.
"It is not the haunts of the dead ye should be afraid of in Lohengrin Castle. The living are far more dangerous."
-Legram proverb
"I'm just about to give up! It's so late, why hasn't my hero returned from Thors!" Vivi complained.
"Here."
Linde came to the balcony, handing her twin a bowl of mango gelato. Vivi glumly spooned a mouthful. Linde leaned at the railings, looking out to the rest of Trista. Streetlights were bright lollipops of snowdrops in the drizzle. Over the canals at Trista's cute little bridges, the streetlights were making garlands in the water. Raindrops traced concentric circles towards Linde, at the Lower Class Dormitory building.
At this time, most of the bedroom lights were out. From the girls' bedroom, lilac curtains (Vivi's favourite colour) gently bellowed, brushing at Vivi's cheek. Linde looked down bemused at her sister who was sitting cross-legged.
"What?" Vivi asked through a mouthful of mango.
"Nothing."
Linde knew better than to point out sensibility, once her younger sister caught onto a new obsession. Which happened to be the dark-haired mystery cadet from earlier today. Linde had to admit, even she got caught up in the excitement of the moment.
"Oh Aidios, he's already gotten himself a girlfriend!" Vivi gasped.
"What? How would you know?"
"Did you see that entourage he went with, after the assembly? Plenty of pretty fornicatrices in his class," Vivi harrumphed.
"That's your evidence? Silly. Maybe he's secretly the chosen one of a long lost prophecy and now he's battling an evil demon lord sealed away in Espir Falls," suggested Linde.
"Yes, I'm sure that's it. Thank you."
"Youuu, need to sleep. Now."
2200 hours.
Old Schoolhouse – Thors Military Academy
Elliot slammed against the ground. He heard the wet pop of dislocation in his shoulder, followed by adrenal clarity taking over his mind. His gaze stuttered from Machias raising his Stinger shotgun to the gargoyle spreading its bat-like wings – with three talons pinning Daniel Serpico down. From one side, smoke was clearing from the hole in the wall where Laura was smacked through. At another corner, Anne Drechsler was motionless when she got rag doll thrown.
Machias's shotgun went off. The gargoyle folded its wings; shielding its thorax. Shaves of stone splintered off the wing, exposing malachite veins underneath. Snip. A grappling claw hooked onto the ceiling above. White hair fluttered like snowfall. A smoke grenade dropped.
The smoke explosion had a way of exposing the chaotic energy of the scrambling ambush fight, making an artistry elaboration of twirls and connections. Daniel and the gargoyle got lost in the thickest of it. Gaius's spear dragged on the stony floor before he leapt forward, arcing a graceful trace of white wisp from spear tip.
"Hooarhhh!"
A flaming arrow pierced into the void of the smoke, spinning a twirl of ember sparks fizzling. In midair, Gaius hurled his spear down in a fierce twist of sinew and form. Elliot heard a guttural roar. A flash of light sparked in the heart of the grenade's emission.
Events that followed accelerated beyond Elliot's limited trained cognition of battle.
Something large and blocky came flying at Elliot. Its trajectory would have caved in the face of young Craig were it not for an orbal gunshot that came out of nowhere. The chunk of brick exploded, leaving in its wake a drizzle of red rose petals falling from the orbal shot's detonation.
Elliot looked about, confused. Who fired that? Class VII was fighting in a centre circle platform which was mostly surrounded by flowing waters and drawbridges.
Wincing, Elliot pushed himself back up with his good arm, using his Lambda Rod as support for his shaky knees. Ahead, the gargoyle flapped its wings, casting a wind arte which generated a mini typhoon with strays of brick rubble flinging in chaotic trajectories. In one talon, the gargoyle gripped Gaius, whose cheek was sliced open by a jagged debris. Daniel was now freed and was duelling inside the whirlwind like a madman, fending off flying chunks of bricks and the gargoyle's swipe alike, trying to save Gaius – even as he took damage and became shirtless in the process.
Two lines of electric bolts sliced cleanly through in a V-strike at the gargoyle's eyes. It dropped Gaius screeching. Elliot saw the spark arrow artes were fired by Emma and Jusis; they had an ARCUS combat link. From behind them, Elliot saw Rean wander into the combat zone, dazed-looking and unwell.
Another chunk of brick narrowly missed Elliot. There was no time to commiserate with what happened to Rean. Turning back to the gargoyle with the amperage climbing up in his spine, Elliot unclipped his combat orbment. He closed his eyes.
"ARCUS activate."
#
The psychedelic visions of war finally ejected Rean to the present. He was on the ground, someone just dropped him here. At the same time, Rean's heart quivered, threatening to flatline. The drug overdose from earlier flooded his body systems. For a full minute, his lungs refused to breathe. Suffusion into the stillness of a corpse followed.
Then the heart-that-was-not-him trip switched. A powerful surge of electrical current pounded hard inside his chest, like a thousand defibrillations in reverse. Life surged back into him. Rean's eyes ballooned in wide Os, his back and shoulders arched in a big inward heave for breath. Litres of the Old Schoolhouse's damp air flooded through his passageways. In the process, Rean involuntarily swallowed water from a puddle. He gasped and gasped. Heaved and coughed. The coughing spasms stabbed like knives between his ribs. Hot blurs seared his eyes, obscuring the snot ropes hanging off his chin.
Slowly, slowly and slowly consciousness fragmented into separate sensations; the hardness of stone he rested on, the taste of foul water, the volcanic smell of basalt–like stone being burned; someone screamed "ARCUS activate!" in the distance. He could hear water running. Two of his fingers twitched taut in pain from the fingernails broken during the thrashing moments of Garuda's Shriek nightmare. The contrast of the Old Schoolhouse's cavernous darkness lightened with his pupils dilating.
Rean blinked his wet eyes, feeling a kind of static behind them as if they were overvolted.
It was painful to be alive.
How did I. . .end up here? Rean thought.
Rean forced himself up, catching a reflection of himself in the puddle of water. His grip on Kazekiri trembled. Ashen white hair was receding to black. The burn of crimson in his eyes dimmed to fuchsia then to soft lilac.
Rean's foot kicked at the puddle. He wiped the snot and tears off his face, his hand shaking. The worst thing about being saved by the ogre was that it never came with anaesthesia. Kazekiri slipped from his grasp. Rean stumbled after the weapon that bounce-rolled clanging. Which was when he came to the showdown sight of Class VII fighting the gargoyle. The corners of his vision diffused red. Rean coughed, spitting out blood and discharges of the pink psychedelic.
