Chapter 41 - Towards Ruin

Lazrael was staring at the stone he held in his hands inside the carriage. Lost in thought, he paid little attention to his surroundings, neither to the calm pegasi, nor to the gentle breeze drifting through the window, nor to the door that... oh, the door opened.

Startled, he turned and saw Tarnael, whose face carried a sharp tension. The king closed the door firmly and sank into the couch across from Lazrael, exhaling deeply as though releasing the weight of his nerves and stress. Lazrael quickly hid the stone beneath his coat and looked at the king, his expression a mix of surprise and unease.

"It seems from your expression that no agreement was reached, I presume?" Lazrael asked, his tone slightly rhetorical.

"I wonder whose fault that might be," Tarnael replied with a hint of cynicism, fixing his gaze on Lazrael.

Lazrael frowned.

"You mentioned the Spheres of Alitus..." he said quietly.

"It's better to be honest with someone than to hide secrets he'll eventually uncover. Until Bakabali is born, we have neither time nor any other way to defeat Uanamangura except through the spheres. Isn't that right, Lazrael?" Tarnael asked.

"Shall we set the carriage in motion?" the servant asked from the front.

"Oh, yes," said Tarnael, whistling toward the pegasi beyond the window. They spread their white wings tinged with faint gold and began their flight away from Merthuzana'Im.

"As for your question, Your Majesty," Lazrael began, "for the moment, the spheres are indeed the only means of defeating Uanamangura. But from what I assume of their reaction, it wasn't favorable. This may well lead to the birth of a lost war, before one even begins."

"It's worth making sacrifices if it means creating eleven monsters capable of killing our enemy. We're talking about saving Ladnoria," Tarnael said firmly.

"Do you truly feel that way?" Lazrael asked, his words cutting sharply, like a knife striking the center of a plate.

"Hm?" Tarnael reacted.

"Do you really believe that the sacrifices of others will fulfill you as a person? I admire that you seek practical solutions, but this concerns the lives of others. Is it worth destroying yourself before the world destroys itself?" Lazrael asked, his expression carved into a mask of solemn conviction.

"This world has already been destroyed, Lazrael. I was simply too blind to see it. The endless wealth of the gods, their pride, their power, their wisdom, all of it is the fruit of an invisible decay. The fact that a madman was born into this world doesn't mean its ruin increases," Tarnael said, looking at Lazrael with half-closed eyes, as though trying to read the uncharacteristic empathy in his servant's tone.

"What's with all this empathy, Lazrael? Outside your role as a servant, I've never seen you act like this," said the king.

"I care about saving the world, and of course, your well-being, Your Majesty. But everything has its limit. There are other ways to convince the kingdoms to unite their strength with yours. The spheres are the one method you should never have mentioned," Lazrael replied.

"They're your creation, after all. Why hide something so valuable from the eyes of angels? A few hundred sacrifices are nothing compared to the magnificent power they possess," Tarnael said.

Lazrael looked at him with an unusual expression, as though concealing something. Yet he couldn't fully hide the trace of sentiment that crossed his face as his gaze drifted toward the window, where the fairytale beauty of the angels' kingdom unfolded, endless green trees, flowing springs, and deer grazing peacefully nearby.

"Long before I worked here as a servant, perhaps around fifteen hundred years ago, I served as a secret science agent at the Prison of Virgiel. Maybe even longer, but—"

"You mean the Tower of Virgiel?" Tarnael interrupted.

"Yes, the tower. I misspoke. I lived in the eighth circle, under the protection of Fraudel. The Circle of Deceivers. There was much poverty, misery, demons devouring each other for the smallest things. Most of it was a vast forest of dead trees that bore the fruit of dragonflies. But a certain place, called Malberghes, held thirteen deep pits. The pits served as graves for demons slain within the eighth circle. But the twelfth pit... that one was used as a burial ground for another species," Lazrael said, turning his gaze back to the king.

"What species?" Tarnael asked with curiosity.

Lazrael adjusted his posture, crossing his legs and arms.

"The Valkyries," he said at last.

"What? Aren't they supposed to be from another world?" Tarnael asked, visibly startled by what he had just heard.

"Indeed," Lazrael replied calmly. "Dhagan'De Thronu, that's the name of their world. In general, the dragons and the Seraph Edin'Borghia, along with his children, were obsessed with hunting the Valkyries. In fact, they even conducted experiments on their brains. It is said that the Valkyries possessed intellect closest to that of the gods themselves, and naturally, that was a cause for concern among the latter. They used Malberghes as a testing ground for their experiments on the Valkyries long before it was ever inhabited by demons. In short, the Tower of Virgiel existed long before any of us.

"And one day," he continued, "Fraudel gave me an order from King Xael himself, to create twelve spheres using the blood of the sacrificed Valkyries whose remains filled the cauldron near the gate of the Eighth Circle. There were tens of thousands of them. Alitus was their king, and he was the first sacrifice made to forge the spheres."

"I've never heard anything like that about the Valkyries," Tarnael said thoughtfully. "That explains why the spheres are blue, because they contain the sacrifices of the Valkyries." He placed his thumb and forefinger beneath his chin in a gesture of contemplation.

"Each of them," Lazrael went on, "contains at least five thousand of those beings' souls. Only their brains were preserved, each for reasons beyond ordinary understanding."

"Wait a minute," Tarnael interrupted. "You mentioned twelve spheres, yet there are only eleven. What happened to the other one?"

"One of the Valkyries managed to escape the execution cauldron and stole one of the spheres. Believing the sphere would reject his will, the demons ignored him altogether. But that's not what happened," Lazrael said, his tone darkening with the weight of memory.

