Chapter 25 - the hard questions

***

[raid end]

[victor: Traveler On A Journey]

Gripping my sword's handle, I forced myself to stay standing—though every cell in my body begged to collapse. The blade dug into the shattered concrete like a cane as I hunched over, wheezing, gasping for air.

"Haa... Haa... Haa..."

I felt it now—truly felt it. The cost of invoking a [regalius breaker] wasn't just theoretical. My soul twisted in on itself, convulsing violently beneath my skin like a wounded beast trying to flee its own cage.

Still, I glanced upward, pretending I was fine. Pretending I wasn't a moment away from blackout.

And there it was.

The scar in the sky. Stretching from one end of the world to the other, carving even into the moon behind it. A legacy etched by my blade—the aftermath of my rushed, reckless, and arguably wasted [regalius breaker].

[regalius breakers] are the final answer. The ultimate techniques, spells, or apocalyptic actions of any mage, martial artist, or higher being. They come in three forms:

Domain-type. Like [singing world], stolen by the empyrean from Faltha. A gateway to the dimension of sound—twisted into a sanctuary for its master and a cage for the intruder. Blessings for one. Curses for the other.

Assault-type. My [apocryphal edge]. The one-hit-kill types. Sharp, violent, decisive.

Then there's the tyrant-type. A twisted blend of both domain and assault. Less elegant, more ruthless. Designed to trap, empower, kill. Even if the caster dies, the effect remains. Tyrants rewrite the battlefield in blood and law.

But regardless of form, [regalius breakers] are last-resort moves. Cards you only play when the deck is empty. Because casting one doesn't just wound the body—it ravages the soul. The stronger the breaker, the deeper the scar it carves into your essence.

My ears rang with a constant high whine, dulling the world into a static haze. Since the fight began, my eardrums had ruptured at least seventy times. Every attack from that monster had been supercharged—each sound capable of fracturing bone and thought. [singing world] had the passive effect of amplifying even the softest sound into body-breaking thunder.

At last, the ringing dulled. My eardrums regenerated one final time.

Silence ended.

[stream is undergoing temporary maintenance]

"Urgh!"

Blood rushed up my throat. I tore open the folds of my helmet, letting the red spatter drip freely from my jaw to the ruined ground below. The yellow crystal beneath me dissolved, turning back into crushed stone and scorched steel.

[Skill: Winter Inverse — ends]

[Skill: Sephiwrath — ends]

My light armor faded. Plates dissolved back into my coat, scales receding beneath my skin. The glowing glyphs of [sephiwrath] dimmed, vanishing from my flesh.

The empyrean was truly spent now. Its aether drained dry. It would take centuries to recharge—if it ever did.

All around me, the shattered remnants of [singing world] peeled away, revealing the corpse of Idaten-II's once-great city—flattened ruins and broken towers left behind by Faltha's cataclysmic sonatas.

"You fucking idiot!" Thorn's voice cut through the aftermath like a blade. He dropped from the sky in a blaze of flame and rage, flapping into my field of view with his feathers smouldering. "It was on its last legs! Why the hell did you need to use the supernova sword!?"

Still panting, I swallowed a broken breath and muttered, "It drained my aether in that last burst. Took everything. If I let it land even one more note, it might've reverted back to its fused state with the Kralscell of Songs."

"How the shit did it do that?!" Thorn snapped, stomping the empyrean's lifeless body with his talons. "You're the gluttonous eel, not this shiny bastard! It shouldn't even be able to survive siphoning someone else's aether."

I chuckled, then winced at the sharp pull inside my ribs.

"Genesis knows," I said. "Maybe it mimicked how I use mine. Figured out the technique through sheer desperation... or dumb luck."

The pain in my chest dulled. My soul had stopped spasming. Slowly, I pushed off [Sigrid], tore it from the stone, and slung it across my back with a grunt.

"We should move before a bigger party shows up."

[stream maintenance ended. Backlog of messages will be sent all at once.]

Thorn's feathers flared. "You're going to have to deal with our stalkers first."

I looked up—and sure enough, the yellow sky was flooded with alerts.

