Chapter 57: Abyssal Dynasty

Wu Zhang Fort, in the early hours of the morning

Standing meekly behind Isley, Priscilla stared in alarm at the Middle Kingdom's greatest champions: five mighty warriors that threw themselves against impossible foes, against overwhelming odds. Their last stand was a rather abrupt one, but it seemed rather natural and inevitable in the face of the true evil that threatened to extinguish the failing flame of China's sovereignty.

An amusing notion, thought Galatea to herself. That we should fall so ignobly, just when the war is drawing so close to the end we've all prayed for.

She felt one of Isley's organic arrows graze her arm, cutting at her skin. She still sneered at him – he deserved her scorn regardless. "This is not what I expected," she smiled, conjuring a powerful fireball that hurtled towards the Abyssal One. "That you would actually have the courage to show your face before the Queen of the Wei Empire." She rolled away from the foot stomp of a Strossus, narrowly avoiding a fall into the wide pit that was imprinted into the ground. "Awakened Beings never fight fairly, after all."

Isley repelled the fireball with his open palm, and it shot upwards into the sky before exploding. He aimed his mutated longbow at her head. "After my triumph on the Continent, our kind have no reason to conceal our faces any longer." He smirked as she parried his iron-like poles, yet grunted in pain as another two Yoma bolts thrust into her arms from above. "You did not dwell long enough at Sutafu long enough to see the destruction I wrought. The island belongs to me, now, along with those that serve me. And the portal will not be destroyed."

He glanced up as Galatea's Yoki flared, and she hurtled down, a swirl of frost enveloping her body. She hurled the ice nova into a bellowing Strossus and shot a bolt of lightning at its master. But Isley continued to defend himself adeptly, swatting away her spell with nothing more than his left hand. "As long as the portals maintain their bridge between the Continent and China, you cannot defeat us. The Mogao grottoes nourish our Yoki and strengthen us. Phantom Miria never realized that, but even if she knew, the outcome would have not changed. Her crew of weaklings would have fallen regardless. As long as the Caves remain in our hands, you cannot even begin to fathom the power we have attained since our victory on the Continent.

"Eventually, no matter how great that man's potential…" He nodded at Zhou Tai, who had already unleashed almost fifty percent of his Yoki. "Without a limitless wellspring of Yoki from the portals connecting our worlds together, he can never surpass us."

"I hardly know him," dismissed Galatea, conjuring a new hail of ice that was quickly met and destroyed by his storm of Yoma arrows. She glanced at her new ally. His second clash against Rigardo reached a level of hatred and intensity that far surpassed their first encounter at He Fei. Perhaps it was because Cynthia fought beside him, Excalibur conjuring powerful streaks of lightning as she swung it against Rigardo's claws. But the resurrected Awakened Being was… somehow stronger. He deflected Excalibur's attacks with ease, and even Zhou Tai could not overcome him with the strength that had become renowned amongst friend and foe alike. Was Isley telling the truth? Was the Mogao locale of such central importance to the formidable power that the enemy enjoyed? "Confound it," she muttered, backflipping away from another barrage of bolts from the Abyssal One.

"If that is true… then we're in a tighter corner than we predicted."

Yue Ying dashed along the wall of Wu Zhang fort and opened fire at the Strossi, a hail of missiles colliding against their carapaces. Towering over the bloodstained Wei River, they moved in tandem, revealing their multiple rows of jagged teeth as they reached for her. They noticed her precarious position, and one of them swiped its claws along the wall, sundering the stone architecture and tearing apart the granite blocks that held together the parapet.

"Can you break past them?" asked the Grand General, panting.

"I will do my best," answered Flora, clutching at her bleeding abdomen. Her Windcutter managed to carve several deep wounds across the arms of one infernal, but they did not concede, for their hearts retained no emotion, no fear, no sense of vengeance or terror or spite. They were merely an extension of Isley's sick genius – relentless and brutal. He smiled as Yue Ying and Flora fell painfully to the ground. The Strossi had cut them away from their three allies, and as one, the demons opened their jagged mouths and spat out a violent flow of tentacles that speared through the two women. Yue Ying managed to shoot down five before being surmounted by the sheer weight. Flora struggled to break free, but not even Durandal could withstand the combined power of four Strossi. A tentacle that wrapped itself around her right wrist had neutralized her Windcutter.

