They did it to themselves in a search of hierarchy and order. We simply add two or three letters to show their vileness.
The Phage are the lowest. Near-beasts in mind and little more than apex predators in the wild. Next are the Archy. A bit smarter. A bit stronger. This is the limit that a soldier without the supernatural or expensive tech can fight.
On the real steps stand the Chronism. Near-sentient and with a Stigmata or a Tide, they are deadly opponents. Whole armies can be wiped out if they do not possess artillery or a soldier with their own powers.
After them… begins the real nightmare. The Thema. Indistinguishable in intelligence from sentients, they possess both a Stigmata and a Tide. Cities can fall to just one. Sometimes continents. The strongest rule planets.
Beyond them… There are things worse than nightmares.
-
Praetor Pathos’ journal from his first few years as a Judge.
The group of six hobbled with all the speed they could through the corridors beyond the metal walkways, with Claudius in the lead, decapitating any that came close to delaying them. In their rear was Eight, the young man cursing about having to help the ‘slows’ and protecting them anyway, as despite his shattered insides, he was still the most suited for battle.
Seconds passed dangerously as they covered the ground with incredible swiftness. Doors were blown open by raging waves, obstacles forced aside, and those that couldn’t be moved were leapt over. The six left behind corpses, both those that were already in place and the fresh ones that decayed back into the lightless darkness.
As they ran, Claudius left significant damage to their surroundings, leaving doorways collapsing while Eight brought down countless barriers in the way. Astraeus could manipulate space, yes, but he couldn’t teleport, meaning every inch between them and him was time they could use to breathe.
With blood trailing behind them, the group approached the exit just as a woman darted past a crossroads in front of them, a boy wrapped in her secondary arms. Claudius spotted this first and swiveled his body to head down the way she came from.
Joan continued running, and the rest pursued her while Claudius inundated the hallway with the last remnants of the droplets that he had pulled from the Lightsea, leaving him powerless. Howls of pain echo along the metallic walls; the water treatment plant was a crumbling ruin around them, its once-solid walls groaning from the dying and vibrating from the inward collapse.
The footsteps didn’t cease, however, and the first ones to escape into the outdoors were Joan and Arch, with Dante holding the slumped Sonna along his shoulder as they trailed them. Rejo came next with Lucius, and Eight held up the rear.
The Cryo’s right hand cupped over his eyes as he peered upward into the skies, breathing relief into the rest before dismissing most of it, “I see a moving shadow. The Starship is trying to pierce the Domain. Hopefully, it’s expensive enough. Otherwise, pack some bags.”
Dante’s teeth rattled as he wished to yell at Eight for his ridiculous words, but he didn’t have time to. They were missing one body. Dante pivoted, facing the plant’s opened double doors while the rest retreated into the empty street.
They had killed dozens of Dirge today. Maybe over a hundred, counting Claudius’ efforts, but there were still many more. Worse, they were likely headed their way.
Behind them, Claudius lagged only slightly, utilizing every ounce of his strength to destroy the path. The Judge had turned back earlier, knowing the looming threat. He had to buy as much time as possible for Heron. He’d never heard of the Centurion Heron, for there were many Centurions across the galaxy, but he sure hoped he was one of the stronger ones.
Without access to the Lightsea, Claudius faced a dead end. His body was mighty, capable of denting steel, but that was his peak. With the exhaustion running through him, he could only give up after tossing more debris in the way. It wasn’t just Astraeus the Judge was concerned about.
Eight mentioned a ‘daddy’, and Astraeus himself said a name. Bloody Memory.
To the others, it meant little. To a Judge, however...
He shivered. Only Vector-5s, known otherwise as Anacruxes or Caesars, reigned over countless Dirge as kings and queens, their abilities planetary in breadth. They needed to evacuate while Heron fought with Astraeus. Heron might be on the losing end, too, based on Astraeus’ Domain Collapse. However, Astraeus was wounded.
The injuries should allow Heron to win. As long as… the thing down there stayed in slumber.
Thankfully, the moment Claudius’ sprinting form emerged into the open air, a ship breached the darkened sky above, its sleek form cutting through Domain that had encapsulated the city. Without warning, a figure dove from the hull of the ship, crashing into the ground beside Claudius, the man smeared with blood, both his own and that of others.
Centurion Heron unfurled his back, standing tall to reveal another Tianshe, what most people in power within the Roman Empire were. However, none would complain about their hierarchy at the moment, with the Centurion soon coming to save them. The figure stood tall, as his nose clenched against the Domain pressing against him.
