Chapter Summary: Why do I hear latin chanting?
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Chaos spread across the Ivory Tower shortly after the news of the incoming encounter with the Valor Supreme became known.
The Firekeepers ran around, collecting everything of importance in order to store it back inside the Tower, where they would find shelter until everything was said and done. They would be useless at best and a hindrance at worst, so it only made sense to send them away.
At least they took it in stride, something that the present company could learn from.
"Are you sure we cannot evade him?" Kai asked in a nervous voice.
Sunny did not blame the archer; even from far away, hints of Anvil's aura could already be perceived, just as cold and sharp as the blades the man forged. It was so heavy that he couldn't fault Kai, a Master, for finding it oppressive.
"Positive," Cassie replied grimly. "He has already spotted us, and the Ivory Tower is fast, but not fast enough to run away from him."
"Spell running." Effie spat angrily, glaring in his and Nephis' direction. "Why are you two the only ones who are going to fight?"
Sunny let out a tired sigh at that. It wasn't her first outburst, and he suspected that it wouldn't be the last either.
He understood, he truly did. He would be just as angry, if not angrier, in her shoes.
"Because you guys can't help us." He replied in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "Effie, you are strong, so is Kai, and even Cassie. But against a Supreme? It won't even be a fight."
"And you two are?" she retorted defiantly.
Sunny resisted the urge to let out another sigh.
"We are not." He replied honestly. "In fact, it will take everything we have just to survive. Imagine if we also had to protect you all while at it."
Effie clenched her fists so hard her knuckles popped, and turned toward Nephis. "So what? Are we supposed to hide in here while you two fight for our lives?"
"Yes," she replied firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.
The Huntress' jaw clenched, eyes burning with anger born out of concern and impotence. Her mouth opened once more, but Nephis continued before she could say anything else.
"Effie," she began in a softer voice. "I know how you feel, I truly do, but we cannot afford any distractions in the incoming fight. So please, stay here and stay safe." Nephis tried to smile reassuringly. "Besides, with the state we will be in after this is done, we will need you all to defend the Tower in our stead while we recover."
Neither tension nor anger left the Huntress' face. She opened her mouth one final time, words almost spilling out before she clicked it shut, her teeth grinding together in the same mix of anger and impotence.
In the end, she nodded, turning around to walk away with heavy stomps that shook the ground.
Kai smiled uncomfortably, watching her retreat. He did not voice his thoughts, but Sunny was sure that the same words just uttered by Effie were running through his own mind.
"I'll try to calm her down," the archer said after a few awkward seconds.
After sending an apologetic look and wishing them good luck, Kai ran after her.
The three of them watched his receding back with varying degrees of regret. They would have liked to voice things in a more diplomatic manner, but sadly, time was not a privilege they had.
Just at that moment, Anvil's throne of swords started appearing over the horizon, visible even to those without Kai's incredible sight.
"What are our chances?" Nephis asked Cassie directly, her voice just as composed as her face, despite the way her eyes were cast grimly into the distance.
The Seer let out a hollow chuckle. "Honestly? Terrible."
"About the usual, huh?" The attempt at humor fell flat even to his own ears.
"I'm afraid so," Nephis agreed, clenching her fists tightly.
Sunny sighed once more, wondering, not for the first time, how it was that he kept finding himself fighting against impossible odds. He blamed Fate, Weaver, Nephis, and himself.
Mostly himself.
"We will have to go all out," he stated plainly, looking at Nephis.
She returned the look, a faint tinge of guilt over their argument days ago still present in her eyes. A second later, she crushed it, leaving nothing but the determination he knew her for. Their differences could wait. Anvil of Valor couldn't.
"I agree," she said evenly.
In a fight against a Supreme, there was no room for holding back. They either fought with everything they had, or they died, no in-between.
Which meant empowering each other with their aspects, a little quirk afforded by the [Shadow Bond] that they had discovered while facing one of the hordes that had attacked the Ivory Tower. If Sunny was honest with himself, he enjoyed the sensation; it made him feel warm and cozy, like being hugged.
He also hated it for that very reason. [Shadow Bond] was the herald of most of what was wrong in his life, and the idea that a part of it could bring him so much comfort felt like Shadow God was laughing at him from beyond the grave.
As if the fact that he could sense where Nephis was at all times wasn't already enough of an insult. At least the boon granted by their mutual transcendence wasn't just limited to a glorified tracker.
They would have to time it just right to truly surprise Anvil, but he suspected that it could prove decisive.
Sunny forced himself to stop thinking about the accursed bond and sent Gloomy to coil around Nephis, magnifying her already strength. She stood straighter immediately after, as if she had been freed from a terrible weight on her shoulders.
She hadn't said anything, but he knew he wasn't alone in the way being empowered by the other's aspect made him feel.
