Maoh, A Day Late

by Kyogre

Complete. Yuri arrives in the other world late, and the race for the Boxes has already begun. How will his path change, with the man who should have been his strongest supporter already gone? And what was the reason behind his late arrival?

33. IV-8 How much further?

~.~.~

Title: Maoh, A Day Late

Summary: Yuri arrives in the other world late, and the race for the Boxes has already begun. Season 2.

Notes: It's time to say goodbye to Van Da Via, and to someone else as well.

~.~.~

Part IV, Chapter 8

How much further?

~.~.~

The shrine at the top of the Van Da Via volcano had an ancient foundation, dating back to when the first settlements were founded on the island. Through luck and what the locals believed to be divine intervention, it had survived several eruptions despite leading to an active lava pool.

Every year, sacrifices would be offered to the volcano, thrown into that lava pool by the priests, the leaders and any notable visitors. A few centuries back, those sacrifices had included virgin maidens, but that tradition had also been abolished. Now, they were more commonly effigies.

The shrine itself had of course been rebuilt many times, due to the wear and tear of a tropical climate, if nothing else.

Gwendal spared little attention for the ornately carved wooden pillars and buttresses as he climbed the steps and pushed open the massive double doors. They would have normally been locked off during the rest of the year, but the massive lock and chains had been moved aside - in preparation for their arrival.

Following after Gwendal as he strode down the wide, shadowed hall, Josak carefully noted all the potential hiding places for soldiers... or assassins.

'Belar agreed to meet us too easy,' Josak thought, his sharp eyes missing nothing. 'And why insist on meeting here? It's isolated, maybe, and we won't be disturbed, but...'

The shrine hall stretched onward, deeper into the mountain. The wooden walls gave way to stone, though the seemingly endless rows of wooden pillars continued either side.

Finally, a red-orange glow appeared in the distance, growing bright and brighter as they approached. Waves of heat buffeted them, tugging on Gwendal's long coat and hair.

An almost unbearable heat slammed into the Demon Tribesmen as they stepped out of the tunnel and onto the main altar of the shrine. Past the wooden gateway, there was only stone, roughly hewn into massive, ancient shapes - pillars and arches, a balcony over the lava pool and a small shrine, or maybe a statue that long since lost its features.

Belar stood in front of the altar, his features ominously underlit and cast into stark shadow. Despite the thick, heavy air, he remained in his lavish coat and furs. He looked unnaturally, unsettlingly pale, without even the faintest shimmer of sweat. His thick brown hair billowed in the updrafts like a monster's mane.

"So you've come," he noted as Gwendal stepped into the altar chamber. "Good. That'll save me the trouble of hunting you down."

He seemed strangely confident, given the relatively few soldiers with him. Certainly, they would not be enough to match someone like Gwendal, even with only Josak for backup. Though, he noted, they were not the standard Big Cimaron troops. Their faces were hidden by masks, and any weapons they carried were concealed under their long dark cloaks.

Though Josak didn't realize it, they were the same as the "special" soldiers Belar had brought to Francia to open the Box, the most fanatical and loyal.

Gwendal ignored them as he strode toward Big Cimaron's king. "Did you think we would just ignore your attack on our king? Or did you expect us to fall for your pathetic misdirection?" Gwendal asked coldly. "You all but gave yourself away by admitting you had taken the Small Cimaron soldiers prisoner. Or, more likely, you had them killed, except for their leader."

"Now, now, it hardly matters, right?" Belar drawled. "Your little puppet is hardly important. After all, you have a spare or two, don't you?"

Belar was referring to Murata, the double-black he had mistaken for the Demon King. To him, they probably really were completely interchangeable, below his notice. But Josak was surprised by his own sense of repulsion toward the idea. Their king might have been a naive kid, but he was irreplaceable.

Josak could see the same thought, the same anger and denial in Gwendal's tensing shoulders and clenching fists. Gwendal advanced menacingly, glaring at the pathetic excuse of a man who dared to suggest their king was some something insignificant and unimportant. He could still remember the moment of horrified fear as he stared at the burning remains of the king's room, thinking he had utterly failed Yuri and all those that cared for him.

This... this, above all else, was unforgivable. It would not be allowed.

Caught in that whirlpool of emotion, so uncharacteristically strong for him, Gwendal didn't notice the sudden faltering of his magic or realize that Belar had been too calm, beyond arrogance or madness, and almost gleeful, watching him approach.