Unsteady in gait, Rean raised his tachi for battle then lowered the weapon in a pendulum reflex of nausea rising, with Mum's spaghetti threatening to surge out. His mind and physiology protested, still raw-dogged from the earlier overdose of Garuda's Shriek.
The battle was like an animated film, spitting and spluttering an epileptic vim, a windmill delirium of intercutting geometry shapes and flashes of light.
The sickness overwhelmed him. Bile, blood and breakfast. Rean fell forward to his knees and threw up. Wiping his mouth, he saw a pair of once-nice lady shoes.
#
More than the soreness of getting swatted through the tetris shape hole-in-the-wall, was the insult to Laura's pride. With the insult, followed her grit of anger against the gargoyle. Dusting her ponytail, Laura clambered through the hole. Where was Brynhildr? ARCUS in hand, she summoned the weapon.
In the waterways flowing, laid the greatsword at the bottom of the depth. When the Goldia arte activated, it diffused in a cold flash of light then vanished. A fat foam of tiny air bubbles fizzled in the wake.
Laura ducked. Three slingshot brick chunks embedded on the wall, stitching a destructive promise of the gargoyle's Aerial arte. Gaius and Daniel were locked in close-range combat, while the others hung back at a safer distance, readying artes. Her eyes widened in awe of admiration at the boys. There was something about the masculine attrition of protecting the others, which she found very, very hot.
Barf.
Laura looked down at her feet. Rean? Did he just throw up on her shoes of all things?
Thorn Shredder Air Base
Jurisdiction: Imperial Air Force
Sharon Kreuger took her place in the slanted shadows of the lecture theatre room. Earlier on she stuck out as an oddity amongst the nobles, soldiers and politicians taking their seats in the theatre.
No perceivable threats, Sharon observed.
If something were to happen, the volumetric fill of the room was small enough for her to taut snap a network of steel wires. Criss-crosses of haphazard bondage all over. Sharon licked her lip. The mental image of that one lanky Reinford engineering nerd at the front being bound, vulnerable and exposed to her mercy almost made her autoerotically dizzy.
Chairman Irina took her designated seat. It stood out that she was the only attendant of this military briefing who had absent neighbours in the vicinity. In the two empty seats next to hers, the labels read:
– Claire Rieveldt –
Captain
Railway Military Police
– Sebastian Wolf –
Chief Superintendent
Heimdallr Military Police
When all were settled, the lights dimmed down. From the back, an orbal technician worked the projector, twizzling with knobs and ticking up switches. Click. A ghostly projection beam sliced across the theatre, opening a bright expanse of the presentation's title head.
Project ARCUS
-R3 Clearance-
On stage, the dark silhouette of a man walked to the lectern. His face was opaque black in the darkness, save for the glassy glint of round prescription lenses. Leaning into the mic, the presenter began speaking.
"Four years ago in Roer, engineers of Reinford Industries were intellectually paralysed by a project that was caught in project creep. Internally this project was known as 'All-Round Communication & Unison System' – ARCUS for short. The prodigal minds of the Epstein Foundation had just broken off from Project ARCUS, with the foundation's chief scientists disagreeing with what military generals were expecting for Erebonia's flagship fifth-generation battle orbment. A matter of. . .ideological clash-" the speaker laughed nervously.
"An indelicate speculation," Irina muttered under her breath.
X
Irina Reinford had been there in the meeting when the partnership fell apart. She should have known from the start that having a consultant from ZCF present was a mistake but the foundation insisted on Erika Russell's participation; a blonde scientist who stonily watched from conference screens while the foundation's representatives ranted and waved the dossiers in the boardroom, almost frothing at the mouth.
"This was supposed to be a combat orbment for law enforcement. But these directives from your military top command! They say otherwise! And these specifications demanded are absurd! "
"Re-writing the rules of warfare it says!"
"Your empire wants to-" A newspaper clipping of the Chancellor Osborne rustled, " 'Re-invent the modern soldier for a storm-and-thunderbolt reign of firepower' he says. Are you telling me all the Reinford Group aims for is maximising financial profit, irrespective of who is put in the cross hairs?" one of them demanded at Irina.
In hindsight, Irina conceded that she underestimated how terrified those overweight nerds were, of how Reinford did business. Or maybe it was Osborne's words about re-inventing warfare with special forces. Did that spook them? It was not even the chancellor's original idea, silly man.
That said, it had been murky work triangulating for who in Erebonia deserved to take credit for positing this new theorem of conflict – a spec ops soldier that could contend to become the new archetype of Erebonian military might. Not that folks were eagerly stepping forward, shouting "Me! Me!".
Irina's candid answer to the Epstein Foundation turned faces red with abashment.
"I think I have been fair to the Epstein Foundation, haven't I? It is a lucrative contract. Would you agree with that? Sit down, if you like. Or would you rather stand?" Irina spoke with an authoritative maternal voice – an effect punctuated by glasses adjusting. Clipped sentences that reminded one of the chief engineers of his mother.
Irina almost saved Project ARCUS then. Chairman and accounting prowess aside, there was another talent of hers at work in the boardroom. Irina leaned forward on the desk, hugging her elbows beneath her voluminous chest. A vibrant violet lip gloss spangling wet twilight; cheekbones platinum gilded like a white lily in a layer of foundation that masked the Merchant of Death smiling at them.
Mouths gaped at her. Such beauty! Half-hearted mutters followed. Maybe they jumped the gun on this, maybe it was not so bad after all, maybe-
"Having a close proximity to power does not mean you truly possess it, Ms Reinford," said Erika.
Erika Russell popped the Maybe spell, bringing all men to their senses. It was a conscientious effort for Irina to frost her dismay behind the cold reflection of her spectacles. Being someone from a financial background, it was awkward sparring wits with sentimental ideology. A nebulous thing that could not be quantified to Irina's arithmetician rules of gain. When Irina unseated her father from the board of directors, it was through Irina's brilliance of her newly proposed 'Hydra'; a self-evolving accounting system that would allow the massive corporation to split into four Factories. This brought about a maximisation of productivity and profit reaping.
Irina loved it when a blonde woman like herself intellectually subverted stereotypes. Irina hated it when that bitch-ass blonde airhead intellectually subverted stereotypes, haemorrhaging a lot of mira from the company.
In the end, it was the abortion of a partnership between the Epstein Foundation and the Reinford Group.
X
"Tch," Irina tutted under her breath.
". . .right – where was I, ah yes! As brilliant as our people are at Reinford, we were all running around like headless chickens when intelligence briefings from the RMP reported that the Epstein Foundation was using the bulk of their own accrued R & D for ARCUS, and was now applying it to a new fifth-generation battle orbment which would be deployed in Crossbell. This combat orbment is now called ENIGMA and it is powered by the state-of-the-art Hexad Engine for six spokes on the orbment, while giving it the parallel functionality to link up to the Orbal Network Project," the speaker clicked a button.
