Freedom Through Death

 

POV Exqua

Exqua grew up in the backstreets of society, of the Central Kindom. He was part of a large family, with seven brothers sisters. His father was fighting in the Civil War, on the side of the revolutionaries, against the King of the Central Continent. They were expecting no help from the other continents. Central was connected to all other continents aside from East, which was an island, so it was an important aspect of Erisen, but whoever made a move on Central would automatically incur the wrath of the other three continents.

 

He was ten years old, the second youngest of his siblings. The war had pushed them to the side, and they were hungry, starving, and homeless, sticking with the flood of refugees that was growing at a rapid pace as it streamed west, towards the enemy nation, hoping the King would take pity on them. Every day was a struggle for the young boy. His name? He had none. If his mother, who was terminally ill, had ever given him one, he had long forgotten it. So he always went only by Nameless. He and his older brother always went out to scavenge for food, whether it be raw animal organs or the corpses of other refugees, rich with flies and maggots. There were often others there, and that was where Exqua discovered his talent for fighting. He would beat the living crap out of anyone who dared to touch their food, while his older brother tried to calm him down. Yeah, his older brother. His older brother was the world to him. The other siblings were all too young or too ill or on the brink of death, but he and his brother were the pillars supporting their family. He had a warm smile, and kind blue eyes, the same as his father, and he always spoke with a soft, soothing voice. Of course, they could never have known that their father, half a year ago, had been killed on the battlefield before he even clashed weapons with a royal soldier. They charged the Royal guns with their crude, scavenged and deactivated chronatech weapons, and were torn to pieces by the onslaught of lasers and railguns.

 

He hated violence and always berated Nameless for his violence, but then Nameless would smile sweetly and hand him the bloody liver of a pig, and then his brother would laugh and forget his anger. He was cold, hungry, diseased and malnourished. But his brother was there and he was happy. And then one day, Nameless's action brought on repercussions. A large group of people came together and plotted revenge. The third youngest, at nine, was also strong enough to walk around, but was in charge of nursing the other children. But one day he suddenly also fell ill, and Nameless's brother was forced to stay behind. By the time Nameless returned with his freshly gathered food, the spot where he lived was a sea of flames.

 

He screamed his hearts out that day. He screamed until his throat was tearing apart, and he leapt into the fire and rampaged through the falling cinders and planks of their makeshift shelter, fumbling around at the metal supports they had scavenged from the dump of an abandoned chronatech factory. But there was nothing. Tears streamed down his cheeks until his face burned, and the fire grew as the murdered threw torches into the inferno, bellowing taunts and chants as the smoke rose into the sky. And they all froze, one by one. Because through the black smoke, through the red flames - the nameless boy stood up in the fire.

"You," he croaked. "Will pay."
Any refugees who may have survived that day were all reduced to snivelling, shivering husks, who gabbled about a demon descended from hell. Because to onlookers that was exactly what it looked like. A demon. Half on fire, his skin peeling off in the heat, blood streaming from his eyes mixed with tears. Armed with nothing but his nails and his fingers, he was tearing grown men apart like rag dolls. Some came at him with tools, and struck his head and his body, but he didn’t back down. Every time he was knocked down, he stood back up. And he didn’t rest until he'd massacred over two hundred people by himself. The flames died out. His body was charred, blackened and burnt, and half of his skins was gone, replaced by a fleshy, dry, black layer. He stumbled on through the night, alone, half-dead, aimlessly, his mind broken.