"No!" cried Galatea, as the Strossi hemmed them in even further. They would be torn apart –

She narrowly dodged a converted volley of bony spears. She furiously whipped back to face Isley. "Foolish lass," he smirked, his fingers lowering from his bow. "Your own life must take first priority, before anything else."

"Shut up," she snarled. The three elements from Euangelion united and blasted towards the arrogant miscreant. "In the name of the Imperial Chancellor, you will fall before the Middle Kingdom's forces. This I swear."

Isley gently nudged Priscilla further away and threw up his feathered cloak. He pressed his palms together, and at a mental command, a giant, twenty-foot lance burst forth from his forearms. The black polearm melded perfectly with his body, and without the slightest hint of effort, he directed it to shoot towards Galatea. She gasped in astonishment as it tore through her elemental blast, sending shards of crackling, frozen flame hurtling into the midnight sky. And before Galatea could hold up her longsword, his lance plunged through her torso, ramming her backwards with an unequalled velocity. She crashed into the parapet of Wu Zhang fort, the fabric of her dress rent by the force of the pointed lance. Her eyes snapped shut in pain from the shocking impact, and her mouth opened wide to shriek her agony.

Isley smirked. "Does it feel somewhat upsetting, to be dismantling your stronghold with your own body?"

"Isley!" roared Galatea furiously, blood spurting from her chest. Euangelion fell from her hand, and she raised her arms to clutch at the lance entrenched in her body, gripping it feverishly. But it was futile. Isley dragged her body along the wall, leaving a thick trail of blood along the stone as he ripped away her clothing and her skin, scraping her uncovered flesh along the rough surface of the granite. She dashed herself against the citadel wall and fell painfully amongst its ruins. When her moans fell silent, he smiled and withdrew his organic weapon. It slinked quickly into his hands and out of sight. Within a heartbeat, the massive lance disappeared into his human forearms.

"Not even your considerable defensive Yoki will be enough to heal that." He paused, and chuckled. "That was more straightforward than I expected. But such impotence is typical for a commander that troubles herself with her allies above her own life."

*

Zhou Tai growled, his yellow eyes bulging out of their sockets momentarily. He struggled against the Lion King, who seemed even stronger from their struggle at He Fei. "So this… this why the portal at the Mogao Caves must be destroyed," he gritted. "It is feeding them nearly limitless Yoki…"

Rigardo let out a murmur of appreciation. "Oh? You deduce the reasons behind our advantage quite quickly. But it is more than that." His silver eyes glared down at the half-Yoma. "My thirst for vengeance gives me all the strength I need to wreak my revenge on you," he roared, slashing and forcing the Chinese admiral to his knees. "Where was that fire that granted you such strength at He Fei? Have you lost it? Did you lose it to – " He glanced at the blonde Claymore that blocked his finishing blow, straining under the weight of his augmented strength. "I see. So what I suspected before my death was correct."

"And you will die again. No matter how many times I must end you," snarled Zhou Tai. "You will not touch her."

Cynthia hurled herself at Rigardo, thrusting a lightning-charged Excalibur into the Lion King's back. Rigardo snarled, enraged, and backhanded Zhou Tai to one side. Cynthia managed to carve a deep wound across Rigardo's bicep before he counterattacked, his fingers stabbing into her shoulder. She cried out as her nerves were severed, one by one, and in a callously calculated manoeuvre, he slashed downwards with both hands, drawing ten rivers of blood across the Rising Dragon General. "You are far from innocent, wench. You will die, too."

Her eyes widened as Rigardo appeared behind her, and before Zhou Tai could fight back, his claws separated the couple, tearing a new wound across Cynthia's already devastated body. Zhou Tai snarled, his muscles bulging further out of his armour. He swung Duskstrike and fell short of Rigardo's head, merely brushing past his mane. Rigardo spread his arms, and his ten fingers elongated into writhing tentacles that stabbed through the admiral, impaling him in twenty different wounds. A roar of pain shook the hillside. Zhou Tai staggered back and sprawled along the ground as the tendrils were coldly withdrawn to assault Cynthia.

The couples staggered and reeled at the Lion King's astonishing new strength. "Tai… he is too strong… and I… I'm too useless."

