this. He had dismissed Wyvern as mad long ago, and didn't pay any attention to his words. But now…he hesitated. There was some truth in what he said. He had to stop to think about it momentarily. It was true...all of Bahamut's hopes and dreams for this world…all of his attempts to remake it and help it…all of them had failed in the end. Every one of his creations had died. Every one of his wishes had faded. And now…there was only him left on this world. His race was gone. His home was gone. His noble races of humans were gone. What was left was a hedonistic world that didn't believe in him or in the sacredness of life or nature. His policy of non-involvement eventually led to humanity becoming greater than his race…and then treating them like sheep for the slaughter. And the last part was true as well… No matter what happened…no matter what the circumstances…Wyvern kept coming back with him…and always stronger.
"Do you understand yet, Bahamut? Can you finally accept the truth that the Planet itself shoves in your face? I keep returning because you refuse to stay dead. I keep coming back now to destroy all that you create. I keep fighting you because you keep existing. The world itself declared who was to be the next ruler…and yet you have twisted and ruined everything to bring that about for ages now. Now…I am the expression of vengeance. I am your shadow…the guilt on your conscience…the image of the brother you betrayed and spurned… I will never die, never pass on, never rest…so long as you continue to come back. Hell opens wide to consume you for your sin…and so long as you keep snatching yourself from its mouth I will be here to force you back into it. I will give you the eternity of pain you thought you could get away from. And I will never…ever be gone. No matter how many times you destroy me…fate will always bring me back again and again and again…until you finally accept your punishment for your sin."
The esper stared back at the smiling face in utter silence. As he did…he felt a fearful possibility begin to turn in him. Until now, he could dismiss this as lunacy…but was he kidding himself? Wyvern did keep coming back…no matter what happened to him. Planets and death couldn't keep him back. He just kept returning, and each time was worse. The odds were horribly against him…and yet he kept defying them...
What if he was telling the truth? What if fate was indeed on his side, bringing him back each time he killed him?
What if he was supposed to die?
But that was impossible…why should he? Unless…Wyvern was telling the truth. Unless he was wrong. Unless…he truly was remembering things incorrectly… What if, after all these years…he was the one who was kidding himself? What if he was the shadow to Wyvern's substance, and not the other way around? He could almost see himself doing the things he was accused of…casting Wyvern out…feeling, in his heart of hearts, jealous of him…
No…
What am I doing?
Abruptly, Bahamut turned violent. Gnashing his teeth, his eyes turning serpentine in anger, he seized Wyvern by the collar. Violently, he twisted him around and flung him against the post. He held him in the air as his own nails lengthened into talons, and glared at him with killer intent.
"Liar!"
Wyvern didn't even change his expression, but looked perfectly calm as he stared down at Bahamut. "Deluding yourself again I see…even as your own insane, irrational rage against me comes out." He simply answered. "Perhaps you truly are blind…or crazy…to not see it."
"Shut up!" Bahamut yelled back, nearly turning bestial in his roar. "What do you want?"
"To take away everything from you…again and again for the rest of eternity. I am your personal Hell made flesh."
Bahamut's thoughts suddenly turned to Ragnar. On realizing that, his own skin turned slightly white. Immediately, his anger doubled and he shoved Wyvern harder.
"If you lay a finger on him, I'll-"
Bahamut was cut off as Wyvern snapped his hands around and grasped his own. Immediately…he increased the pressure. It soon felt like Bahamut's hands were being crushed in metal vices. The anger slowly faded on Bahamut's face. It was replaced with a look of first shock, and then agony. He struggled to withstand it…but even in his new body, Wyvern was easily hurting him. The dark esper didn't even change his expression, or look the slightest bit strained. He quite calmly pulled Bahamut's hands off of him, even as the esper struggled to fight back, and then lowered himself to the ground. He placed Bahamut's agonized limbs back at his sides, never losing his smile in the least.
"You'll do what?" Wyvern innocently asked as he released Bahamut's limbs.
The esper shot his hands back immediately…and struggled to keep from showing the horrible, throbbing pain that now traveled up and down his arms. He struggled his best to ball his hands into fists, and glare back at Wyvern defiantly. But it didn't matter. The deed was done, and Wyvern had proven himself the stronger yet again. Bahamut couldn't understand it. He had come back stronger again. How? How could anything be made more powerful than this ZERO body? Was it just his human form that was this weak?