 

It was two days after his rampage that the Third and youngest prince of Central, Pharolen Von Arxenoir, committed a brutal war crime against the refugee camp, and massacred all 100,000 people in the group. As he burned and slaughtered his way through the screaming, fleeing, skeletal figures, riding atop his chrona-powered mechanical steed, that he and Nameless locked eyes for the first time. The only one, body half burned, one eye glassy and lifeless, the other having disappeared into his cracked and deformed face. Practically a walking, living corpse of a boy. And that boy alone was advancing towards Pharolen' s legion. One soldier saw him, and spat in disgust. He slotted his chrona rifle onto the slot on his back and drew his chronablade, twirling it playfully between his fingers as the half-dead boy wobbled towards him. Then suddenly, the little monster rushed towards him at frightening speed. Surprised, he slashed the weapon in a wide arc, cutting straight through the arm which had pulled a knife out of nowhere, and the tearing open his chest. The other hand jerked up towards the soldier's neck but he cut off that hand too. Expecting it to be over, he lowered the sword, but the boy roared and leapt into his neck, sinking his teeth into the man's throat. He tried to scream, but it was far too late. And nameless tore his windpipe right out of his neck.

"Fascinating," Pharolen said, as his soldiers backed up a little. "Fascinating indeed."
He dismounted, ignoring the warnings of his soldiers. The boy, blood running down his chin and neck, snarled at him like a rabid beast, and charged. Pharolen raised his pistol and blew a hole in his head, and Nameless dropped to the ground.

 

His eyes opened. Where was he? Heaven? He wasn't ready yet. No… this couldn’t be how it ended. If anything… if anything, just for another chance.

"Awake?" said a voice, jarring him back to reality.

Nameless rolled off the medical table and collapsed to the ground, breathing hard. Breathing. His lungs felt powerful and full of air, and he flexed his fingers in front of his eyes. There were no longer cracked and blackened. He felt his forehead. No hole.

"I've put your body back together," Pharolen said, walking round his new experiment. "Cell by cell."
"Wha…" Nameless found his voice. "Why? Why did you… save me… after killing me…?"

Pharolen extended his hand to the gasping Nameless.

"Work for me," Pharolen said. "Prove to me that you can be useful."
Nameless didn’t need to think. The Prince who massacred the refugees before him, that was fighting the revolutionaries. The monster. He looked like a god right now. A god reaching out to him, bestowing upon him power. Yes, power. He needed power.

"I will," he panted, drawing himself up onto one knee and kneeling, bowing his head. "I will serve you until the end of time."

"Very well," Pharolen replied. "Then I will bestow upon you, the name Exqua. Train yourself in combat. Put yourself through trial after trial. Go through hell and back again. And then, succeed in my trial, and claim the position of 001."

"Yes."

"Do not fail me."

"Yes."

"You will hide your relation to me as well as possible. And you act as though you despise me with all your being. And you will claim the seat of 001 using you hate for me as an excuse to annihilate the enemy."

"Yes, my lord. I will do anything."

 

POV Pharolen

Fifteen years passed. Present day, Pharolen leaned back in his chair, behind his mahogany desk, his mask over his eyes.

"…so that's what happened, to you, Exqua," he muttered through his lips. "It seems as though… you were a waste."

But then he laughed. His true laugh. A laugh that made you feel like your spine was drawing itself out of your neck, and made your knees lose your strength and collapse to the ground, shitting yourself all the while.

"No, I shouldn’t say that! Thanks to you, I found the people I'm looking for!!! 001, 002, 005, all of YOU!! YOU are the ones who I will use to break this fucking world in half. Watch me brother, father, you detestable bullshitting nobles from the other continents. Watch me. I will shatter the thrones your sit your fat asses upon and tear down your castles around you. I will show you what true, raw, POWER is."
He paused to breathe, and wiped the sweat off his face.

"Ardior," he called.

The chief instructor was at his side in an instant.

"Get ready for G3."

"Yes, my lord."
"Ah, and that kid, Exqua. No, the corpse of the useless plaything that followed me around hilariously like a fucking dog or what."
"Yes?"

"Let him have his freedom," Pharolen said. "What I lose, I can find again. My status, my power, my crown. But what I throw away, what I discard to the side, I will never glance back upon again. How ironic. To think the dog that wanted anything but freedom would end up getting it, and the ones who desire freedom the most would be pushed even further into the cave, away from the light. Ah but of course. Freedom through death. And in case you didn’t understand my metaphorical genius, I meant dispose of his stinkin' corpse."

"…yes my lord."

