AN: So the past few months have been pretty hectic. I went back to school, got a new job, and got a rather unpleasant medical condition. This chapter was actually completed in Draft form since mid-September, but life got in the way. Coming back to it, I also had to do some editing. So yeah… I'm finally done.
Heika: I'm really sorry about that. I'm not sure why you haven't received anything from me. I've PM'd you with my earlier response as soon as I got your first review. Is there a problem with your notifications? I'll send another PM your way. As for your latest concerns, you've got a big point there. It's not like Tanya has access to Wikipedia to find out if Al's fridge looks like the original Kelvinator.
Your comment on the problem of evil actually got me to reread what I'd written. As it turns out, I messed up the argument by forgetting to qualify it as 'natural' evil. Accidents, bad weather, animal carnivory, disease, so-called 'acts of god'… things that aren't dependent on human agency. This, I think, is a tougher nut to crack.
Thanks again for giving me your full and honest opinion. Every bit helps me improve my writing. :3
Disclaimer: Youjo Senki is the property of Being X. I don't own it. Please don't reincarnate me into a world of war and suffering.
V. DEUS LO VULT
"… Elric?" Alphonse Elric? His last name is Elric? "So then your brother…"
"Is Edward Elric, yup!" Alphonse answered with a smile.
So basically, I've been staying with Edward Elric's brother this whole time. Edward Elric's brother is also a State Alchemist. Edward Elric's brother is also a pedophile who likes watching underage girls get sweaty every morning from practicing martial arts. You can't make stuff like this up, folks. I mean, I never expected them to be 'saints', for lack of a better word, but this just paints a completely different picture of everything.
Wait, if Edward Elric is his brother… then I have been studying and sleeping in Edward Elric's room… This. Whole. Time. Are you fucking kidding me? Then all those books he's got? Those are the ones that Edward Elric deems worthy of keeping in his room. I've been sitting on a gold mine of alchemic knowledge for over a month now without knowing it!
"But… why didn't you tell me?" It wasn't like I felt betrayed. Not at all. If anything, I'm just shocked at this massive oversight that I made. I never bothered to ask for his last name. I would frequently talk about how I was inspired by a man who turned out to be his brother to become a State Alchemist early. I even recall, distinctly, at one point, bragging about how I was going to beat his record. Yes. That was probably it. What I said must have scared the subdued Alphonse, or maybe triggered him in a way, so that he decided to omit this very important detail.
People like him were like that. They didn't like conflict, or arguing with people, or being pushed in directions they didn't like. After seeing me so cocksure of myself, he probably figured I'd keep pressuring him to talk about his brother if I found out – and I would have, honestly. So he just smiled and nodded and changed the subject altogether.
"If I told you, then you probably wouldn't have pursued your own path," Alphonse went on. "I can tell you're a big fan of his. It wasn't hard to imagine you'd latch onto every word I said if I told you who I was, or maybe go through all of his books and notes, instead of figuring things out for yourself. An alchemist learns from others, yes. But ultimately, they have to find their own way through the world, make their own decisions. That's part of what it takes to be a State Alchemist. Each title is unique, because each State Alchemist does something that is unique to them."
Such a mentor-like mentality. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was some kind of self-help guru. I gave him a deep bow, the falsified respect exuded by a talented amateur whose methods, while creative and even somewhat complex, were nevertheless completely figured out. "Well yes. I guess I made that pretty obvious, huh… I never thought of it that way, Alphonse. Thank you for being so considerate."
Of course, I wasn't really figured out. I understood that principle very well. Only a lovestruck fangirl would do something so thoughtless as to completely ape Edward Elric's alchemy. Edward Elric was my inspiration, yes. But I knew enough that I would be better off doing my own thing rather than trying to be Fullmetal Alchemist 2.0. Now, on the other hand, only a self-absorbed idiot would ignore a treasure trove like all of Edward Elric's books and notes. What kind of adventures did he have? What breakthroughs did he learn? What was his ultimate goal as a State Alchemist? Was he able to accomplish it? How can I incorporate this goal into my own plans, if possible? So many questions, and I can only use the answers at all if I pass this test!
