Chapter Eighteen
Lucifaad, Lucifaad Territory
When Cyrus came to Lucifaad, the last thing he expected was to be caught up in a conspiracy of this magnitude.
"What is a Malebranche?"
The question, when asked, brought forth an indescribable rage from the malevolent entity.
They are a disease upon the lands for which I guard. The Malevolence spoke with a frozen voice that betrayed the rage festering inside. They are beings that court madness and bring despair upon friend and foe alike. Lucifer knew not what he wrought when he created such malignant creatures.
"You have a history with them?"
I have more than history, boy. The shadow retorted. It was by my will that prevented Lucifer and his moronic children from being by the madness they so foolishly created. Without my intervention, the Underworld would have become a beacon of insanity and chaos. A madness that has touched your mind.
The malevolent entity's words spoke truth.
Cyrus could feel Calcabrina's power taking root in the darkest corners of the shadow realm. His lessons regarding the weapons born of the Underworld came to mind as he wallowed in the darkness.
The Malebranche were weapons crafted from the crystals of Agreas and inspired by the Sacred Gears Heaven bestowed upon Humanity.
While the Sacred Gears are weapon platforms with a few unique exceptions, the Malebranche are far more…treacherous.
They are living beings fashioned from the desperation of Lucifer and his lackeys in the years before the Great War began.
The Satans created the Malebranche to tip the scales of war in their favor, and they welcomed the newfound power with open arms, but it came at a cost.
The Malebranche exists solely to indulge their carnal desire for blood and conflict in almost every waking moment of their life.
Lucifer was the first to experience their terrible toll upon his psyche, and his violent outbursts cost him a crushing defeat upon the plains of Alinor.
The unquenchable rage began to infect the other Satans, and within weeks, the Malebranche found themselves sealed within near-impenetrable vaults scattered across the Underground.
To use them was to court death itself.
They were too viscous, too corrupting to be of any use to those with a sound mind.
Only the desperate would ever dare bring them to light.
And the Loyalists were truly desperate.
MAKE US WHOLE.
A towering obelisk birthed echoes of madness to the front of his mind. He can still hear the lingering whispers ghosting his mind in between the malevolent entity's rage-filled below.
MAKE US WHOLE.
Flashes of a double-helix obelisk stained with unfamiliar symbols etched onto its surface stained Cyrus's thoughts. He could feel the madness threatening to swallow him whole, no matter how much he tried to ignore its siren call.
MAKE. US. WHOLE.
It was a blemish that did not go unnoticed.
Her mark has already taken root. Cyrus felt a wash of serenity blanket the poisonous song, leaving him sound of mind but absent of calming thoughts. The longer she is left unattended, the more her influence grows.
"What is she?" The Spartan questioned through gritted teeth.
The Malebranche, as you know, were fashioned into weapons for Lucifer and his Satans. The entity's words were filled with abundant disdain. Twelve were created, yet only four saw the light of day. Lucifer held Malacoda, a longsword of unrepentant rage that slaughtered an entire field of angels before his might. Beelzebub and Leviathan took up Cagnazzo and Barbariccia, both of which corrupted the battlefields with pestilence and terror.
"And what of Calcabrina?"
The entity remained silent as the question echoed off the shadows beyond. The muted atmosphere lingered for far longer than Cyrus wanted, but the darkness answered just as he was about to breach the silence
The Leviathan held Calcabrina, but she did not take the shape of a simple blade or staff. Her base form is one that you shall become well acquainted with in time.
The obelisk flashed to mind once more, echoing the same poisonous message as before.
"The obelisk?"
YESSSSS. The darkness spoke with a guttural voice that shook the Shadow Realm. The Leviathan was tasked with keeping the Malebranche under lock and key until Lucifer called upon her, but the Devil was eager to test her newfound power.
"Was it of her own accord?" To this, the shadow laughed a hearty sound.
No. The Leviathan's mind was already suffering the effects of Calcabrinas madness, and it was at this precarious moment the Malebranche was unleashed upon a city struck from the pages of Devil history….
The shadow realm beckoned to the entity's will, unraveling into an image beyond all reasoning until it finally settled upon the sight of a splendid city sitting upon sea-washed sunset gates.