The projector shuttered a new image. It showed a diagram illustration of the Orbal Network Project and its lines of connectivity. Data transit lines branched like dendrites from the centre of Crossbell City.
"When you say it's able to link up to the Orbal Network Project, does that mean ENIGMA not only has communication relay capabilities but it can remotely access the processing power of any Capel computer connected to the grid?" someone from the audience asked.
Yes, thought Irina.
"That is the rumour. It creates the implication that if someone were to take sixty seconds to cast computational-costly arte with an ARCUS. . .would a connected Capel orbal computer and its superior processing power, augment an ENIGMA's formulation of a similar arte in lesser time, despite having two less spokes than our ARCUS," answered the speaker.
"Aidios's teats!" exclaimed one military bigwig.
Worried murmurs chittered. Irina figured it was the least you could expect from those who were not technical literate on concepts like latency and infrastructural security. You even had to factor in how some genealogies or wildcard talents who possessed an advantageous affinity for artes, irrespective of the hardware. Irina resisted the urge to roll her eyes, like the way her naïve daughter would do sometimes. The presentation speaker understood these concepts similarly because he added loudly:
"Despite that!" The murmurs died down, "-Despite that, Erebonia's ARCUS is more reliable on hard metric testing and its spec sheet. Our battle orbment was stress-tested for the conditions of guerilla and trench warfare. This would mean our soldier could rely on this battle orbment in the wilderness or a battle-ravaged metropolis. Unlike the ENIGMA, our ARCUS's tweaked sound engine allows the use of a Master Quartz, which increases the throughput stream of orbal energy for not only more powerful artes but aggressively enhancing the soldier's physical characteristics on the battlefield."
Click.
The new slide showed components of the ENIGMA orbment in classified blueprints.
"That is the ENIGMA's innards. The espionage procurement of these files was crucial for Reinford to help complete the final piece of the puzzle, the Unison system in ARCUS. Otherwise known as combat linking."
Click.
A blurry photo of an ENIGMA prototype. There was a collective intake of breath in the room.
"Loyalty is pearled in the world of spycraft," said a colonel.
A few theories were floating in the high offices of Reinford HQ, over how Erebonia was able to retrieve these top-secret files. Some said it was an RMP secret agent who gave his life for this data. Another said it was the rumoured 'Spider-Lilies' who stole the files. More recently, a whisper came out of Scarecrow's office that 'a hedonistic bard' squirrelled out ENIGMA's blueprints. Hedonistic. Hmm. Is that how a bacchanal prince suddenly gained leverage to influence Project ARCUS? Irina wondered. Not that she minded as Prince Olivert did not get in her way.
More technical diagrams of ENIGMA were shuffled on the projection screen, while the presenter took questions from the intrigued audience.
The Epstein Foundation did end up creating their ideal law enforcement optimised combat orbment, Irina reflected. Though it would be risky to rely on the network, specialised artes for forensic detective work would make ENIGMA a better tool than the ARCUS. However, if it came down to an all-out duel between an ARCUS user and an ENIGMA, Irina would stake all her shareholdings on the ARCUS. She is that proud of what the 4th Development Division has achieved.
"By getting a peek under the hood of what the Epstein Foundation was doing over at Crossbell, the final stage to complete ARCUS's combat link feature began. What we were not expecting however, was the unconventional solution it took to link one soldier to another. The proverbial 'connector port', one might say. Up until then, Reinford scientists had presumed that the solution to linking one soldier to another was through the brain. We were so wrong. It was not our noggin. It was this."
A few heads leaned forward in anticipation.
Click. A new illustration shuttered.
Irina's mouth curled. This had Erika Russell written all over it.
"You're joking!" an Imperial Diet member called out, breaking the concentrated reverie in the room. One of Regnitz's underlings, Irina saw.
Disconcerted muttering and head scratches followed.
"Reinford's missing puzzle was the human heart? I flew all the way from Titus Gate to find out that Project ARCUS went 300% over budget because we did not consider the power of love?!" spluttered a colonel.
"Now imagine incredulity in Reinford's 4th Development Division, when we told tense and sleep-deprived scientists what they overlooked. One of our researchers snapped and had to be carried out in a straitjacket, his mind ensnared in a tumultuous torrent of laughing lunacy," the presenter answered cheerily.
"Can't say I blame him!"
Irina spoke up at last, her voice thoughtful:
"It made a lot of sense when I saw it myself. With its own intrinsic conduction system, the heart emits a signature electrical frequency thousands of times more powerful than anything else in the body. Science has noted this electric field generated is akin to the shape of the torus, by the way. It was the perfect 'port' for ARCUS to form combat links in vicinity."
"That's right. This avenue pursuit in getting a soldier's heart to play a role in warfare became poetry that wrote itself. As you hear these words, know that your heartbeat is twice as fast as most animals. The heart has its own set of neurons, almost its own kind of intelligence. It's able to relay informational signals to various regions of the brain – including the thalamus, amygdala and cortex. When select cadets of Thors Military Academy field tested ARCUS prototypes, they all wrote in their reports that the combat links felt like instantaneous intuition.
This format of transmission was proving latency to be almost non-existent. It offloaded a great deal of computational processing load on ARCUS's Quartzcore processor and made it near-impossible for the enemy to sabotage the established combat link with a fake one, thanks to the exotic encryption. I mean, what can fool the heart? The benefits went on and on. This out-of-the-box thinking reinforces the reputation of the brilliant minds that created ENIGMA. Except now, this technology is in ARCUS too," said the presenter.
This was met with approving nods from most heads. Save for the more conservative few who were considering the implications more carefully.
"That. . ." began the Titus Gate colonel. He sounded uneasy and for good reason, Irina thought. Someone was going to have to say the quiet part aloud. The paradigm shift these fifth-generation combat orbments could potentially bring against classical military culture.
"Yes?" prompted the presenter.
"It's like you said, the heart has its own abstract intelligence thanks to its independent neurons. An organ that regulates itself. Once, I saw a dying soldier's heart beat for a good thirty minutes after his brain completely shut down. These things are documented in medical science. Did Reinford research which organ has the higher hierarchy in this 'neurocardiac axis'?
I give an order to a soldier using a fourth-gen combat orbment. His clear and disciplined mind follows through with it. No interference. No noise. With this combat link, you've introduced a chaotic creature – one where lives could be unnecessarily endangered if. . .if. . ."