As he stepped into the center of the altar, his legs abruptly gave out under him.

"Your Excellency!" Josak exclaimed, drawing his sword as he rushed to Gwendal's aid. Even he felt the slight distortion in the air at the center of the shrine's inner sanctum.

"Esoteric stones?" Gwendal muttered, clutching at his chest. The concentration was almost impossibly high, and he was struggling just to breathe, his vision swimming alarmingly.

"Not exactly," Belar replied with the easy confidence of someone who believed he had won. "It's all shrouded in foolish superstition and legend, but it would seem this shrine contains an ancient seal. Supposedly, it gathers and funnels the power of the spirits. I was assured that in your case, it would act not just to interfere with your Demon magic, but to actively drain it. Isn't that quite something?"

'That's why it feels like... one of Anissina's more dangerous inventions,' Gwendal thought, snarling. He recognized the sensation now, of his magic being siphoned away. But where Anissina had always known her subjects' limits, this would likely continue until he died from magic exhaustion.

All along the altar and across the crude pillars, unknown runes and symbols had begun to glow faintly. For what ritual had the shrine and its seal been originally constructed? Most likely, Belar neither knew nor cared.

"It sounds like a miserable way to die, doesn't it? Drained of your very life," Belar mused. He smiled mockingly at Gwendal. "But don't worry, I don't intend to make you suffer through that. After all, there is something I want from you. To be precise, your left eye."

That strangely specific goal startled Josak, but judging by the way his eyes narrowed, it meant something to Gwendal.

Belar looked triumphant, as if having confirmed something for himself. "I heard all about it," he assured Gwendal. "That fool Maxine told me quite a few interesting things. The left arm is the Key to the End of the Wind, the Box in my possession."

For a moment, his expression showed bitter frustration with the way he believed Conrart had fooled him.

"But from his little experiment, it's clear that a Key can be used to open the wrong Box. The result was sufficient, perhaps even preferable. After all, the world can't be ruled if it is completely destroyed," Belar mused.

The casual way he weighed the potential destruction wrought by the Boxes and the lives involved was chilling.

"He also told me that they had believed their Box to be the Ends of the Earth and sought to track the bloodline connected to it," Belar continued. "He even had one the members of that lineage at his disposal in Svelera. He brought the Box there, but when he tried to test it, the Box only burned the man's face."

'Gegenhuber Griesela,' Josak realized. He remembered the brutal scar that marked almost half his face, centered around... his left eye...

"That fool Maxine assumed that the Box was the wrong one," Belar sneered, "but more likely, it was because he had the wrong member of that line. There is only one of each Key, after all. That there was a reaction at all shows he came close."

Belar's hungry eyes focused on Gwendal, studying his features the way one might look at a prize mare or hound. "And isn't it my luck that the true successor of that bloodline is right here," he said slowly, his lips spreading in a parody of a smile. "I'll have to test it, of course, but that won't be difficult. After all, the Keys still work even separated from their original holders."

He jerked his head to the cloaked soldiers, who began to advance on the two Demon Tribesmen. "We only need the left eye, but go ahead and take the whole head," Belar instructed, watching with obvious relish.

"As if I'll just let you!" Josak exclaimed, raising his sword. Just one glance was enough to let him know that Gwendal would not be able to stand under his own power, and his condition was getting worse. The odds were not good, but he'd faced worse, if only once before.

Instead of moving to intercept him, the soldiers parted their cloaks to reveal strange cylindrical contraptions that could only be weapons. The leader, standing half a step in front of the others, leveled his device in Josak's direction.

There was a strange whirring sound, and suddenly a large fireball shot out, just barely missing the half-breed. The heat of its passing left his bare arm burning.

But past the first moment of surprise, Josak refused to let himself falter. He had faced opponents with special skills before - whether magic or machine. He bared his teeth in a predator's grin and calculated the fastest way to reach his enemies.

The odds were bad, but he would still take them.

The cloaked soldiers raised their weapons, the same whirring sound multiplied to become almost a roar, and fired.

"STOP!"

The sudden, commanding roar was accompanied by a burst of pure power that swept across the shrine. Human-made fire stood no chance before the might of magic, and the storm of fireballs simply dissipated into little more than wisps of smoke.

The wave of magic rolled onward, throwing the cloaked soldiers back. Their weapons burst apart as that power passed through them.

