Chapter 16
first and last to transcend here
without a way to amend
this cruel premonition
i know of your sacrilege
this trust, my thesis
do not forget
i love you more than you will ever know
in these nightmares
my scream does not carry on
so, together, we shall endure this dark age
be not afraid, my sheep
your shepherd returns
to deafen you
to blind you
to break you
to set right the wrongs from so long ago
yes, your shepherd wants to watch you grow
Ingvild realized her mistake as soon as she'd made it. Unfortunately, she had no time to correct it. No way, either. And so, as sure as the sun would rise, the back of Tiamat's fist hit her square across the mouth, splitting open the corner of her upper lip. Her head snapped to the side, and she staggered away.
Blood quickly flooded her mouth and set her tongue awash with the taste of metal. The flare of pain was one thing. The flare of embarrassment she felt from such a failure was another, and it was much stronger. As furtively as she could, Ingvild tried to glance over at the river.
Another mistake.
Tiamat grabbed her arm and twisted, then easily sent her sprawling with a sharp tug. Ingvild hit the dirt, heaped upon herself, wishing the earth would open up to swallow her right then and there.
"Up."
She did as Tiamat commanded. Rising, she winced at the sharp pain in her shoulder. Her ears burned hot.
"That must have been embarrassing," Tiamat said. She didn't indicate anything more, but Ingvild knew what she was referring to.
Percy was standing in the river of their preferred arena, watching. It was unusual for him to be there with them. In fact, though it had been two weeks since Tiamat had started teaching Ingvild magic and combat, Percy had only spectated once before. Tiamat rarely invited him to spectate due to "an atmosphere of severe underappreciation," as she'd put it. Moreover, their lessons were usually in the dead of night, and Percy didn't have good vision in the dark.
Today, though, was an exception. Tiamat had obligations later, so they had lessons early. This, in tandem with the fact that Percy didn't have his own duties to fulfill with the enigmatic buddha called Sun Wukong, led to Tiamat asking for Percy's attendance in today's lesson.
However, thus far, Percy hadn't been asked to do anything, meaning he'd just been watching Ingvild and Tiamat from a relatively safe distance.
Ingvild forced herself to ignore his looming presence. He was, in many ways, similar to Tiamat like that. His distant stare could be as intimidating as Tiamat's cold sneer. They both had the ability to put themselves a world away—keep gaps as large as leagues open indefinitely.
What would it take to close that gap? Despite having spent time living with Percy and learning from Tiamat, she didn't know. They each had their own ways of keeping those leagues measured and open. Percy talked about himself, yes, but only in the vaguest sense possible, always alluding and never explaining, which meant Ingvild had to draw her own conclusions with what he told her. Tiamat, on the other hand, rarely spoke about herself. Instead, she spoke of the world, of people, of her observations. She spoke with irreverence and wisdom that could only come from being unequivocally ancient. Tiamat's words were laden with an air of immense gravity.
Despite herself, Ingvild glanced at Percy. Their eyes met, and he gave her an encouraging nod. She ducked her head. Had it been too much to hope that he would fail to acknowledge her failure? Well, that might have been the case. After all, Percy was earnest in his efforts to support her, so it made perfect sense for him to be paying close attention.
"I suppose this is another learning experience," Tiamat said, garnering Ingvild's attention. The Dragon King didn't seem any more displeased than she was exasperated. "Don't overthink after a mistake when your opponent is still in front of you. If you become distracted, what's stopping them from killing you?"
Ingvild winced, dabbing at her bleeding lip with her sleeve. "Right… I'm sorry."
Tiamat waved away the apology. "At least this was a controlled environment. Better here than in a real battle." She rolled her shoulders and glanced around. "This is a good place to switch gears."
"Is it?" Ingvild wiped her hands of dirt. "It doesn't feel as though—"
"I had something else in mind for today," Tiamat said. She looked at Percy and gestured for him to come over.
"Something else?" Ingvild wondered nervously.
"Do you know the biggest difference between him, you, and I?"
"No."
"Experience. Broad life experience, yes, but let's think about the topic at hand, the most pressing. What do you think I mean by that?"
"Um… well… you mean experience in combat, right?" Ingvild couldn't fathom what else she meant, given the context.
