TU23. Labour
Leaving the cowering demoness behind, Aurora lunged, directing the ferocity at the newcomer.
"Heh," Hera raised her palm, the effortless motion seemed too slow, casting a Magnetos barrier. Aurora's long blade swished, spearing through the intervening space in less than an eye blink. A turbulent whirlwind trailed in its wake, bursting dust outward in a massive shockwave.
The resonant screech of the metallic collision and grinding reverberated across the battlefield. From the tip of the blade to its pommel, the weapon vibrated violently against the simmering field.
Aurora rolled her shoulder and drove her weight into the strike, yet the spatha failed to pierce through.
"Such a wild animal." With a mere flick of her finger, Hera summoned a blast of wind that hurled Aurora back a dozen metres across the battlefield.
The Empress landed on the solid ground, her boots planted firmly with a big thud. She clicked her tongue in displeasure. She's even more powerful than last time.
"Oh, dear… It's in your nature to seek the most violent path," Hera sneered, embracing herself in her emerald cloak while sparing a pitiful glance at her foe.
"My queen—" Empusa coughed, blood streaking down her jaw. "You came for me!" Her bloody lips moved to praise. Her fingers clawed at the soil as she heaved her broken body. A gruesome trail of blood and entrails smeared the dirt crimson.
The demoness grasped Hera's knee, her broken horn still roaring with smoke. "She's the witch! She's the abomination. A nightmarish creature!"
Isn't that just the description of you? Hera thought the exact opposite. Restraining the urge to roll her eyes, she wore a gentle, motherly smile, her palms caressing the red cheek of the demoness. She started a sigh, "Your thread of fate is not yet severed, my most loyal demoness, Empusa."
Empusa's eyes widened. "Oh, Queen of Heavens—"
Suddenly, the bright flashed. "Empyrion-spear!" Aurora roared, hurling the blazing weapon. The air shook violently as the flame spear travelled with incredible speed.
Confronting the attacker, Hera cast a glowing feather to counter the strike. The loud collision echoed like a thunderclap.
Hera's lips curled into a smirk, then her face quickly twisted into a devilish scowl. "Have you no honour? So ready to strike." She sighed, watching Aurora with a flicker of disappointment. "You are all that is wrong with mortal kinds. Let it be known! Aurora Vere Borealis, the Empress of murderers, cheaters, plunderers, conniving races—savages! I want you gone. All of you, eradicated from the universe."
"Wrong—You're wrong!" Aurora growled, her bloodshot eyes piercing at the flinching demoness, "We were never meant to be livestock or pawns in the game of gods! The fact that the damned souls can not possess us means that mortals aren't inherently evil. There is goodness, greatness in us!"
"Is there? Ask yourself this. Was it not your kind who ravaged, raped, and burned your own for the imaginary lines that marked your insignificant borders? Your kind aren't worthy of divinity! All of your power and greatness are cheap derivatives of ours. Without us, the gods, you have no place in this world."
"Without the gods, you said?! A fool and a blind, and you chose to be both." Aurora's eyes twitched, her knuckle turned white at the handle of the blade.
"What did you just say?" Hera growled in disbelief at the venomous insult.
"We fought your wars with the titans, we bled and died in your stead. When the gods left the ruined world, mending their wounds in heaven. When our prayers were unanswered. When evil roamed the land. When we were at the mercy of nature. When hope dimmed." Her voice remained unyielding.
"Despite that, have you not seen the prosperity? The cultures, laws and orders, and unconditional virtues. I see courage and an indomitable spirit. And as frail as we are, we survive and flourish. Against calamity, against evil, against the temptation within our own hearts. We have triumphed before, and we will do it again."
She raised her blade into the sky. "Therefore, we are the true masters of this world."
"Words meant nothing! Your empire will fall flat, just as it has risen," Hera sneered, stabbing a finger towards Aurora.
"We will rebuild again."
"I will unmake your kind. I will make certain of that. You are pigs, dogs, mules, snakes—Rats! Worse than all of those animals combined, you are nothing! "
The spit didn't seem to bother the silvery elf, her fearless gaze locked onto Hera. "And you were none of those things? Was it not the gods who schemed and plotted, who transformed and impregnated us, who lied and tricked, and tortured mortals as if they were mindless dolls, only to discard them when you were done?"
"Blasphemy! S-Shut your filthy mouth!" Empusa's voice betrayed a slight falter.
"This is my last warning, stop this chaos now. And may our path never cross again."
"You, insolent witch! I accept none of your terms." Hera bared her teeth, reddening face. "Kneel to me now, or I will create hell on earth for your people. Arcaniis shall be tortured and burned, their anguishing cry will be the anthem of your failure!"
