Saranhell

Camels were surprisingly slow creatures. On this planet, roughly seventy days had passed since I met Freid and Surt. The caravan itself wasn't particularly sophisticated or high-tech, but I quite enjoyed the slow and steady journey between us.

The desert wind stung my face with biting grains of sand. I sat awkwardly atop the camel, my body compensating for the animal's uneven gait with minor adjustments.

Freid and Surt rode ahead, leading the way through the bleached landscape dotted with ancient machinery.

To the west, spires of rusted metal pierced the skyline- old war relics, or perhaps remnants of ancient cities that had long lost their name. This planet was far older than I anticipated. Age has not been kind to this world.

"That right there is Scarfield," Freid called out, pointing towards the jagged canyon that cleaved the horizon in two. "Used to be a lake, but some old bastard tried to awaken a Mythical Beast to irrigate a land. Stupid fucker split the whole valley."

"Beast...?" I said in an ill-witted manner.

Surt glanced back at me.

"Ah, right, you're an Outworlder. Mythical Beasts are...well, nobody knows exactly what they are or where they came from. Some say they're weapons from the Heavenly War, while some say they're monsters born of human evils. All I know is that they don't bleed normal blood and don't die normal deaths."

"And you fight those things!" Freid added. "And it didn't seem like your first time hunting beasts as well."

"I...suppose? My father put me through intense training for as long as I could remember. I am still green."

Surt chuckled. "Well, you're better than most of the mercs here."

We rode in silence for a time. The desert shifted, its sands turning gray, then red, then black - a sign of volcanic activity, or something capable of replicating the same effect. Just what had the Heavenly War done to these people?

Eventually, we came to a rise where we could see it: Saranhell.

It was a city carved into a crumbling mesa, its outer wall patched with scrap metal and glowing sigils. Tall, arching scaffolds jut into the air like ribs, with plumes of smoke billowing from forges.

"Welcome to the Furnace of the Barrens, brother! City of Fire and Trade. It is our home - more or less."

"It looks like it's dying."

Freid blinked. Surt just sighed.

"It is," he replied. "But it's ours."

They were quiet after that. I wondered if I had said something wrong, but the emotion in their silence was closer to resignation than to offense.

___

We arrived at Saranhell the next morning as the entrance gates creaked open. Armed guards checked us at the entry point, but waved us through with a nod from Freid and Surt.

The streets buzzed with life - flesh and metal, fire and trade. Vendors shouted in strange dialects while children played and zipped throughout the steam-choked alleys, and towering brass machinery carried crates en masse.

"So many people..." I said with a mystified look.

"Welcome to the city, brother! If you'd like, I could show you around town, maybe even introduce you to some exotic women." Surt said, letting out a hearty laugh.

I had no particular interest in either men or women, nor did I have the physical capacity to derive such pleasure from them.

However, such experiences may be useful for understanding the human heart, so it was not completely off the table.

As we moved deeper into the town center, the voices of children grew quiet, and the city's bustle came to a standstill. The atmosphere was less about fear and more about respect and awe.

At the center platform of the town hall stood a massive black spire, its surface engraved with runic symbols. It radiated a familiar energy.

Roughly two dozen soldiers stood at the base of the platform, with one man in particular emanating an air of authority. He stood at around 5'10, with slick auburn hair and a clean-shaven face. His appearance embodied the eloquence of knighthood.

It was clear from a single glance that this man was a powerful existence.

"That guy...!" Freid's eyes widened with awe, as though gazing upon a king.

"Who is that man?" I said in a whispered tone.

"You kiddin' me?! That's one of the Divine Generals! Xerxes of the 7th Seat . He's one of the top dogs of the capital!"

Xerxes stood before the people, his countenance containing the sternness of a leader. "Greetings, citizens of Saranhell! We've received information about an ancient Beast sealed within this region, and we would like to ask for your humble cooperation. We apologize for the inconvenience, but you must evacuate the area immediately!"

The guards helped escort the civilians away from the site of the black spire, but I couldn't afford to let this opportunity slide. I would gain an audience with this man, one way or another.

Ignoring the evacuation order, I dashed past the hordes of citizens with ease, landing at the center of the platform.

Unsurprisingly, the soldiers drew their swords and pointed them at me. "Halt! You must not come any closer. Evacuate immediately, or this will be considered an obstruction of justice!"

I raised my hands above my head. "I am not here to cause you trouble. I merely seek an audience with Xerxes of the 7th Seat."

"How dare you! Know your place!"

Ah...it seems that I have invited their anger. My charisma may need some work in this world.