Its exterior is paired with the backdrop of pristine skies, helping shape the urban city into what it once stood for in ages past. Its architectural designs were built upon heaps of glass and light to mimic the aesthetics of the blue skies around them.
…They knew it as Melaka….
Melaka.
The name pricked at Cyrus's memory, piercing through his foggy recollection until his mind recognized the familiar name.
Melaka.
The Emerald City of House Valefor.
The place his mother once called home.
What a beautiful tragedy.
Within moments the streets that once beheld children playing upon their surface were stained with blood.
With madness.
Cyrus watched Devils, taken by Calcabrina's insanity, rupture into creatures that bore no resemblance to either Devil or Human. Their bodies were horrendously damaged, with much of their flesh torn, exposing the underlying musculature below. Their arms were rendered into skins of ruined flesh encompassing a sharp blade-like protrusion.
He watched these creatures, and many more like it, slaughter untold thousands across the city. Its defenders fell into the same uncontrolled chaos infecting the very place they called home.
You have heard her sirens call, and none who have listened to her poisonous song have remained within the realm of sanity for long.
Cyrus winced under Calcabrina's venomous voice once more.
MAKE. US. WHOLE.
He always found the entity's words annoying, but this bitch quickly rose to the top of his shit list.
Do not let your anger fester, boy. The malevolent creature asserted. Calcabrina feeds off your negative energy like a disgusting parasite. Calm your mind, or see your thoughts forever tainted.
Calcabrina's corrupting voice sang with the dark spaces of his mind. Cyrus followed the shadow's advice and tempered his heart with the practiced technique he learned as a Spartan.
Inhale. Oxygen flowed through his lungs.
Exhale. His raging blood cooled.
Inhale. Eyes burning with fury tempered.
Exhale. Mind emptied of all madness.
The malevolent entity allowed Cyrus precious time to recompose himself. It had never graced another being its presence, and in that regard, he took solace in conversing with the boy.
He may not provide the most spectacular conversations at times, but he did not mince words or speak out of turn.
"Do you have a name?"
The lingering shadow turned toward the boy, no, the man he called Reclaimer, with a considering gaze.
It did have a name, once bound to the duty of safeguarding a galaxy. Now, it is only known for its terrible betrayal in the face of a parasite that ravaged its creator's empire.
Did he dare use the same name again?
The answer came easy as the avatar he beheld in days past came to life again.
Cyrus watched the black orb morph into a construct resembling the forerunner architecture he once saw upon his final days at Line Installation 2-4.
It comforted Cyrus to be in the presence of someone who once walked the same lands he did.
He could not have asked for a better companion in the darkness.
"Greetings." The ancilla's metallic voice echoed in the deep. "I am 05-032 Mendicant Bias, traitor to those who once knew me and keeper to those who do not. It's a pleasure to meet you, Reclaimer."
It was here upon the plane of darkness that a bond was set in stone.
It is here that Reclaimer and Forerunner made their pact.
The Malebranche shall not grace this land again.
l==l
Ashara gingerly combed her hands through Cyrus's hair.
Not long after he lost consciousness, they had taken refuge in a secreted bar nestled within the deepest parts of the Underhive.
The 10th were practically up in arms when they found out Cyrus would not be taken back to their encampment for treatment.
Arkias, thankfully, was of more sound mind and convinced his legionnaires that Ashara would attend to their Lord. Ahri tried to take Cyrus into her care, but a stern glance from Ashara kept her in place.
The Vastayan meant well, but there was no way in hell Ashara was passing him off to anyone not bearing the name Kimaris.
She remembered when such a thing was commonplace between them, but the march of time waits for no one.
She missed the old days when times were simple, and the civil war was merely a backdrop in their lives.
Now it was the catalyst to everything her family endured, and she couldn't bare to think about the horrifying name that fell from Cyrus's lips as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Calcabrina.
A nightmarish creature that Lucifer himself feared to the point where he willingly buried it rather than take a chance and use its raw power.
Ashara knew not the horrors Calcabrina was capable of, but her father obtained a firsthand account of the Malebranche's terrible rampage amid the Great War.
