The smallest did, as his courage stood impossible with his flaying mouth-tendrils. With one move, however, the largest laid him flat.
Then moments later, as abyssal fists met unnatural strength, an Araki's fingers twitched upon the cold floor. He felt the pain of his captain and stood once more."
- One room away from Dante Penance.
While his crew fell into action, Dante sat silently in his room. Soon, he planned to join Sonna in her training, but for the moment, he looked to his scarred, gnarled hands.
An old memory of his father flashed through his mind, the bastard’s rough voice cursing even his own blood, “You wanted a friend? Are you an idiot? We can’t have friends. Keep studying. Maybe I’ll let you out in a few weeks.”
The slamming of a forgotten door shook Dante’s wrists, leaving his fingertips trembling. He hated his father. To his core and back.
But that didn’t remove the memories. No matter how Dante wished to tear him limb from limb, no such thing could abolish the scars on his flesh or mind. Those weathered fists tightened.
He thought back to those he had lost. The friends. The lovers. The family.
Perhaps his father was right. People like them couldn’t have such connections. The many worlds in the endless seas would simply tear them apart.
Dante shook his head. He wouldn’t allow himself to dwell upon such things. Time would take what it wished. The man had more important things to do. His mind often turned to what he had left behind when there was no danger. The Penances were the kind of people to always be in the past, even when their eyes gazed forward.
So, he stood and walked out of his room. Without detour, he went straight to Sonna’s door, knocking on it. At the same time, he heard Lucius, Rejo, and Astraeus scuffle inside another room. The slightest tug of his lips arrived as the door swung open.
Sonna stared up at Dante with a smile, her excitement for training barely exceeding her own woes. The sheer fact Dante had come to her to help provide the confidence she needed added to her own burgeoning self-faith.
It had been damaged by the copy of Dante, Ego, but she could still slip out a bit of joy in the moment.
She waved him in, and Dante followed to find two chairs sitting opposite each other in the middle of her quarters. Each had large rooms, paid for with their dwindling funds. Dante set his sights on soon taking a bounty on the planet nearby, but for now, he wanted to train as much as he could.
The two quickly took their seats, and Sonna’s eyes fell to the ground. Dante saw this and gave a short scoff, “Scared of me? Come on. You really need to get over your insecurity. Anxiety. Whatever it is that’s holding you back.”
Sonna shook at his words, her lithe body shuddering from just the tone of his voice, let alone the meaning. She brought her pupils up, bit by bit, until they met the azure orbs of the Penance.
“No. I...” she said, stuttering and unable to continue.
As before, this brought a shake of Dante’s head. He had seen this woman fight with the best of them. Her only shortcoming was herself. She wouldn’t let herself bloom.
“What? What are you so afraid of? Was seeing your head decapitated jarring? Praetor Sun’s death? Or is it something else? Come on. We have time. Tell me,” Dante offered his ear. He was genuine, seeking to pull her from such trenches and help his new vice excel.
He believed in her. The man just wanted her to see it, too.
A moment passed as Sonna stared directly at Dante. No longer did she move her eyes away. An emotion built behind her pupils, some momentum gathering like a storm.
Finally, she spoke, but not without a painful exhale, “I’m not scared of you. Not anymore. I’m scared that I can’t live up to your expectations. That... you’d leave me when I can’t keep up. Everyone else has their niche, right? But not me. I’m just...”
“Sonna!” Dante grabbed her wrist, his palm leaving behind a mark as he ripped her back to reality. “You are worrying about nothing. Originally, I had wanted a perfect crew. Y’know? People with peerless talents who could do anything and everything. Those people don’t exist. And if they do... they’d never follow me.”
The Weren’s eyes widened as Dante opened up to her, not stopping there, “I was naive. Still am. You guys... hah... I lucked out. Really. I won’t leave you behind. Why would you possibly think that? I didn’t do it before. Now, after you guys came running after me, I don’t think I ever will.”