"Besides…I don't think you really want to fight me here…" Wyvern continued, gesturing around himself. "We wouldn't want your precious army to be destroyed by a stray breath attack, now would we? Don't worry about your new pet, however. I won't lay a finger on him."
Bahamut glared back at him. "What about the army?"
"I don't care about them nearly so much as you. I promise you…I won't hurt any one of them."
"Bull."
Wyvern shrugged. "Call it whatever you want. I've said my piece. I'm done here."
"Oh no you're not." Bahamut shot back. "If you want to settle this, then let's get it over with already."
Wyvern merely smiled in response…
And then disappeared into thin air.
Bahamut's eyes widened. Immediately, he darted his head around the area in confusion. Had he moved so fast that Bahamut hadn't even seen him? That didn't seem possible…not with his new eyes, no matter how strong he had become. However, as Bahamut scanned his surroundings, trying to see where he fled…he sensed nothing. No energy spikes. No retreating power. That was crazy… He had to have fled. And at that speed, he had to have left some sort of signature…
Suddenly…Bahamut noticed something. While trying to scan, he sensed something wrong in his mind. Some sort of anomaly. He hesitated on realizing this. For a moment, he paused, but then closed his eyes and focused. He sought the anomaly out in his brain…and soon made a horrifying discovery. It was some sort of block on his senses…some sort of mind trick or control.
Wyvern had mastered the ability to use his psychic powers.
Bahamut sweat in response to this, and angrily removed the block. This was not good. The one advantage he always had against Wyvern was that the latter never mastered his latent mental abilities. But now, he knew what had happened. Wyvern had inserted a mind control message into his brain that told Bahamut that he had vanished. Bahamut hadn't expected any sort of mental attack since he had been rebuilt. As such…he didn't know he was being attacked until it was too late. This was very bad. With the ability to use mind control…it would be child's play for Wyvern to seize total control of thousands. Perhaps that was what he truly meant when he said that he wouldn't hurt any of them…
Bahamut had to find him. Immediately, he stretched out his senses again. But even with the block removed, he sensed nothing. The esper grew frightened for a moment, knowing that Wyvern could have gone anywhere during that time. He could have leaned right next to Bahamut and whispered in his ear, and he wouldn't have known. After a moment of searching, however, he cursed himself again. Of course. With the ability to use his psychic powers, he probably had learned how to fully manipulate his own energy. He had totally suppressed his signature. It would be impossible to locate him like this.
Cursing himself yet again, Bahamut turned and began to pass into the camp. He had to work fast. He quickly began to stretch his own mental powers out, and envelope as many people as he could. Even he couldn't do a decent barrier on everyone, but he had to try. If Wyvern planned on seizing control of anyone, he had to try and undo it as quickly as it happened. And he had to keep an eye on Ragnar. Based on what the madman had said…he'd go for him in one way or another…
"Why don't you just make a new Tri-blade?"
Zola merely smiled in response as he ran the stone along the surface of his weapon. "I kind of like this sharpening thing they do. It doubles the use. Besides…you know how much calcium I have to eat to make one of these?"
Noonian merely sighed and leaned back on her own cot. Although both she and Zola were lieutenants, they kept their own tent separate. Part of it was due to executive privilege…but part of it was also due to reasons obvious to themselves. Noonian, after five hundred years, still hated to show her naked body in front of other humans. Zola didn't mind so much. He kind of liked it. Humans were so easily impressed. That was what made being in disguise so much fun. His superhuman ability would have been easily defeated by a true esper, but he was legendary in the eyes of humanity. It filled him with some pride.
"Why do you go out of your way to be like them, anyway?" Noonian unhappily stated from where she now laid. "Sometimes, I think you're getting to be like old Bahamut, always doting over them."
Zola frowned uncomfortably at that, and paused in his sharpening. He was reclined on his own cot, but was sitting up and allowed his sword to rest on one crossed leg. After a moment, he resumed sharpening. "Well…seeing as 'old Bahamut' is still around, that might not be a bad thing." He finally answered.