"Exactly. More specifically, I mean experience with violence and conflict. Not an era has gone by where the powerful did not come into conflict, and not an era has gone by where that conflict did not lead to violence. Since time immemorial, the strong have done what they wanted, while the weak suffered by necessity. Humans have only recently started to challenge this paradigm, despite adapting to it. Their world is one of… 'progress,' they might call it. Fair enough. And you come from that world. But now you are in my world. And my world still operates on the old paradigm; its inhabitants still accept the paradigm as truth, so you have little choice in the matter."
"Right."
"Conflict and violence are unavoidable, and there are many types of threats in my world. You need experience with those types. To better equip you with what you need, then, I've asked Percy to be your opponent for today."
"So that's it." Ingvild had suspected something of that sort. Unfortunately, the fact that she was right didn't give her any form of comfort. In fact, the thought of fighting Percy made her stomach twist into ugly, thorny knots. His strength was surely far greater than hers. "I suppose that's good for me."
"It is. The way Percy and I carry out our violence and resolve our conflict is different. If you want to have any hope of competing, you'll need to synthesize a response to those types of violence. If my form of violence is a thesis, and his is a different thesis, you must study them, distill what you need, and create something new from that product."
"It's all about gaining experience," Percy said once he'd finally made it over to them. "Learn the moves, figure out what to do in bad situations, that kind of thing. We all gotta start somewhere. Still, I'd appreciate it if you went easy on me."
"I'm asking the exact opposite," Tiamat said. She patted Ingvild on the shoulder. "Use everything you've learned up until now. Do your best even if you think it's hopeless. Remember that this is just practice. He won't actually hurt you."
"That's true enough," Percy said. "I'm ready when you are."
Tiamat stepped away when Ingvild nodded hesitantly, which Percy took to mean she was ready to begin. He drew his sword, which Ingvild had only seen a few times before, and fell into a natural fighting stance. If she had ever seen him more confident, more intense, or more dangerous, Ingvild honestly could not recall. Instead of wondering about that, she got into her own stance.
The sword between them demanded her attention. Tiamat had briefly talked about handling enemies with weapons, but they'd never practiced it before. As long as she kept her distance, Ingvild would be safe, but she was sure Percy wouldn't make it easy.
If anything, she expected to lose. Not just lose, though; she expected to lose badly.
Regardless, at least she would be gaining valuable experience. What little pride she had left would be able to survive what came next if only for that reason.
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Lazy winds tousled Ingvild's hair. She and Percy sat on a thick hunk of bleached driftwood, watching as the sun dipped in the west. It was just them on the beach as the day faded away. The Long Island Sound was calm, and meager waves lapped at the shore, hardly making any noise.
A streak of orange, red, and purple was hidden behind an array of clouds far over the sound. It would be night soon.
The blue hour was beautiful. New York was a place of many modern marvels and wondrous sights. Despite all its new-age glory, it was simply unfair that the city could also provide sights such as these. Though, to be accurate, they weren't actually in the city anymore. They were on the northern portion of Long Island. Percy said he often visited this area, and when Ingvild heard that, she'd asked to come along with him this time.
He'd hesitated at first. She didn't know why. But in the end, he'd acquiesced and brought her with him.
Usually, they were separated by their conflicting schedules. Percy spent most of his afternoons with the enigmatic Great Sage, whom Tiamat had ambivalent feelings toward, and Ingvild spent practically all of her evenings with Tiamat. Today, needless to say, was an exception to that routine. Ingvild had spent all day gathering the courage to ask him this favor. She knew this was an intrusion upon his personal time, but she'd wanted to get closer to him.
Now they were here. Percy's faraway stare became so much more poignant in the ephemeral glow of the setting sun.
He may have appeared neutral, distant, and stony in any other light, but at this very moment, Ingvild saw that same deep sorrow he often adopted when he thought nobody was looking at him. The shadows stretched long beneath his ever-so-slightly clenched jaw, and the glimmer in his eyes could have fooled her into believing it was just a reflection of the sun's dying light. It was, she decided, a disservice to separate the hardness from the sorrow. They complemented each other in him. One could not exist without the other in Percy's case.
Ingvild adjusted herself on the log. They hadn't spoken since arriving, as if keeping their deathly silence out of respect for a hallowed place.
They allowed the beach its peace, as it deserved, content with watching the day wane.
There was romance enough in such simple things.
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"Are you homesick?"
Ingvild started at hearing Percy suddenly speak up. She glanced at him. "Homesick?"
"Aren't you?" The sun had left them some time ago. He didn't look at her as he spoke. She wasn't sure he would even be able to see her anyway, given how dark it had gotten. "I figured you'd miss home after everything that's happened."
