Words Count: 4431
A/N: The outcome's clear, but at least help's on the way.
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Einar's Diary (Stockpiling – Exclusively on )
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Ars Goetia (Stockpiling)
( "I've never lost, not really;
Yet sometimes it feels like all I've done is losing.")
Born to King Suddhodana and Queen Maya in the 6th century BCE in Lumbini, now modern-day Nepal, Prince Siddhartha enjoyed luxury reserved only for royalties, shielded from the harsh realities of the world within the confines of the Palace.
His life was carefree and happy, yet at the age of 29, on a trip to gain deeper understandings of his Kingdom, the young Prince encountered four sights that deeply impacted him:
An elderly man working simply to put foods on the table;
A sick person discarded by the rest of Humanity for no crime other than his illness;
A corpse rotting within a dark alley;
And an ascetic who challenged his world-view.
These sights made him realize the impermanence and suffering inherent in human existence, and thus the Prince decided to renounce his privileges- discard his princely Title and seek Enlightenment. After leaving his palace and family, Siddhartha embarked on a spiritual quest, wandering as an ascetic and studying under various religious teachers.
However, dissatisfied with their teachings and practices, feeling they did not provide the answers he sought, the former Prince later adopted a middle path, rejecting extreme asceticism and embracing a more… Balanced approach.
Thus, under the Bodhi Tree in Bodh Gaya, Siddhartha meditated for 49 days, and finally, on the day of the full Moon, Prince Siddhartha achieved enlightenment- becoming Buddha.
As the story goes, during his enlightenment, Buddha gained insight into the nature of suffering and the path to liberation from it.
The former mortal dedicated the remaining years of his life to teaching and spreading his newfound wisdom. He traveled extensively later on, preaching the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path as a means to overcome suffering and attain enlightenment to any who will care to listen, emphasizing mindfulness, compassion, and of course: The cultivation of the so-called ' Inner Peace'. Unsurprisingly, no Magi bought into Buddha's ideals.
Many were even outrught hostile to the Enlightened One,
Yet here they are- treading through the forest, in search of the Bodhi Tree where he's said to have attainted Enlightenment. "Call me insane, but couldn't we have–"
The aging Magus huffs sarcastically, his breaths labored- heavy. "Have gone to the Palace instead? You know, the place where Buddha's said to have been born and–" He stresses. "Oh, I don't know, spent the majority of his early life? Or do you just want to torment this one's old bones for fun?"
"Mr. Almond–" The leading Magus rolls his eyes as he destroys the spider-web obstructing his path, simultaneously pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please save your sass for someone who actually cares. Plus, If I recall correctly, it was YOU who begged to accompany us, not the other way around."
"Ac- Actually, sir?"
A younger member of their group raises his arm.
"What?!"
Forcefully ridding the stutter in his voice, he asks.
"I'm wondering the same thing, sir."
"What the Hell are they teaching you in class?" Palming his face, the Leader groans, mumbling angrily. "Do you even know what the Throne of Heroes is?"
They collectively bob their heads. "Then you should know summoning a Servant is a Game of Chances. You never know who you're going to get. Even with all the necessary ingredients, the perfect timing and a Catalyst, you may get a younger version of the Heroic Spirit, or even one from another Timeline where they may be completely different." He stops, believing they will naturally figure out on their own, "Sir?"
"WHAT NOW?!" He speaks through gritted teeth, the scowl on his face growing prominent. "I…"
The Magus hesitates, then– "I still don't get it."
The Leader lets out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Look, it's like this. The Throne of Heroes is a separate Dimension where Spirits of legendary Heroes from various timelines are stored. When we summon a Servant, we're calling forth one of these heroes to aid us in our endeavors. But here's the catch: We don't get to choose which version of the Heroic Spirit we summon."
He takes a deep breath, trying to grab the dwindling well of patience within him. "So, in the case of Buddha, say we were to try the Summoning in the Palace, we may not get the Enlightened being who achieved Nirvana… We could get Prince Siddhartha instead. We may even get his parents who're useless in combat. It's more difficult for us since Buddha and the Prince are, at their cores, two entirely different Entities. That's why we're here in search of the Bodhi Tree, where he found Enlightenment.