His gaze swept over the ragged group, then befell Claudius with a sharp glint. After a second of inspection, Heron nodded toward Claudius, his voice carrying both gratitude and suspicion, “Good work, Judge.”
Dante and Claudius exchanged a brief glimpse, a silent understanding passing between them. The Centurion’s doubt was palpable, for they were only to trust other Romans. But before he could question them further, Claudius, his face hidden beneath layers of grime and blood that he couldn’t wash off yet, stepped forward.
“They’re with me,” Claudius declared, his voice hoarse but firm. The Centurion studied him for a moment longer, then nodded.
“Load up into Heron’s Wing,” Heron ordered, turning back to the collapsed building as his eyes and more severe senses scoped out the situation. “I’ll handle it from here. But things might get dicey. It knows how to perform Domain Collapse. I’d give myself a sixty-forty chance to end it here, with what I feel from here.”
As Claudius turned to deliver warnings, the aforementioned starship landed on the open street. Judas’s voice echoed in Dante’s mind, laced with dark amusement, “Uh uh uh. That thing will not like being handled.”
His tone sent a shiver down Dante’s spine. The human turned to his crew, and he decided in an instant as he said, “We are leaving. Right now.”
His crew didn’t hesitate. They knew better than to question Dante, and the one who oft did was asleep. As such, they stepped away from the failing building and ran, the urgency in Dante’s voice driving them forward while the Heron’s Wings opened its bay.
Beating air struck at their clothes and faces, lowering their vision, but the gleaming lights that emerged from the specially crafted starship revealed six figures in the hangar.
They had all long ripped their Tides into reality, yet no more would come because of Astraeus. Dante spotted two with ice, one with steam, and the rest with water. The mixtures of states were rarer than the sole states. If anything, it was abnormal that amongst the three of them, Sonna had awakened Arido at all.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Dante thought, for a moment, that they would be safe with such backup.
He had thought wrong.
For, on the way to the ship, a wave of something powerful and ancient washed over them, freezing them in place. A voice, deep and resonant, echoed in their minds all at once, “Do not disturb me. I wish to sleep another century.”
It sounded like Judas, only far more powerful, and its threats bore physicality.
Lines of blood opened across everyone’s wrists with synchronicity, dripping crimson to the street. Heron’s men and women on the ship gasped, stepping rearward into the starship.
Dante’s blood ran cold as he realized what they had unwittingly unleashed. It had all started with an Old One, a veritable star-eater, touching him, Sonna, and Rejo. The lattermost had become the vessel for Astraeus. Of course, it wouldn’t end here.
The God had a plan for something. And it was using Dante. But then... what did that make Judas? Dante didn’t know, and he didn’t possess the opportunity to worry. All he could do was press on, for the awakening creature was far worse than he could ever imagine.
Heron’s Wings, the ship that delivered the Centurion, roared to life again, its engines whirring as it arranged for immediate departure. It was constructed to withstand Domains such as these. Dante could not fathom the price of such a thing or how much Heron had paid for it. It had to be more money than he had ever earned in his whole life.
The proud Centurion himself rushed back out of the collapsed building, his armor stained a light red, his movements frantic. Wings of sublimating frost beat from his back, hauling him forward and away from the water treatment plant with the speed of a bullet.
Heron’s panic spread across the city as he shouted, “Judge! Get your men inside the Carrier!” he roared, his voice tinged with trepidation. “This planet is lost! Something awful is here! I—”
His head exploded abruptly, cutting off his words and showering the ground below with blood and gore. The corpse tumbled several feet, skipping like a rock across a tranquil pond. A moment later, the bloodless skull landed at Dante’s feet, finishing its momentum without ceremony. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the silence thick and suffocating.
Dante’s eyes slid upward toward the creature that had killed Heron. He had known the Tianshe for less than a minute. A powerful figure, more affluent than he could ever imagine, and with a long life ahead of him, was...
Obliterated. That will happen to us. And there is nothing we can do. I...
Chaos erupted. The group sprinted toward the ship, climbing into it as swiftly as they could manage. The ship’s engines screamed as they raced to escape, the ground below them shattering and crumbling in their wake.
Still, while everyone else ran, Dante stood still. His eyes stared at the monster before him. No. The sovereign. The human’s soul knew the authority that this... Bloody Memory had.