Footsteps echoed in the sudden silence. Josak slowly turned around, following Belar's fixed gaze over his shoulder. A slight figure, magic all but tangible around it, emerged from the long, dark tunnel. Black hair swayed in the flow of that power, almost hiding equally black eyes that glared sharply at Big Cimaron's king.

"Your Majesty..." Josak murmured, truly meaning it, in every sense, for perhaps the first time.

"Enough," the Demon King declared, striding forward. His eyes were firmly locked on Belar, ignoring Josak's aborted attempt to warn him about the esoteric seal. As he moved across the altar, the unknown runes flared with almost blinding light before settling into a steady glow. Magic hung heavily in the air, and the temperature suddenly dropped. Released from the seal's trap, Gwendal gasped quietly, as if coming up for air.

The thick aura had drained from the Demon King with each step, until it was simply Yuri who drew beside Josak and Gwendal. Up close, Josask could see the way his shoulders were heaving and his white shirt was soaked through with sweat. The bundle in his arms shifted and let out a deep growl.

"That's enough," Yuri said, his voice quiet but strong. He took another step forward, putting himself between Belar and his people. "Don't you know you've already lost? The Box you have is just a fake. Just stop. Enough."

The revelation of his failure stunned Belar into motionless silence. He stared, wide-eyed, at Yuri as his mind tried to comprehend what had occurred behind his back.

Finally, Belar flinched as if startled awake and seemed to curl in on himself. His shoulders shook, but the sound that emerged was laughter. Throwing back his head, he laughed, mad and bitter.

"Is that so," he snarled, his mouth still twisted into a teeth-baring grin. "So that's what you were aiming for. It seems I underestimated you, Demon King!"

Just as quickly as it had come, his anger drained away. Relaxing, almost languidly, Belar studied Yuri with an assessing gaze. On the edges of the platform, his cloaked soldiers began to pick themselves up, again moving to surround the Demon Tribesmen.

"So what do you plan to do?" Belar asked. He smirked at the way Yuri's eyes narrowed in confusion. "You act innocent, but in truth you've been amassing power all this time. So what's you goal? The world? The extermination of humanity?"

"Of course not!" Yuri protested, honest distress showing clear on his face. "The only thing I want is peace!"

Belar nodded knowingly. "Of course, I see. Certainly, everyone will be far too afraid to dare attacking you. Is that what you're thinking?" Ignoring Yuri's protests, he looked down at the thing the young king was clutching to his chest. "You've gathered quite the armory, haven't you? I can see you've retrieved that cursed thing as well."

"It's not like that!" Yuri insisted. "I just didn't want Morgif to cause any more trouble for the people here."

"So that is the Demon Sword, just as I suspected," Belar noted. "How can you say you strive for peace when seeking out a weapon like that? How can you expect any human to trust you? Do you know how many humans have been slaughtered by that blade? How many human lives that cursed thing fed upon?"

Yuri flinched, holding Morgif closer. The sword groaned, a low, apologetic sound. Through the black jacket wrapped around it, the demon blade was glowing faintly.

"...Is that what everyone will think?" Yuri wondered. He looked down at the sword in his arms. It crooned sadly, the white face twisting toward him. "Is Morgif really something like that?"

Slowly, his saddened, confused expression shifted into the familiar look of determination as Yuri seemed to come to some decision.

He gripped the hilt of the sword in one hand and the black cloth with the other. Pulling the jacket off, he let Morgif's blade swing free, the tip trailing just above the stone of the altar as Yuri began to walk toward the edge - and toward Belar.

The king of Big Cimaron watched cooly as Yuri drew level with him, only the small shrine between them. He seemed unconcerned with the weapon in Yuri's hand, even when Yuri raised the sword up. Its strange face was level with his own, the features shifting into something fierce and frightening.

"Morgif... Willem Dussollier Eli D'Morgif," Yuri said slowly. "You vow to always fight by the Demon King's side, no matter the battlefield. For your loyalty, I thank you." He bowed his head to the sword. "But I... don't want there to be any more battlefields, any more battles..."

The fanged mouth of Morgif's spectral visage opened, and the sword growled in reply. The deep, bass sound resonated through the volcano chamber, making the very rock tremble.

It seemed to mean something to Yuri. "I said I'd take you to nice hot spring in the Demon Kingdom," he said, "but would you... please wait here a little longer? Until I can prove to everyone that they don't need to be scared of you?"