 

POV Sword

The mission ended a day later, with no further incidents. Vix and Akove, the other main figures under the late Exqua, recovered and stopped their attacks. In total, there were only a little over a hundred people left in the whole cave. We'd wiped out almost seven hundred people by ourselves.

"In total," the Administrator said, "You killed 682 people. So You'll have 11 hours and 22 minutes outside."

I guess I didn't know what to think. We were led by an Instructor through a  passageway, then he pushed open a heavy metal door and we were instantly hit with a stun grenade. I guess we should've expected that. I was instantly blinded by the rays of the sun burning into my eyeballs, and a forgotten glow and warmth fell upon my face. Holding my hand to my face, I step forwards. Into the outside world for the first time in a year.

 

By the time we're barely accustomed to the sunlight, almost half the time has passed. And for the first time I realize were the cave that we're in is. It's a volcano, the top part sealed with rock, leaving behind a giant hollow inside that is the Facility. It's a brilliant place to hide something like this. And now, we're standing on a ledge that overlooks the whole mountain range it stands in. The sun is beginning to set, casting a beautiful, golden glow across the rolling mountains beneath us. Vix stands next to me, as we had brought him out of the cave with us, and Neo on my other side, and all twenty or so of us stand and watch the sun we had longed for set behind the mountains.

 

We have barely an hour left of our time outside, and night has fallen. Erisen's twelve moons have appeared, one giant one surrounded by eleven smaller ones in a crescent shape around it.

"Today would be the day we have the semi-annual Moonlight Festival, back in the Northern regions," I tell Elemental, who's standing next to me, his arm in a sling. "Didn't you say you came from the Northern Regions?"

"I did," he nods. "I… moved there from where I was born. There, you could only see one moon."
"Only one?"

"Yeah."
I have no idea what to say. I rack my brains and try to figure out where on Erisen you can see only one moon. At the least you see three moons. At the most you see all twelve. Where can you see one, singular moon?

 

"I want to thank you," Vix said. "I didn't think I'd get to see the sun again. Not after getting beaten by you."

"Well, enjoy it while you can," I say. "Any minute now the Administrator will pull as back in."
As if on cue, an instructor opens the iron door again and motions at us to get back in. The dream is over.

"Back to training again, I guess," I sigh, turning away from Vix. "Come on. You can stay with us if you like."

No answer.

"Vix?"

He's still standing on the edge.

"Hey, snap out of it. You'll get left behind."
He turns, and gives me a warm, sad smile.

"Once again… I'd like to thank you," Vix said. "For giving me the chance to see the sun and the stars one last time."

"What?"

"My family lives in the East," he tells. "Tell them that their son said hello."

Then he lifts his foot forward and steps on nothing. I can only stare as Vix steps off the ledge and disappears over the edge.

"Wha-"

I start to run after him, but Elemental grabs my shoulder and shakes his head.

"Freedom through death," he says simply.

 

POV Artee

"Nyx, aren’t you going to write another diary?"

"Find me a notebook first," she sighed, collapsing onto her bunk. "And even if you do I'm not going to."
"Why?"

"It's… pointless. What'll there be to write about anyway?"
Artee sighed. She had just lost all her momentum for writing a diary after the last one had turned into ashes. Just the other day she was going on about how she was going to publish it and get famous, and then she had hit Chris for telling her she'd get us all arrested instantly.

"I actually do have a spare notebook," he told her.

"I said I'm not going to write," she said, sitting back up and pushing herself against the wall of the Pod, so she was sitting cross legged on the bunk with the wall behind her back. "You can, if you want. No one's stopping you."

Artee shrugged. Sword, who had been listening in, said that Artee should just stick to healing so he punched him on the nose.

"Why not?" he said. "Never know when some person two hundred years in the future will look at my… memoirs and think about how shitty a life we've had."

"Go ahead then," Nyx smiled. "I'll help you out. You have to keep until we earn our freedom, though."
"Freedom? Never."
"When we get out of training."
"Alright."

 

Season 1 End

Thank you for all the support so far!

Season 2 will follow right after with no break!