Chương 10: Chapter 9: The First Act of Rebellion

A clean escape. Torin looked over his shoulder. For the first time all day, he could finally relax. No one was coming for him. No one even knew to come for him. He'd gotten away with at least this much. The moment he had the chance, Torin donned his new outfit. The trousers and shirt were a tinge too tight against his muscles, but the studded leather vest hung loosely enough. Where will I go now? As much as Torin wanted to move into another phase for an escape, it was well past dark.

Patrols were far thicker at night, above and below. Already, small patrol skyships curved around the sky, directional lanterns scanning neighborhoods randomly. For now, at least, Torin could go anywhere below the State District without scrutiny. Medallion or not, no one batted an eye at a Hawk wandering about. That much gave him protection. But his body already craved sleep. Torin had been locked into an agrarian schedule for longer than he could remember. Going back to Cornelius's manse was not an option.

Regardless of how he might respond to him missing, Torin couldn't assume the risk of spending the night there. The State's investigation would be tireless, and he might wake up to Hawks kicking down the door like they had for the cobbler. No, Torin needed somewhere else to go. But where? His answer stretched above all else, at the center of the Residential District, a dark monolith standing against flame-lit smog. The statue of Markus Augorus Septyn beckoned Torin to come.

A knot formed in his chest as he thought it through. Yes, there would be no better hiding spot. No one else dared to go near the statue at night. Not when its scaffolding could fail at any moment. The statue also stood in the center of a giant plaza, fenced off from public view while renovations continued. As long as Torin cleared whatever patrol hung along the exterior, he would have the privacy to rest and relax. After a long sigh, Torin marched to his next destination. * Stillness hung over the plaza.

It was strange to be here. During the day, hundreds of laborers rushed about, carting supplies for their companions to use. Some scrambled around the scaffolding as they reinforced sections or tied new lines. Others remained trapped on harnesses, hammering assiduously to shave precious minutes off the project's completion. The work moved at a constant, breakneck pace, if for no reason other than to leave it behind as quickly as possible. Now? Removed from the light of day, the statue became a dark monolith.

Canvases flapped in a low breeze. Ash fell from the sky in clumps. The scaffolding twisted off the main body at crooked angles, jutting out like thorns around a mausoleum. The only sound here came from Torin's boots as they crunched through soot like snow. Until another came. Torin's heart skipped a beat as a shadow approached, stepping through the same ash out from the statue's base. Short, stocky, and chiseled like the behemoth behind. Closer still, distant light reflected off his platemail, thick yet unadorned.

Cornelius had come. He looked up at the statue.

"Did you know that when Markus Augorus Septyn began the First Crusade, he was less than thirty years old? No more than a young man with a small army, dreaming about righting the many wrongs that occurred in the centuries before. For all the fables sung about the Age of Heroes, Yertha remained a lawless realm dominated by powerhouses seeking to conquer each other in the post-System chaos.

"None succeeded, however. Not until Markus Augorus Septyn came along. The reason his Crusade flourished while the rest failed is that he understood how to achieve his goals, perhaps better than anyone ever has. The most powerful force in this world is not some overpowered cultivator or an army of zealots. It is a man armed with nothing other than the patience, resolve, aptitude, and willpower to see his vision reached, regardless of the consequences imposed on everyone else.

That is the difference between giving deference to the world order and defying everything it stands for." He grimaced.

"In the end, only the victor may sing his own praise. The rest get lost to history. To think that none of us even know when this damned statue was first raised. The State doesn't bother tracking the years anymore. It doesn't need to. We can only say that this is the Age of the State, you and I found each other during the 137th Crusade, and the 139th is ongoing. Soon, the 139th will end in glorious victory, and the 140th will launch elsewhere. They won't even waste a day.

That is the true legacy left behind by Markus Augorus Septyn. No matter what happens next, his vision for a unified Yertha will never, ever end." Only then did Cornelius look back down.

"I was wondering when you would show up, Torin."

"How did you know I'd be here?"

"There are few places you can go after dark. This was merely the most likely." Torin watched his master closely. Cornelius didn't move a muscle, but he didn't need to, either. He'd shown up in full platemail, his sword sheathed at his side. Those were never brought out for show.

"Look…" Torin started, taking a step forth. Cornelius vanished in an instant. A sharp pain stung Torin in the neck. The world fell away as his eyes traced the length of the statue uncontrollably, rising into the air. Another second, he stared back down, watching a standing, headless corpse a meter below. Only as the world faded to black did Torin realize the corpse belonged to him… He blinked. Cornelius stood in front, unmoved. Torin's neck stung, but his body remained intact. What happened? Cornelius sighed.

"So it is, then. You have unlocked your Trait. The Phoenix is awake." Torin grit his teeth. What did he just do?! Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. As if he could read his mind, Cornelius answered, "I projected a killing intent outward with the plan to cut off your head the moment you took another step. Doing so caused you to see the attack coming, so you withdrew your step before it happened.

This changed the wheels of fate for both of us, and the premonitions altered with it.

"You might have copied [Battle-Sighted] with that unholy power, but I've owned it my whole life. No one understands this Trait better than I." Torin withdrew a step. Cornelius vanished. Again, Torin watched helplessly as his head tumbled from his shoulders. He blinked, back to the present. A dull throb ran through his neck.

"That won't work either," Cornelius said.

"The moment you move in any direction, I will strike you down." He narrowed his gaze.

"Draw your weapon if you have the willpower. You won't be able to flee this encounter." Sweat built, but Torin did what he could, raising his masonry hammer up high.

"You knew," Torin said.

"You always knew."