It shall be our Catalyst."
— False Sovereignty —
At the same time, in Mathura / India, a group of Magi are kneeling in front of an Altar.
Stabbed right in the center, lays a crystalline Blade- the vaunted Jeweled Sword given to the Tower by the Wizard Marshall. Though Zelretch has made it perfectly clear he will not intervene directly, as Humanity's Salvation simply cannot be attained by an Apostle, he thankfully did not turn the Association away, and his aid came in the form of his precious Artifact-
One many throughout the Ages have longed to get a mere glimpse of. Apparently, the Apostle has multiple stored just in case, though in case of what, he refused to elaborate further. In fact, none was granted instructions on the specifics of how to wield the Mystic Code, only that they are supposed to set up a faux Holy Grail Ritual and use the Jeweled Sword as the foundation. "Is that it…? Did we miss anything?"
"I- I don't think so?"
"THINK? We need to be SURE! Check the Runic Circle again!"
Hastily, the Magi frantically double-check the intricately drawn runic circle inscribed on the ground around the altar. Meticulously analyzing every line; symbol; and connection to ensure that every detail is in place… Beads of sweat trickle down their brows as they carefully trace each rune with their fingers, searching for any potential mistakes or missing elements.
As they scan the circle, "Wait! We got one of the symbols wrong!" One of the Magi exclaims, pointing at a small rune that has been smeared in their haste. The others bend down, squinting as they examine the symbol.
It is a delicate and intricate mark, easily overlooked if not for their keen attention to detail. With trembling hands, they carefully redraw the missing symbol, completing the Summoning Circle. "See?! If I hadn't told you to check, we'd have wasted a bunch of resources for nothing!"
Their Leader reprimands, face seemingly frozen in an annoyed scowl. "We're Magi, a mistake often means Death in our line of work! What have they been teaching you guys? That is quite literally the first thing a Magus has to learn!" Hands on her hips, the woman circles the… Well… Circle.
The Magi exchange glances, a mixture of enthusiasm and trepidation in their eyes.
Enthusiasm for being able to witness actual History in the making- to be the ones of the first to get a front-row seat to the Descent of a God- a Messiah figure… Trepidation out of fear they shall be judged unworthy, and thus sentenced;
For while not every Magus is a terrible person, it would be a plain lie to say they've never done terrible things in their lives. In fact, terrible does not even cover one third of the war-crimes they have committed,
And call it intuition, but the Magi have a feeling lying won't make a difference in front of a Deity. The Leader takes a deep breath to steady their nerves, visibly disturbed as well. "Let us begin," She says, her voice somewhat shaky.
Each Magus takes their position around the Altar, forming a circle as one of theirs sprinkles an unhealthy amount of molten lead into lines they have traced, followed with a pinch of dried Basil and Mugwort, meanwhile the rest slowly begin to channel Mana into the Summoning Circle. Synchronized, they chant incantations that resonate through the chamber, their words laced with an ancient and Divine power.
" By the seven heavens and Earth's great might,
I summon thee, Kalki, radiant with light.
With the blessings of Lord Vishnu, divine and true,
Descend now, Kalki, to fulfill what you're meant to do."
The air crackles with energy as a brilliant glow envelops the jeweled sword embedded in the center of the Altar. The blade pulsates with life, releasing a brilliant kaleidoscopic glow. Magical sparks dance around the room as though alive and with a will of their own, creating a sensory spectacle that defies mortals' comprehension.
" From Vaikuntha's realm, where gods reside,
I call upon Vishnu's grace, at my side.
Kalki Avatar, Embodiment of cosmic might,
Come forth, bless us with your celestial light."
Slowly, the wind starts to pick up, making their uniforms flutter violently.
" Oh Vishnu, the Preserver, Lord of all,
Guide us in this world, through rise and fall.