Nephis would do the same once the fighting started. They would have to fight for as long as possible, and there was no point in causing her pain before it was required.
A part of him found the whole thing darkly hilarious, the situation and his own hypocrisy both. Weaver must have been laughing from beyond the grave, too.
"Is she close?" Nephis asked, breaking him out of his thoughts, her voice even despite the steely edge peeking through.
"Yes."
Just at the limit of his Shadow Sense, he could feel it, the shadow of that massive raven that had been watching him days ago. Lately, it had been playing an infuriating game of peek-a-boo with his senses, testing just how close it could come before he detected it.
Nephis nodded, the grip on her sword growing so tight the hilt groaned.
For a moment, silence settled over them, bringing a sense of foreboding that Sunny hadn't felt since the very end of his nightmare.
Right as he started considering cracking a joke in an attempt to alleviate the mood, someone else broke the silence.
"We will overcome this," Cassie proclaimed, a bright smile painted on her face. "You two will win, and come back to us triumphant."
Sunny regarded the petite woman with confusion. Where was that confidence coming from? Did she have another vision just now?
"Have you seen it in one of your prophecies?" Nephis asked plainly.
Sunny turned in her direction to gauge her reaction to Cassie's words, and for a moment found himself without words.
Nephis' silver hair shone like molten silver under the rays of the sun. Her grey eyes met his dark ones with a simple, unbending promise: victory or death. He saw the curve of her lips next, caught between determination and fondness toward the Seer's encouraging words. Even the way she stood, like there was nothing in the world that could shake her, made his heart beat faster.
Sunny looked at her and realized, despite himself, despite the hate, despite the lingering fury of their confrontation days ago, just how truly beautiful she was.
Even despite the danger -or maybe precisely because of it- he couldn't help but be mesmerized. It was like catching a glimpse of heaven before diving into hell.
Hah, the situation was truly bleak if he was waxing poetic.
The Seer nodded with perfect composure. "Of course. It will be hard, but you two will come out on top."
Sunny chuckled, a strained, bright smile forming on his face. "Well, that's settled then."
"It is," Nephis agreed firmly, not a hint of doubt to be found in her.
"We will come back soon."
"I will be waiting," she said, the bright smile never leaving her lips.
Sunny, despite the seething hatred that reared its ugly head whenever he gazed upon Cassie, patted her back reassuringly. "See you then."
"See you," she whispered back.
With a mere mental prod, the shadows answered his call, shaping themselves into a circular platform beneath his and Nephis' feet. Not a second later, the platform lifted into the air and began floating toward the waiting Supreme.
Behind them, the Ivory Tower changed direction, circling away from the incoming battle lest it become a target as well.
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"She lied."
Nephis nodded immediately, the words carrying no surprise for her.
"I know."
Cassie had tried, she truly did, but Nephis knew her well enough to recognize when she lied. There was no prophecy or reassurance to be had. The only things they could rely on were their own strength and wits.
Good. She trusted Fate as much as she trusted any of the Ghouls.
Surprisingly, the beat of her heart was steady.
Here she was, slowly approaching what could likely be her end, and she found herself calmer than she had ever been.
"Any last-minute tips?" she asked lightly.
Sunny stared oddly at her, finding her easy tone at odds with the situation at hand. Whatever thought crossed his mind, he did not share it, but she did not miss the exasperated sigh he let out.
He waved his arm toward Anvil's approaching form, as if asking whether she should not be more worried. When she shrugged, he let out another sigh and allowed himself a small, fond smile.
"Many," he replied with forced cheer. "But if I were to pick one? Don't die."
A small, fond smile found its way to her face as well. "An important one, indeed."
He chuckled nervously, a sound she echoed with complete sincerity immediately after, finding the situation, against all odds, deeply comical .
Sunny might be onto something; she really was crazy.
"You are," he said, reading the thought easily on her face.
"Maybe," she replied lightly. The smile lingered a second longer before it disappeared, replaced by a frown. "What do you think our odds are?"
"With just the two of us? Abysmal," he replied immediately. "If we had Saint? Still abysmal, but a little less so."
She nodded despite herself. As much as the stone woman despised Nephis, she couldn't deny her prowess, a prowess that would be very much appreciated in the upcoming battle. However, reality forced their hand.
It was unlikely that Anvil was alone, which meant that an attack would surely happen while they were away. For that reason, Saint was left behind in the Ivory Tower to act as its defender.
"Sunny..." she began in an almost timid voice.
"Don't," he interrupted. "We will talk about it later."
Ahead, merely four kilometers away, Anvil awaited them.
With a heavy heart, she nodded, accepting the truth of his words.