She remembered the terrible price her people suffered because of Lucifer's idiocy.
Melaka was once the crown jewel of his new empire, second only in splendor to Lucifaad itself.
Until Calcabrina tore it asunder, leaving only death and madness in its wake.
"Madness," Ashara whispered, pulling her brother closer. "Madness and stupidity."
"How is he?" Sapphire stood in the doorway with Rose not far behind. The twins had just returned from reporting their success to Cedric but did not bring word of their brother's ailment.
That would have done nothing more than complicate matters.
"His fevers coming down, but he is still tossing and turning in his sleep." Ashara laid a dainty hand across his pale cheek, taking minute solace in the warmth held within. "I think he's having a nightmare."
The sisters stared with longing worry at their bedridden brother. Cyrus had always been a beacon of iron will and calm stability, and to see him so weakened was a sight they never wished to see again.
"What did our father have to say?" Ashara asked.
"He was pissed," Rose replied, still clad in their family's sacred armor. "Sapphire and I had to run interference; otherwise, he would have ripped Arkias a new one. I don't think he appreciated one of his Cohorts mysteriously disappearing from their encampment."
"And our mother?" Rose's features turned sour upon the thought, and Sapphire answered in her stead.
"She was…difficult." Her usually bubbly disposition was marred by concern for her brother. "If it weren't for Elerin, she would have dragged us back home."
"I'm surprised she didn't try anyway," Ashara remarked, removing the cool hand towel on Cyrus's forehead. Sapphire stepped forward, grabbing a fresh cloth from the nearby counter and aiding her sister in providing care.
Rose glanced across the sparse bedroom, noting the lack of a certain Vastayan within its confines. "Where's Ahri and his…companions?"
"Resting in the next room," Ashara answered.
"I didn't think she'd leave his side."
"She didn't have a choice in the manner."
Sapphire turned her gaze towards her hot-headed sister with an admonishing tone. "Ashe."
"The Vastayan was getting on my nerves." Ashara defended. "She's very possessive of Cyrus, and she persisted no matter how often I assured her he was in good hands."
"Sounds like someone we know," Rose muttered under her breath, drawing a pointed glance from Ashara.
"What was that?"
"Nothing." Rose deflected with an amused smile. "Have you met the Lucifuge?"
"Only in passing," Ashara answered. "She's gone out of her way to avoid us and never strays from Ahri or the other woman."
The trio spoke in hushed tones for a time, trading banter and admonishing the foolish sibling laid helpless before them. But as minutes turned to hours, the twins could no longer linger at their brother's side.
Sapphire laid a bare kiss upon Cyrus's forehead, whispering words of comfort before reluctantly peeling herself free of his comatose form. Rose wasn't nearly as sentimental, but her worried gaze lingered far longer than anticipated.
But time stopped for no one, and they had a Cohort to organize for the coming battle.
"We're heading back to Fort Azalan." Rose announced as a bloom of shadows formed at their feet. "Ashara and Jade damn near lost their shit when we didn't bring Cyrus back to camp, and someone had to run interference. Let us know if you need any-"
"I know." Ashara's determined gaze set the twin at ease. Rose was satisfied with her answer and departed for their encampment, while Sapphire left final words for their sister to live by.
"Take care of him, Ashara." She did not linger to hear her sister's reply, stepping into the darkness and returning to the fort where their chosen Legionnaires gathered.
Ashara's watched the pool of darkness wither into obscurity before finally turning towards Cyrus's slumbering form.
"I will."
As her gaze dawdled across his immaculate form, his eyes slowly flickered to life until she once again gazed upon a familiar shade of crimson.
"Welcome back, dumbass." Ashara teased, much to her brother's chagrin. "Sleep well?"
His reply brought more joy than she thought possible.
"Not long enough."
Oh, how she missed his sarcastic whims.
l==l
Fort Azalan, Lucifaad Territory
Cedric stared at the 10th cohorts Primus Legionnaire with an even expression. Sezran Arkias maintained his discipline despite the gravity of his predicament, which wasn't entirely of his own making.
In some ways, Cedric was at fault for the 10th Cohort's recent dereliction of duty.