Sonna’s grin broadened until it spanned from ear to ear. Quietly, just above a whisper, she asked, “Really? I won’t be alone anymore?”
Dante replied by shifting his hand from her wrist to her shoulder and nodded. Then, he pulled back and opened both palms, saying, “Of course not. We’re all here in case you need us. Well, maybe not Joan, but I give you permission to fake any order from me to get her ass moving. Now, come on. Let’s get started. I’ve been wanting to see your Arido in action for quite some time. I order you to not be afraid.”
The woman bowed her head an inch before whipping it back up. It was an eternal battle in her mind to find herself as good enough. She feared being deserted, left alone, or returned to the darkness she often resided in. It was not uncommon for Sonna to remain inside an unlit apartment or cabin for days at a time.
All to throw off the enemies of Irys.
However, as she peered into Dante’s eyes, she saw his conviction. It held the same as when he stayed behind on Crislend. He hadn’t changed at all. Not one bit.
Yet, to her, it seemed everyone else had. Archimedes was more independent, Lucius seemed less hateful after expunging his rage, Rejo acted less stupid and more serious, and even Joan felt softer to talk to. Her words weren’t as harsh.
The most significant shift was in Astraeus, though. From a mass murderer to a lecturer? He seemed... almost kind to Sonna, yet possessed a hidden sadness, like a young man who had just lost his parents.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The mist emerged from her hands with the emotions dwelling within her core, the loneliness, pity, and hurt. Her Tide fed off the negativity, growing more voluminous as she felt the seeping cold.
That was until a hand entered her mist. Instantly, the devouring haze siphoned life away, doing so expeditiously.
Dante’s hand grew numb in seconds, but he didn’t remove it. He merely spoke to the young woman with overwhelming confidence, “You got this. Just focus. I know you hate isolation, but that’s because it’s been forced upon you. This time, for me, choose it. Block out the stray thoughts and wandering pasts. Ignore the possible futures. Listen to not my voice. Hear only the meaning.”
Sonna closed her eyes as he talked, entering the darkness as her captain asked her to. She shivered, hating the immediate sensation, but he didn’t stop.
“I've been thinking about my father lately. And those that I wish were still with me. Not that there were many..." Dante paused as he heaved a sigh and gazed into the mist. "I learned many things from my father. Most things only a criminal would use. But one... one applies to us all. You see, the most remarkable transformations happen in solitude. When the noise fades, and the world turns its back, you hear your true self. That’s when you decide whether you’ll break or rise..."
Dante's thoughts fell to the copy of him within the Inferose. It was alone. Utterly alone and forced to fight a superior version of himself. Nevertheless...
He nearly won. Only with his back against the wall and a blade to his throat did he truly become Dante Penance.
The human shook his head, refocusing his thoughts. "Perhaps... that’s why I grew addicted to Nullify. Even now, I crave it. But this isn’t about me. Listen not to the noise of the outside but to the inside. You do not need me to guide you in the workings of a Tide. You need only someone to be there when you are alone.”
Sonna listened to the words in her head, deciphering the essence without becoming distracted. More haze billowed from her unclenched fists as her heart slowed. However, this mist was less painful to Dante.
His grimace, which emerged after Sonna closed her eyes, loosened. The man then shut his own and felt the ice within his veins. Once more, he treaded upon Surewinter. The chill of Arido would be his anvil.
Both sank into their respective affinities of the Lightsea, one blessed for her talent and the other who earned an impartment. The latter struggled to keep up with the former despite such a fact.
He knew he would be left behind. Nevertheless, he wasn’t jealous or frustrated. Dante only focused more as he felt his hands enter the eternal cold.
His Surewinter was different. Broken. The veins and crystals of winter were not how they once were. He hadn’t properly used the Sea Art since the battle against Geist. Minor usages here and there, but he realized what was wrong at that moment.