Tarnael listened intently, feeling the suspense tighten between every word his companion spoke.

"His hatred for the gods was so immense, his determination so unshakable, that the Twelfth Sphere accepted him as its host. You can imagine what followed. His power rose to a level almost equal to the Seraph's children. The killings were endless, thousands of demons slaughtered like a herd of cattle before a colossal mythic wolf. His form was something not of this world. And the only way to stop his rebellion was to use the ancient Draken spells I had once learned," Lazrael said.

"Th-that's... horrifying," Tarnael stammered, still struggling to believe what he was hearing.

"And that," Lazrael said, "is the reason why the Spheres of Alitus are forbidden among angels. Of course, they don't know about the rebellious Valkyrie, but they have heard of the foolish angels who once tried to wield the spheres' power. So, as their creator, I'm not exactly comfortable with the idea of using them again, not without understanding the possible consequences. Like, for instance, creating another monster. Wouldn't that be something?" Lazrael added with a faint, sardonic smile.

"No," Tarnael said after a pause. "In fact, you've just given me a brilliant idea."

"What do you mean?" Lazrael asked warily.

"You've given me the right motivation to use the spheres. Perhaps the creation of such a monster could serve as a greater advantage, on our side," Tarnael said, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

"And what if that monster doesn't heed your word, and destroys Ladnoria before Uanamangura even gets the chance?" Lazrael asked.

"That's what Glauk is for," Tarnael replied. "He'd kill it with his scythe. Didn't that thought cross your mind earlier?"

"I see," Lazrael said quietly, turning his gaze toward the window as he began to roll the small stone between his fingers. "I'm truly curious to see what will happen next."

Note: Since the lands of the nations, except those of the demons, were shielded by their respective barriers, the seeds that fell from the heavens as a result of frequent eclipses simply slid across the barriers and ended up in Guhojre. Before these barriers existed, vegetation was the same throughout all of Ladnoria, but over the centuries it was gradually assimilated by excessive greenery, causing the dark trees and those of strange hues to disappear entirely from within these kingdoms.

The Cape of Sorrow, a sacred place nestled between the Derseus mountains and the kingdom of Chrisantra. It was filled with countless statues of maidens, robed from head to toe in nunlike attire, all facing the sea in eternal prayer. Some were shattered, revealing fragments of their stone bodies; others bore only partial cracks. The rest remained untouched, preserved in near-perfection.

Waves from the sea lapped gently against the maidens' bare feet, reflecting the sunlight that shimmered as if in answer to the prayers they silently offered. In some ineffable way, these statues knew that their prayers would one day be heard, by the One who reigns beyond the skies.

This place served as a memorial to the unjust execution of the Visionary Simonaela. The only thing the angels could do to honor her pure love was to replicate the kindness she had left behind in this world.

Among the statues, standing upon the dry sand of the shore, was a young woman with long, flowing golden hair. She wore a white marshal's armor and a crimson cloak trailing behind her. It was Kaela, gazing past the horizon as the waves rose and fell in rhythmic repetition. Her helmet, shaped like the head of an owl, rested beside her.

"You were a saint to us all, and they left you with nothing but a row of miserable statues? What living hypocrisy..." she murmured to herself as she rose from the sand. Her eyes followed the footprints she had left behind before ending up where she stood.

"This nation doesn't need hollow prayers. It needs someone capable of giving those prayers meaning," she said, unfurling her wings. Taking flight above the statues, her face reflected disappointment, hatred, and a trace of sorrow, though outwardly she bore the poise of a formidable warrior.

Sometimes, armor isn't strong enough to protect you from the seeds of grief.

Three hours later...

Eliael was walking through the hidden corridor leading to the royal palace laboratory. He carried with him a notebook filled with his daily notes and calculations regarding Bakabali. As he reached the door, he began to open it slowly, only for his expression to shift when he saw Lazrael standing there, hands clasped behind his back, watching Bakabali suspended in midair among glowing green bubbles. Lazrael wore his dark coat, giving the impression that he was not acting in his usual role as a servant.

"Lazrael... you're here," said Eliael, closing the door behind him as he approached.

Lazrael only cast a sidelong glance before returning his gaze to Bakabali.

"How did the meeting at Merthuzana'Im go?" Eliael asked as he stepped into the green glow of the chamber.

"It went to hell. All because of your brother's stubborn nature," Lazrael said coldly.

Eliael lowered his gaze, disappointment dulling his expression. He knew he had no real power to speak beyond his nature.

"I can feel your frustration, Eliael," said Lazrael.

Eliael's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"But it changes nothing. You have your duty, and I have mine. And now... I must go and fulfill what's expected of me," Lazrael said, turning to face him.

"W–Where are you going?" Eliael asked, confused.

"Far away. I don't know if I'll ever see you again," Lazrael replied, his voice carrying a trace of sorrow.

"What do you mean by that, Lazrael? What—"

Before he could finish, Glauk struck Eliael at the back of the head with the middle of his hand, knocking him unconscious. Eliael collapsed at Lazrael's feet, his eyes closing as the light of life slowly dimmed from them. Lazrael looked down at the boy for a long moment, then turned his eyes once more toward Bakabali.

"I don't know what calculations you've been working on, Eliael," he said quietly, "but Bakabali won't awaken for quite some time."

He looked down again at the fallen youth.

"I'm sorry," Lazrael murmured, then began walking toward the door.

Glauk watched him leave, his face expressionless, unmoving.

The "servant" stopped before the door and said,

"It's your turn now, Glauk. You have your part to play," Lazrael said, opening the door and stepping out of the laboratory, leaving the human alone with Eliael's motionless body and Bakabali, still waiting to blossom into his destined fate...