Noonian sighed and turned over. The truth was, which Zola kept to himself…he liked this Ragnar. He didn't know why. Something about his magnetic personality that attracted these humans to him. He hadn't lied when he said he had been with the humans now. When he and Noonian had left Mt. Zozo and made their way south, struggling to not be attacked or driven off by monster fearing humans…they eventually passed out due to water and food loss near Kohlingen. Before then, however, they managed to change into human form. When they woke up, they saw humans feeding them and tending their wounds. Noonian had shrank back with all the strength she could muster, but not Zola. He thought they might as well. As he recovered, he began to realize that they weren't so bad after all. Many of them were rather kind, and their children at least were innocent, just as esper children were. There were bad ones, yes…but they seemed to be very esper like in most of their capacities for love.
But this Ragnar… Something about him…something about his mission… The humans had treated him like a dog just like the humans once treated espers like dogs. These Shinra humans…they were out to exploit the natural world just like their forefathers had done, and now Zola had begun to see that, whether or not you were human or esper, you could always be exploited by greedy humans. They didn't spare their own race the same mistreatment. And now…this human was out to try and make things right. He had a greater love for the Planet than some espers Zola had known. It amazed him. And something about him…it attracted the half esper to him. It made him feel hopeful inside…purposeful… He didn't know why, but…
"Well, well…look who we have here."
That voice…
On hearing that voice…that dark, cold tone…the one he had heard countless times before…Zola's hands froze and his mind went blank. Both his sword and the sharpening stone fell from his grasp. His heart began to race, and his breathing began to increase. He wasn't alone. Noonian snapped back out of bed as if she had been bitten by a rattlesnake. Now, both panic-stricken people looked to the front of their tent…and saw him.
Wyvern, in human form, though having lost the mustache and made himself a bit younger, calmly leaned in the door frame with a small smile.
"M-m-master…" Noonian quivered. She was shaking all over like a leaf. Zola himself felt terror far deeper and stronger than he had ever felt before deep in his heart. His insides had turned cold. He began to cringe back from the entrance. Noonian herself began to cower. "What…how…we…we thought…"
"So…this is what became of the two young half-espers I took under my wing so many years ago…" Wyvern continued calmly as he walked in. He turned his head from one to the other. Each time, the corresponding creature cringed, trembled, and averted their gaze. "My two faithful servants… Those who swore fealty to me and antagonism to all of my enemies… Who swore a mere ten centuries ago to hate all humans forever…" The dark esper paused here, now standing in the room, in between both. Out of terror, both of them had turned to him. Out of respect for their old master, they slowly crawled off of their cots and to the ground, where they buried their faces in the dirt and tried to shrink back, almost hiding under their cots.
The esper snorted and frowned. "How pathetic." He sneered at both of them. "Look at you…meaningless lap dogs of the human race… How low you have become. And to think…I almost hoped that you two would have continued my mission in my stead. I should have known…" He glared coldly from one to another, both still trembling in fear. "…You lacked the spines."
"M-m-my lord…" Noonian finally managed to squeak out, keeping her head pressed to the ground. She slowly groveled forward, to cring at the feet of Wyvern. "We…we didn't know… We…we had to live among them…adopt their customs… No one felt more self-loathing and disgust than me…but they would have killed us…"
"Then you should have died rather than lived as slaves." Wyvern snapped back. Noonian immediately went silent and cowered further. Zola himself risked a small look up from his own hunched position. However, when Wyvern snapped around to him, he immediately bowed his head once more. "You, Zola…you disappoint me more than sicken me. You joined the side of the one who followed my enemy so readily when the chance came… I suppose I should have expected it. You two were always cowards who followed whoever was the one with power."
Zola didn't answer or look up. He kept his head bowed and continued to tremble. Wyvern looked over them both again. His shadow spread over them. The room became colder around his commanding presence. But in the end, however, he smiled and walked forward a bit more. He passed by both of their cowering bodies and went to the back of the tent. From there, he turned around and looked to them both.
"However…that time is over now." He simply responded. "I'm back…and things will return to the way they were very shortly. As for you two, it is good that you have still survived. You will prove very useful over the next few hours. During that time, you can prove your loyalty to me once more."
"Oh!" Noonian exclaimed. She raised her head from the dirt just enough to smile, and let her old tears run off of her face. "Thank you, master! Thank you! You are so generous and kind!"