"If the combat linked soldier's heart is in conflict with your order," the presenter finished for him.
"That is right."
"You're spot on the scent, Colonel Erugan. This ambiguity came up in the 4th Development Division and was questioned. Do we allow the heart to have a say in the Unison system? Or do we remove combat linking altogether? Concurrently, high command in Heimdallr received word about Project ARCUS's newest implication. Push back immediately came from the office of the Blood and Iron Chancellor, a one-eighty turnaround from the earlier aggressive advocation for ARCUS to meet all its target specs. Nobody in Erebonia had been counting on this plot twist in R & D, when the public was told Reinford Industries was engineering the nation's flagship fifth-generation combat orbment," said the presenter.
"What did RF think of the exclusion of the Unison system themselves?" The colonel twisted over and looked over to Irina, "Madame Reinford?"
Irina clasped her hands about her elbow, shrugging.
"For some of the sentimental engineers, it would have been a disappointment to thwart the ARCUS's ambition like that. But they weren't the ones making the shots. As chairwoman, I was indifferent to the Unison system's exclusion because Reinford Industries was still going to come out ahead with all accounts balanced, for developing the tailor-made ARCUS for the empire. Which was exactly why the Unison system made it in. That's what it came down to. Mira. Someone with a formidable political gravitas internally challenged the chancellor-"
Prince Olivert.
Irina paused, frowning. Did the prince anticipate Osborne's objection in advance when the ENIGMA files were stolen? After all the hoorah fuss about special forces potentially challenging the railway cannons, as the symbolic icon of Erebonia's military might. Now you had special forces with ARCUS's combat links. Unlike the cold mechanical switches on the railway cannons, ARCUS was a weapon that could not escape the heart. . .
Irina's eyebrows raised.
"So that's how it is," Irina muttered under her breath.
"Madame Reinford?"
Irina cleared her throat.
". . .The Unison system made it in because someone with sizeable political influence pointed out that Project ARCUS had already gone 300% over its budget. As soon as this was highlighted, Marquis Rogner petitioned for the investment not to go to waste. The Unison system had become too expensive to be discarded. Were we to start over, it would have taken at least another three years. . .maybe four years to find another way of connecting combat links – if another solution even existed to begin with. No. The liabilities were too large for the common folks taxed income and the investment from the nobles. In a rare stroke, Chancellor Osborne's directive was overturned."
Perplexed looks were exchanged in the room. It seemed Project ARCUS was more politically charged than the initial presumption.
"Surely that was not the entirety of your efforts? You integrated this Unison system into ARCUS and deemed the project concluded, just like that? Colonel Erugen asked earlier if Reinford figured out whether the brain or the heart would have sovereignty in these combat links – or if that's still true in the general principle. I'd like to know," one baronin pressed.
At that, Irina reflexively covered her mouth laughing.
"Pray, what is the cause of this mirth!" demanded the baronin. She rustled her skirts, her cheeks reddening.
"Oh Baronin von Edelberg, surely you're not suggesting the heart has the greater hierarchy over the brain? Take a look around at the world we live in. Does it seem that way to you?" asked Irina.
"Even hearts harbour shadows. That is the precision behind my enquiry. The ARCUS exposes a potential blind spot in our nature," von Edelberg replied coolly.
"To answer the lovely baronin's question-" the presenter interjected hastily, "-Reinford compromised with Chancellor Osborne by petitioning a new regulation to be added to military protocol, in deeming if a soldier is fit to wield the ARCUS. It is a simple one but one which matters gravely given the many unknown variables we're dealing with here," said the presenter.
"What would that be?" asked von Edelberg.
"After six human trials, it was deemed that anyone who's had a heart transplant is not allowed to touch a fifth-generation combat orbment. Our researchers are concerned about "cellular memory". Reported cases where heart transplant recipients experienced changes in tastes for food, music, acquiring a new skill or infatuation. In the more remarkable examples, inheritance of the donor's memories or personality shifts. If these phenomena fractals into the combat links. . .let's just say we don't know what might really happen. Or who's in control of that ARCUS. Sometimes identities can be liquid and one mistakenly believes that's who they are."
The gargoyle propelled itself forward with powerful forearms, leaping out of way. A slant of frost slashed at the ground, missing its target. Daniel Serpico landed in a slide, bringing his greatsword to heel, ARCUS clipped at hip – fizzling spent EP. The stalagmite ice melted and transmuted into flames. A flawed Prismatic Tetra Blade but powerful enough to be a coup de grâce.
The gargoyle shimmied and whipped its mace-like tail. Alisa released her arte. A shark fin of stone rose, smashing against the tail end, exploding pebbles everywhere.
At the outer fringes of battle, Emma was dragging Anne Drechler's unconscious frame away from the battle.
Emma.
"Not now, Celine," Emma muttered, huffing.
It has to be now, little witch. Look at the water.
Releasing Anne, Emma peeked down at the channel waterways flowing, noticing something peculiar. The acoustics of battle briefly isolated distant, slow strobing flashes from ARCUS artes and blades in Emma's distraction.
The water. . .it's not flowing around this circle platform we're on. It's going to the centre of it. Beneath my feet! thought Emma.
That's right. A terra spell is telling me there's a hollow of a waterfall inlet at the centre. That thing is made of rock, it will sink all the way down! said Celine.
"I have to blow a hole in the centre? Really?" she said.
Stupid times call for stupid measures. I mean, Schwarzer is fighting terrible. Look at him, said Celine.
It was true. Ever since Rean rejoined them, he was fighting worse than even Anne before she got KO'ed. The gargoyle rolled forward like a tyre, power bombing its jagged tail at Laura who leapt back. In the vicinity of the crater smash, Rean was too slow to react. The boy lost his footing. Seizing the opening, the gargoyle spat a wind arte at Rean, lifting him off his feet.
A terrible fighter. How did the planets align for him being the Awakener? He's going to be killed at this rate, Celine lamented.
Emma was already kicking off her shoes, watchful that no one was catching on to this eccentricity. She held out two fingers in front of her nose and took a deep breath in .
"Virgo clementissima. Fons spiritus."
The Hexen witch dived into the water.
#
Fie was firecrackering her feet across the spine of the gargoyle when she felt the shock of cold water awash her. The bafflement of the sensation while being bone dry, slipped a mishap of footing against a spiky ridge. Her ankle sprained.
Fie threw her delicate frame off the gargoyle's back, twirling into a rolling landing. Her small ears flushed pink with embarrassment.
How did I mess that up? Seriously? she thought.
On her ARCUS, the combat link indicator light blinked three times then powered off.