Kalki, your avatar, with purpose imbued,
Lead us towards salvation, all evils subdued."
The neighs of a Divine Stead explode near the horizon, causing all the citizens of Mathura to whirl around, wide-eyed.
" With Sudarshana Chakra, your sacred wheel,
Defend righteousness, let injustice kneel.
By Garuda's wings, traverse time and fate,
Our call resounding, your path, illuminate."
In that moment, unbeknownst to them, a gateway to the Realm of Myths has been burst open, transcending the boundaries of ordinary existence.
The Magi have successfully created the faux Holy Grail Ritual, a pathway for something yet to be revealed.
" O'Servant of the righteous blade, I summon thee,
Kalki Avatar, embodiment of Vishnu's decree.
In this union formed, our destinies intertwine,
Carry us towards victory, bearing the divine sign."
The louder they chant, the more violent things become, and for the briefest moment, they can't help but doubt. Are they doing the right thing? Is it really a God they're summoning, or a Demon in the guise of Divinity? Fortunately, though their Wills may have wavered, their lips never once stop, afraid the backlash from the failed Ritual will result in Instant-Death.
" Fierce as Narasimha, fierce as Vamana in gait,
Bring forth the justice this world awaits.
By the sacred syllables, invoke your strength,
Kalki, in harmony with Vishnu, we'll go to any length."
Strands of hair whip around, even poking at their eyes, but they can't stop- literally. It's as if something has taken possession of their mortal forms, puppeteering their actions, yet unlike all those tales about Demonic Possession, it does not make them fearful, or anxious, or angry, or even sleepy–
" By the grace of Lord Vishnu, our spirits alight,
Kalki Avatar, born to bring the world aright.
In the tapestry of Hindu lore, your legend we weave,
Lead us to a glorious future, as Vishnu's belief.
Instead, it feels like they want to do it- that in the deepest depth of their Souls, a part of the Magi not only resonates with the incantations, but wishes desperately to be one with Divinity.
" Rise as the herald of a new beginning."
A wave of Divinity washes over the Magi like a strong; turbulent wave in the ocean, and they are immediately knocked over- falling on their backs, yet it is not pain the group feels, but an immense kind of relief, which is then followed by a sense of courage they themselves must admit is an oddity.
Yes, Magi aren't the most courageous of bunch, for courage is not a lack of fear, instead the ability to push forth in spite of it, which is the opposite of Magi, who're often conditioned since birth to be unafraid Death,
And even then many are still never able overcome the instinctual fear of the Oblivion which awaits them at the end of the road. As the Divinity dissipates, and the Ritual stabilizes, whispers of uncertainty fill the room. Questions linger in their minds. What will come from this endeavor? Has a Deity descended? And if so, just where on Earth is he?
With a collective breath, the Magi brace themselves for the unknown, falling back on the usual method of Self-Hypnotization that is the foundation of Magecraft itself. " The Kali Yuga's approaching its end." That's when a chime sounds, annihilating their doubts and fears. Astonished, the Magi whirl left and right, staring suspiciously at their fellow. "Who said that? It's not funny!"
"It wasn't me!"
" How amusing—" Much like Beast VIII, the voice speaks in a language none recognizes, yet understandable nevertheless. " It is foretold the Age of Wills will only arrive after Humanity's departure from their Homeworld, and yet here we are…" The Magi are forced on their knees in worship of a God they don't even believe in, and they aren't the only one.
Outside of the room, heavy chant shakes the Heavens. "Vishnu! Vishnu! Vishnu!"
Then, the voice- the Kalki Avatar lets loose a heavy sigh. " Yet it is also rather unfortunate… Humanity's merely at the cusp of Adolescent." At the foot of the horizon, Dawn breaks despite the Sun setting. It is tiny- the silhouette which lights up the Sky…
Still, everyone sees him; everyone with a bit of knowledge knows who he is and understands well the reason for the God's descent. " This one has possessed many names throughout the Ages, and hence, as a matter of fact, just as many Incarnations: Vishnu the Preserver; Matsya; Kurma, Narasimha,…etc. But you may call me Kalki- the Restorer of Righteousness and Order."