[Fish In The Stars, asks politely for the empyrean]

[Hell-King: Bearded Rifle, offers a contract in exchange for the empyrean]

[Solar Evangel, boldly demands the empyrean!]

I crouched and lifted the gem—Thorn still standing on top of it. "I forgot about them."

[Lord Of The Odd, screams to stop damaging the empyrean!]

[Seraphim: White Bullet, says to leave the empyrean alone!]

[Melancholic Tower of Fairness, rips his eyes out screaming for the empyrean!]

Thorn leapt off, crawling up my arm like a shadow with wings before perching on my shoulder. I examined the lifeless crystal. It no longer pulsed. No longer resonated. Just a cold shard of shaped glass, like a musical note without a song.

I rubbed it against my bloodstained shirt and huffed. "It's not faking it, at least."

[Poisoned Fangs Tweet, request the empyrean!]

[Jade Lord of Heaven, nervously sweats while looking around you]

[Aspirant Of Chastity, commends your lack of greed]

"That's enough from you lot." Annoyed, I channelled aether into my fingers and snapped.

[ connection has been lost]

[sub-system active]

The holographic chaos vanished. All that remained was the lone brown-gold screen of the . A trophy from long ago that turned out to be a stolen override.

When I first liberated the empyreans from the grip, I took the with me. A subsystem, yes—but more than that. It was a quiet tyrant buried beneath the systems interface.

Now, the has no choice but to adhere to me and it can't do a damn thing about it. Not that it's intelligent enough to understand that it's under my control. If i wanted to I could have shut it down completely ages ago. But even with its lessened state the is far too valuable a relic to destroy completely.

"What did you do?!" A voice like cracking pebbles and tumbling gravel cried out as a floating golem — no taller than a toddler — descended. It looked like a crude sculpture of a baby made from clustered stone, built around a glowing cyan crystal for a heart. Its flailing stone arms punctuated its tantrum. "Do you know how hard it was for me to arrive on Idaten-II on the order? Turn the stream back on, now!"

This was a surveyor. The henchmen and enforcers of the . They come in various shapes and materials but they all generally have the height of two feet and look like a bunch of floating objects creating a makeshift—constantly changing body. Their materials usually tell you their ranks and types. Stone-made surveyors are the eyes and ears of the , the lowest rank. Then there's the metal surveyors which are like the managers of the stone surveyors. And at the top is the crystalline surveyors, galactic managers in another sense.

The surveyor's that are a mix of materials are known as one of two types. Enforcer surveyor's and rogue surveyors the discards for some reason. To those at the seventh ring sequence or lower the enforcers and rogues are things to be feared, just like crystalline surveyors, but to eighth ring sequence and ninth sequencer's like myself, they are practically children. A stone surveyor is enough to handle the peak of humanity at the fifth ring sequence and metal surveyor can deal with sixth sequencers.

"Shut it, pebble," Thorn growled, cold and low.

The stone surveyor flinched. Rocky lips locked shut immediately.

I gave the lifeless Empyrean one last glance. My fingers flexed around its crystalline body before slipping it into the inner folds of my long-coat. "Surveyor," I said, calm but firm, "when the CGA's rangers arrive, tell them I left that screeching warbler in Gresj."

"What? But that's on the other side of the planet! How did you—?"

Thorn's glare cut through the golem's protest. The surveyor immediately folded.

"I-I'll do as you say, Narrator Admin!" It said with a salute.

Turning to walk away, I felt the aether settle inside me, my steps light but firm, carrying Thorn on my shoulder as Sathuna's plan replayed in my mind—until I paused. "Oh. One more thing."

The golem perked up in fear. I turned and stared directly into the glowing gem in its chest. Which was a camera the watched through.

"Say this to the highest ranked person that comes: 'You must be doing well.' Word for word. Got it?"

"...Um... yes, sir?" the Stone Surveyor mumbled, scratching its stone cheek in confusion.

I gave a two-finger salute and, without waiting for further reaction, channelled aether into my legs and blasted off with [Mach Rush]. The world blurred, continents passed in moments, and I came to a skidding halt atop a hill overlooking a small vessel and a waiting crew.