When he gave Cyrus complete control of the 10th to mold at his leisure, he did not realize the consequences of his actions until his son's disappearance.
After nearly two years away from the 66th Legion, Cedric was eager to add their numbers to his array of forces. Their experiences hunting down insurgents and Skinwalkers should have strengthened the Legion's martial prowess.
But reality is a cruel mistress.
Since the Cohort's return to the Legion, an alarming number of battlefield infractions have been brought to Cedric's attention.
The 10th was no longer the malleable collection of Legionaries that bent to its sister Cohort's command. Their tactics, organizational structure, and even how each Legionary carried themselves differed from the rest of the 66th.
Cyrus's influence could be seen in the eyes of every Officer and Guardsmen in the 10th Cohort. They entered the Blighted Marshlands as fresh-eyed recruits and emerged as something…different.
Yesterday Cedric ordered his Legion to capture several Loyalists redoubts blocking all Renegade attempts to conduct a proper siege of Lucifaad.
These redoubts were successfully taken by a 6th Cohort after a thorough engagement with several Loyalist Centurias. However, the initial plan wasn't to have the 6th spearhead in the assault.
No, that honor was given to the 10th Cohort, who suddenly disappeared from the encampment on the eve of their operation, leaving Cedric to recall the 6th from its rearguard position and hastily deploy them to the frontline.
It was an embarrassing predicament that was only saved because none of the other Praetors were privy to his strategy.
He would have had Arkias lashed to fucking pole if his daughters hadn't assured him that Cyrus was to blame for their sudden disappearance.
Cedric had half a mind to follow through on Arkias's punishment, but this dilemma was merely the tip of the iceberg.
His family had become increasingly isolated from one another since their stroll through Cyrus's memories. The impact of that venture affected each of his wives and daughters differently.
Ashara and the Twins had spent the last few days living amongst the 10th Cohort against their mother's wishes. They refused to entertain Arwen's demands and quickly ingratiated themselves with Arkias and his men.
He initially wanted to give Rose and Sapphire command of the 4th and 5th Cohorts, respectively, while Ashara took control of the 3rd Cohort. These duties should have assuaged any resistance from the trio, but they upped the ante by demanding an assignment to the 10th Cohort.
Cedric didn't need to guess their reasonings.
His blessings became a formality, but they tempered his youngest daughters for now.
His eldest daughters were a different story.
Jade and Ashara neglected their duties inside the Legion by partaking in long-winded reconnaissance missions aimed at finding a weak point in Lucifaad's defenses.
They wanted their brother back more than anything else in the Underworld, and reigning them in was becoming a constant chore for Cedric.
Thankfully the Matriarchs of House Kimaris were the least problematic of the bunch, with Elerin and Arwen keeping their distance from one another while maintaining their duties.
Cedric's familial problems were compounded by his own responsibilities as the Primarch for the rebellion. His Praetors were anxiously awaiting his orders to commence the all-out assault upon the walls of Lucifaad. None would dare make a move without his approval, but the building tension amongst the gathered Legions would soon boil out of control.
No one wanted a drawn-out siege, especially with reports that Heaven and the Grigori were meeting to discuss an official ceasefire leaking into the encampment. The Great War may have ended long ago, but a rekindling of hostilities drew ever closer so long as the Loyalists held Lucifaad.
Azazel could send all the emissaries and assurances he wanted, but the fact remains that their people stood upon the edge of a knife.
All it would take is one rogue element to undo decades of tense peace, and all three factions would return to butchering one another.
But alas, Cedric had a list of problems, and his most immediate concern was the 10th's rebellious nature.
"Walk with me." The Shadowlord rose to his feet, and within seconds the pair were storming out of Fort Azalan's central tower and striding down a flight of stairs toward its main grounds.
"I don't need to remind you that we are sitting on the precipice of the most important operation in our people's history…." Cedric glanced towards Arkias with a cocked brow. "Do I?"
"No, my Lord."
"Then why are you disappearing from your mustering stations without so much as a fucking word?" Arkias flinched at his biting tone. "My son may be your Lord, but I am your fucking Primarch Arkias. I have built this house from the ground up and will not have one of my Primus Legionnaires neglecting their duties. If Cyrus were within my grasp, he'd be getting the same fucking message. Do you understand me?"