Eyes sweeping the lands and its people, the God mutters.
" Let us usher in a new Age, but first–"
With a flick of his fingers, thousands of buildings across India are erased amidst the horrified gazes of his worshippers. " Let us deal with the filths in our backyard."
— False Sovereignty —
Wordlessly, the group of fifty-something people clean and prepare their equipment at the back of the plane, not one daring to speak or risk the ire of the rest.
The Brigade has withstood against over a dozen of Apocalyptic threats, each worse than the next, but they'd be lying to say they have faced Divine Spirits before. Battle-hardened as they are, their hearts can't help being anxious, incessantly assaulted by a worry that bypasses even their practice of Self-Hypnotization. "Fuck it…" Mardocheus, already reaching triple-digits in age, yet possessing a youthful appearance one'd expect from a man half that, says before retrieving a flask from his unassuming bag.
"Anybody fancies a drink? You know, to warm up?"
With a chuckle, he adds and winks as if to clarify questions literally nobody has asked. "Fret not, there's enough for everyone. Let's just say the Flask is… Special and leave it at that." After finishing, the Magus doesn't forget to rub it like people would a certain Lamp.
"She'll treat you well, promise." He says, offering it to the guy next to him, who hesitates for a second, then fearlessly knocks it down. Burping, he laughs. "Fuck it… Might be our last day on Earth, so why the Hell not?"
Like a tribe, they pass the Flask up and down the rows. Those who don't drink, after taking a glance at the chaos below, also transform into alcoholics all of a sudden.
Apostles, which are the primary foes of the Brigade, also have a habit of infecting the population and making the poor folks their flesh-shields, but not like this… Never like this. Down below, a woman jumps on the windshield of a car going at 50M/H, yet in spite of all the damages done to her body and contrary to their expectations, she seems thrilled, even head-butting the vehicle until her brain starts to pop out. "Yeah… Give me that."
Eventually, the Flask gets passed to the Queen of the Clock Tower.
No one expects Lorelei Barthomeloi will take a sip, fully-aware how disciplined and harsh she is even to herself,
But their preconceptions are once again challenged when the woman opens her half-lidded eyes, then knocks it down just like they themselves did earlier. "Oooh!" Members of the Brigade howl in astonishment, causing Lorelei to flush red. "What? I can have fun too!"
The tension in the air momentarily dissipates as the Brigade witnesses their fearless leader embrace a rare moment of vulnerability, smiles creeping onto their weathered faces.
As Lorelei takes another sip from the flask, her normally stoic expression softens. She leans back in her seat and lets out a rare, genuine laugh. It resonates through the plane, a sound that has not been heard by anyone, not even them- It is the laughter of a Queen, concealing a touch of helplessness.
The Apocalyptic threat looms larger, threatening their very existence. But for this brief moment, they forget about the impending doom. They laugh, they reminisce, finding joy in sharing stories from the many battles fought side by side.
Mardocheus leans over to Lorelei, a twinkle in his eye. "You know, I always knew you had a wild side, Boss Lady. It's nice to see you letting loose." Lorelei shrugs, a teasing smile playing on her lips.
"I suppose even the most disciplined of us need a break now and then." She takes another swig from the flask and passes it along. The atmosphere In the plane has long shifted. No longer are they filled with doubts and fears. The battle ahead will be several times more arduous then their worst one, but with one act, Lorelei has managed to break the tension lingering in the air.
Be not mistaken, the fear is still there, but it's no longer taking the center stage, which is all the Brigade can ask for, really. "It's almost time, isn't it?" They could've used [Broom Flight] to shorten the time, but mindful of Magnum, had
As the plane descends towards the chaotic battleground, maddened people below rush to them like a pack of ravenous hyenas- laughing; howling; and crying uncontrollably while giving chase. "Ladies and gents, slaughter them all–" The Queen of the Bluebloods throws her hand forth commandingly.