"No," gurgled Zhou Tai, as she collapsed and dropped Excalibur, her arms and legs pierced by Rigardo's fingers and her bosom by his thumb. No. She cannot fall here! I swore to protect her future, to see her live out her happiness. There is only one way to ensure her protection. He dashed forward and scooped up his wife. He intercepted Rigardo's swipe as he shielded her, gritting his teeth at the new, wet laceration carved across his back. "I will do what that monster has done," he muttered. "It is our only choice. I will bring out the deepest darkness that lurks within me, and match him in power."

Cynthia whimpered as she clutched at him. "Please… don't do it. You are so very precious to me. I am not afraid of death… but I don't want to lose you to he darkness within."

"Cynthia…"

It was her cry, her distressed plea that weakened him more than anything. "If… I do not Awaken for you… what… what must I do?" he murmured, collapsing as Rigardo's claws continued to tear open his body without resistance. His breastplate was now useless; it dangled at its hinges and fell away from his torso. He retreated from the Lion King, shielding the powerless Cynthia from the Awakened Being as his pawed feet smashed into his abdomen, efficiently reducing all twelve ribs to white powder. Zhou Tai collapsed, his strength finally extinguished, and a feeble Cynthia moaned in protest.

Satisfied, Rigardo turned to watch the Strossi, who enjoyed an overwhelming superiority over the weakened allies. It will not be long now. We must deal with these suicidal fools quickly.

The subservient demons gave no quarter. They tore into the heroines eagerly. Yue Ying vomited out a torrent of blood as her stomach opened from one of their merciless claws. Flora had not fared better. She barely managed to hold on to Durandal, for her torn body was no longer responding to her mental directives. Her blue armour was crumpled, her azure robes, in tatters. She could not react when the Strossi charged and battered them apart, separating her from Yue Ying. She swore to herself. I must buy some time and help my comrades recover –

Rigardo seized his chance and dashed before her, his sadistic eyes meeting her gentle ones. His claws roughly snatched her from the air, digging into her pale flesh and rupturing her veins. She cried out and struggled wildly, flailing and twisting, but his grip was inexorable as the fabric of her attire began to tear. "How foolish of you to incur our wrath," he roared, lifting her high with his far stronger arms. "But I should have expected nothing more. With humanity comes arrogance, and with arrogance – comes mistakes!"

He thrust up his knee and slammed down her helpless body into his thigh, neatly shattering her spine in two.

A loud crack resounded through the air.

A choked gasp issued from her windpipe as she felt her nervous system shut down and terminate. She screamed uncontrollably as Rigardo tossed her against the ground and howled in triumph, his fists clenched tightly as red Yoki swirled around her body, consuming it entirely. She convulsed briefly. And then, her screaming followed her body into silence.

"Number Eight of the Organization, Windcutter Flora – has fallen by my hand!" shrieked the Lion King exultantly.

Yue Ying coughed, and blood sprayed from her ruined throat. "Damn… damn you monsters!" she cried, firing recklessly and frantically up into the Strossi's face. The gargantuan creature simply held up its trunk-thick fists and allowed the missiles to slam uselessly against its forearms. "You… why have you come to invade us?! Why?!" The Strossi behind her merely slobbered as it drew down to tear apart her chemise. Venomous saliva dripped onto her bare skin, and she screamed in pain. But her livid words were clear and inimitable. "Answer me!!"

Isley closed his silver eyes and smiled.

In a final act of resistance and enraged by his refusal to respond, she spun her legs and swung back up on her back, landing on a crouch despite her grievous wounds. She quickly stabbed into the leg of a Strossus and leaped up to spring from its thigh towards Isley's position. She would blow apart his despicable face with a well-timed shot to his head –

Rigardo vanished before Flora's body and pressed a claw against Yue Ying's abdomen. Before she could blink, he thrust, and a new, bloody hole opened in her torso. She plunged to the grass and thumped onto the sward. She did not rise again, for her spinal chord, like Flora's, had been damaged beyond any hope for repair. And the fact that she was a mere human…

It would be impossible for her to see the dawn.

"You are a raucous woman," murmured Isley, opening his eyes again to gaze at the lifeless Chinese commander. "Stay still and be silent."

Zhou Tai released Duskstrike and crawled towards his prone wife, snarling and frothing at the lips. His yellow eyes were desperate, and his grip, like a terrified child's. They glimpsed each other, and she turned her head slowly. "Tai, you're hurt," she whispered, her voice marvellously comforting and consoling, full of selfless concern. She smiled and clutched his trembling hand. "You must take care of yourself first… before you take care of me," she moaned.