#
Laura skated on her step, her heels sliding inches on the slippery stones. She barely rediscovered her balance when Rean crashed into her from behind. Both tumbled in a splash into the flowing channels. Skirts, jackets, orbment chains and blades, they submerged in flushing trails of silvery bubbles.
Rean was so stunned by the cold water rising up his nostrils that he barely caught on to the sleeking slide of blue hair that rose back up to the surface.
Laura burst out of the water gasping. She looked to Rean, exasperate. The boy was half floundering, trying to rise back up. With one hand, she dashed her arm underwater and jerked him back onto the platform. Rean coughed; half his face completely obscured by wet hair sticking.
The combat link indicator lights lit up on both their ARCUS. Laura frowned.
"What happened to you-" Laura began.
The ground vibrated. Then in an abrupt crescendo of sound and stone shattering, the dungeon floor collapsed into a hole where the gargoyle was scrambling after Fie. The monster dropped like a comical cartoon. Following this cacophony of shattered rock and lampooned physics, the hidden stream of water gushed out in liquid discordant notes of randomised geysers, steaming clouds and the gargling gurgle of water. Somewhere in the depths of the draining whirlpool at the centre, the fiend gave a muffled roar then went silent.
Everyone glanced at each other. Only Elliot lowered his weapon, exhausted from swinging the Lambda Rod with only one good arm. Emerging from the thick mass of water steam, Emma waved her hand around like a klutz, with her glasses all fogged up. She clumsily bumped into Gaius, who steadied her.
"What happened?" asked Emma.
"I'm not sure. Did someone break the floor using an amberl arte?" Gaius asked.
"Not my credit to take," said Jusis. He sheathed his estoc.
The others shook their heads. Fie collapsed back like a starfish, her chest rising and falling. Crawl-running like a spider from that rockface was un-fun, with a sprained ankle.
"Perhaps one of them did something?" Daniel suggested, pointing his broadsword. The others followed his gesture to where Rean and Laura were. Laura was taking off her blazer, grimacing at the drenched heavy textile then cringing at the state of her puke stained shoes.
Her lips mimed something at Rean – the rest of Class VII could not hear. Rean raised his head at her with unfocused eyes.
Thud.
A mass of a bulge pushed up on the ground, fracturing the stonework. Alisa gasped, jumping back.
Thud. Everyone felt it in their knees.
THUD.
"Waaah!" Elliot lost his balance, landing on his butt.
Machias swung his shotgun to the bulge on the ground and fired. A dusty blur discharged, scattering pebbles. Then serrated spikes of the gargoyle's back jutted out like a shark's fin. It bolted straight for Rean.
Twenty paces away, Rean noticed the fin in his cognitively delayed state of mind.
Eighteen paces away, Kazekiri was summoned in its sheath. Rean stepped forward, those eyes gaunt and grim.
Fifteen paces away, Rean leaned forward, wet hair falling over his eyes. With knees bent, his fingers clasped on Kazekiri's tsuka. Ready to draw.
"Where's his sense of self-preservation!" Machias exclaimed.
Fie narrowed her eyes at the Arseid girl. Why was she in a standstill?
Emma gasped.
"Laura stop him before he gets himself killed!"
It was the combat link. The muscle memories and spiritual feedback of Schwarzer's Eight Leaves One Blade style collided chaotic against all of Laura's years of training in the Arseid school, making her heart jump and fizzle.
x
"Power is good. But remember this. All the techniques of the blade that I can teach you Laura will come from here-" Victor pointed at Laura's forehead. She blinked back up at him with wide eyes, "-but what purifies technique into strength is the fire that burns here-" He pressed two fingers at her heart, "-and that is what you want. . .
x
For a split second, Laura was absorbed into the serenity of a still mirror lake. Was this what Eight Leaves was like? The ARCUS transmission in the combat link brimmed full of it. Then this serenity transformed into rage. Despair and nihilism. Emotions that were far older than her and Rean. Laura took half a step back, her own heart reacting to this monster.
Fragmented memories. Recognition of something familiar. The pain amplified.
Rean's back stiffened. Why was the ogre trying to force its way-
Ten paces away, the gargoyle erupted from the floor, arms spread wide. No time to think, the tension in Rean's poise snapped like a rubber band. Kazekiri drew, brimming with ki discharge. The Karmic Flame Form slash went up. The gargoyle caught aflame, igniting into a great mane of fire that billowed like a majestic cape as it came down on Rean. A talon grasped around Rean's shoulders.
A bomb splash of water erupted in the canal ways. Both Rean and the gargoyle went underwater. Steam hissed.
It was almost like that night – when the Frozen Flames meteoroid streaked over the frozen lake in Ymir. Rean released his grip on Kazekiri. The tachi dissolved in the sprite fizzle of rushing water and bubbles.
Maybe I'll let you kill me this time.
Rean felt his back press against the bottom depth. The mutated eye of the gargoyle drew close against Rean. In it, Rean saw the tortured sentience. A soul that lost itself to the experiments of lusus naturae that ruined many in this Old Schoolhouse. It drew its claw to slash Rean's neck open.
Then as if some messiah was parting water, the shallow depths of the channel cleared. Laura landed on the back of the gargoyle. Her energy aura was put on blast; lifting her ponytail and creating a marble push back against the water. Brynhildr raised mighty. The gargoyle closed its eyes, as if preposterously something as hideous as itself could find closure.
The gargoyle's head rolled. A sapphirl arte came casting down, freezing the water surrounding Rean and Laura. Frozen licks of stalagmites curled over like a rib cage with the two of them in it. The stone claw that was holding Rean, deteriorated into dust, with it the rest of the monster's body; fizzling into stardust grey. Both of Laura's feet tent tent-poled by Rean's hips, her long legs standing pyramid. She towered over him, with her greatsword in feature. They both locked eyes, panting the condensed mist of cold. She was trembling, because of what Rean just put her through in the combat link. Rean was shaking, because of the coward's reprieve Laura stole away from him.
"How dare you," Laura whispered to him.
A rope dropped down by the two, breaking the spell. Laura looked up. Sara stood akimbo with most of the others from interim Class VII in flank. The former bracer grinned.
"Congratulations. You've passed your orienteering exam for Class VII!"
Months later when Rean would think about that day, he'd wonder how Thors's condolence letters would have been addressed to parents of powerful position, had someone like Jusis, Alisa or Machias died. Or everyone in the interim Class VII. Sara's cheery casualness to that implication made the night even more insane.
Elliot heard Daniel curse under his breath when they stepped out of the Old Schoolhouse. In the time they spent dealing with nightmares of the dark ages in the Old Schoolhouse, the day had turned to night. Not that Elliot could blame Daniel for the foul language. The young Craig was shagged out. So were the others.
