Chapter 15: Rising Tempest
"Two Sequence Three artifacts—you know the amount of Astrality they possess. The Empire won't grant that to one man, deem him a divine or demigod." Lyra's voice tore the silence, accompanied by a shrug. "And before that, how am I supposed to convince a bunch of begrudged, stuffy councilors to just sign an evacuation missive without valuable information?"
He sighed, drawing a hand through his hair as he rested his head on the backrest of his chair.
"Tell them it was issued by the Church of Hallowed Beginnings and your dear noble House of Belmont." His eyes wandered to her form, hands folded as she rested her back against the tall shelf. "You can just use your psychic abilities on them, love. These are just formalities."
What he got in reply was a heavy sigh, then a hand to her brows. After which, she traversed the space between them in less than a second, her both hands resting on the table, her eyes locking on his through her glasses.
"Okay, let's say I 'convince' the Congress." He could see her pupils constricting on his. He fought the urge to lean toward that beautiful face of hers and the mesmerizing temptation within the crevice of her collar. So, as the gentleman he was, he wandered his eyes to the stone ceiling.
"I thought you said this... Entity..." Her voice trailed off.
"Dream. That's its name," he muttered.
He watched her shut her eyes for a while before opening them.
Did he just do something annoying? Let's see what was it..??
"Its name doesn't matter. You said it was weakened."
"Yes," his voice chirped in.
"Then why use two divine artifacts on it? And how do you intend to possess enough Astrality to activate them?" Her voice died down in concern.
Perhaps it was time to retreat his gaze downward. His eyes concernedly traced hers.
A smile forming on his lips.
"What?" she questioned, her eyes piercing his, apprehension visible in her eyes.
"Were you just worried about my safety? That's lovely. I'm gladdened," he muttered, vesting his face on his palms.
Truly he was, and he gained a slight reddening on her pale nose as a reward.
"I guess... I shouldn't have. Perhaps you have your ways." Her figure retreated from the table after recollecting herself, turning her back toward him.
"No... I love when you do, even if I have things under control." His elbows retreated from the table. "But I truly love it."
Well, this time it seemed to have no reaction, or she perfectly concealed it since her back was against him. But her heart rate and increased blood flow to her cheeks betrayed her. Guess it had an effect.
He watched her figure retreat toward the door.
She was giving up on questioning him.
So easily...
He watched her figure come to a halt around the door frame. Her enchanting voice pierced the air.
"Remember, you better not die before we return. Don't go playing hero on your own, Sir Steins." Her visage receded beyond the door frame, shutting it before he replied.
But he could tell she was still there, her back pressed against the door, her heart palpitating wildly, clutching her hands till the knuckles were white, before lowly muttering...
"Don't die on me, Steins." Her form receding now down the hallway.
He smiled. So she really did care. He rested back on his chair, his hands behind his head as he smiled.
"I perhaps can't, Lyra... even if I want to. An eternity without hope—a curse I'm burdened with."
He sighed. Why was his somber personality creeping out now of all times? Thought it was probably still sleeping within.
But anyway...
His body faded, simultaneously materializing before the now-unconscious Leinz. Poor bloke—a victim of feminine violence. He would have to call Bors later to pick him up, but that would be after...
His eyes glowed a fierce blue, the emblem of an inverted cross within his convoluted serrated iris surfacing as his fingers tapped the unconscious Leinz's glabella—the astral point of thoughts and memories.
His senses projected into the convicted tunnel of his memories, falling down a borrowed road of his lifetimes since Leinz was a kid. His first day at school—he never knew Leinz was a high school bully. Truly shocking. His perspective shifted to Leinz bantering with Bors, some memories showing them fighting and their mom interfering.
But they weren't what he was searching for. He propelled himself downward, reaching down the substrata of his mind, the places where terrible and scarred memories dwelt—the Fourth Strata, as Ian had said. There he saw Steins' darker days, him being walked on by a girl with a blonde. He gazed deeper; he could see a ring case on his hands. He stifled a laugh. Couple's quarrel.
But this wasn't what he was looking for. He delved deeper down the dark tunnel of scanty memories. Once or twice he saw Leinz and Bors weeping alongside their mom—maybe when they lost their dad to the Serpentine Condemnation, no less. He was a brave man...
And after a frantic attempt, he actually found it, all alone at the end of the tunnel—a mirror showing the last strata of Leinz's deepest fears.
He made it into it. His vision disorienting, for the very first thing he saw was a dark fog and a cacophony of voices.
"Captain Leinz..."