"No," he gritted. "I refuse to give up. We must defeat them. I must defeat them for you. For our future."

She sighed, her voice breaking. "I… I'm a terrible wife… aren't I? Even with Excalibur, I can't help you anymore. Even with so many friends behind me and all the battles I have learned from… all I've been doing these three years is getting in your way." Tears leaked out of her eyes as her voice suddenly weakened until it was almost inaudible. "Promise me one thing. Promise me you will never Awaken. Not for me… not… for the family that…"

His eyes widened. "Cynthia? What are you saying?"

She did not answer.

"Cynthia. Please answer me. I must know." Zhou Tai kissed her forehead desperately, but she would not respond to even his lips. Her eyes had closed, and the smile that graced her countenance was one of true peace. His lip trembled as he stared down at her soft, gentle face.

It had turned pallid with the shade of a slow, prolonged agony… and with that terrible knowledge; his heart could never feel peace.

"No. Please. Do not let this be. My wife…" He let out an inaudible moan, and buried his face in her chest, unable to hold back a quiet sob. He repeated her name, his deep voice trembling and lachrymose. All desire for Awakening simply evaporated, along with the passion for life he had only just discovered. His eyes shone with a silent, profound grief. His will to live flickered like a dying candlelight, and his sharp teeth slowly withdrew into his gums.

If she would not come back to him… then he would go to her instead.

Rigardo's hand shot into his chest, spearing through his heart and out from his breastplate. His claws plunged past Zhou Tai and into Cynthia's breast, before finally withdrawing with a sickening, brutal yank. "Embrace one another in the afterlife," sneered Rigardo, as husband and wife slammed against the hard dirt.

It was done.

Isley looked at Rigardo, and he smiled as the Strossi screamed in triumph, clutching their fists and howling at the beaming moon. Galatea, Flora, Yue Ying, Zhou Tai, and Cynthia – the Shu, Wu and Wei commanders had all fallen before him. It had almost been too easy. With the flow of power from the connected portals in the Mogao Caves, nothing and no one could hinder them. "Excellent work," proclaimed the Dweller of the North. "You have fulfilled your duty unto me. But I require more than mere obligation. The entire world must be rendered unto me.

"This battle belongs to us. China belongs to us. All that is left is to attack Chengdu and Jianye, before gathering all our strength to strike at Xuchang, the Wei Capital."

Rigardo did not bother returning to his human form just yet. "Wu Zhang Plains belongs to us. What shall we do with this fort?"

"Blow it up."

"And the Shu camps beyond the mountains?"

"Destroy them."

"And what of the strongholds surrounding the highlands? Surely they have strategic value – "

"Blow them up, too. They are unpleasant." The Dweller of the North turned to his servant and smiled. "Annihilate the cities and military castles without discrimination. I've told you before, Rigardo. This is my gift to you. A national feast of human innards – the most scrumptious, mouth-watering banquet you can barely begin to imagine."

Rigardo allowed himself a small smile. "You are of a pleasant temper this morning, my Lord."

"How could I not be, old friend? After all is said and done…" Isley glanced down disdainfully at the corpse-littered panorama of the Central Plains, with the forts and sundered mountains in all their nauseating glory.

"This is only the beginning."

*

Yue Ying lay near the cliff of the high hill, her chemise ripped to shreds, her slender body exposed to the cold elements of the night. Tears leaked down her face as the glittering lights and lanterns… no, the stars… died. The voices of her comrades had fallen silent. All her life, she had always prepared herself for the possibility of defeat, but this? No… she could not have imagined this indignity: to fail her King, to have failed her men, to fail Flora. She had come so very close, but all her struggles as Grand General were now tragically undone.

What had she done in a past life to deserve such wretchedness? What crimes had her people ever committed to deserve such persecution? And even now, why was she always abandoned to be alone, no matter where or who she fought?

"My husband," she murmured. "If only I could be with you… just one more time." She spat out a loose molar and swore quietly.

"Zhan… my beloved son."

She smiled at the psychic image of her little boy. She turned around on her back, panting. Her bleeding hands clutched and scraped at the soil.