The Bloody Memory loomed before Dante, her presence a freezing vibrance that seemed to drain the warmth from the air of the city. It was like she was a siphon, devouring all the life that had set foot on this planet.
The Anacrux towered over Dante, standing a head taller than his already formidable height. Her figure was humanoid, but she emitted an aura that couldn’t be placed yet couldn’t be ignored. It was the kind that made even the bravest souls quiver, and those below lose every ounce of courage.
Her hair, a gathering of protracted, coursing fibers, was unlike anything Dante had ever seen, drawing in his focus and his will—each strand formed from congealed blood, dark and thick, moving with an eerie, almost sentient grace as the lines of crimson on the street joined the symphony. It clung to her as if it was the living creature instead of her, the resonant sanguine glistening and beating, contrasting her emotionless frame.
The face above her lethal figure was a masterwork of a sculptor. The flesh was pale, but it seemed to possess no blood or veins beneath. Two primary eyes, cold and calculating, stared into Dante, but it was the additional two tiny slits just below the main pair that opened wide and truly ensnared him.
Those extra eyes, unblinking and filled with...
The Lightsea itself filled her sclera as blood leaked from the tear ducts, locking onto him with an intensity that pierced through his very soul.
“Oh? Aren’t you just the darndest thing?”
A raised finger curled toward Dante, and the man sank to his knees. The augments in his body creaked in worry, resisting the effect to the best of his ability.
A shiver ran down Dante’s spine, cold sweat breaking out across his skin as he found himself unable to look away, unable to turn, unable to run. Unable to survive. The world around him seemed to haze, his focus constricting until all that remained were those miniature pupils pulling him into a dark abyss.
Voices beat against the abyss fruitlessly. Rejo howled for his only friend while Arch kicked and screamed against Lucius’ grasp, restraining the boy from running to his death. Joan’s arms crossed, and her head shook. The door of the starship gradually shut while the exhausts lifted it into the air.
The Bloody Memory almost didn’t seem to care about the starship or those in it. She merely strode toward Dante, ignoring Heron’s corpse as if it didn’t exist.
Her eyes held him in place, overpowering his will and stripping him of his strength. But it did more than that. The abyss brought something Dante had pushed so deep he had thought he forgotten.
“Ah, let me remove this fickle Domain. Then, we can really talk. But hmm… Astraeus did well,” with a snap of her bloodied nails, the darkness eclipsing the world vanished. But that only empowered the Caesar further.
Dante’s consciousness fragmented while the image of his little brother, broken and lifeless, flashed before him, the weight of the guilt crushing him. It had been his fault—his mistake that had cost the boy his life.
His thoughts were a more brutal torture than the Bloody Memory could ever conjure.
If I hadn’t... If... I... If I... I shouldn’t have been born. I should have died long before Judas. He was the better one. I’m... just... I’m just...
The memory reconstructed itself in excruciating detail, the screams of Judas while his father’s enemies ambushed them at the ice cream shop. All he saw was spilled blood, the tang of brains on concrete. Dante hardly comprehended the situation back then.
They were always told not to leave their father’s hideout. Dante seldom listened. But it was this time, and this time only, that he brought his younger brother instead of regaling the stories of the city. Judas just wanted to see the city. The boy… wanted ice cream.
Dante’s heart shattered anew, the old wounds tearing open as the Bloody Memory forced him to relive his worst nightmare. The Caesar’s Stigmata already had a hold on the man. And it would not let go.
Even still, amid his torment, the Weren in his arms stirred. She had been limp and unconscious for several minutes, but now, as if sensing the dire situation, her eyes fluttered open.
Sonna’s own terror was palpable, but there was something else—recognition, understanding of what was happening to Dante. And beyond that, her heart moved with the fact that Dante had done as promised.
As such... she didn’t wish to betray him either. The Stigmata had not yet taken her. She still had time. Little, but it was there.
With trembling hands, she scrambled a shaky hand into her pocket and pulled out a small syringe. The drug inside was one she had stolen from him. A minor act of revenge and pettiness. But as she saw him lost, tears whistling down his face, she knew he needed it.
Without hesitation, she injected Dante with the Nullify, the needle piercing his bicep with a sharp sting. Its effect was rapid and profound. The swirling tempest of guilt and sorrow that had consumed Dante receded, replaced by a chilling numbness. Dissociation delved soul-deep, both saving him and killing parts of him at once.