Arkias gulped. Cedric Kimaris didn't have a temper, but by Satan did he frighten the ever-living piss out of him. Arkias had little doubt that Cyrus was in for a world of hurt as soon as he returned to the fold.
Which would hopefully be soon.
Arkias schooled his pale features and snapped his feet to attention.
"I accept full responsibility, my Lord, and await disciplinary action." Cedric rolled his eyes and threw open a set of heavy doors. They marched up a fortified rampart that overlooked the massive war camp outside the fort's walls.
"For Satans sake Arkias. As much as I would enjoy lashing you to a fucking pole, it would do little to solve the issue at hand. What I want is a solution, so tell me what needs to be done."
"My Lord?"
"When I gave Cyrus control of your men, I failed to realize the consequences of my actions." Cedric explained, his hands splayed over the fortress walls as his eyes presided over the Legions encamped before him. "My son has always been an anomaly, and it seems his oddities have influenced the lot of you into miniature versions of himself, but more than one Cyrus is enough for this Legion…."
"…To put it frankly, Arkias. Your Cohort is in danger of being sent back home for reconditioning unless you convince me you have a place amongst the 66th."
"We don't." The Legionary didn't hesitate to respond, drawing a curious gleam from the Nobleman
"Clarify." Cedric inquired.
"Your accusations against my Cohort are correct, Lord Cedric," Arkias admitted. "The 10th is no longer capable of operating alongside our Legion. Lord Cyrus has fundamentally changed our combat doctrine towards a more…liberal doctrine."
Liberal was one way to put it as far as Cedric was concerned, but he allowed Arkias to continue unabated.
"…He has shattered any concept of Legion warfare and replaced them with a fine-tuned, flexible means of combat. During our tenure in the Blighted Marshlands, Lord Cyrus trained our Principales to act independently of our static command structure. It was a difficult process, but we adapted to his teachings and completed the mission you sent him on two years ago."
"So what do you suggest, Arkias?" The Kimaris Lord asked. "Because if I listen to any of my senior officers, your cohort will be on a one-way trip to the Shadow Lands."
"That you let us fight our way." The Legionary pressed the issue as if he was fighting for his own life. "We don't belong with the other Legions on the frontline shoulder to shoulder. Our place is in the enemy's backyard, wreaking havoc wherever possible and weakening their foundation. That is our strength, our creed, but it only continues on your word, my Lord."
Cedric couldn't help the hearty laugh that blessed his lips. Arkias argued just like his son did, with nothing but logic and a sound mind free of all doubt. Whatever reply Cedric meant to give the Legionary was lost when a dense concentration of infernal energy pooled next to him.
He recognized the magical aura and its owner's often vexing presence.
"Well, you're in luck, Primus." Ashara's crimson orbs stepped through the Caiseag Sgàil with her ever-present smile. "Because I have a job for you."
"Where have you been, Ashara?" Cedric demanded with a narrowed gaze.
He'd been waiting on her report after the twins arrived and explained their recent escapade to Lucifaad, much to his and Arwen's great displeasure. It took every fiber of his being to keep his wife from tearing her children a new one, but he was sorely tempted to cut his wife loose when Sapphire explained that Ashara stayed behind.
He silently thanked Satan for delivering his idiotic daughter home and only wished she'd brought Cyrus along with him.
"We have a problem."
Cedric paused, watching the pure emotion leaking out of Ashara's gaze.
The absolute terror he glimpsed set him on edge.
"What is it?" Cedric pressed his daughter for more details, but he was unprepared for the words that fell from her lips.
"The Loyalists have a Malebranche."
The very word itself was spoked in a damnable whisper, but somehow the bustling fort grounded to a silent halt.
Ashara's words echoed across the fort, draining any vitality from the thousands of Legionnaires inside. Guardsmen in the middle of their supper felt an icy claw crawl up their stomachs and tear apart any desire for sustenance.
Attendants performing their menial tasks froze, their limbs shaking at the thought of a damnable horror threatening to consume them whole.
Even veterans of the Great War felt an unfamiliar wave of pure terror leaking into their minds. They knew better than anyone who walked these lands of the Malebranche's unsettling power.
