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Chapter 98: The Star of Insatiable Greed
🕑 Added 2025-01-01 16:38:38 +0000 UTC“Greed and desire are kindred evils: so very alike, yet different in their purpose. While desire thrives in the pursuit of lofty, naive ambitions, greed is malevolent in nature. Greed is for the corrupt. There can be no goodwill in greed, nor can there be salvation for those consumed by it.
“Perhaps that is how that Thing discovered Luxmi. It could not understand her, how one could foster such boundless, pure-hearted desire, and so it sought after what it could never have.
“It tortured her spirit, latched onto her buried sorrows. When she could bear the suffering no more, the Star claimed her everything.”
Grand General Xeros, Ruler of Nox Caelum
———
The Knight
The Knight stares at it, the wall of everything. And for once it knows not what to do—what to say. It tries to speak, but all that comes out is a choked, shaking breath.
A Star has descended.
The wall towers high as a constant reminder of Greed’s authority, of a power hostile to all of Creation. It is different, foreign: an existence rejected by the very foundation of the world… yet here it stands. And the Knight can only look on as despair creeps into its cold heart.
Why… now?
After all these eons, after all Cosmos has sacrificed to hide away her children, why have the Stars appeared now? This prison of humanity has always been destined to be discovered, yet for it be when the Knight has finally resolved itself to raise a successor… there can be no crueler jest than this.
It almost wants to laugh, to reject this bitter reality and recede into the murky oceans of its subconscious. But, nothing would change. Where one Star comes, many more are bound to follow. Soon there will be no corner of the world untainted by their presence; the Knight no longer has the strength to fend them back.
It is too weary, too weak.
All it can do now is mourn what’s to come.
“Lorelai?” a voice says behind it. And the Knight winces, for that name has become so very tiresome.
Ascalon walks over and lingers by its side for an awkward moment. It is a wonder why his voice is still filled with such care after their brief union. Is the man not suspicious, even after looking deep into its fears, its worries, its struggle to maintain this lie? The Knight has glimpsed into his spirit as well, only to find that Ascalon has not changed one bit.
Even now, there is not a single doubt in his heart.
It just… does not understand.
Before it can think any more, Ascalon wraps his arms around its chest and pulls it close. There is no use in resisting; it does not wish to even try. Before his embrace, all its worries seem to fade away.
“We failed, Ascalon,” it says.
“So we did.”
“Xeros is still alive.”
“So he is.”
The Knight falls limp. “Then what do we do now?”
Ascalon stays silent for a moment.
“We do what we are able,” he responds, taking off his helm to reveal a bright smile. His snowy hair and fair skin have long been darkened by grime. Yet, his appearance is as radiant as ever: confident and certain as if to reassure that hope still yet exists.
“... Not the most elaborate of plans, I must say.” And before it realizes a smile has crept onto its face as well. Such simple words, yet there is a strange sense of comfort in them.
“I admit, it is rather plain compared to your usual wit.”
Ascalon takes its hand and entwines it within his own. “But even so, it is inevitable that there are times with no clear answer. You have served as our guide throughout this campaign, leading us to victory even when all seems dire. However, I fear your duty has pressured you with an expectation one can never hope to be: always full of strength, of wisdom—to have a solution whatever come what may. It is impossible to be perfect, my dear. Even the most resolute of hearts shall falter eventually. But when it does, know that there are those who will be beside you. To lend a shoulder no matter the reason.”
The Knight lowers its head. And then, for some peculiar reason, it laughs. The urge bubbles up without warning, but it is not a terrible thing—to feel this light.
Looking at him now, it realizes just how far Ascalon has come. A caged King, one once-so weighed by duty… now free to give scoldings of his own.
“Oh dear, just who did you learn such sharp words from?” it says, giggling without a care.
“From the wisest and most stubborn person I know, of course!” he chuckles. “A burden carried by one will only ever grow worse. You taught me that. Back when I struggled to find myself, when I thought I would have to forever endure my anguish alone, you came before me and showed that there was more to kingship than being strong. It is okay to show weakness. It is okay to share responsibility. A true ruler knows when to rely on their people, and when to rise up in their defense: to serve at times as a sword and others as a companion.”
His memory of their time together is fond, but the Knight cannot look back with the same enthusiasm.
A companion… it seems our roles have reversed. Only, your companionship is genuine.
I was only ever by your side to manipulate you. I whispered words of comfort—stayed close to benefit from your suffering. But in the end, it was not I who caused you to change. It was, and has always been, through your own resolution.
I am not like you, Ascalon.
“How bittersweet,” it whispers. “With your wisdom, soon you will no longer need my council.”
“Oh, I am not quite there just yet,” he says. “I still have a lot to learn from you, my dear. An entire lifetime’s worth of lessons await us yet.”
In the distance, a chorus of shouts alert the two. The earth rumbles in great, mighty tremors as a sea of knights and Polus forces all rush to their ruler’s location. Sarathiel, the Templars—they are all safe, albeit noticeably worn from the battle.
“Ah, it appears fortune still smiles upon us!” Ascalon goes out to meet the others, welcoming them with a wave and a heartfelt shout. “Thank you. Thank you all for your safe return.”