Xerxes turned around, raising his right hand in the air. The simple gesture caused the men to retract their blades and stand in formation.

He looked me over, as though trying to ascertain my identity.

"Who are you, boy? You do not appear to be from these lands. State your name and place of origin."

A rigid man. From his manner of speech to his physical mannerisms, he was the textbook definition of a knight.

"I am Ereth, son of Zoltin of the Promised Victory. I seek the title of the Legendary Hero in the interest of my father."

"..." Silence consumed the town center at my declaration. The knights looked at each other and gossiped among themselves.

"Haha...hahaha!" Xerxes couldn't withhold his bellowing laughter any longer. "The son of the former Legendary Hero? Are you his offspring? You jest!"

"This is no joke, Divine General. Is such a claim so unreasonable?"

"You have no idea, do you, pretender?" His expression changed once again, and his laughter subsided.

"The Legendary Hero died 1000 years ago."

____

"...What?"

The Eternal Twilight was a land of stagnation. All things would remain unchanged. Time, space, life, death - they had all come to a standstill.

However, such a scenario was impossible outside of its boundaries.

Eternity was the only life I had known, and thus, the very idea of change was completely foreign to me. My ignorance had blinded me from such an obvious conclusion.

This failure has provided me with yet another piece of information.

Even among the Divine Generals, the highest-ranking figures of Wisteria, the Eternal Twilight was not widely known, if known at all.

Such a revelation would make my mission far more difficult than anticipated. From their perspective, I was a rambling fool talking of a mythical figure, and thus, dialogue could not be achieved.

To break down that wall of conversation, I would need to change their perception of what is "reasonable" and what is "unreasonable."

Thus begs the question, how can I possibly convince this man of such absurdity?

As though disregarding a pebble on the road, Xerxes turned his back to me and walked towards the black spire. "Get this boy out of my sight."

The small battalion of soldiers readied their weapons and slowly approached me.

I did not wish for such conflict, but actions speak louder than words.

Using as little strength as possible, I dealt with the lower-ranked soldiers with ease. I explicitly avoided their vital points, aiming only to disarm them.

"Gah!" The soldiers flew back from the sheer concussive force, denting their armor and leaving them incapacitated.

"You knave..."

Such a stunt appeared to capture Xerxes' attention.

"Not only have you ignored my warnings, but you have actively obscured an operation. I will give you no more reprieve."

Drawing his silver blade, an intense wave of energy flowed from his body, his stern gaze piercing daggers at me. Any ordinary man would crumble before this pressure.

This was Mang - a spiritual energy present within all sentient beings, based solely on the desires of the individual. It could be used to fortify or enhance one's body, but whether one could even awaken such a power relied solely on one's potential.

Of course, it was nothing compared to my father. I had no reason to be afraid of this man, even if he was a Divine General.

I followed suit, emanating my own Mang. Our wills clashed, sparks flew as our blades came to a head. I honestly hadn't thought that I'd draw the broken Sword of Promised Victory , but I have no choice.

"That sword...where did you find such a relic?" Xerxes said in irritation.

"I told you, didn't I? I inherited it from my father!"

Our blades clashed. Sparks flew as we engaged each other. Despite my taking the initiative, Xerxes maintained a sturdy defense.

In terms of Mang quantity and swordsmanship, I was the superior combatant, yet he managed to deflect my attacks and counter accordingly.

What was it? What was the difference between he and I?

"Hmmm…" Xerxes's eyes narrowed in contemplation. "You certainly are an incredible warrior. If the circumstances were different, I might have recommended for a position in the Divine Generals. But…"

With a well-aimed kick to the abdomen, I flew back into the crowd before regaining my footing and halting my movement.

"You are empty. Your Mang has absolutely no substance or originality. It is as though I'm fighting a doll."

I couldn't deny his words. After all, everything he said was correct. I am nothing but an automaton, a machine designated with a specific purpose in mind.

And yet…this feeling festered inside of me like a violent flame. It raged and charred the contents of my heart, blurring my sense of reason.

"Don't call me that!"

"Hah! That struck a nerve?"

Taking advantage of my momentary blind spot, Xerxes broke through my guard and landed a solid blow into my midsection.

The pain was immense. Though I had an artificial body, my pain was all too real. It was a countermeasure implanted by my father to warn my body of damage.

My body cracked, leaking a golden energy that resembled Mang, yet held a different "foundation."

Xerxes's confidence was at an all-time high. "Hah! So you truly are a doll. You're truly pitiful, pretender, but it's time to put an end to this."