"Alright, then!" The Führer spoke up. "Now that this little surprise is over, let's get to the meat of this examination. We have twenty more candidates to screen today."
"Oh, of course, Your Excellency!" Alphonse nodded and stood back to attention.
"This'll be good," the dark haired general muttered to himself with a smirk.
"Tanya Degurechaff," the Führer adjusted his glasses and looked me straight in the eye, that glare piercing into my very essence. "Show us your alchemic skills, and demonstrate why you believe you deserve to join the esteemed college of the State Alchemists."
"At once, Your Excellency!" I gave the Führer a waist-deep bow. This was it. The big moment. My time in the sun, and my chance to prove myself as an alchemist who could serve the state (while getting paid handsomely for it, of course)!
Regaining my composure, I slipped my hands into my jacket pockets and pulled out a pair of gloves – gloves marked with my circles, naturally. Already, I could see Alphonse's eyes glued to the images I'd stitched into the handwear, no doubt analyzing and breaking down the component symbols. That was fine. Let him get a vague idea of what I was going to do. Taking my time, and playing it just as I've rehearsed every night for so long, I snapped the gloves on and clapped my hands together.
A silent buzz began to ring in the back of my mind, confirming the establishment of a circuit. Soon, the air began to move about me as light blue alchemic light surged from my connected palms. As the sound of rushing air grew stronger, I stretched my arms out to either side, keeping my eyes on the judges as I slowly rose above the floor.
"What do you make of that, Iron Heart?" the Führer asked, as he put his hand to his chin and stroked it in thought.
"Parallel transmutation, Your Excellency," Alphonse answered. He went on in some detail. "She's transmuted the immediately surrounding air into a helium bubble, while generating an air current to give herself lift. From the way her arms are spread out, she might even have wings made of super dense air atoms like xenon. Breathing could be maintained by creating a virtual airflow tube connecting her nose and mouth to the outside of the bubble."
So, he managed to figure all that out just by examining all of the different air and elemental symbols stitched into my gloves, and observing me for a few seconds. I suppose it shouldn't have been so surprising. Alphonse had already demonstrated encyclopedic knowledge of the alchemic arts, as well as a sharp eye and mind. That he managed to understand my alchemy in his first round of speculation should be a given. And yet, I couldn't help but feel disappointed that I didn't stump him, not even for a minute.
"She's still floating," the dark haired general noted, either feigning interest, or perhaps genuinely impressed. "I gotta say, that's probably a new record for alchemic runtimes. You could almost say that her transmutation is… continuous."
That general isn't just a big fancy mustache either, it seems. At the very least, he knows enough about transmutation runtime statistics to make an informed statement comparing mine to the average length. Yes, that's right. I'm not just running multiple transmutations in parallel. I'm also performing continuous transmutation. And why not? The first law of alchemy is equivalent exchange. As long as there's air to transmute into currents, then you can bet I'll keep on transmuting it into currents!
"I wonder about the energy efficiency of this though…" Alphonse mused out loud.
You don't need to worry about that. Even in the modern world, mankind has only tapped 6.5 percent of the planet's estimated geothermal potential, and it's already cranking out just under 13 gigawatts: enough to power 3.9 million average homes a month. In short… I can keep floating up here for as long as I damn want to!
I rose higher. First, until I was level with the second story balcony, and then, until I was able to reach out and touch the ceiling. But the show wasn't over yet. I smirked as I tilted forward into a dive, swooping down and then picking up enough velocity to fly back up. I glided about the room, doing everything from loops to barrel rolls. If this didn't impress them, then I didn't know what would.
"You wouldn't be able to move so freely in an enclosed space like this using a Milosian Combat Glider," Alphonse pointed out, almost as if he was just thinking aloud. "Your wings would get caught in something or another, no matter how good you were at gliding."
"Yeah, a Black Bat wouldn't be able to fly around in here," the dark haired general added. "They'd need to jump from the balcony to get some lift into their gliders, but even then..."