The Templars gather one by one, leading their respective divisions to safety before finally allowing themselves to collapse into a dirty pile on the ground. Some, at least; the less injured of the bunch manage to keep their dignity by remaining on their knees. Joshua is the only one absent.
“This was terrible,” Surasha groans. Her body is practically sinking into the mud, but she doesn’t seem to mind: whether it be out of comfort or sheer exhaustion. “What even happened? I was trying to wake everyone up when… hells, I don’t know. One moment I’m there, and then I’m whisked out here. And then that sinister looking wall popped up out of nowhere.”
Cain replies with a weak, dainty raise of his hand. “A shame to be sure. Before that vile melody, our forces were just about to lay siege to the city’s spiral. If only we had captured it…”
“Now, now, Cain. It is likely for the better,” Abel says beside him. “I warned you against acting so reckless. If you had pursued the legion any farther, there would be none to aid you if the upper layers were to collapse.”
Deborah cackles and falls limp on her greatbow. “We would’ve been fine. Dismas was watching over us, right?”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” Dismas rises up from out of Deborah’s shadow and shakes his head. “What, d’ya think I’m everywhere? Busy enough as is tryin’ to chart the city. The whole place’s designed by a madman—couldn’t go ‘nywhere without circlin’ back to the same path.”
The Templars discuss the siege in depth: building upon prior tactics, reorganizing formations, and creating plans for future attacks. It is odd watching them behave so naturally. After being forced into an audience with a Star, the Knight has expected them to be a bit more hesitant about their current situation.
It is as if they have not seen the Thing in the first place.
The Knight is not alone in its sentiment. Ascalon looks at the others, perplexed, but right before he can raise his voice, Sarathiel interrupts and gestures towards the wall of everything.
“Our first concern should be about what to do with that,” he says. “I was put right next to it, and suffice to say…”
Sarathiel reaches behind his back and pulls out a bizarre axe. Its shape appears similar to those the Throne normally crafts, but the material has been transfigured into an assortment of… nonsense. The blade is made of pulsating flesh, wriggling as if somehow still alive, but the pole is different: clouds, glass, and gnarled roots all conjoining in what should be an impossible sight.
“If you try to touch it, you’ll turn into something like that.” He grimaces and throws the axe away. “Weapons don’t work, and Astrologian spells failed to even blemish the thing. The only of us who might succeed in creating an opening is Ascalon. However, it’s too dangerous. I have a bad feeling about it; the power seems not even from this world.”
“It most likely is not…” Ascalon says, his voice only audible to the Knight. “What the Grand General said back then—could it really be?”
The King quickly turns to face everyone and points his finger above. “Everyone, did you not witness that being in the sky? What of the ground: when it transformed into the sea, to fire, to all manner of absurdities?”
But they only shake their heads, oblivious of Greed’s true appearance.
“No…? Nothing like that,” Surasha says. “I thought it was just another one of Xeros’s powers or something. Are you okay, Ascalon? Were you put under an illusion?”
For a moment, Ascalon appears to wonder the very same himself, but a quick glance towards the Knight affirms otherwise.
“What we saw was real, Ascalon,” it transmits to him. “The others cannot not see it, because they are not capable of comprehending it.”
Now it understands. The people of this age are much different from their ancestors. As the millenia go by, humanity no longer needs a mind capable of withstanding a Star’s true appearance.
The ones still resistant are those furthest away from the standards of man.
“... Let us put aside this matter for a later date,” Ascalon says. “For now, prepare to make camp. We may discuss anew when our minds are much more rested.”
With that, the others each go their separate ways, and a lively mood begins to settle in the air. Officers and knights, healers and Astrologians: the day has been long for everyone, but nonetheless they stroll freely about—confident that their long cherished wish shall soon come. That the Grand General will finally be slain.
And that is something the Knight cannot allow.
Xeros, just what have you done to call forth a Star?
Xeros must not be allowed to die here, or so too will his secrets follow. But will Ascalon spare him? Maybe so if the Knight pleads for it, but the rest of Polus would never accept. No, their grudge is too deep—too far gone the path of forgiveness.
The only way for it to find out the truth… is to say goodbye. To Polus, to its identity as Lorelai—
And to Ascalon. To a love that has left it so, so dizzy, and happy, and precious the likes it will never experience again. And that thought terrifies it more than anything else in the world.
And yet, there is no other way.
Aegis. The child is its only hope of preventing the Stars’ descent. He is humanity’s last hope.
So now is the time to fulfill the Knight’s original goal.
It must take the life of its love, again.
“Lorelai?” Ascalon says. He brings his hand up, and caresses its cheek. Something wet falls atop his fingers, dropping. Flowing without pause.
Tears. These are… my tears.
The Knight’s beloved gently wipes away its tears, and he continues to do so even when its sobs seem never-ending. Ascalon simply stands there, silent, and comforts it as he has always done.
“Ascalon,” it says. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he replies without any hesitation.
“And I shall cherish this love for the rest of my existence, no matter how eternal the time between.”
“And I, the same,” he chuckles. “No, I shall do so even when my body turns to dust, and my bones reduced to ash. I will seek you out no matter the distance, even if it must mean forever wandering the starry skies.”
The two embrace each other once more, but this time the Knight savors every second: every bit of warmth. Every delicate touch. And it locks these feelings away into the farthest depths of its memory.