The first order of business was diverting Class VII to the infirmary where the more serious injuries were healed with artes, leaving the little bruises and empurpled bumps to be healed naturally. At Sara's insistence, analgesics were denied. The school nurse clucked in disapproval but complied. Anne Drechsler was brought in on a stretcher and delegated her bed. It was here that interim Class VII split from their unconscious teammate, being directed to one of the empty classrooms on the third plateau.
As they were filing into the classroom, George Nome collected all their ARCUS units outside the entrance.
"Let me guess, you want to run diagnostics and assess the battle telemetry data," Alisa said to George. His jaw dropped.
"Bingo bango," Sara said at that.
Everyone sat in haphazard order in the classroom. Students like Emma and Machias sat at the front. Students like Fie sat at the back. Feeling like a special snowflake, Rean took a window seat. Outside, he saw a pair of yellow eyes blink in the darkness of a tree's canopy. A black cat was sitting on a branch, watching.
Sara addressed them all from the teacher's desk.
"So-" she clapped her hands, "-how are y'all feeling?"
"Like crap," Fie called out from the back.
A general murmur of assent followed. Laura and Emma were the exceptions to this temperament, with Emma asking first:
"Will Anne be all right?"
"Ms Dreschler – oh wow, I feel so prim addressing her like that – ahem – Ms Dreschler will be fine. Although she's now disqualified from participating as a student of Class VII here on, her hrmm. . .matriculation in Thors Military Academy is guaranteed for Class III," said Sara.
"Why? What did she do wrong?" asked Alisa.
"This orienteering exercise was conditional for assessing the selected candidates for Class VII. That would be-" Sara held up two fingers, "-Being alive and conscious, once the gargoyle was slewed. You can only glean so much about a cadet on paper. . .but the real mettle is shown in practical scenarios. Oh silly me – make that three. The third condition was being able to form a successful combat link with the ARCUS. I gotta say, you all really know how to kick some hard ass."
There was a knock at the door.
"And that would be the result sheet printed from engineering. Come in," Sara answered.
A broad built man with luxuriant blond hair walked in. His aura pervaded a sense of military authority and capability that made a few cadets sit straight on their desks. Sara quirked her mouth at the man, folding her arms. The soldier scanned his piercing pale blue eyes across the room, resting longer on Daniel Serpico (who unflinching met his gaze) before stopping at Elliot.
"You're Lieutenant General Craig's boy?" the soldier asked Elliot.
"Yes sir!"
The soldier nodded approvingly before handing in a printout to Sara.
"Thank you, Major Neithardt. Meet your other instructor of Class VII. He's also taking charge of your fitness regimes," said Sara.
"That is right. The hour is late cadets so Instructor Sara and I will economise debriefing. My name is Viktor Neithardt; serving the duty rank of Major in the 4th Armoured Division. Though you may address me as Instructor Neithardt. I graduated from Thors ten years ago. Since then, I've aggregated experience in armoured warfare, explosive ordnance disposal, signals officer fieldwork and CQC," said Neithardt.
"If I may ask, what is CQC?" said Gaius.
"Close quarters combat. Basically the military's fancy smancy way of describing in-your-face brawls and duels. You might have to get used to hearing the acronym on campus," said Sara.
A little vein throbbed on Neithardt's forehead.
"Have you confirmed their agreement to this initiative, instructor?" asked Neithardt.
"Not yet, I was just getting to the part of explaining the test results of combat link. . .oh! That's nice! Everyone's passed and was able to establish at least one combat link," said Instructor Sara.
Machias leaned forward.
"The data you're looking at, does it give efficacy scores and ranking?" asked Machias.
"It does. If you want to know who had the best average threshold in synchronicity, it was Cadet Worzel, followed closely by Cadet Arseid and Millstein," said Neithardt.
No surprise there, given Gaius's chill, thought Rean.
"One of you however-" Neithardt added, this time looking pointedly at Rean, "-gave a bunch of error codes to your ARCUS, which not even the specialist from Reinford Industries can reference. Possible hardware malfunction even if diagnostics have cleared this combat orbment. We're still studying the data graphs. At the very least, this ARCUS recorded one established combat link, which is the passing grade," said Neithardt.
Rean could feel the static of Laura's gaze on him. He intensely stared at a nondescript spot on his desk as if it was the most fascinating thing in the classroom.
"Now for the moment of truth, ladies and gentlemen. Some of you may have already figured it out on your own but a great deal of mira, bureaucratic work and labour has gone into creating Class VII and the tools you all have access to. We threw you into poorly adjudicated combat conditions to give you a taste of the 'specialised coursework' Class VII will be stress-tested to. In other words, the Erebonian Empire intends to officially create its first batch of special forces under the Class VII initiative," said Sara.
Her words hung in the air. Jusis heard a barely audible 'Ha!' from Daniel sitting next to him.
"Outside the door awaits a campus quartermaster who will facilitate the reassignment designation of your class, should a cadet or several, refuse this initiative. Depending on your social caste, you will be given a green or white jacket uniform. There will be no penalty to your military career record, no discrimination to the choice made – you have my word," said Major Neithardt.
Wait on the awakener's choice, Emma. If he's out, you're out too, dropped Celine's thought-speak.
'I know that' Emma mimed under her breath. The Hexen witch was mostly indifferent to the revelations of what Class VII was about. All Emma was here for was her primary mission. Whether that meant being special forces or a common foot soldier, to guide Rean Schwarzer.
Daniel raised his hand.
"I want out," said Daniel.
Machias twisted around in his seat, face etched in disbelief.
"Why is that? You fought better than nearly most of us in there. Something like Class VII would be a breeze for someone of your strengths, Daniel," said Machias.
Daniel grimaced at the compliment.
"Perhaps. But let's be real. In a country like Erebonia where military might is so deeply ingrained in its culture; would a new weapon like Class VII have the allowance of political neutrality? If this 'social experiment with a gun' proves successful, the ranks of its members will not be spared of puppet masters in power. 'Go sabotage a foreign nation's infrastructure'. How does a Remiferian like me fit into all that? It's convenient tokenism to endorse an agenda, no offence Instructor Sara, Instructor Neithardt," said Daniel.
"That's quite all right, cadet," said Neithardt.
"Believe me, I kind of get it," said Sara.
Before Daniel left, he said to Class VII at large:
"Understand what I said when you choose to join. Who you are, where you're from, your past – one can never run from that." The door closed.
". . ."
". . ."
". . ."
Laura took a stab at it.