Before I could take a full breath, Clara and Kimaris were on me, slamming into my sides with full-force hugs.

"Strife!!"

[Aspect: Taken Devourer — telekinesis!]

"Pain! I'm not fully recovered yet!" I cried out, instinctively activating my [aspect] to lift the two girls off me, suspending them upside-down mid-air. "As immortal as I am, I'm not immune to agony!"

"Waaahaha! We were just worried about you!" Clara beamed, laughing as freely as the sky.

"Even if we did watch the whole thing on the ! It's better seeing you alive in person!" Kimaris added, smiling through tears.

Their joy made it hard to stay mad. I sighed and gently lowered them to the ground.

Thorn cawed dramatically from my shoulder. "Do I not get any sympathy? I got crushed and blasted too, y'know!"

Clara gave him a light scratch under his chin, and the proud raven melted instantly. "There you go. You were amazing too, Thorn."

Basking in the praise, Thorn puffed up while Clara scooped him up. Meanwhile, Sathuna approached, her usual composed expression hiding some depth of thought. I spotted Falice force-feeding some foul-smelling potion to a pale, slumped Ben as his crew lingered on the ramp, faces distant. Hollow.

"What happened to them?" I asked as Clara began fussing over Thorn.

"They've finally seen what strength is," Sathuna said evenly. "Watching Kralscells fight made them realise how insignificant mortals are in the face of exalted beings. Until now, they've been lucky... they've never crossed paths with a celestial. That luck might be ending."

"Now that they've stepped onto the same stage as us," I finished, nodding slowly.

Sathuna nodded back. "It won't end well. Not at first."

I tilted my head. "You're actually considering training them?"

"A short vacation. For them to grow. To prepare. They've all got potential." She flicked a strand of her green hair behind her ear. "Even my former apprentice. Quinella was always the sharpest in my coven on Felcrii."

I raised a brow. "Didn't you expel her? Let her get hunted by witch-hunters for three years?"

"I had my reasons," she replied calmly. "She's changed. Just as I hoped she would."

"Uh-huh. And the rest of the crew?" My tone soured slightly. "If you're training her, who trains the others? I'm not teacher material—even if I did raise Ben for two months."

Sathuna went quiet. Her eyes drifted to the city's ruins in the distance. Then, softly she said, "I'll speak with the others first. Don't worry, you won't have to be involved." She paused. "But try to pull them out of that despair before we leave the planet."

I frowned, confused. Me? "How am I supposed to fix despair? The only reason I got out of mine was insanity."

'Try masochism. Worked for you, back in the day.' Thorn's voice whispered in my mind like an intrusive memory.

I shot him a glare. He pretended not to notice while Clara cooed at him with Kimaris.

With a resigned sigh, I stepped away from Sathuna. Let things unfold naturally, I told myself. I never liked using psychological tricks when they weren't earned.

"Care for a chat?" I asked the group resting on the ship's ramp.

They hesitated. Silent. Until Vex and Dante gave a mutual nod. Falice stopped spooning bitter medicine into Ben's mouth but said nothing.

I stomped once on the ground. A chair of dark, jagged ice rose beneath me. I sat down before them, arms draped lazily over the armrests, silver eyes fixed on each of them.

"I imagine you all have doubts," I began, voice level but clear. "Doubts about your place in the world, your strength, your purpose—now that you've seen just how real the 'impossible' is." I spread my arms slightly. "So speak. Complain, vent, scream—whatever helps. You're talking to the Kralscell of Sentience. I may be the only one who'll ever truly understand what you're going through."

Silence swept the hilltop. Even the wind held its breath. Falice clutched her knees. Quinella kept her face hidden behind her bangs.

Ben swayed gently in place, eyes glassy and unfocused. The [Cadenza Note Empyrean's] touch still lingered in his veins.

Then finally, unexpectedly, Dante spoke. His hands were clenched tightly around the handles of his revolvers.

"How..." He paused, voice dry. Shaken. "How do we become exalted?"