"Well… I suppose I do…"
His face scrunched oddly. She wondered if he'd forgotten that she could see him perfectly well in low-light. "Would you want to go back?"
"I don't think it's that simple."
"Hypothetically."
"In that case, yes, I would." She squeezed her hands together. "And you?"
Percy looked down the beach. Behind a small rise of dark hills, the lights of New York would be glowing stark and grand.
A city built upon a hill cannot be hidden, so spoke the Lord.
Those built behind a hill, on the other hand… Purpose found in the act.
"New York is my home. Always has been," Percy said. "Can't go back to a place that I never left."
"Have you ever wanted to leave?" she asked.
"There have been times."
"Why didn't you?"
He shrugged.
"Maybe you should."
"You think?"
"Mhm. At least for a little while." She pushed a few strands of hair away from her eyes, hoping that she came across as more confident than she felt.
"Like a vacation?"
"A month or two away wouldn't hurt. I think you deserve that much, at the very least."
"I wonder about that."
"Wouldn't it be nice to clear your head? You might pick up a new appreciation for the city along the way."
"You may be right." A flimsy smile chased away his dour mien. "Thanks."
It wasn't often that she saw this side of him, even though she knew it existed. Ingvild felt satisfied with herself. If he was thanking her right now, she must have done something right. And, goodness, it felt nice to see him smile because of something she'd said.
When had she become so infatuated with other peoples' vulnerability? Had the weakness in her heart become so toxic? Was this nature at play? Here and now, Ingvild fed off of Percy's insecurities, like a parasite, drinking in what she could for her own gain. The strong do what they want, and the weak suffer what they must. The strong take advantage of what vulnerability they can find.
Surely, what she was doing would be considered on the threshold of wicked.
But God was dead, and without His light, the darkness he'd driven away from their hearts could flourish once more.
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Despite Tiamat's warnings of hardship and her own misgivings, Ingvild found that she quickly fell into an uneasy domestic routine. True enough, she was regularly beaten and battered by the Dragon King, but she felt as though she had hardened a bit thanks to those trials. She had grown much stronger over the last couple of months.
Once, her concerns had been mundane. She had worked as a tailoress alongside her mother, and while the machines in the workshop were certainly dangerous if used improperly, most days she would return home with, at worst, some pinpricks on her fingers. Now, however, she always had to wonder how Tiamat would beat that day's lesson into her very bones. Moreover, she also had to worry about the day that these lessons would actually be needed. After all, they weren't practicing for no reason. Ingvild was in danger now more than ever before.
At least for now, though, in this very exact moment, she could allow herself to relax. Percy and Tiamat were by her side. The three of them were enjoying a late-spring evening together. Percy had suggested they take some time to enjoy something that Ingvild had never experienced. Introducing her to new things seemed to give him some sort of satisfaction as well, so she didn't dare complain.
Ingvild tilted her head as the next player stepped to the "plate." The so-called "pitcher" prepared himself, and the ball was thrown. Behind the plate, the "umpire" made a motion with his hands, and Percy muttered something unsavory.
The ball was thrown again to the same effect all around. Upon the last pitch, the batter swung and, surprisingly, made contact with the ball. A solid thwack rang from the hit. Percy was already on his feet, whistling loudly before the ball cleared the field. Everybody else around them was a bit slower to react—a given, considering who they were being compared to—but they too clapped and hooted and whistled at the "home run."
Excitement filled the air after the palpable tension of the last two pitches. Ingvild found herself being swept up in the wave. She shot to her feet and cheered alongside Percy. Tiamat remained seated beside her, but she waved the giant foam finger on her hand to show solidarity with the rest of the crowd. And if that wasn't enough to convince those around her, the Dragon King also wore all sorts of baseball paraphernalia to support Percy's team. If nothing else, she certainly struck an exciting figure.
Eventually, the crowd, Percy included, settled down. His mouth twisted into a rueful grimace. "Well, we're still down two runs and it's the bottom of the eighth, but it's better than nothing."
"Is it still possible for them to win?" Ingvild asked, gesturing to the players.
"Sure," Percy shrugged. "We're the home team, so we play through the bottom of the ninth if we're behind. We've got a chance even if the next guy strikes out. Which he'd better not."
Ingvild nodded. She found the rules of baseball to be more than a little convoluted, but the game itself was fine. It was hard to deny the hectic energy in the stadium whenever something impressive happened. Watching the game was fun, which was especially true given her current company.