Dante had damaged the pathways for the Sea Art. Permanently. The reckless use of the crystals of ice within without access to the Lightsea had broken what was once a growing system.
With a sigh, the human seethed as the cold burrowed into his flesh. If it was broken, then he would fix it. The places where the crystals were once built now remained as painful lumps, bursting against the muscles, nerves, and nearby viscera.
Before, he hadn’t felt the pain because of the cold. Now, he only felt such pain. Nevertheless, he bore the callous chill, reinitiating himself to the technique more emphatically than the first time.
Meanwhile, Sonna enjoyed the sensation of life flowing through her. Humans were resilient. They weren’t the strongest, most adaptable, or the smartest. But the ability to simply survive is what led them to the top. They could take just about any wound at any place and grin with bloody teeth. Momentarily? Sure.
But the grin was enough for most foes.
That endurance energized her body and mind. Still, she had to focus. Killing her captain was not an option. She had to control the Arido.
Minutes passed as she felt Dante’s life withering. Somehow, he resisted her Tide, but it simply wasn’t enough under such an isolated focus. He was her target and her target alone.
Arido excelled in just long, drawn-out contests. More so than even Frigo’s inexpensiveness. Sonna knew this could not continue.
She had tried to change the flow countless times, but nothing seemed to work. All she had managed to do was lessen the damage by widening the effect.
More time flowed, causing her to open her eyes in worry. There, she saw Dante’s sunken eyes as pale blue blots formed across his skin. Blood trailed down his flesh from where the dots had burst it open with its sharp, icy crystals.
Sonna gasped aloud, but even her noise didn’t budge Dante’s focus.
Surewinter.
The Arido knew it very well, a Sea Art fatal for all but the Seablessed. Astraeus was a practitioner of it, and so was Dante, though she thought he had been forced to abandon it.
Seeing her captain in such a state brought her brows together. He was using his own body as a stepping stone. She could do the same. With his idea in mind, Sonna reached forward. One hand fell upon her own flesh while the other hovered inches over Dante’s forehead.
The man flinched ever so slightly before mist flowed between Sonna’s hands and her own flesh. She groaned in pain as she felt the nature of her own Tide for the very first time.
Then, her captain’s face began to regain its color while she lost hers. His wounds slowed their bleeding while even his eyes opened, regaining the light they had prior.
A low smile was exchanged in the gap between them. Dante gazed at her Tide as Sonna’s face grew pale, and she signaled her to stop.
“Good. You impress me more every single time I see it. That’s supposed to take people years to master. Let’s see...” Dante flicked open his pocket watch and laughed. “Eight hours. Now, it’s not perfect, but it’s a start. If you can take from others and gift to us... Surewinter might be something we all can learn.”
Sonna’s heart pounded as Dante stood, hugging the short, tired woman as he promised, “See? There’s your niche. How could we ever lose you? Get some rest. I want to see the side effects of Arido on both of us. Then, we’ll help out Arch.”
The Weren nodded as she stumbled, falling toward the ground. Dante caught her by the scuff of her shirt. Her weight was hardly an issue, even for his drained strength.
Without a word, he let her lean on him until he delivered her to the bed. Then, the man left without looking back.
Once outside the room, with the door closed to his back, Dante coughed once. A second cough came a moment later. Then, a third.
Glancing down, he saw flakes of blood and ice on his palm. Despite the clear cause for concern, he merely shook his head. The captain had work to do.
“I’ve rested enough. Time to get some money for Joan’s experiments and our fuel. The question is... where?” Dante stumbled through the hallway, meandering until he reached the first floor. After several more minutes, he found himself outside, staring at the starless sky.
The light pollution in a city like this was too foul to see anything other than incoming starships. With his eyes in the clouds, Dante debated stealing the credits he needed.
But he shook his head.
That’ll piss Lucius off. Sonna, too. Assassination contract? It should be easy. But that’ll piss them off, too. Arch, as well. So what then? Easy money isn’t... easy to come by legally.