"So you two are telling me that this could be far more useful than just building a dedicated combat glider unit?" The Führer asked, turning to face his two co-panelists.
"Combat Gliders, especially the Milosian Black Bat model, are best used in open spaces," the dark haired general went on. "That, and all you need is a lucky shot to puncture the glider wings. After that, it's bye bye birdie."
"But how can we be sure that shooting through her theoretical, invisible wings won't do the same thing?" The Führer pushed his glasses up his nose in thought, reflecting the general's face in them. "Any suggestions, General?"
"I've got one, but it's pretty crazy."
What were they talking about down there? The next thing I heard after performing another barrel roll was the general's voice.
"Hey, Degurechaff!" he called out.
I stopped and resumed my initial floating position. "Yes, Sir?"
"Float still, would you?"
My eyebrow went up as I nevertheless conceded to this strange request. Soon, things became clear, as he drew a handgun from a holster in his jacket. What was this? No, no. This was somehow part of the test. It had to be. Why would they kill me for such a great performance, right? This kind of alchemy was exactly what they needed!
"I usually let other people do this for me since my aim is terrible, but I don't wanna bother the guards outside," he raised the pistol – with one hand, which was a very amateurish, Hollywood way of holding a gun, I might add – up to my level, aiming it at… somewhere below my arm? What was he trying to do? That being said, his admission to terrible aim was by no means anywhere close to encouraging. "So just float still, and you'll probably make it out of this alive."
He expected me to be a sitting duck and let him shoot me. No, this was also part of the test. It was a test of courage. Or something. Maybe it was loaded with blanks. Maybe he was just pulling my leg at having terrible aim. Maybe he was up to something else… I took a deep breath and held my head up high, 'standing' straight up with my arms spread out as the general pulled the trigger.
The report of a live round rang through the air, and my heart skipped a beat as I checked myself mentally for any signs that I'd been hit and was now bleeding to death. Did it feel cold? No. Did I feel lightheaded? No. I looked myself over. Was I bleeding anywhere…?
"Well, it looks like her invisible wings aren't as flimsy as a glider's," the general announced, with a sense of playful finality. "Mystery solved!"
I breathed a sigh of relief as I determined, for sure, that I wasn't fatally shot. Or shot at all, really. Subconsciously, I floated back up to the ceiling, stopping just as it touched the top of that rogue lock of hair that always seemed to have a life of its own.
"I think it wouldn't be wrong to say that this demonstration speaks for itself," the Führer said. "Tanya Degurechaff, you may cease transmutation."
So… that was it? Well, at least all I had to do was fly around like a bird in a cage for a few minutes and let some crazy general shoot me. At the very least, they could see my alchemy was worth investing in, if the general's comparison to a glider's wings was any indication. Presumably, they wanted to see if shooting my xenon wings full of holes would reduce their performance, or even worse, cause me to lose control. But no. I already factored a regeneration rate into my continuous transmutation. It doesn't take a lot of energy to put air back together, you know.
There was no flaw in my methodology. It was perfect…
And that was when I started to fall.
"What the hell!" How did this happen? I went over every calculation daily. Practiced the application of the process nightly. I memorized my formulas, mastered my visualizations, and took everything to heart! How was I experiencing a rebound right now? How was I now falling to my death from a two story height? How?!
"It is because of your mountainous pride that you fall so monumentally, my child."
My eyes widened as my fall stopped. I didn't land on anything. I didn't resume floating in midair either. No. Everything just stopped. My breathing, the three people down on the stage. The very flow of the air current itself. Motion had become irrelevant. Time stood still. This was just like that moment, nine years ago. That frozen split second that redefined my entire new life. Just before a train killed me. "Being X."
"Perhaps if you did not so quickly judge the nature of this room, then you would be able to see past your own ego and realize your mistake."
"There was no mistake." Of all the times to get screwed over by Being X, it just had to be now. Why did it have to be now? No, of course. That letter he sent me last night. It wasn't some signature to let me know he fixed that chair. It was a message, a notification that he was going to be interfering more directly in my life. "You did this, didn't you? You somehow caused a rebound!"