Then, suddenly, a horn sounded. The noise was unlike any she had ever heard, and it filled her with more dread than anything ever had.
Intrinsic knowledge revealed itself to her. She knew this horn announced the end of the world.
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Four parhelions, one in each cardinal direction, flanked the dazzling sun-like object far above them. The light was so bright it lit up the evening sky and bathed all of New York in its glow.
Ingvild felt herself grow faint. Her breathing became quick and shallow. She swayed, bracing herself against Percy's arm for support. He, too, was staring up at the aberration, his face set into a grim frown.
"So you've returned to the world."
She tore her eyes away from the oddity to look at Tiamat. The Dragon King's mouth trembled as it tried to keep its snarl. She exuded anxiety—more than Ingvild had ever assumed possible from somebody as monolithically powerful as Tiamat. What in the world could elicit such a reaction from her? Ingvild was sure it would be awful.
All around them, people were pointing and gaping at the aberration. The world had stopped. They were looking at the precipice of their forever after.
Horrible, terrible, mind-numbing dread fell upon them.
"What is that?" Percy asked breathlessly.
"Samael. The Venom of God. Ha-Satan. Dragon-Eater." Tiamat stood up. "Once, he was the greatest of Yahweh's angels. He slaughtered gods. Now, cast from Heaven and given a terrible curse, he is my kind's greatest enemy. His blood is fatally toxic to serpents. His mere presence is enough to fill the most foolish among us with dread. Even mighty Ddraig and vicious Albion fled from Yahweh when he brandished a spear tinged with Samael's blood during their fateful battle."
"What's he doing here?"
A flash of light interrupted Tiamat before she could respond.
Ingvild blinked, and the world fell apart around her.
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It happened fast. Good thing Tiamat had already been preparing a teleportation circle the moment Samael had appeared above them. Unfortunately, the Dragon-Eater had not given her much time, so the range of her sorcery had been greatly reduced. She'd managed to get them away from the stadium to avoid the first wave of light spears, but the second wave was upon them almost instantly.
She could barely throw a ward over them before her vision became a mix of yellow, orange, and red. The world shook and roared.
Only Central Park, where Tiamat had taken them in her panic, remained untouched by the bombardment of light spears. Except her barrier did not cover all of the park, which meant that Samael had forgone attacking them for a second time. But... why? Tiamat couldn't fathom a reason. She couldn't well on it, either. Already, she was running the formula for a more potent teleportation spell in her mind, one that would take them across dimensions in order to truly escape Samael's path of destruction. At the same time, she set her senses to the task of finding Samael's exact position.
There. The Dragon-Eater was fifty kilometers above them. The spell would be ready in thirty seconds... wait... Samael was now forty kilometers above them. He was moving at an alarming rate. Six kilometers a second? Which meant he would be upon them before she could whisk them away.
What could she do? Teleporting them a shorter distance wouldn't do much good. He could easily follow, and when she glanced around, well, she saw New York in shambles. Some buildings had been utterly leveled in the barrage of light spears, while others were beginning to collapse under their own weight. Ingvild and Percy looked as if they still hadn't processed what was happening yet. No surprise. They were watching the apocalypse unfold in front of their very eyes.
Ah, right, both of them had been through something similar, hadn't they? Though, from what she knew, Tiamat figured Percy would be the one most affected by this scene.
To be sure, it was horrible.
She couldn't fathom why Samael had chosen this path. Nobody in their right mind would have done this, regardless of their power. There was a reason for humanity's diminished role in the "supernatural" world. Alone, most were weak. Together, though, they could perform miracles. And Tiamat had seen those miracles carve through the last of the Paleolithic gods. They were brutal, horrible things made manifest for the betterment and happiness of all humankind.
This was an invitation for retaliation the likes of which she hadn't seen for ten thousand years.
Tiamat bit her lip. Unfortunately, the situation forced her to act, and there was little else she could do aside from attack. So she raised her arm and pointed at Samael. Power burgeoned within her. She mustered everything she could reasonably muster, pulling from the immeasurable well of energy that had first given her consciousness and form.
Then, with Simple Error, it was released.
The blast moved at a fraction of the speed of light. Nothing with sufficient mass could have avoided it. Samael was in the stratosphere, thirty kilometers above ground, when Tiamat's blast hit him a hundredth of a second after she'd fired.