"Wyv…um…Master Wyvern…" Zola finally ventured, speaking up for the first time since Wyvern had entered the room. Still cringing and afraid, he raised his head slightly off the ground, and somehow managed to meet the blood red eyes on his old lord. "He…Bahamut…he is here. He's been watching us. He'll certainly…"
Wyvern merely snickered in response, and waved his hand at Zola. "Relax. My ex-brother is no threat to us now. You see…" Here, he held the hand he waved, and slowly turned it over to the tent canvas. Both Zola and Noonian looked up and watched him. As they did, the dark esper pushed his hand to the canvas…and it slipped right through. "I'm not really here…and you two aren't really groveling in the dirt. I've learned quite a few tricks since last time. By using simple mind control, I can transmit an illusion of the little meeting we're having right into your brains. But rest assured…I am within the camp. I'm just playing a little game with Bahamut right now of hide and seek. Now…I am truly his master in every conceivable way. And the time has come once again to educate him of that."
Zola hesitated at this. However, Noonian smiled and nodded rapidly. "Yes, yes!" She called back. "We will do whatever you command, as always, master! What is our latest mission?"
"Nothing more than renewing our destined mission, Noonian." Wyvern calmly answered as he pulled his hand back. "Bahamut has come to life again, and foolishly believed he could carve out a world for himself. The time has come to prove him wrong. Over the next few hours…we will destroy everything that he has built and fill both him and those he loves with misery. We shall make him beg for death…before I graciously grant him his request. The fates are on our side…and we cannot be defeated. This time…he will suffer unendingly."
"…Master?"
This meek reply came at the end of Wyvern's short speech. In response, the dark esper raised an eyebrow. He turned his head down and glared at Zola. Noonian looked over to him for a moment…but just long enough to send a silent message of "what are you doing" before looking back and becoming obedient once again. Zola himself swallowed and kept his head bowed, but nervously managed to speak.
"Master… You are powerful and wise. You are the greatest of all espers. You're practically a god. We know you can destroy Bahamut easily now. We do not fear him or any human. You have defeated death once again, and come back far stronger than before. And now…Bahamut can at last perish in the flames of Hell." He hesitated again, and swallowed. When he spoke up, he was even meeker. "But…do you really need to waste your time…your energy…on such inconsequential creatures? They don't amount to anything… They mean nothing. They don't live longer thana hundredmost of the time… And these ones…they're actually trying to help the-"
"Are you questioning my orders, Zola?"
The half esper paled. He groveled more into the dirt. "N-n-no…"
"Because it sounds like you are." Wyvern answered as he stepped forward. Zola felt colder, and the air around him seemed to grow charged. "You seem to think after a five hundred year absence that you can just up and question my orders whenever you feel like it. It seems that you forgot your proper place and your true master after so long. Perhaps…have you been enjoying my leave of absence, Zola? Have you enjoyed being your own person? Perhaps…you have enjoyed serving the humans like a common dog?"
"He was always questioning you, master." Noonian immediately blurted out. "Always glad you were gone. I was always faithful…telling him to be silent until you returned. But he made me join the humans…"
"Keep your cowardly tongue behind your teeth, worm." Wyvern spat back harshly at Noonian. The woman immediately went silent and cringed again, putting her face back into the dirt. After that, he turned his full attention on Zola.
"…I serve no one…save you, my master." Zola choked out after a moment, still quivering in terror. "I obey only you…"
"Swear to me."
"I swear…you are my master…"
"Renew your vows then." Wyvern retorted, more harshly.
"…I hate humanity…and I will never forgive them…or the injustice that Bahamut did to you."
"This…Ragnar…this mongrel of a human…this filthy disciple of the cursed esper, the demon upon Gaia…what will you do to him?"
"Whatever you command, my lord."
"What will you do to him when you have the chance, without me commanding you!" Wyvern snapped back more violently.
Zola trembled again. He swallowed. Inside his brain…a small part of him told him to stay silent…to not say what he knew he needed to say. He didn't feel it. But in the end…he didn't dare deny the creature before him.
"…I'll slice off his skin and devour his flesh."
"That will do, for now." Wyvern finally answered with a half-snort. "You, Zola…will have to prove your loyalty far more rigorously than your sister. And you will receive more than ample opportunities tonight. We have much work to do…and we must get underway immediately."
To be continued...