"Hera!" Aurora screamed, her expression a fuming grimace. Her eyes blazed with seething vengeance. "I shall end this reign of terror. No Helltides shall get past me, as long as I live. No evil shall escape my light!"
Empusa ground her teeth, urging herself forward, but Hera halted her.
"Foolish and stubborn," Hera scowled. "Come then! Argus Panoptes!" Ancient magic twirled as a circle of glowing plumes materialised before her. They were beautiful, yet utterly terrifying. "...I shall win!"
"I, Aurora Vere Borealis, shall not lose!" She flung another Empyrion spear, only to be parried by another of Hera's plumes. Another violent gust of wind burst outward.
"You were merely favoured by the Fates last time. Soon, you shall not have a single shade of my mercy."
The golden sandal angled away from her subject; the queen of gods now confronted the empress of humanity.
"Thanatos-spatha!" Aurora's voice carried a deep, unwavering resolve. The dark zweihänder summoned directly into her palm. She clutched the weapon tightly and bolted, leaving a cloud of smoke in her wake.
Deadly purple flames cleaved the air. Hera faded back, throwing her plumes forward.
Fierce and relentless, Aurora surged ahead, pressing her attack. A cleave. A thrust. An overhand slash.
The plumes drifted in tandem to block her every move, followed by a burst of whirlwind that knocked Aurora from side to side. Her boots slipped, and Hera's smile widened.
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"Argus-Vortexis!" She blew a breath over the gathered feathers. The weightless plumes drifted, multiplying until they surrounded Aurora from every direction.
"Tsk!" Aurora immediately raised her guard. "Phoros!"
The spherical barrier formed, but it was too late. The air bubbles exploded in quick succession, like a relentless barrage of intense bombardment. Aurora's frame was tossed this way and that.
It felt as though the massive force of a devastating club had slammed into her. A flash of greenery and the sharp snapping of trees echoed around her as she bounced across the terrain until her back slammed hard into the earth.
"Ugh!" she grunted, feeling a fallen log pinning one of her legs.
She heaved, pushing the log away with a loud groan until her foot pried free. Inspecting beneath her mangled and torn armour, she saw that where her body was exposed, it was covered in angry red and purple bruises.
With a twisted foot, she supported her weight on a blade and scrambled to her feet with a muffled grunt, "Iasis!"
The soothing light glowed, rapidly mending her wounds. Her foot rotated from the unnatural twist, and she spat blood onto the soil.
The collapsed trees and churned dirt were evident proof that she had been thrown hundreds of metres, if not kilometres away.
"What was that? A wind magic?" She gritted her teeth, then the laughter echoed from above; she spotted the now fully healed Empusa flying Hera down to the surrounding ruins.
A wry smirk played on their lips.
***
When the adrenaline pumped through him and finally expired, Marcus found himself gasping for air. His shattered breastplate rose and fell in rapid, heaving motions. Sweat mingled with blood, oozing down from a deep gash on his forehead. He could barely keep his single eye open.
Clutching his warhammer, he had smashed, crushed, and swung until his arms were too heavy to lift. He had already lost count of how many he had killed, and how many of his own people had fallen into the pools of crimson and the piles of bodies.
Filled. There was no untainted part of the upper deck; it was all painted red.
Yet, the vile demons were numerous. Still surrounded by their mocking shrieks, Marcus realised how futile it all was. He was stupid. Stupid to even think about freedom.
Stupid to defy his fate. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
"One more!" he roared in a rasp, mustering the very last bit of his strength.
A demon lunged. The clean swing shattered a jaw with a heavy crack. A few fangs flew out into the air.
The ugly creature shrieked a terrifying scream, its red eyes locking onto him. Another three flew down and had him cornered with their snapping jaws and claws.
A dull clatter echoed as the hammer slipped from his trembling fingers. The creatures laughed.
This was it.
"You ugly bastards!" he gritted his teeth, curling and uncurling his fists.
His punch missed.
Fangs sank deep into his arm, then another set of jaws bit down hard on his leg. Collapsing onto the deck, he let out a scream of pure agony as they began to drain him alive.
Light-headed, his vision was a blur. He was never meant to be a warrior. He was going to die a stupid cyclops.
Then, he thought his ears were playing tricks on him — a dying hallucination. An explosion was so loud. Fired from sophisticated artillery, it was a distinct noise he had heard only once before. The concussive boom of compacted black powder.
Oh, he remembered it now, clutching onto the last of his consciousness. It is Leon-Idas, the two-headed brute, my brother in oath, my rival in the Forge!
The winged demons halted their feast, their attention snapping away from their dying prey. Their wailing grew distant all of a sudden.
As they fluttered their wings to flee in panic, Marcus lay on his back. His hazy eye caught the bloom of fire.
It was beautiful, like a firework.