"Look around, my child. What do you see?"
So, what, was he going to point out my mistake now? What was there to see, anyway? It was a fully enclosed room. I made use of the formulas for a fully isolated system with still air. Balcony on the second story. Elevated stone stage in front. Lamps everywhere. One pair of granite double doors at the back. No windows. And in the corner, to the far left of the stage, there was…. No. No, no, no, this couldn't have been right. There was a smaller, more normal door behind the column to the left of the stage. It was wide open. A soldier stood frozen in the middle of walking into the room. "I…"
"I did not engineer your downfall. This predicament was one born from your own pride and carelessness."
"So I made a mistake!" I yelled. "There's still time. I can just clap my hands, perform the proper adjustments, and I'll have a safe, happy landing!"
"I don't think that is possible," Being X answered, pompously regal as always. "Look again."
"At what?"
"At your proposed solution." I looked about. Left, right… I checked my hands. And that was when I saw it. The large gash of torn white cloth that was once the palm of my left glove. The general didn't hit me, no. But it was close enough. His stray bullet didn't even graze my palm, but it flew so close that it destroyed the symbols I had stitched into the cloth.
I'd designed my airborne formulas in a way that the transmutation would continue processing until I performed a specific gesture. That way, it would keep running even if my gloves were damaged. Major formulaic corrections still required forming a new circuit, however. As such, with my left glove destroyed, that was no longer possible. Everyone was too busy discussing my current status, or paying attention to the soldier who'd just come in the door.
By the time anyone would notice, I would be a bloody smear on the cold floor.
I was going to fall to my death.
"You planned this all out, didn't you?" I yelled. "The 'stray' bullet that somehow didn't hurt me despite shredding my glove. The 'timing' of the door! You sneaky…"
"There is a way, my child. I have blessed your hands with the power to perform my miracles."
"Miracles? What are you talking about?" Was this some kind of joke? He was still going on about what happened last night?
"You are now permitted to utilize alchemy without transmutation circles, by forming an internal circuit with your bare hands. Whenever you are to use this gift, you must pray to God, before it can be granted to you."
"So the same trick that Alphonse does. I'm pretty sure he found some other way to do it, since he didn't have to pray to a phony god like you." Besides. In case something like this happens again, I'll just make sure to wear gloves made of Kevlar… as soon as someone invents it, at any rate. Note to self: get someone to invent Kevlar.
"But there won't be a next time unless you do it the first time, wouldn't you say?" Dammit. Now Being X was reading my mind again. "In addition to this, your blessed transmutations will be exempt from the Law of Equivalent Exchange."
"… like the Philosopher's Stone?" That bastard. He's sweetening the deal. Not that I don't have the discipline to avoid falling for an obviously Faustian ploy, but right now, I don't really have a choice if I want to live. "So what's the catch?"
"With each such act of reverence, your faith in me shall grow in strength and volume."
"You son of a bitch! You're gonna brainwash me into some kind of religious bot now? I guess I shouldn't be surprised you'd stoop so low to get what you want." I smirked. At least I still stood on some semblance of a moral high ground.
"Go forth and bring glory to my name. Show the world that God wills it."
His voice faded out.
Things began to move again. Slowly… much more slowly than they normally would. The soldier seemed to take at least ten seconds to raise his boot off the floor. The air currents were as sluggish as a bowl of disgusting gruel from the orphanage. I was being given time to pray. How considerate. My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. The back of my head buzzed in rage at being cheated like this. I parted my lips and whispered through gritted teeth. "The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. I thank you for your boundless mercy in giving me this second chance… This moment, I surrender my life into your hands… Deus lo vult."
I clapped my hands.
The last thing I felt was a surge of indescribable power. The last thing I saw was a flash of golden light.
~O~O~O~
Corporal Dobbs stepped into the office, carrying the stack of papers. "Here are the last of the unused test questionnaires, General," he announced his arrival, deftly avoiding the other desks in the office, belonging to the dark haired general's subordinates.