Nephis cast the thought aside and took the last chance she had to check herself over. She was wearing the [Undying Chain], its dark steel bringing a sense of safety. On her hand rested [Blessing of the Moon], the curved sword coated with the [Nameless Sun] and shining brightly under the rays of the sun. Hidden beneath her armor, [Dying Wish] rested, the statuette ready to be used. For once, she did not wear the [Dawnshard] atop her head, choosing the helmet of her armor instead. It would help Anvil more than it would help them, bolstering his countless memories, so she had to regretfully dismiss it.
Beside her, Sunny wore the [Onyx Shell], the foreboding dark armor turning his pale complexion into something almost ghostly. Beneath the gauntlet of his right hand, he wore the [Ring of Sorrow]. Covering his back, the [Mantle of Darkness] swayed in the wind. In his right hand, an odachi finished forming itself out of shadows.
Lastly, on Sunny's left hand, a terrifying mask of dark lacquered wood manifested into the world, resembling the snarling visage of a horned demon. Without a second of hesitation, he placed it on his face, and in the same instant, the comforting sensation in the back of her mind -telling her at all times where he was- went quiet.
A part of her regretted it; without even realizing, she had grown accustomed to it and the assurance it brought.
Sadly, it was necessary. Ki Song had a vested interest in keeping things civil between them and, as such, would not outright ask anything too dangerous. Anvil, on the other hand, did not have such compulsions.
"Are you ready?" Sunny asked quietly.
"I am," she replied with steely determination. "You?"
He turned his head to stare directly at her. "Yes."
Nephis' free hand moved to catch his and squeezed softly.
A second later, he squeezed back.
-------------------------------------------
Anvil sat comfortably on his throne of steel, leisurely inspecting one of his swords while he awaited the arrival of the Transcendent pair.
It was among his most treasured, acquired after killing his first Cursed creature, a Beast embodying the concept of sharpness.
A decade after the fact, the memory of that encounter was still just as vivid as the day it had taken place, maybe more so. Anvil would never forget the way the lightest touch from that creature had managed to split reality apart and cut through even his most durable sword as if it were made of paper.
In the end, he had won, owing more to luck than skill and power, but he had won. And winning was all that mattered.
Finding no flaw beyond what was already there -it was his sharpest blade, yes, but also his most brittle- he allowed the sword to fly out of his grasp and join its brethren, lazily floating behind him until they would be put to use.
Anvil's gaze drifted up from the wide blue sky to the fluffy white clouds, and down to the rivers and creeks far below. Last, his gaze fell on the rapidly approaching platform of shadows carrying the two people he had come to confront.
His eyes met Changing Star's first, steel gray just like his own, shining with endless determination and defiance. How rare it was nowadays to have someone meet his stare without flinching.
Tyris had told the truth, too. Little Nephis had become a Saint.
How? He did not know, and if he was true to himself, he did not care.
Next, he locked eyes with Sunless, or rather, he met the eyes of the mask he was wearing, hiding his face beneath the snarling visage of a demon that concealed everything and conveyed nothing. His body language betrayed nothing either, languid to the point of indolence, as if he were about to take a walk in the park instead of fighting him.
Idly, he tapped the "armrests" of his throne, wondering where he had acquired a Divine Memory, before casting the thought out of his mind. He would find out soon enough.
As he watched their approach, his visage remained unchanged, carved in steel no less impressive than that which he forged. Within, however, a long-forgotten excitement began to bubble up.
A part of him couldn't help but wonder. Would it be today? Would he finally meet the flawless blade he had been searching for so long? Anvil could almost see it.
Nephis, Changing Star: a straight sword, forever striking true and right without bending or losing its edge.
Sunless, so-called Black Star: a dagger, swift and precise, cutting through bodies and lies alike.
The armrests, made out of swords of Supreme rank, groaned when he gripped them too tightly. As impressive as the raw material before him was, he could not allow himself to forget about the third one.
Mordret, the Other's child. A disgrace and an insult to his and his clan's name. Was he here too, ready to emerge from a reflection to mock him with his asinine words? To try to spin his little lies and petty deceptions?
If he were, Anvil would make sure to put him down once and for all. It was a long time coming, after all.
With growing impatience, he watched the platform's approach, feeling as though time were slowing down before his very eyes, as if the laws of the world conspired to delay their encounter.
Finally, after an agonizingly long period of waiting, the platform stopped moving, a hundred meters away from him.
He allowed his gaze to drift between the two of them once more, appraising their countenances like he would the steel of the blades he forged. Excitement surged in his chest when he found no flaw at first sight.
"Changing Star," he greeted in a cold voice that carried easily despite the roaring winds.
"Ironheart," she replied in a neutral voice, her eyes appraising him just as his had been appraising her.
He tilted his head toward the man beside her next. "Sunless."
Behind the mask, Anvil was sure the boy was smiling. "A pleasure to meet you."
More polite than he had expected. Nephis could stand to learn something from him.
"Terrible view, isn't it?" the boy continued, waving his arms expansively. "Can't understand why you would look at it."