"Why were the eleven – no, we're nine now. Why were the nine of us chosen for Class VII? Was it simply to showcase a melting pot of different classes and cultures in one unit?" asked Laura.
"That is a valid question. I won't admit that your social class background was an exclusive factor buuut, if I had to name a major deciding factor, it would be the ARCUS units you all got to use tonight," said Sara.
"How so?" asked Rean.
"Like it was explained earlier in the engineering building, the ARCUS units were developed by the Reinford Company. Like recent iterations of battle orbment, they let you use artes and these have communication functionality built right in. But the ARCUS's crowning feature is what's known as combat linking. That's the phenomenon you all experienced in the Old Schoolhouse. Obviously given that it's early days your links may be rough around the edges now. But give it enough time and experience. . ." said Sara.
"You can imagine how military leadership is keen to translate this into real world results. An elite unit that has a kinetic sense of each other's movements, acting in perfect sync, even in the most chaotic conditions. . .this is a precipice into the revolution of how wars are fought," said Neithardt.
Would something like this add more tinder for war with Calvard? Nord would be caught in the crossfire, Gaius wondered.
Alisa gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth. So that's what those documents in the living room were about! She swallowed a lump of shame in her throat.
"The nine of us scored the highest in the aptitude tests which all the new cadets of Thors took! That's why we were selected for Class VII," said Alisa.
"That is right. . .Miss Reinford," said Instructor Neithardt.
Half the cadets gave a hushed chorus of shock; their whooshed inhale reminded Alisa of a tossed matchstick into combustion fuel. Alisa's face went red. She knew what they were all thinking – A Reinford? Did she have access to the answer sheets?
What's worse was that Alisa did not have the confidence to deny it. Did she enter Thors with an unfair advantage? It had only been by chance that Alisa got to learn about Project ARCUS. All because it had been in development hell for so long and her mother was long in the habit of bringing work to home often. Alisa squeezed her skirt hemline.
Did mother. . .manipulate me to join VII? Alisa wondered. It would be in line with the RF chairwoman's narcissism.
Rean rubbed his eyes, intoning a silent prayer to Aidios to reduce the irony in his life. First day as a soldier cadet and already he had his face buried in the boobs of a military industrial complex dynasty.
"As promised, if any of you have objections to being in this class, speak now or forever hold your peace. This program isn't cheap to run so we're not going to force anyone to be in it if they don't want to suffer through the toughest curriculum on campus and dangerous missions," said Sara.
"Dangerous missions – as in, we will be in mortal danger?" asked Rean.
"Affirmative," answered Neithardt.
It was a dream come true.
"I'm game. Whatever Class VII throws at me, I'll take it on," said Rean.
"W-wait, what?!" Elliot exclaimed.
"Just like that?" Alisa said incredulously, despite herself.
Fie side-eyed this baron's son. For a guy who just threw up, got his ass kicked and nearly drowned twice, he had big balls.
". . .So you're the first then. You seem pretty keen about this, Cadet Schwarzer. Any particular reason?" Neithardt asked.
Because I'm so afraid of myself, I need to seek that which is more terrifying if I want to. . .not be broken, thought Rean.
"No specific reason. I just feel like I've put my family out, asking them to send me to this prestigious academy. If the accolade of being in Erebonia's first special force helps justify my time here. . .well, I'll take that opportunity with both hands," said Rean.
"Mmm. A noble sentiment. I like it," said Sara.
Laura's chair scraped forward.
"Count me in as well. The greater the challenge, the more I can push myself to excel. One can't hone a blade without grit on the whetstone, after all," said Laura.
"Let us make it three. Considering how far I came to attend this school-" Gaius recalled that vivid vision at the funeral pyre, all that chaos from history, "-the feelings I brought with me, it would be silly of me to back down when I've barely started," said Gaius.
Emma raised her hand.
"Allow me to take part as well," she said.
One by one, the others gave their assent to join Class VII (Fie had to be needled by Sara to decide). Though Class VII did not understand how at the time, it was a choice that would come to deeply imprint bonds and endearment. Where personal values and politics would be shaken and tested. To the test of chilling danger. Or the warmth of camaraderie.
A choice that would develop their capacity to grieve, if any in this classroom were killed in action at Valflame Palace.
It began raining while Class VII was being debriefed, the kind of light spring drizzle that did not warrant an umbrella but quietly dampened hair and cloak.
From the window of the principal's office, Prince Olivert watched Class VII take the stairs down from the campus's third plateau, leaving. Behind Olivert, Mueller was minding a cup of chamomile tea by the fire hearth – keeping Vandyck and his Ambrian Shepherd dog company.
"Nine out of eleven. This is better than I dared to hope," said Olivert.
"I personally wasn't expecting Class VII to turn out as diverse as this. It certainly promises to be an exciting year for Thors," remarked Vandyck.
The shepherd raised her head at her master. Mueller saw a kind of wolf-like wisdom in the canine's eyes. She had a good coat, cream hues of brown melting into white.
"I hope I haven't made a mistake. . ." murmured Olivert.
"We nearly got them killed today. Especially Olaf's boy. Your orbal shot came at the last possible moment," Mueller rumbled, breathing in the mellow notes of chamomile.
"Ahh, yet given that I was able to save him so luckily, it must surely mean destiny is on my side. Do not be so gloomy, dear Mueller," said Olivert.
"Destiny does not play dice games with luck-" Mueller thought about Olivert's mother. How things came so close that day, the choice Mueller made to get to the then-crown prince first. The shadow of a frown passed over his face, "-but it does play with our lives. I only hope that your ambition will not hurt these kids, or worse – Your Highness."
A burning log sneezed ember sparks in its collapse. The dog fell asleep. Olivert turned around to the men.
"It will be my sin to bear. Yet seeing Class VII together in the Old Schoolhouse, I feel they have the potential to be the light we seek. Dappling beams that will break through thunderclouds that gather and rumble over our nation."
The next day.
Sleep stirred into waking awareness.
The knocking at the door was insistent now. Rean turned his face against the pillow, abrasing dull pains from the day-old bruises on his face.
"Rean?"
Rean recognised the girl's voice. Emma Millstein. After that blasted excursion into the old schoolhouse, he curtly turned down the genteel classmate's offer to salve his injuries. Everyone watched him limp away, leaving Emma frowning in concern.
There was some whispering outside his door. Rean could tune the presence of at least three people outside his bedroom.
Knock knock.
Rean got an idea. Quietly, he slipped off the bed, silently grimacing at the soreness from the beating his body took yesterday. In stealth, Rean padded towards his bedroom window. Emma kept speaking:
"Look I know you're not happy with what happened yesterday. But you need to come out now. The children of Trista are waiting outside, it seems they have this yearly tradition in welcoming new students. . .it would be rude to not acknowledge the local culture, if even one of us is missing."