I was never there for you. I could only be by your side in times of peace… and we almost never enjoyed an end to war. I don't blame you if you hate me.

"Be a gentleman when you grow up. That is all I wish of you…"

Without the strength to even move, she could only sigh in acceptance and allow the blackness to overtake her. There could be no nobler end, to depart without panic, without fear.

Daddy… your little girl is coming home.

*

The limp body of Cynthia lay wrapped in Zhou Tai's arms. The couple remained silent, tranquil, and content. The admiral, through his refusal to surrender to his lust for ultimate power, had risked the ultimate price. He was doomed from the moment he drew his sword against Rigardo, for he could not – would not – release his complete potential. Cynthia had never wanted him to reach that zenith of power. She wanted him to stay with her, instead. For her husband to Awaken would mean the end of his love and his humanity. And she never wanted it to end.

In many ways, his devotion to his half-Yoma spouse had denied him that one chance. But it no longer mattered. Their life-wish had been fulfilled. They would never be separated. They lay cuddled amongst each other, their lives entwined in victory at the Red Cliffs, and in defeat at the plains of Wu Zhang.

She was his Cynthia of Pieta.

He was her Lord, her baby Tai.

Those words she spoken so lovingly to him on their wedding night resounded ever more clearly.

I will never, ever leave you.

*

Lying further away from Yue Ying and outside the gate of the fortress rubble, Galatea's eyes had glazed over, and Euangelion reclined by her side, humming anxiously for its owner to take it up and fight once more. Hold me in your grip and fight! But there was no response. The Queen of Wei simply rested on the grass, barely able to breathe, her eyelids slowly closing. She felt rather tired. Perhaps now would be a good time to sleep. In any case, it had all been considerably tiring. An eternal beauty nap sounded quite attractive, really.

"Mengde… you fool," she murmured, her fingers twitching lightly. "You always… expected so much of me. And I… was a fool to expect so much of myself."

She turned her head slowly, stealing one last, fond glance at her vanquished comrades.

"My time in your Kingdom, Mengde… has been the most meaningful milestone I could have ever hoped for."

I was so close to realizing your dream. I came so close to understanding you. That's a most extraordinary thing in itself, is it not?

She gritted her teeth. No. She would not cry here. He would not want to see her like that. Life was precious. She had to bid farewell with dignity, with significance. "But I've failed you… again," she whispered, closing her eyes. "For that, I am so sorry."

I… may not be returning to your chambers tonight.

She indulged herself in one last whimsical smile.

I don't think… I'll be joining you for breakfast.

*

The silence of the bloodsoaked Central Plains was absolute. Amidst hundreds of thousands of Wei and Shu corpses stood only three figures, and four soaring shadows.

Isley was victorious. The Awakened Beings were triumphant.

The final hope of China had perished.

So many had died. And for what? Had it all been meaningless, fruitless? And even after their reunion, they could not triumph. After so much tribulation, their desperate efforts had not been rewarded – nay; they had been punished for daring to believe that the scars of the past could ever be healed. Despite all her triumphs in this ancient realm she had nevertheless been condemned to ultimate failure.

What would future generations say? Would they say that the guardians of the world-age had put aside their differences too late? Would they revile the heroes of the Three Kingdoms and the Continent for crumpling before the most terrifying monsters in creation? Or would there even be any future generations to reflect on the choices they had made?

What would history's verdict be?

Lord Zhuge Liang…

King Liu Bei…

Zilong…

Her spine snapped in two and her life spilling out underneath her, Flora could only reach up to the glimmering stars with a trembling arm. Tears flowed from her silver eyes as she stared at her bloody hand, stretching upwards towards the firmament.

Lady Huang, and Master Zhou Tai…

"Is this… all I can do… to save the Chinese people? My people?"

The Marquess gritted her teeth, whimpering, as the seared muscles in her limp hand failed her. It fell for a time without end as she felt her consciousness slowly slip into oblivion.

"I… I don't want to die."

Her world gradually went black, as black as the night that had fallen upon the realm she had come to love as her own.

Queen Galatea… General Cynthia. It was my greatest honour to fight beside you, if only for a short while. Although I wish… I could have fought better.

Goodbye, goodbye.

Gentle people of the Middle Kingdom… I can hear… the music.

The beautiful Chinese flutes… whistling… my requiem.

*

*

*

*

THE END OF IMPERIAL FIRE