Anvil gazed back at the landscape and found nothing wrong with it. Then again, Sunless had spent years trapped in the bleakest regions of the Dream Realm; his definition of beauty was likely skewed.
"To what do we owe the pleasure, Uncle Vale?" Nephis asked in an even tone.
How long had it been since he had been called that? A decade, perhaps? How… quaint.
He leaned back on his throne and rested his head atop his right fist. "I wanted to see the two of you."
Sunless chuckled faintly and spoke with amusement clear in his voice. "I always thought that Supremes would eventually fall over themselves to come and meet me. Turns out I was right."
A snort almost escaped him. Such arrogance. He could understand now what it was that the boy had in common with Little Nephis.
From the corner of his eye, Anvil watched the Ivory Tower as it slowly disappeared over the horizon, traveling at maximum speed.
He could easily tell what they were planning: stall him as long as possible so that the flying island could enter the Stormsea, where, without his domain, he would be greatly weakened and thus less willing to pursue. Crude, but not without merit.
A part of him was amused by the idea.
The mere fact that they believed themselves capable of fighting him long enough to achieve such a thing was a display of arrogance that he could only attribute to a descendant of Broken Sword. And her chosen partner, too, he assumed.
Anvil tapped the armrests of his throne, weighing whether to crush them already or indulge a little longer. In the end, it was his curiosity that won.
"What of Mordret?" he asked Changing Star when the boy kept failing to show himself. "Is he still hiding like a rat?"
If she was surprised by the sudden question, she did not show it. "Mordret is dead. I killed him myself."
Anvil did not bother holding back the derisive snort that escaped him. The accursed creature had died dozens of times by his own hand, yet always came back.
"So he is still at large," he said, faint tinges of irritation coloring his voice.
Finding him would prove troublesome.
"He's not," Changing Star retorted. "The Spell itself announced his death."
For a moment, Anvil failed to parse the words.
They reached his ears, traveled all the way to his brain, yet failed to be understood. When the moment passed, incredulity gave way to a strange, unfamiliar emotion that he could not quite place, settling heavily in his chest.
Could it be? That boy… dead?
Had he died?
Just like that?
Not by his hand, but Changing Star's?
No. Impossible.
She was lying. She had to be.
Yes, it was part of the stalling tactic. An attempt to throw him off.
But what if…?
Anvil forced himself to stop thinking about that. He also banished from his heart the faint, foreign emotion that was trying to take root.
"We will discuss this matter in depth later," he decided.
"Oh? What makes you so sure that there will be another conversation?" Sunless interjected.
"Because you two are coming with me," Anvil decreed, steel in his voice.
Sunless laughed brightly, the simple action turned sinister by the demonic mask he wore. "My, hadn't I known I would be so solicited, I would have asked for less from Ki Song."
Unlike her partner, Nephis made no show of amusement. "We will have to reject your generous offer."
His armrests groaned once more, one of the swords outright cracking under his grip. Yet another disappointment.
"I wasn't asking," he said. His will flared outward, pressing down on their shoulders. "You can either come willingly, or by force. I'll leave the choice up to you."
Nephis did not flinch, meeting his eyes without doubt. "No."
His gaze landed on Sunless next, who did not flinch either. "What about you, boy?"
Anvil's will pressed harder, the shadow platform they stood upon cracking under its weight.
"I gladly accept your offer," he replied instantly.
Anvil blinked, genuinely surprised by his acceptance.
During that brief, shocking moment, a sliver of the platform broke away and shot straight toward him in the shape of a pitch-black arrow, aiming for his eye. Millimeters away from landing -close enough that he could count the imperfections in its form- he crushed it with his will.
They had not remained idle while this happened.
Nephis placed a hand on Sunless' shoulder, and radiance enveloped him, making the shadows coiled around him stand out all the more starkly. Wings of pure white flame erupted from her back next, which she immediately put to use, launching herself into the air.
The platform beneath Sunless changed, crawling up his body and settling around him like a second skin. At the same time, the mantle of darkness he wore transformed into a pair of abyssal, feathery wings that launched him higher into the air, right beside his partner in crime.
"Did you honestly believe that it would work?" Anvil asked, standing up from his throne at an unhurried pace.
With a mere application of his will, space solidified beneath his feet, allowing him to stand on air. The throne disassembled itself next, the swords it was composed of breaking apart to form a storm of blades hanging ominously above him.
"Yes," Sunless replied as a stone lantern appeared in his free hand.
From within it, a torrent of shadows erupted, blotting out the sky above and shaping themselves into a storm of bladed weapons of his own.
Beside him, Nephis burned brighter, almost like a second sun, bathing the world in her merciless flames.
A smile found its way to Anvil's face for the first time in years.
For a moment, he had almost dreaded that it wouldn't come to this.
By force it was.
Good.