Dante’s legs carried him through the streets of the city. His eyes caught the many hidden, underground signs of criminal organizations. He notched them off one by one until he spotted the signature of the Syndicate. The Hellbound Syndicate, to be precise.
They were one of the few organizations he never worked with. Too powerful. Too risky.
But they had hands in countless operations. While Dante was currently injured, he was confident he could kill a dozen of his past selves. Such strength steadied his gait as he walked toward the upside-down balance written in eerie crimson.
He had just thought of the perfect job.
***********************
The muscled form of Ganun Dvril stood before a multi-reinforced door. He leaned forward, placing his palm against the steel composite as a voice pierced through the metal and spoke to him by shivering the stale air.
As always, his being shuddered while listening to the grave voice transmitted through an absolute mastery of the Lightsea, “Are you aware of what you have done, Ganun? This is a volatile period. Sticking your neck out for some Judge... I do not like it.”
Even Ganun’s unrivaled mass bowed to the voice. His eyes lowered as his body began to shrink, but he caught himself. He was no longer the young boy he once was. While he may not be equal to the Pointed Legate himself, the Beast Legate had his own pride.
Millions lay dead at his feet, phantasmal splatters of water hover behind him like an image, with piling snow and a humid fog growing to cover the corpses. It would never be enough to stand against the figure on the other side with his body alone, no matter how mighty of a Cultivator he may have been.
The three Tides he had mastered rallied to his call, bolstering him as his head rose, meeting the cold walls with an unrelenting flame within his eyes. Ganun Dvril had chosen a path, adhering to his code. No matter the turbulence, he would handle it. That was his way.
Without a hint of regret, he said, “You need not approve of our every action, Vicar. I do this not out of pity. Praetor Sun taught me much. Yet she always praised someone more than I.”
A hum of surprise emerged from beyond the metal. Some things were hidden even from the strongest man. After all, he was only one. His ears had a limit for what they could hear.
“Is that so? She praised this Judge more than you? How? He must have been but a child when you were her apprentice,” Vicar said with his rumbling whisper.
Ganun nodded while his thoughts drifted back to the years he spent with Elize. She beat him constantly, teaching him perseverance and how his talents were never enough. That only hard work could match the monsters in the galaxy. And the universe beyond.
There was one such monster alongside him all along.
“Elize said that... there are many geniuses in the universe. But there are only two types. Those who rise above their peers, sailing into the stars and beyond. And then there is Claudius Vermillion. Blessed with his grandfather’s love for the ‘Sea and gifted with the sight of Seers,” Ganun’s eyes shifted as he paused for a moment, recalling his mentor’s end. “She pulled countless strings to keep him from being locked up in some ivory tower. That’s probably why she’s dead today. I won’t let him just... die.”
The Pointed Legate regaled a short laugh, echoing through the hundreds of feet of steel. Then, he posed a simple question, “So what will you do? Pamper him? Coddle him? We have had many peerless men and women. But few ever reach our heights.”
Ganun shook his head. He turned around and waved to the sole figure standing above him in power. The rumors were wrong. It was not Oswort who he had brought to a draw. It was Yarnen.
The man who now stood just steps from the very pinnacle of the Shattered Peak said while departing, “I will do the opposite. If my life of endless warfare brought me here... With my meager talents compared to him... How far do you think he would fly if I orchestrated the same? This exam of his will be the first stone. Mark my words, Vicar. He will win the Contest. And there will be no debate.”
A rumbling, eerie laughter rang out inside the steel chamber moments after Ganun left. There was only the Pointed Monarch, chained and isolated to his home.
But he did not feel anger or hate. The ancient man grinned through the restraints, preparations, and kill sequences. Knee-length hair hung over his middle-aged face while he now stood awake. Then, he whispered to himself such that no one, not even his own ears, could hear.
The words held no meaning, but they brought a lone tear to his ear through his grin.