CHAPTER 10

Date: May 8th, 110 P.A. / 2114 C.E.

As Arei had lived within a controlled environment for a good few months, her body's immune system had relaxed as her metabolism had, and so walked around soaked, cool, and around a few of the less healthy citizens had one obvious result—she caught a cold. She sniffled and coughed, running a faint fever after two days. The need for sleep was what Doctor Zered, the Imperial Physician suggested, as well as soup and fluids. She had no need to stay in the private treatment center under watch unless the God wanted…and in truth, Abaddon had been tempted to have her there. However, she was weak, a bit frightened, and in general miserable. He would not abandon her. Besides, she was his Priestess. He would take care of her. For her services to him, this was the least he could do.

He gazed at the doctor, lifting the sleeping girl into his arms. "I will care for her in my quarters. Attendant Byron, send for some soup in an hour or so. She'll need to eat when she awakens."

His orders were followed, and some hours later, Arei lay wrapped in the blankets of his bed to keep her from shivering, a bowl of water at the pedestal beside her, which was lit with a few candles. A washrag, cool and wet, lay upon her forehead. Occasionally, Abaddon dabbed at her flushed cheeked with another cloth, yet for the most part, he simply watched her, monitoring for sign of a worsening condition. However, though somewhat fitfully, she slept through the early hours of the night.

As the moon reached its zenith, her condition became a less active concern.

As he had agreed, he met with the Goddess of Life and Light, who had appeared out on the roof of his Temple as midnight came. He sensed her immediately, her power and his of the same frequency, but of opposite ends of the spectrum. Was it any wonder that their attacks could weaken each other, but also cancel one another out? They were life and death, light and shadow, joy and sorrow, female and male, original and copy. They were opposites in almost every way…save for at the deepest, most intimate level of their genetics. They shared the same blood…but that kinship was all that bound them together. Nothing more.

Where as a century past, Mew may have attempted to befriend the clone, to make him see the truth of life, was not and displeasure, a distaste, tempered by manipulative obligation. Where as the ancient kitten had once been bright and playful, defying the years, was now a haughty and grim individual who took little pleasure in the current world. And she blamed it all, rightfully, on Abaddon. She too, called him that, for she understood how truly he had become a demon. The Apocalypse had left her scarred and altered—the loss, no, the murder of so many innocent lives turning her into much of who she now hated.

The only thing that differentiated their souls, at times, was their goals for the future. Abaddon did not care—he was content. But Mew? Oh no…she had adopted the previous willpower Abaddon had discarded in his success. She wanted to revert the world back to how it had been….

But with the death of the current Celebi, so too disappeared the simplest of chances of achieving such. At time, her newfound purpose seemed inevitable.

But like all things, she would give it time to ruminate.

And both had all the time in the world for such.

As the God joined her, staring out of the city, she asked him, "How long do you think this will last, Abaddon? The humans will not stand to be enslaved by you forever."

He smirked smugly. "Whatever do you mean, Mew? I have done nothing to bind them. I have placed no chains upon them. They did that themselves…and why argue this point with me? You would have far better luck convincing others in the Pantheon to join your cause.

"Oh, wait…that is right. They ENJOY this system the humans conjured! And tell me, Mew, what is so wrong about this world? The humans were on the path to self-destruction, and with their power, they would have taken the world with them. As many see it, this is a better world for all."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh? But Abaddon, this is nothing more than a fluke, a mistake. It is a deception that you continue, even though they formed the lie. What type of monster are you?"

"No matter how I answer that, you have you own ideas in mind…so I shall not elaborate on the type of being I am."

"Do you think you have changed?"

"This depends on the subject matter."

She snarled at his frivolous tone. "You sick freak. You are still a child, yet a child who commits mass murder! You kill those humans who want their independence, to know their true history! You—"

"Will you finish you rant? I have a Priestess to care for."

Such a comment, honest in concern, was met with a bitter laugh. "A Priestess? Tell me, what number is she? What is the death toll to the women you choose after thirty-four years? For an empathy you don't care to return?"

He did not answer for a moment…then, "She is the twenty-seventh. Why do you care? All creatures die."

She chuckled coarsely. "That is true…but you set these girls up to die before they can even produce offspring, have true love…you deprive them of life, sentence them to death the moment you choose them. You have the highest death rate of all of us Legendaries! At worst the rest of us are at our sixth…but twenty-seventh? How much blood do you plan to drown yourself in?

"Oh wait…I forgot. Blood doesn't matter to you. All that you care about is power and personal comfort and pleasure in life. Tell me, when the summer equinox comes, do you plan to fuck that child like you did the blond woman, Christina? With this Arei's coloring and personality, I can see you taking advantage of the drugs those Handmaidens put her on and ramming yourself up inside her, regardless that it would be rape—"

"Do you plan on being civil, or is this meeting merely an opportunity for you to fail in making me feel a shred of remorse?"

She glared, quietly and sniffing up at him. "I just came to tell you to stop sending you damnable raiding parties into the Pantheon's kingdoms to get rid of the so-called 'rebels.' I don't want those filthy creatures you call soldiers entering my land, do you understand me, clone?"

"Perfectly. But they search of their own free will. But I suppose for your hypocritical comfort that I will convey your displeasure in their invasions."

"Good. Now you may get back to caring for your newest Priestess. Though I can't say I see the point…she will be dead within two years anyhow. Being killed by disease might be the only mercy you will eve be able to give her, all facts considered…."

With that grumbling, she disappeared. Abaddon did not care that it had been completely informal, that she had spewed acid his way, that she had left without a goodbye…he was indifferent towards her. He did not like her presence, true…but in the end, she was not a threat any longer. Her powers had dulled, her will passive as ever. She accepted the system for she had no choice in the matter. She was a bitter hypocrite, nothing more.

He returned inside, and brushing off her too-true words, went over to help his stirring priestess take a drink of broth.

It should have bothered him, Mew's question. For she was right…all things died. That included his empire, if he gave it much thought. He knew this, and yet…it would continue to last. It could for thousands for years. But still…just how long could in endure? How long before humanity overthrew its own dream and return to a state without innocence?

Though he was psychic, Abaddon could not see the future.

He did not know…and neither was he worried.

Had he known Mew had actually gleamed the fact there was honest affection between him and his priestess, he might have felt an inkling of concern. So, it was very good indeed for the pink feline that he never saw the nasty smile of opportunity that formed on her face.