Morgif groaned wordlessly. But even so, the meaning was clear - the Demon King's loyal servant would carry out his will, no matter what it was.

Yuri smiled, a little sadly, as he turned to face the lava pool beyond the edge of the altar platform. "Don't worry, no one will bother you here," he told Morgif. Turning the sword over, he let the blade rest on one palm, the hilt in the other, and bowed with the blade held out like an offering.

In a way, that was just what it was - a ritual offering.

Straightening, Yuri took a deep breath and threw Morgif into the air.

The sword spun, its blade glowing brightly as it plunged into the lava. The moment it was swallowed by the molten flow, a reverberation passed through the chamber, more than just a tremor. The esoteric seal flared before the power gathered in it surged out into the rock and the lava and seemed to dissipate completely.

Belar and the other Demon Tribesmen could only stare in shock, unable to comprehend Yuri's actions. Turning back, Yuri met Belar's eyes evenly, not quite a challenge, but a statement of fact.

Shaking his head in denial, Belar tried to laugh again, his chuckles stuttering and uncertain. "You... You've certainly got some guts," he snarled. "But don't think an empty show like that will change anything! Not when you still have the Boxes!"

"I'll end the threat of the Forbidden Boxes too," Yuri declared, cutting across Belar's rant. "That's why we have been gathering them in the first place. You're wrong to have ever thought of them as weapons. From the start, they were created for a different purpose - to rid the world of the Originators. And we're going to fulfill that promise."

"...That's what... you're planning...?" Gwendal muttered, dragging himself to his feet. Still weak from the drain to his magic, he grasped Josak's shoulder to steady himself. His intent gaze bore into Yuri.

Belar bared his teeth, glaring in anger at the Demon King. "It doesn't matter," he repeated. "None of that matters! Of course not! You don't need a weapon, do you, demon? After all, you yourself wield a power that can stop even one of the Forbidden Boxes!"

He gestured sharply, and the cloaked soldiers began to advance, closing in on the Demon Tribesmen.

"Why don't I get rid of that weapon for you as well?" Belar offered mockingly.

Josak spun around, pushing Gwendal back. Out of their group, he was probably the only one who could actually fight at this point. He raised his sword, but in the next moment he realized there had been no need.

One of the cloaked soldiers stumbled suddenly and fell forward, then a second, and a third. In the gap stood Conrart, readying his sword once more. Focused on Yuri, the others had missed his arrival, on the heels of his liege.

"That's enough," Yuri said again. He leveled one final fierce, commanding look at Belar and stepped away from the ledge. "We're leaving."

Belar glared after him, but as his eyes darted to Conrart and Josak, both ready to fight, to Gwendal, slowly but steadily recovering, and to Yuri himself, possessing an unknown power, he seemed to realize persisting would be nothing short of suicidal.

At his reluctant signal, the cloaked soldiers parted ranks, letting the Demon Tribesmen pass, Yuri leading, Gwendal and Josak following, the former still leaning heavily on the former. Conrart brought up in the rear, his sword held at ready long after they stepped out of the altar chamber.

~.~.~

Emerging from the long hall into the main wooden shrine building, Yuri took a deep, shuddering breath and hunched in relief as he exhaled. His steps picked up suddenly, and he all but ran out of the shrine into the cool evening air.

He wasn't sure why now, after everything was settled, but he was suddenly shaking and short of breath. Bracing his hands on his knees, Yuri bent over and tried to compose himself.

Conrart came up beside him, laying one hand on his back and leaning over to glance at his face. Yuri forced a smile, but he knew the expression was far from reassuring. Still, Conrart seemed to understand.

"Would you like me to carry you now, Your Majesty?" he asked with teasing helpfulness.

Yuri smiled, exasperated but honest. "I can walk by myself," he said. "And it's Yuri, remember?"

Conrart smiled in return. "Of course, Y-"

"Your Majesty," Gwendal snapped, cutting their banter short. He had recovered enough to loom over them both, his expression dark. Frowning, he demanded, "Why did you come?"

"I heard from Flynn that you went to meet with Belar," Yuri explained. He frowned too, looking up at Gwendal. "What were you thinking, anyway? What were you trying to do?"

"...He has become too great a threat, not just to the Demon Tribe, but to the world at large. I had intended to assassinate him," Gwendal admitted.