"I'm not a doll!"

Don't call me that. Don't utter such a thing before me. Don't even consider the thought.

The flame within me only grew stronger at his provocations. It was unbearable, this feeling!

It was only then that the realization dawned upon me. This was the first of my deadly agonies: a festering wrath.

At this very instant, I wanted nothing more than to beat this man before me - Xerxes of the Seventh Seat!

Readying myself for battle once more, I raised the broken Sword of Promised Victory. Xerxes followed suit, striking with killing intent.

However-

"So this is the Beast sealed within this area. It appears to be in rather good shape."

"…!"

A completely foreign voice spoke behind us. Both Xerxes and I were completely distracted by the mysterious figure coated in black.

Her voice was both soothing and utterly disturbed, a perversion of absolute innocence into absolute depravity.

"Did I interrupt your game? I do apologize."

Xerxes's expression contorted with sheer rage at the sight of the witch, his Mang shimmering with a violent red hue. He closed the distance with the mysterious figure in a single bound.

" Apostle !"

His blade howled with fury as he cut through the woman's torso, yet there was no blood nor resistance - only mist. The strike lacked weight. It's like cleaving through a mirage. Her body shimmered and dispersed into the wind.

"I can hear you just fine, General," she cooed, both mocking and ethereal. "But I do say, I am quite interested in you, child." Instantly, she appeared before me, caressing my right cheek.

A seething, moist, crawling sensation like manure mixed with decayed flesh - festering like maggots. In an act of instinctual revulsion, I slashed.

Again.

Again.

Yet each strike was met with nothing but the air, slicing through the illusion had only made her erupt in laughter.

Manifesting once again into tangible form, she sat atop the black spire in glee, our figures obscured in shadow.

"Fortunately for you all, I am under no obligation to fight as of now. I am merely here to cultivate one of my brothers ."

Brothers...? Was that her brother?

"Ah! Apologize for my shortsightedness." With a dramatic lift of her skirt and the rising of her feet, she bowed before us like a maid welcoming her esteemed guests. "I am Gawain , apostle of the 5th Great Evil, Earth Mother . Now, if you would excuse me, I would like to present to you all a gift."

Earth Mother - the very ground trembled upon the utterance of that name.

Then came the stench.

Gawain exuded a sinister Mang. Not untamed, raw like ordinary beastly anomalies, but something far worse- a sophisticated evil.

It smelled of malignant death, horror varnished in a most extravagant perfume. It pulsed with the rhythm of thousands of heartbeats.

It was alive.

Xerxes grits his teeth, veins glowing beneath his skin as he lunges towards the spire.

I followed suit- our blades ready, sharpened into spears of resolve.

If Gawain was effectively untouchable, our only recourse lay in her "brother."

Destroy it. Whatever it takes.

"Chichi~ It's useless, you know? After all, with all of this Mang it's accumulated from the prayers of Saranhell, it's gotten pretty strong."

The spire's surface began to pulse like a womb. Veins of dark crystal spread along its blood.

Then, it screamed.

It was a howl not of the mouth, but of the soul. Its spirituality disrupted our Mang and rattled our very souls.

Xerxes staggered, his eyes and ears leaking blood. I held my ears in intense pain, though no physical damage had been dealt.

"You wish to kill a child for the mere crime of being born? What a contemptible evil!" Gawain's voice was filled with mockery and faux disappointment, her face changing into a childish pout. "Humans truly are a barbaric race, just like that freak Ryoku. "

The spire split down the middle. The crack leaked a noxious black ooze, from which an embryonic creature was born. Its skin was translucent and feeble, as though prematurely born, and its limbs were of unnatural length. The creature had no eyes and teeth jutting out in random directions.

Even breathing seemed to cause the creature immense pain.

Gawain descended slowly, feet not touching the ground, as Mang spiraled around her like silk threads. She smiled, as though we were merely toddlers throwing a tantrum.

"You've got maybe..." She counted her fingers like a schoolgirl. "Five minutes before it's fully mature! I'd make peace with any gods you still believe in."

Then she vanished, leaving behind traces of sulfur and the echoes of the day.

Xerxes rose, ever the ideal knight. "If you are who you claim to be, then stand up and fight, pretender!"

Giving in to his provocation, I raised my sword. "Perhaps we can put aside our differences just this once. Just know that I still want to talk with you after all of this is over."

"Not a chance."

My sword gleamed with resolve.

No matter our previous quarrel, it was obvious that this entity could not be allowed to live.

In just five minutes, we will kill the demon child.