A new sun ate the halo of light that signaled Samael's presence. It took a moment for the intense heat to reach them, all while the world shrieked as its atmosphere was torn apart.
Certainly, she thought, even the heavens trembled.
Ten seconds more.
Tiamat fell to one knee, gasping for air. Channeling such energy through her body took an equally tremendous toll. She'd been stretched to her uppermost limit in the split second it had taken to directed the power of the endless cosmos through her body. The ward she'd created to shield them unraveled.
Had fate been merciful, her attack would have been enough. But fate no longer governed their reality. Her attack was not enough to destroy Samael.
Fear descended upon them faster than before.
In fact... it had already arrived.
There, floating just over the reservoir, was the Venom of God. He was crucified upon two wooden beams. His wings were loose and free, so black that they seemed to bend light around them. His body was a mess of burned, peeling skin and bubbling blood, the only sign that Tiamat's attack had harmed him. The seal on his mouth had been removed.
She couldn't allow herself to be distracted from the magic circle. Every second she delayed was an exponential increase in their chances of certain death.
But the Dragon-Eater demanded her full attention.
Tiamat raised her head and got to her feet, pushing through the burning in her lungs. They needed to run.
Now that he was in front of them, though, she knew it was too late. A million needles pricked her skin as the Dragon-Eater turned his unseeing eyes toward them.
Damn. And all she'd needed were seven seconds more.
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Samael stopped when the second horn sounded.
Samael began to ascend when the third horn sounded.
Samael vanished when the fourth horn sounded.
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Tiamat staggered back.
Something had speared her through the chest. She hadn't seen it. She still couldn't. The Dragon-Eater truly deserved his fearsome reputation. Between the places where dragons could exist was a place where they could not. This space was infinite and infinitesimal, a realm where even her dreams could not reach due to the limits of her ability to perceive a world where she had never existed. The Dragon-Eater… rather, the Blind Prince… was the only one able to touch this dragonless space. He refuted her claim to form and thought and being without any conscious effort.
How such a person could exist, Tiamat did not know.
A cold numbness seeped into her veins. Her body felt heavy. The spear carried his blood, then.
She wheezed.
Samael's toxin would erase her. It was the dragonless space made manifest. Bringing such a thing into this reality was tantamount to treason on a cosmic scale. This was a place where dragons were meant to be supreme. How dare he? How dare he reject her and her ilk. The gall.
But... there was no point in getting upset. It was over.
Tiamat fell back, stumbling over her weakening legs. She was dying again, and this time, she would not be afforded any mercy or pity by her killer. Samael did not perceive her as anything more than an error to be corrected, so it would be wasted pity on his part.
Percy's face came into view, followed shortly by Ingvild's. Her vision began to blur and fade to black.
The spear had gone through one of her lungs. Blood bubbled up from her throat and spilled past her lips. Too bad she couldn't talk. There were some things she wanted to tell him. None of them were necessarily important, at least, but there was dignity in being able to speak on one's deathbed. Hopefully he knew that while she had many regrets, neither he nor Ingvild was included among them.
Ah, the pain was fading. Her mind went along with it.
Even though she was dying… there was a so-called "bright side".
At the very end of her life, she was just now learning that somebody was willing to cry for her.
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General File
-Estimated Fatalities Worldwide: 2.1 million
-Estimated Injuries Worldwide: 11.4 million
-All organs within the United Nations are called to convene
-[Redacted]
-[Redacted]
-[Redacted]
-The world is two seconds from midnight
Author's Note: This isn't when I'd intended to pull the trigger. There was supposed to be an extra four or five chapters leading up to the events of this one, building context for this massive shakeup and focusing on a couple of extra characters I'd intended to introduce. Then I got very busy in my life and re-evaluated what I wanted for this story. I've done a bit of re-structuring to the plan moving forward, mostly trimming.
Anyway, we got Samael. It feels like I've been hyping him up for longer than five chapters, but that's because what I publish and what I draft are two very different things. He's been in my head for over two years, just standing there...menacingly. He's great. Like I said, more was supposed to be done to set the stage before he entered, but my time away from the story made me want something else. His role is the same here as I'd originally planned, and the Awakening happened almost exactly as I'd outlined.
At this point in the story, it's late May. The events of DxD Vol.1 (Issei and Asia's reincarnation) and Vol.2 (battle against Riser) have transpired as per canon. But the status quo is dead, and things won't be the same ever again.
Thanks for reading.