"Consequences be damned. Even if the Sky falls, I'll hold it up. Today, you can kill to your heart's content." On cue, the cargo door hisses before opening to the sight of millions raving, each bloodier- gorier than the next… As they take their positions, Lorelei's voice echoes out, strong as ever, yet subtly tinged with a sense of lightheartedness. "Brigade, let's show these filths what we're made of! Carve your name in the throes of history!"
With a resounding cheer, the Brigade rallies around their Leader and charge forth, fearless. " So YoU'Ve cOmE." The owner of the ire voice does not show himself, but his identity's clear. "Leonis… Come and face me yourself!"
The God of Evil howls with laughter as he taunts. " CaTcH mE iF yoU caN, yOuR MaJesTy. I aWait aT thE tOp of Babel. BuT I mUst waRn yOu–" Every single infected erupts into hellish, flickering flames- their skin and flesh blackening like coals. " It'Ll nOt bE easy wIth mY chIldren iN thE wAy."
"Babel?" Lorelei muses, concluding. "The Tornitalo Hotel?"
Unlike the ugly, yet towering architectures of the known World Hubs like New York, London, Shanghai,…etc.
Helsinki- The Capital of Finland possesses an unique… Personality few cities can hope to match, with colorful buildings that don't make people feel inconsequential or worthless. Of course, now that everything's on fire and dyed with splashes of newly-spilt blood, it's no longer as beautiful, but it used to be on the Queen's list of favorite locations to visit. Someone of her position, she obviously only stays in the tallest, most luxurious building,
Which, in Helsinki, just happens to be said Hotel. "Egotistical little shit…" And thus, without hesitation, Lorelei leads the Brigade towards their ultimate adversary and demise. The first joint Spell used is [Pressurized Slash]-
A fusion between Lorelei's [Wind Slash] and one of the Brigade's [Water Tornado]. Usually, it'd have been more cost-effective to combine Wind and Fire, but since the Ghouls are more hellish this time, they decide against it.
Sure enough, the joint Spell not only extinguishes their flame, but cleaves them in half as well. Yet, despite the state they're left in, their smiles never once waver, foe they've accomplished all earthly desires in the time it took for the Brigade to arrive. It's a treacherous trip, but under Lorelei's command, the Brigade manage to push through gradually- their battle is even put on International channels by the Beast.
While many cheer for them; there are equally as many people who're angered.
Such is the Nature of Humanity… Even when someone's trying to do help, there will be idiots everywhere criticizing them.
As they approach the foot of Torni Hotel, they catch a glimpse of the blinking neon lights above which spells: 'Hellsinki'.
The ground trembles beneath their feet, echoing the ever-present wrath of the Divine Spirits. The infected, now cloaked in flames, surge forward like a tidal wave, their bodies contorted in grotesque forms. Lorelei raises her fist high, her cold brown eyes gleaming with viciousness as she slips through the cracks in their ranks, tearing heads and limbs off with each motion.
The first wave of creatures reaches the Brigade, their claws slashing through the air with wicked precision. But the members of the Brigade are no strangers to battle. They move with a grace honed by years of combat, their weapons striking true. Blood splatters across their enchanted suits, mingling with the fiery glow of the infected.
Mardocheus, his staff crackling with arcane energy, conjures swirling balls of pure kinetic force that blast back a group of attackers back.
Beside him, a woman with fiery red hair, Emma, ignites her gauntlets and delivers devastating blows, her fists leaving trails of searing, Holy Flame in their wake.
She's not the only Magus with knowledge about the specifics of Sacraments, and the same is true for the Holy Church. The two sides merely disdain one another so much, they refuse to use the other's Thaumaturgy.
The deafening clash of weapons and the screams of the infected fill the air. Each member of the Brigade fights with a skill and ferocity that defies their- outward- age. They move as one, their movements inhumanly fluid and precise. Blades dance through the air, meeting flesh and bone with lethal accuracy.
Lorelei, at the heart of the melee, wields her gauntlets with unmatched expertise. Her strikes are swift and deadly, cutting through the infected like a scythe through wheat. She moves with an almost ethereal grace, her every movement calculated and efficient. With every swing of her fists, she carves a path of destruction, leaving a trail of shattered and discarded body-parts in her wake.