"Leinz..."
He could see the inquisitors disoriented. Of course they would be—this itself was another realm, laden with stars and some swirling galaxies.
So this entity could create realms like this. Then perhaps it was it who was beyond the iridescent vortex. He could see from afar; it was humanoid. It held the visage of a sword—one he could sense possessed an Existential Threat class. That was no artifact.
Perhaps this entity was going to be a pain.
"My gun... I can't find it... it's gone."
"Me too."
"Leinz... it's all gone."
"We're doomed."
The panicking voices of the inquisitors pierced through him. So this was the point where their guns became nothing, as narrated by Leinz.
So this entity could unmake matter.
Quite interesting. What else could it do, this entity?
"Strike a deal with it, Leinz? Have you finally lost it?"
Oh. His eyes latched on one of the panicking veteran inquisitors. Oh. So Leinz had attempted to strike a deal with it. He never mentioned that. Well, he never had the chance to, given Lyra's "necessary" jab.
Then a voice rattled the entirety of the realms with a profound authority. Well, they were in its domain.
"Silence. I deem you all not worth the breath to speak."
This entity—it was perhaps manly, judging from the voice, which was deeper than a regular 17-year-old like Mephis would have. It seemed the descent of this entity caused a few biological modifications—something not common with that of fallen gods.
It seemed his guess was correct. This entity was beyond the scope of what he had encountered.
This really would be a pain. Guess he was undergoing the ascension rite after this.
"It seems you are the one who matters amongst this bunch." The entity's voice boomed again. Somehow in the midst of its speech, he saw that sword of his, act independently, severing all of the inquisitors except the terrified Leinz.
Such speed must have been a flash before their eyes.
Poor fellows.
Now he understood why Leinz was so frightened earlier. Any normal human would be, especially if...
His eyes wandered to Bors' body now fading to dust. Leinz's cries echoed across the realm. And then the sword moved again, severing one of his arms—the one clutching the handkerchief.
That had to hurt.
"Aargh!" Leinz's screams pierced the realm.
A natural human reaction to pain. Well, it was greeted with another cleave by the sword. His second arm fell. He could see the dumbfounded widening of the poor inquisitor's eyes as he watched in terrifying silence. His other arm dropped into the watery ground.
"I told you... I deem you not of the worth to speak." The entity's voice boomed.
He facepalmed. Not only did they have a sketchy entity on their plate, but also a sadistic one.
"Good," the entity voiced again. The fog clearing a little. He noticed the entity's features. Overall, it was slightly taller than what Mephis was, which meant his earlier theory was correct. And that sword of its... it seemed to bear a keen essence.
Was it Death?
Anyway... he watched on. Only then would he make his final evaluation on this entity, which now spoke.
"Listen well, mortal. Be inclined to my sayings. The lives of all you know depend on it. Bear my reckoning to your ones above you and further. Tell them... the Devil has descended on Vaken, and with it it brings ruination. With it comes not war, but a plague." Then, with a break, it added:
"Should they ask who I am, tell them I am Mephis Meredith. Should they ask you what I am, tell them... I am The Dream."
His eyes widened, not because of what it said, but the very sword the entity wielded—it was before him, pointed before his form.
Impossible. Could it be...
The entity's horned helm tilted toward him, its swirling vortex locked on his. Then, with a wave of its hands, the sword tore at him. He retreated himself from the memory, subconsciously sending an order to his physical body, retreating his fingers in an instant from Leinz's glabella. His eyes jolted back to the familiar visage of his office, the transition a dizzying whirl of fading stars and echoing cries that clawed at the edges of his mind like retreating shadows, leaving a cold residue of existential dread lingering in his veins as reality snapped into sharp focus—the dim lamplight flickering on the stone walls, the faint scent of aged parchment grounding him once more.
The still-unconscious Leinz sprawled before him, whilst a smile laid plastered on his face.
Intriguing.
Now he was certain. While that entity may not be a Sequence 3: divine threat in sheer prowess, it possessed far greater artifacts beyond the sequencing system.
And perhaps to peer at him from the future. Also, the fact that he could no longer sense the Harbinger's presence nor the Great Tetragram seal...
Had the entity succeeded in subduing the winter monstrosity as its pawn?
He draped his leather overcoat from a stand in his office. He wasn't taking chances with that entity.
He would have to descend into Anubis. If his theory was correct, there wouldn't be much time before the Imperial City certified the upheaval.
He would have to speak with the Church.
Note:Astrality,The conceptual and supernatural energy manipulated by mnemonics..