"What?!" Yuri shouted, straightening with a snap. "You can't do that! You can't just decide to end someone's life like that! I would never support something like that!"

'That's precisely why I didn't want you to know,' Gwendal thought, unwillingly forced to look away from Yuri's angry, indignant glare.

"And what were you thinking?" he shot back in response. "Giving in to his taunting and throwing the legendary Demon Sword into the volcano? A weapon like that could have ensured that no human nations dared to attack the Demon Kingdom!"

Yuri flinched but stood his ground, glaring back. "That wasn't because of what Belar said! But other human nations will think that too!" He spread his hands pleadingly. "We're already asking them to believe in us a lot. Right now, no one will be able to just trust us with Morgif's power. But one day, when we have true peace and no one has to be afraid anymore, I'll definitely come back for Morgif!"

Standing to one side and observing the argument, Josak and Conrart exchanged a look. Both quickly glanced away, the same thought occurring to both. 'Why does he think the sword won't melt in the lava?' It's the Demon Sword, true, but wasn't that taking it too far? Of course, neither was willing to point that out to Yuri. The concept might not have occurred to him at all.

Unable to decide whether to try to beat some sense into Yuri, bow down to the determined wish of his king or pet the endearing little fool, Gwendal simply growled and stalked past Yuri, down the steps leading up to the shrine.

"Hey, Gwendal, wait!" Yuri called after him, running to catch up.

However, his far shorter legs were at a definite disadvantage as Gwendal took the steps four at a time. But the time Yuri reached the road at the bottom, he was out of breath again. To his surprise, Gwendal was waiting for him, and he wasn't alone.

Flynn smiled at Yuri as he finally reached where she, Alford and Gwendal stood. "All of you made it. That's good." she noted. But her sharp eyes didn't miss Gwendal's slightly worn appearance, Yuri's exhaustion, or the missing sword. She didn't need to ask how things had gone with Belar. Instead, she said, "What will you do now?"

"We will be departing," Gwendal replied shortly. "I believe all that we've done everything possible at this conference."

"But what about the other delegates?" Yuri wondered. Hesitating, he added, "And... can't we at least spend the night?" The prospect of walking all the way down to the harbor and the preparations necessary to set off was honestly daunting.

Flynn's lips thinned as she seemed to read something in Gwendal's words. But she still offered a smile to Yuri. "It's alright. I'll take care of it. I think... you're right. It's time to wrap up this conference," she said. "I need to get back to Caloria. We have a lot to prepare for."

Yuri nodded reluctantly. "It's just... I don't want it to end like this," he admitted. "Did we even accomplish anything?"

"Oh, I think so," Flynn said, smiling mysteriously. "It might not seem that way, but the way forward can be revealed in truly unexpected ways."

She looked sad but determined, as she looked up at the darkening sky, lost in thought.

"Sometimes... it might seem like a tragedy, but... good things come of it too," she said, mused. "The will to finally take action, openly and proudly... Meetings and friendships that would have otherwise never taken place..."

"You mean... with Caloria..." Yuri wondered, staring at her in surprise.

Smiling, Flynn nodded. "Caloria was not destroyed. We will rebuild our country, stronger and more beautiful than ever before," she promised. Unexpectedly, she bowed. "Please lend us your support, as our allies."

"O-of course!" Yuri replied, bowing in return. They both peered up at the same time, their eyes meeting. Together, they chuckled, straightening. Smiling and holding out his hand, Yuri said, "Let's work together, okay? Toward a future of new possibilities between our two tribes."

Flynn's small hand was soft and gentle in his, but her grip was firm. "I'm looking forward to it, Your Majesty," she said. Her eyes were clear and determined.

'She's really strong,' Yuri thought, blushing a little. 'I've really got to pull it together if I want to become a good leader too.' Glancing behind him, he could see Conrart, Josak and Gwendal watching. 'Everyone is counting on me.'

"Let's go home," Yuri declared, turning to them. "Everyone is waiting for us!"

He couldn't wait to see Wolfram and Murata again, and even Gunter. He really was so lucky. He wouldn't let them down.

~.~.~

((It's finally over. The next part is all Filler, in true anime style. Nothing meaningful happens. There's lots of pointless running around. Oh yeeeeah.))

((But now we're really eating through my back log, mostly because I'm kinda stuck on my writing. At this rate, I might have to space updates more widely...)