Cedric was at Melaka. He saw Calcabrina's insanity tear the storied House of Valefor apart.
It was one of the worst days in Cedric's tumultuous life, but it also set the stage for the family he had today.
The future of House Kimaris was born from the ashes of Melaka, and almost a thousand years later, the echoes of that terrible purge have resurfaced.
Cedric would not let Calcabrina bring their capital to ruin.
A call to arms went out across the Underworld, bringing every Legion bearing the mark of rebellion to attention.
Its contents contained a single coded message, but it was recognized by every Devil that served in the Great War, and its impact could not be understated.
THE BEACON DARKENS LUCIFAAD.
The Legions mobilized.
But they were already too late.
l==l
The Eternal Palace, Lucifaad Territory
Katarea Leviathan took her first steps into the Eternal Palace, disregarding the sharp drumming of her heels within the enclosed hallways. Her gaze impassively glanced over the empty corridors while scrutinizing every suspicious noise.
Lucifaad had changed.
Bashalum was so consumed by the raging civil war that he did not heed the festering wounds brewing in their backyard. The destruction of the Inquisitorial Spire and the death of its Lord Seeker has forced the deployment of several Incaris Legions to the Underhive, spreading their numbers and undermining the defense of Lucifaad in the face of Cedric's horde.
Bashalum and the other Satans wanted to conduct a thorough purge, but Grayfia and Tereaku cautioned restraint in the face of their growing manpower shortage.
Carrying out a massacre of the Unerhive would serve no purpose to the Loyalist cause at this precarious hour, but they couldn't allow the rebellion to spread unchecked beneath their feet.
To this end, Tereaku took command of the 11th Incaris Legion and enacted a district-wide martial law until further notice. Surprisingly, the locals didn't resist the mandate, but Katarea felt it wasn't because they feared retaliation.
No. The Underhive was simply biding their time.
Bashalum could bluster and fume all he wanted, but their cause was on the brink of catastrophe. Katarea wouldn't be surprised if there were many among their number already prepared to concede to Cedric and his renegades.
She couldn't blame them for their disloyalty.
The Old Guard was no better than a sinking ship with an idiotic captain at its helm.
Katarea wished Tereaku hadn't saved Bashalum's life during the Great War.
It would have saved everyone the headache.
Katarea.
A breathless voice ghosted over the Leviathan's ear, freezing her solid and snapping her free of lingering thoughts. She looked behind her, expecting to find a servant or family member rushing to her side.
The corridor remained empty.
Katarea dismissed the voice as a tired mind playing tricks on her, but she'd barely taken a step before another ghostly sound stole her attention.
Katarea.
This time the Leviathan unleashed a wave of freezing water in the ghostly stalker's direction, shattering mosaic glass and cracking the floors with wisps of slicing liquid.
But again, she found nothing.
"Katarea."
Katarea turned, mouth pulled into a vicious sneer and hands brewing with potent whisps of demonic ice, ready to unleash retribution on this foul insect that dared to call upon her.
Her courage didn't last.
A row of razor-sharp teeth snapped at her face.
Katarea raised her hand, unleashing a hydro jet to its sternum and cleaving the malign creature in half. The bisected monstrosity crawled toward her with two bone-like limbs digging into the ground and propelling it forward.
It bellowed and roared a terrible sound from its humanoid head, but Katarea could see the bits of armor seemingly welded to its grotesque body.
This…monstrosity was once a Nebiros retainer.
"What happened to you?" Katarea kicked at the former Devil's butchered body, rolling it over and studying the protruding bones emerging from its back.
She looked down the hallway, scrutinizing the trail of blood leading further into the palace. Her eyes glimmered with caution as shadows slowly piled into the corridor from adjacent rooms and hallways.
They didn't make a sound, and for the first time in years, Katarea felt a wave of terror climb up her spine.
Then all at once, the shadows screeched a terrible noise.
"MAKE US WHOLE!"
The Eternal Palace no longer belonged to the Devils.
It was now Calcabina's domain.
Across Lucifaad, a death knell has sounded in the deep, for the fate of all Devilkind hangs in the balance.