The memory of his brother’s death, once so vivid and bitter that he held that pistol every night, dulled to a distant echo. Dante’s mind cleared, the fog lifting as his fear, his pain, and his guilt were entombed.
All that remained was logic and the promises he had made.
The sudden clarity was a shock to Dante’s system, but he wasn’t frozen as before. He promptly shouted into the air with a voice that was his own again, no longer lost in the past, “Take her, Rejo! Leave me! That is an order!”
His words were sharp and commanding, leaving no room for negotiation. The man had made a promise. Without an ounce of feelings, he could only keep it, akin to a machine following a directive.
To his selflessness, Sonna screamed into the air, incapable of believing the decision and another half confused by it, “What are you doing!?”
For a moment, there was hesitation, the weight of what Dante asked hanging heavily in the air. The Araki bounced between the two sides, unsure of what to do, but in the end, Rejo accepted the order.
All the weight in his arms evaporated, replaced with the cold, familiar weight of a revolver. The human peered at the steel while falling to the ground, knowing what he would find—a single round left inside the chamber. Dante allowed himself a faint, bittersweet smile as he watched the starship ascend into the dark sky above, carrying the others to safety.
A chilling snort echoed in the night, resonating with the corpse on the ground. The blood trailed across the ground as the Caesar kneeled down, still towering over Dante’s collapsed form.
“Why did you let them go?” Dante’s voice asked a simple question to the decider of his fate, for the human knew she could have killed them all at any time.
But she didn’t.
“Oh? Have I? How do you know I can’t reach them from here? Maybe... I just wanted to see more misery from you. By the Theos... you are such a delight. Not much power, but I could fall in love with your suffering,” the Bloody Memory’s slim, bloodless index finger held itself against Dante’s chin, raising his two eyes to meet the Dirge’s four.
Dante’s mind understood reality at that moment. His crew was still going to die. She just wanted him to have a little hope. But he wasn’t one to give up yet. He had to believe there was something else she desired, some way out.
“I don’t think you should do that. You are here for something, yes? I can help you. Just let them live,” Dante feigned usefulness as he fought to survive this situation.
The Bloody Memory, in response, bestowed Dante a grim smile as she ripped his head up by his hair. Once they were equal in height, the human at the tips of his toes, she growled out a threat inches from his face, “What makes you think I need help from a worm like you?”
Dante forced a faux grin to match hers as his mind spun in madness. He knows well that this Anacrux wouldn’t need his strength. He also assumed that she possesses that Domain-thing Claudius and Judas mentioned, meaning she wouldn’t need any aid with technology, as she could just deactivate it all.
Furthermore, her confidence in downing the starship practically out of the atmosphere said all that needed to be said. He doubted she needed a starship of her own. But... there is one thing she might have use for.
“A spy. You wish to set up a new war front here, right? I can act as your eyes on the inside. It’d be easy. I’m a mercenary by profession, and I’ve done plenty of such things before. I can—” Dante’s lips were sealed by an iron-tasting fingertip, and beneath the Nullify, the human knew it was over.
But a second passed without his death. Those eyes beneath the first duo bore into Dante’s soul, and a moment later, the Bloody Memory stood to her full height.
“I would favor more than a spy. Too few of your kind are so open. You would be my assassin. Kill those that I need removed. Find the treasures I need. Kill the others who covet them. In exchange... I will spare you. And them. A two-for-two. How does that sound?” the Bloody Memory’s judgment rang out across the megacity that now remained dreadfully quiet.
Dante’s eyes refused to witness the streams of blood flowing from the buildings nearby as the sky turned a midnight red, a Domain Collapsing into place. He spoke without energy, possessing only agony, “Yes. That... will work.”
Words beat themselves into the human’s skull as relief filled him, yet he knew the worst had only just begun. Somehow, he would have to find a way to escape, but for now... he was in the palm of her hand.
“Good. I think we will work well together, Dante Penance. I care little for slavery as I have my own slaver. And... I like you. I have a… fantastic taste for character. Let us conquer the Wings! Here is my first gift to you. Let it inspire both you and Astraeus. Domain Collapse: Sanguine Dream.“
At the edge of Dante’s vision, he watched the world itself overflow with the Lightsea, the boundaries of the crimson avoiding the starship, allowing it to enter the sea of stars.
Unable to hold himself up any longer, Dante fell onto his back, dead tired. But then he heard the screams.
The millions of screams and the cackling laughter that pierced through them all.
He was no longer so exhausted.