Another bloom decimated the flying creatures into bits and pieces. Their high-pitched shrieks were too loud, too annoying. But they reminded him of the battlefield.
"Wait…" he rasped, his voice hoarse.
He blinked his eye at the adjacent humming of a massive engine. The tone almost resonated with his own battlecruiser's belly.
A dark figure loomed over him. "Over here!" The two-headed cyclops kneeled down, pressing hard against Marcus's wound.
"Leon… Idas…" Marcus murmured, "Has my old eye deceived me?"
"No, brother. It's us, we are here for you!" Leon said.
"Marcus! Say something! Don't you die on us!"
At first, he thought it was Idas's voice, but it was too soft, too high-pitched for a five-metre-tall cyclops. His swimming eye focused, and Daphia's panicked face came into clarity. The small nymph was shaking his shoulder, and panic flickered in her eyes.
"Come on, you can't die looking so un-warrior-like in front of the girl," Idas grinned, narrowing his eye and looking to his brother for support.
It wasn't funny, but it made Marcus muster a weak grunt. "Ugh… This hurts like hell…"
"Here, take this," Leon said, handing her a potion of jade-like liquid. The viscous glitter already spoke for itself; it was something magical. "Come on! It'll ease the pain a little until we get off this damn planet."
Too exhausted even for banter, Marcus followed the order, tilting his head upward. The remedy brought a soothing warmth that chased away some of the deepest aches.
The deck brimmed with activities now. The shrieking and wailing of nightmarish creatures were replaced by the urgent footsteps and comprehensible shouts. While the newly arrived allies rushed to patch his injuries, Daphia worked on the worst bite wound. A big chunk of meat was missing, leaving a gnarly, gaping hole.
"How do I look? That bad?" Marcus rasped at the pale lady's face.
"You'll be alright." She forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
Just beside them, another battlecruiser — more equipped, more advanced — launched green flares over the horizon, causing the swarm of demons to scatter in dismay.
Here came the black gigantic wings, Ventiff streaked across the airspace, picking off the disarrayed forces, her massive claws crushing the demons into compressed chunks.
A man in a graceful robe strode over the deck, his long staff clicking against the metal.
"Find those who are still alive, stabilise their condition until we cross over to the Meadow." His authoritative voice reverberated over the deck. His people rushed in, desperately searching the gruesome piles of bodies.
Though he was the Judge of the Dead, Aeacus was rightfully Charon, too.
His golden eyes surveyed the bloody deck with inexplicable horror. He swallowed. This could have been the fate of his battlecruiser that day with the Furies.
A giant lay sprawled before him. Four of its limbs were missing, but jagged, off-white bones jutted from the dried stumps. It was a gory sight, yet he could not deny the deep respect he felt for the fallen Hekaton and Cyclopes.
Black feathers tumbled through the air, yawing side to side like autumn leaves before catching the current. Ventiff signalled her return with a low shriek after having chased the remaining enemies away, her massive wings beating rhythmically as the beast soared, her tail trailing elegantly behind.
"Thank you," Aeacus nodded at the legendary beast, appreciative.
"Now!" Aeacus raised his oar into the air. "Grant us the passage to Leimonopolis!"
Focusing now, he clinked the bottom of the staff onto the deck. Mana surged and fluttered around him; his majestic beard and robe defied gravity. Sharp copper lines drew themselves into the still air, streaking outward to form a massive gate. The circular structure jointed and shifted with a strange mechanical clatter.
Intricate runic and glyph illuminated the faces of the crews. The wonder in their eyes dazzled them in place for a few seconds.
"It's working! It's working! Just like the ashen oracle foretold!" Aeacus screamed in ecstasy, his eyes sparking golden with power.
A loud chime echoed to signal the full connection of the portal. The opening revealed a twirling vortex of amber, glittering like millions of stars, nebulae, and galaxies.
It was the most ambitious and beautiful portal ever attempted.
Nearer now, the crews could swear that the gate was even grander, its sheer size eclipsing even the two flying battlecruisers.
"Woah, look! Stars. Marcus, look!" Daphia gasped, pulling the injured Marcus up to watch.
Despite his groans, he sat upright, seeing beauty unfold like never before. He knew of the stars in theory or stories, but there was a vast difference between knowing about them and finally seeing their glory.
"It's… beautiful," Marcus found himself sobbing like a five-year-old.
To a creature of Tartarus, Hekatons and Cyclopes were destined to live in its deepest, darkest pits. His own creator deemed them too hideous and ugly; his kind had been banished from the world, forever prohibited from gazing upon the Skyfather.
But today, that destiny shifted forever. The starry light reflected from Marcus’s gleaming eyes. Tears rushed down his soothful cheeks.
At long last, the two battlecruisers flew abreast, entering the gateway together before the entire structure dissipated into thin air.
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