The man himself sat at the desk in front of the large glass windows, a look of boredom on his face covered only by his large, bushy mustache as he yawned. "Leave them in the inbox," he ordered, not really paying all that much attention to, well, anything.
"Yes, Sir!" Dobbs proceeded to do as ordered, setting the stack of test sheets down in the open inbox.
He still had twenty-one applicants to screen today. The next one was due in another ten minutes. Some little girl that Iron Heart said he was taking care of, and might have had some potential. He'd already gone over her written exam and her scores were perfect. Not just perfect, actually. Some of her answers took into account things that the test examiners didn't even conceive of.
Was she really just a talented little girl?
The general looked up to see Dobbs still standing to attention. "You're dismissed, Corporal."
"Sir!" Dobbs snapped to a salute and marched out of the office, closing the door behind him.
Well, he would have to find out for himself soon enough. The dark haired general stood up and opened the windows wide. His office was a nice corner space, prime real estate for a nice breeze every now and then. Of course, a nice breeze had more uses than simply cooling off, especially when the wind was pointing in the opposite direction.
He slipped the top questionnaire out onto his desk, tracing the item numbers downward as he scrolled in search of a particular question… number 42.
"Roy's girlfriend wants a lead wall to shield herself from an upcoming radiation experiment," the general muttered to himself, still in his bored monotone. "Roy has 200 kg of gold to work with. How much gold must he transmute into lead to produce a 2x2x0.07 meter lead wall?" So this was the item in question.
The general picked up the girl's answer sheet and went over it again. Instead of a straightforward answer – which admittedly, was what the examiners had in mind when they wrote this question – she instead elaborated on how widespread practice and application of this scenario could result in terrible economic consequences. "Is she an alchemist, or an economist?" He shook his head. It was technically correct. It was this sort of out of the box thinking that the state needed. Still… an alchemist with an economic mind. What repercussions would this have should she be chosen?
All of this being said, having such a forward-thinking alchemist as part of the program was good.
"There's just one problem…"
The general sighed deeply in exasperation and began to shred the questionnaire in a sudden blind rage, each tearing of paper punctuated by an angry grunt before he finally threw the sheet out the window. The pieces scattered to the winds like confetti. A soldier passing by on the ground floor briefly wondered if those superiors hogging that office upstairs were throwing some sort of party.
"Roy's girlfriend is not an alchemist!" He yelled out the window as a flock of birds flew past, as if to mock him. While there might have been some Roy out there who had an alchemist girlfriend, it was far more likely that the examiners were using names that were familiar to them. Muttering his grievances about this heinous gag hidden in plain sight, the general picked up the rest of the questionnaires from the inbox, stuffed them into the trash bin, and set it up on the window sill.
Opening up his desk's top drawer, he pulled out a pair of white gloves, slipped one on his right hand, aimed it at the trash bin and snapped his fingers. The stack of papers caught fire with a crimson bolt that flashed like lightning.
That was when the wind picked up… and blew inward.
A fistful of papery embers flew into the office when they would have just wafted gently outside, catching the general unawares. Two seconds later, he was wiping soot off his face in annoyance as the wind changed directions and took the burnt sheets outside, where they should have been going in the first place.
This really wasn't his day.
Checking a mirror to make sure his countenance was indeed completely clean, he poured a glass of water over the trash bin to extinguish the remaining flames. That was another mess all cleaned up. The dark haired general put the gloves away, stood up, and headed for the demonstration room.
There were more important things to deal with right now. He would see Iron Heart's little friend himself. If her transmutations were as impressive as her out of the box thinking, then she might just be this year's State Alchemist.
To be continued…
AN: So here we are, at the end of another chapter. Originally it was supposed to include one more scene, which I'd already written down, but I didn't want to end up with it going on for too long. It tends to be a problem with my stories. They suffer from chapter bloat. As the story goes on, the chapters get bigger and bigger and I end up burning myself out. I think a good point to stop is around 4-5k words. So… yeah, this'll have to do for now.
Hopefully the next one won't take so long. As usual, feel free to leave your comments and feedback, as I'll be gobbling it up. Thanks for reading! :D