Ever carefully, Rean unlatched the window, his fingers sliding like silk. The windows opened partway to the courtyard of Class VII's dormitory when Rean noticed a cat sitting at the dry water fountain, staring at him accusingly with those yellow eyes.
"Maybe he's gone out?" Rean heard Elliot say.
"He might have left earlier. . ." said Emma.
Just before Rean could slink one foot out, the cat meowed loudly. It was only an animal sound. Even if someone – anyone heard it, the sound ought to have carried no specific meaning to humans. Certainly not 'Schwarzer's being a dog, trying to jump out his window'.
"Nope, he's still in there," said Emma, sounding somewhat cross now.
The fuck?
The metronome of confident footsteps tapped outside his door, making four people. Rean instinctively knew who it was.
"That girl. . ." he muttered under his breath, his jaw flexing.
"Schwarzer's still not coming out? Perhaps he prefers that I carry him out his bed-"
The door opened. Rean leaned against the door jamb, still in his white vest and shorts.
"That won't be necessary, Arseid. Good morning Emma, Elliot and. . ." Alisa's door opposite his hurriedly slammed shut, ". . .and Miss Slappy-" Rean pointedly looked to Laura, "I was just on my way."
The sight of Laura blasted on his strained bravado – like a cave hermit confronted by sunlight for the first time in years. The echoes of everything that happened yesterday saturated through the periphery of Rean's awareness. It was a conscientious effort for Rean to apply his Eight Leaves training, to keep his heartbeat from getting accelerated by memories of those adrenaline-filled minutes in the old schoolhouse.
If Rean were to count by fingers for all the girls he's slept with, he'd need both his hands. Those trysts rarely ever got romantic. At least, for Rean it was not. By the next week, they would typically become half-forgotten faces in dark dream memories. Her, her and her. . .
He could remember the archetype of 'her' by the tenderness felt. Or 'her' wicked giggles by the dark piano, half-naked and drunk from Juraish Cream liqueur. Rean could remember her by the composition played, that slurry melancholy with each piano note melting sleepily into another. Or by the discharging bursts of electricity, fingertips tracing against skin.
By how she whispered into his ear in the darkness, playing with words in her mouth like delicious caramel-burst chocolates. All while the Ymir blizzard howled outside. It was 'easy' to fall into that writhing rawness with someone in bed because Rean had the inclination in him to be emotionally closed off to the other in each and every instance. The aromantic armour gave him the illusion of control over his internal turmoil. It made him feel 'safe'.
But when a girl goes into battle with you? Yesterday things went out of control and Rean was forced into vulnerability, placing power in Laura's sword, just to make it through the ordeal alive. To him, there was something terrifyingly transformative about that experience, beyond losing his virginity sevenfold.
Not that Rean dared to show to the others. It did trouble him though.
Laura folded her arms, perfectly equanimous. Her chin tilted up at a perfect inch, that slender neck arching at Rean. Her gorgeous mouth (Rean found it more distracting than he wanted to admit today) set in its perfect lines. Perfect. Puuurrrfect. Pooo-fick, Rean thought, plastering his snarky sentiments deeply behind his feigned half-sleepy face.
She must think she's perfect. Oh, you think you got me figured out? After what happened yesterday in that dungeon?
"How dare you?" she said to him. Short but with so much brevity and understanding packed between them. Those words remained embedded like tugging barbs on his prideful sense of martyrdom. It ticked Rean off – it made him feel petty.
"I trust you'll make yourself presentable before heading down? I'd prefer that," said Laura.
"Of course. I'll do it for you-" Rean stepped back, rolling his muscle-toned shoulders. He flicked her a mockery military salute.
Rean probably would have had better odds with a dead piece of rock reacting to that quasi-taunt. Laura on the other hand, remained composed as always.
Tch.
"-After all, Instructor Sara appointed you as the leader of Class VII," said Rean.
Author's Note:
My AU rendition of the ARCUS's development was inspired by real life events of how Microsoft committed corporate espionage against Sony to help build the Xbox 360's CPU. Check it out in The Race for a New Gaming Machine by David Shippy. Also gives the impression that IBM hasn't ethically changed much since their days of supplying for the SS-Totenkopfverbände.
There is still some world-building left about Reinford's development of ARCUS. For now, I'd like the readers to take note that six human trials were undertaken in researching cellular memory.
With the ARCUS and the human heart, this AU set about elaborating that kind of world building to the reader because I wanted to expand on the potential of how complicated and interesting Rean Schwarzer is as a protagonist in general. Harem aside, the fandom often lasers in on his low self-esteem in discourse as the forefront of the main character's writing, which I guess is fine. But I do not think that may necessarily be the most intriguing thing about Rean. In Cold Steel 2, McBurn asked Rean:
"Interesting. . .You mixed, by any chance? Something foreign-unnatural-mixed into their body itself, different to the church's Stigmas."
It mostly gets as far as Osborne's heart being the source of Rean's Ogre power and why he ended up being a sacrifice. But what wasn't necessarily explored was the psychological and spiritual volatility this could bring. McBurn himself suffered such at the high end of this 'mixed' spectrum.
This adds another layer of complexity for romance. Rean's Ogre rage is sourced from a heart that's not his. In the games, we see that anime cliché (it's happened in Naruto, Bleach, Aoi no Exorcist, Inuyasha, Diabolik Lovers, the list goes on and on) where Rean's losing control like:
Rean: 'Rawr! I'm now an evil edgelord who understands the Crois family secretly controls Zemuria's finances through the IBC! Why we need to start extermination camps for that entire family and bake them in an-'
Cue Alisa.
Rean: 'It's OK guys, I'm no longer racist :) '
A mild exaggeration but you get the picture. Writing Laura's Melody I am super particular that this cliché wouldn't be copied because that's Alisa's thing + a couple of hundred other manga heroines. Rean's Ogre comes out, Alisa always switches it off like that will be the good thing.
With Laura, we're going all Carl Jung/stare-at-your-shadow route. That is to say, Laura spurs the opposite to happen, the more Rean's feelings develop for her because that 'Lionheart' inside Rean is recognising the archetypes of the Lance Maiden in Laura – which then surges the momentum of his alter ego and power. Laura will make Rean feel more unhinged, literally more powerful, more beastly masculine than what he's used to being, escalations in nature which may finally led him to that internal moral dilemma: I want this chic so bad enough that I might be willing to become a monster for her.
And that is only the tip of the iceberg of how I can play around with this.
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