Leonis, the Evil God, watches from atop his Tower of Babel, his amused laughter echoing in the air, while revels in the chaos unfolding below, savoring the destruction his children inflict upon the Brigade. It's hardly visible at a first glance, but their Mana and stamina are slowly, yet surely being sapped away every second this drags on…
He knows it, and the Brigade know it too.
But Lorelei refuses to be deterred. With a determined glint in her eyes, she spurs her comrades forward, their resolve unyielding. "This has been fun, but–" Taking a leap, the Queen releases a burst of wind that launches her to the top of the Hotel, where he sits on a Throne of Skulls-
Where spirits of the vanquished, restrained by his powers, constantly crawl and yowl like rabid animals at the sight of her. "Your rampage ends here, Leo!" To her eyes, his silhouette's strings of numbers and letters, a result of the woman's unnamed Mystic Eyes- the same pair which had aided her in the creation and development of [Strengthening]. " CuTe–" Lorelei unleashes a infernal wave to incinerate the Deity, but her Spells seem to… Slow the more distance they cover.
With a flick of his fingers, the Queen's launched in opposite direction, her descent bringing down multiple buildings at once. "MILADY!" Ambrose immediately gives chase, finding his mistress underneath a pile of rubbles. Flowers trail under his steps as he checks her pulse- her limbs have been twisted at an odd angle, her head hanging limply and her neck broken. Fortunately, she's alive still. "Hang on, I'll heal you." He touches her hand, his glowing brilliantly as her wounds mend, while the flowers around him appear to wither away.
"Magnum, do you know what you're doing?"
The Brigade bristle with rage, yet none dares to confront him.
He has one-shot their Leader, somebody who has gained their respect and is arguably the most powerful Magus of the current Era and come out with not a scratch on him. They're not his opponents. "Do you really plan on breaking the Peace?!" Finally, the God of Evil rises from his Seat of Power, cracking his neck. " wHat aN iDiotIc quEstIon… PeAce? WhAt peAce?" He descends to the ground, robe fluttering behind him.
" HuManiTy haS beEn at WaR wiTh itSelf siNce itS conCeptioN. I'm mErEly–" He hums, cupping his chin. " TeaRing oFf alL fAces. YeS!" Magnum nods, seemingly happy with the conclusion he has arrived to as he claps excitedly. " ThAt's eXacTly wHat I'M doING!"
"You crazy piece of shit!"
One of the Brigade, the fiery woman- Emma spits, waved off by the God.
" PlEaSe, aLL MaGi caN be ConsiDerEd psYcoPaths bY HuManiTy's stAndArds. I JuSt wEaR miNe aS a baDge of HonOr, whIle yOu bUnCh hiDe tHe Beast unDer a maSk of civIlity anD poLitEness. WaNNa knOw the FunnIest tHinG?"
Emma's vocal cord fails her as he vanishes, only to appear in front of her, arms tucked behind his back. Brows raised, he smirks and nears her ear, whispering- his voice like the sweetest wine. " NoBoDy bUys ThAt bUllsHit." She can't even react, rooted in place as his fist punches a hole through her head- reducing the content to minced meat. """EMMA!"""
" Ah-Ah…"
Magnum wags his finger tauntingly, stopping them dead in their track.
" STalLing fOr tIme, tHaT's tHe whOle pUrpOse of tHIs poIntLess exerCise, rIgHt?"
He tilts his head, staring at the horizon, then directs his gaze towards the spot where Lorelei is recuperating. " YoU dOn'T wannA dIe before thE calVary aRRives, dO yoU?" Magnum turns his hand, and a cup of flan pudding lands in his palm. He sniffs, savoring the scent, chuckling away. " tO thINk I'D bE tHe ThInG to unItE bOth MaGi aNd MartIal ArtIsts…"
He trails, licking the spoon clean.
" I aM hOnOrEd!"