"I had my suspicions. An entire battalion was dispatched to that hamlet of yours. Far more than should have been needed for a group of unarmed peasants."

"You were there?"

"No, but I know why you were there, Torin. A very long time ago, I belonged to a group called 'the Order of Hidden Blades,' tasked with making you disappear."

"The Order…" Torin repeated, thinking back to Sir Galen's words all those years ago.

"You stood against the State?" He nodded.

"Our goal was to undermine from within. I diverted the Crusade against the Order's headquarters. By positioning myself at the front of the army, I would always be killed first, which let me see the attack coming a week before it happened. The same tactic that worked against rebel forces allowed me to keep out of the Order's path. My superiors were none the wiser to this deception, which was how we succeeded for so long."

"Where are they now?"

"Dead, all dead. I am the only one left. The State found other means to hunt them down. I'm afraid that they found your location through them. The Order did not protect you, Torin. They sold you out for a cleaner death." Beads of sweat built. Torin subconsciously thought of stepping away, but another vision dashed his hopes. Cornelius cut him down again, as promised.

"What's so special about me?" Torin asked.

"Why would the State hunt me? I'd never been outside that place!"

"You have," Cornelius explained.

"You may not remember because you were only a baby, but that home was not your home and your parents were not your parents. It is as I told you the first day we met. You have no parents, Torin." His eyes bulged.

"What?!"

"Every part of your life is a lie built by the Order to keep your Trait hidden from everyone, including yourself. The [Divergent Phoenix] Trait did not come about by natural means. It had to be created, had to be designed. Elements within the State engineered your birth to manufacture this end. They wanted to create the ultimate weapon using the human body." Where is the weapon? Gaius Maro had asked during the memory of his parents' death, and only now did he understand why. Torin was the weapon he wanted.

Again, Torin considered running away from this madness, but the premonitions were unrelenting. Regardless of which direction he considered, Cornelius cut him down without a second thought. Yet as his mind snapped to the present after each death, he faced his mentor standing where he had been left, arms still crossed, as if none of this was happening. The blood rose to Torin's cheeks.

"I don't understand. If you are against the State, then why are you doing this to me?"

"Why?" Cornelius wondered.

"Because you are still too dangerous to be allowed to fall back into the wrong hands. The State is not the repressive bureaucracy you think it is. It's a living organism, feeding off the collective fear and hatred of everyone inside it.

"What you are experiencing now is what I have faced countless times before. Because I am [Battle-Sighted], I have been plagued with seeing the results of every battle before they ever began.

"Do you know what I saw the moment I planned to use my powers against the State? Death. Within days of executing the first move, they would have dispatched hunters to kill me and my family. Those hunters didn't rely on nullium weapons either. The State understood that I had to see my failure happen. I had to experience my death at their hands. Again and again, until I surrendered those revolutionary aspirations altogether. It was only a matter of time before I left the Order on my own.

"That is what is happening to you now, Torin. You are experiencing the results of standing against an enemy more cruel and ruthless than you could ever imagine. Each inescapable death is a reminder of this truth. Nothing is more powerful than the State." The visions increased. Torin felt his body get stabbed, bisected, sliced, decapitated. He would lunge to the side, swing his hammer to counter, kick ash into the air. But just as Cornelius explained, nothing could overtake him as an adversary.

The difference between them was too significant. How could he break out of this loop? His abilities were useless against someone with this power level.

"I'm sorry this has to happen," Cornelius said, now stepping forth.

"I do not relish what I am to do. I can only offer you some semblance of comfort in these final moments. None of this is your fault. You lost only because you never had the opportunity to win." A dozen more deaths flashed before his eyes, each as brutal as the last. Phantom pain roiled through his limbs, the exhaustion of each death rising. I need something… Anything… Torin raised his hammer up, unsure what to do. His eyes scanned madly around the arena for some unexpected advantage. Then, he found one such place.

For half a heartbeat, his mind went empty. Torin launched his hammer with a roar, arms exploding from [Strongarmed]'s enhanced strength. It sailed uselessly over Cornelius's head, striking a pillar behind him. A rope snapped with it. Cornelius watched him closely.

"You've surrendered your weapon." Torin gleamed.

"Have I?" Cornelius said nothing, though a glimmer of respect flecked his brow with Torin's seemingly failed attempt. Behind him, more cables snapped along the scaffolding base, the pillars crumbling in a chain reaction. Cornelius stared onward, unmoved against the growing calamity. As the statue leaned, Torin planned to flee. This time, no premonition followed.

Faster than he would have imagined, the statue of Markus Augorus Septyn collapsed into the ground, enveloping the area Cornelius stood before either could blink. Only by the skin of his teeth did Torin escape. The concussive force of falling boulders sent him tumbling backwards, but none struck him directly. Dust filled his vision soon after, the entire plaza shrouded at once. Torin coughed through the storm. The statue's legs continued to peel apart as more scaffolding broke down. He stared into the distance.

Did it work? A grumble broke out in the center of the mess. Granite cracked as a fist broke through the rubble. Torin gawked. He's still alive?! Barely. As Cornelius climbed out of the debris, only the top half of his body came with him. The bottom had disappeared into a motley of viscera and exposed organs. He studied his mortal injury with a frown. Torin could not move. That had been his final plan, his only plan. He dared not attempt another attack.

Cornelius's eyes drifted back to him, but he no longer had the cold resolution he'd always held. Another emotion seeped into his face, his wrinkled lips contorting into something that Torin had never seen before from him. He smiled.

"Give 'em hell, boy." Then Cornelius Maximus fell limp.