QuiteTheSlacker
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Chapter 81: The Corvid's Talons
🕑 Added 2024-10-03 01:54:27 +0000 UTC“Now, now, Madam Seraphina: Please calm yourself. The Grand General is many things, but even he is not so heartless as to kill a child. She will be safe in the upper layers. As for us… we have much to do. The time has come to realize your most fervent desire.
“Come, our preparations are set. All that’s left is to wait.”
Satanael
———
Xeros
“Are you really going to take her in?” Luxanne asks after accompanying Lilac to the nearest garrison. Now, the two roam the oil-stained streets of the Freedman district.
“But of course,” Xeros replies. “Not a single word of mine was false. Lilac shall be given proper accommodation and then enrolled into the imperial academy. Whether she succeeds, or fails, is entirely dependent on her own motivation. However, I have a feeling that girl will go far; consider it the intuition of an old man.”
All humans are born equal, or so he believes. If one is born with physical disability, then often-times they are instilled with a greater drive to succeed. If they cannot walk, then they sharpen their minds. If they cannot see, then they refine their hearing. Hardship begets desperation. Desperation begets ambition.
And for that reason, children are precious. They are malleable, innocent of the nonsense tout by long corrupted adults. One must remember that beliefs are taught - not ingrained - and the younger the child, the easier it is to instill within them the proper values.
It is a shame Xeros only began training Luxanne at the older age of thirteen. Some less fortunate traits such as compassion remain ever strong in her nature despite the long years they have spent at each other’s side.
Alas, there is no helping it. His relationship with the girl’s mother has always been a strained one. Though once they have shared a common passion, the two have never truly agreed upon the best course of rooting out the nation’s filth.
Her method: coexistence.
His method: extermination.
Xeros still believes her to be foolish, but he cannot deny that the blazing flame within her chest has surged ever more furiously than his own. That flame has been inherited by Luxanne.
Meanwhile, here he remains: carrying on through bitter-cold feelings of spite. If only Luxmi would have been more hardened, more realistic… then he would not have needed to carry this bothersome mantle of Grand General.
But such is life. When there exists none to right man’s wrongs, then you must bring change with your own hands.
“Do you really think one small display of generosity will sway those people to your side?” Luxanne says, attempting her best to hide a scoff.
“That was not my intention,” he says back, chuckling in amusement. “Even the lowest of dregs can cause an inconvenience if given the chance. But what you must know, Luxanne, is that mankind is foolish. They are easily influenced, and while my act shall not garner much support at first, it will do something far more important: and that is to sow a seed of hesitation.
“Whenever the masses are to think of rebellion, they shall harken back to my moment of kindness. They will see mine gentle face, hear the joyous laughter of a child born anew, and the embers of resistance will naturally fade. I do not expect to swathe them to my side; I expect them to falter before they fully commit to their folly. That is enough.”
Luxanne's voice lowers to a hush, and she briefly glances at the Freedman’s residents.
Although the ruler of their nation walks among them, the populace are ignorant of his presence. They rush in and out of the surrounding buildings, all-the-while systematically organizing themselves into an efficient, steady wave atop the pavement. Boots and heels stomp in repetitive beats; they hurry to their appointments with heads low and eyes focusing on the ground. Their dark, leather attire is stained with oily spots, and their skin is dirtier than even the Slum residents, but the people seem oblivious to their current dishevelment.
Or to be more accurate, they simply do not care. Work is their only priority,
Luxanne winces, and Xeros can tell the display unnerves her, but is this not what every nation should strive for? Strict discipline and a steady regime are the core principles of an efficient workforce. Luxury shall only be given to those who deserve it; happiness has to be fought for.
Xeros will not deny their lives can hardly be considered a fulfilling one; however, that is precisely his design. This constant labor is very effective at dulling their resistance. Their minds are preoccupied with endless duties and tasks, and when night falls, they are too weary to think of naught but respite. There is no opportunity for rebellion; all that remains is exhaustion and fatigue.
Even so, they must continue to toil or risk becoming like those a layer below. And after their long years of service, the possibility of a brighter future awaits: all they need is to work harder, to dedicate more of their life, their energy, their every waking moment to furthering the nation’s prosperity.
Hardship must be accompanied by reward. Make the masses forget about the past, and steer their sights only towards the future: that is how one should rule. If only Luxanne would realize this…
“Hm. I have seen enough,” Xeros says, shaking his head. “Let us proceed to the next—”
But before he can finish, a wave of dread washes over him from above. It is a chilling feeling, an impending sense of doom, and as he raises his head, Xeros sees the silhouette of a figure hurtling towards the two from the upper layer. It resembles that of a most familiar woman.
“Is that…?” Luxanne mutters, eyes widening in horror.
Unfortunately, she is correct, and the Grand General curses under his breath. “I expected nothing less from that vile woman. Step aside, Luxanne. I will handle this myself.”
The girl follows his order and retreats a fair distance away. Meanwhile, Xeros raises his hands, and he summons forth a black shade to cover his body.
Soon, sparks of energy crackle in the air, growing in size until it discharges in giant arcs of red lightning that sizzles and sears all within the vicinity. The citizens run away, screaming, as the entire district falls into chaos from the sudden electric maelstrom, but Xeros does not stop. He concentrates the current onto his arms and merges it with the shadow: swirling, condensing, stronger and stronger without restraint.
“I have no fanciful words to give,” he chants. “Bend to my command, now.”
With a pained cry, Xeros launches the energy high into the air. And he stands still, wheezing, as a grotesque manifestation emerges into the world.
It begins with a spurt: a sticky, viscous noise that violates the ears. And there, rising from the thundercloud, is a lump of bubbling flesh. It propagates like swarm, spreading into thin veins and chunks of sinew, before collecting around a slimy, skeletal structure. Black feathers unfurl; ivory bones jut out and form the shape of a hanged claw. Larger it so terribly grows, until the thing takes shape as a pair of monstrous hands: structure neither quite human nor corvid, but a sickly amalgamation in-between.
“Bringing out the talons just for me, eh Xeros?” a voice in the distance shouts. “Ever the charmer you are!”
“Libevich, you truly excel in testing my patience!” he barks. “I have already heard of your stunt over in the Erudite. Consider this your early punishment.”
Xeros takes control over the grotesque appendages as if they are a part of his own body, and he squashes Libevich like a bug. Splat. The woman explodes, organs splattering into a fine liquid and drizzling right over the Grand General—staining his coat in red.
It is not the first time he has had the misfortune of being drenched by her insides. And unfortunately, it shall likely not be the last.
The crushed remnants of her body writhe and squirm on the ground, as if each bit of flesh has a mind of its own. And soon, they gather, climbing atop the other into a misshapen pile and slowly rebuilding itself into the vile form of Libevich.
“Now wasn’t that fun, Xeros?” she slurs, vocal cords still rebuilding.
“No. All you have wrought upon me is frustration,” he says. “As if your tantrum above wasn’t enough, already you insist upon causing another disaster.”
“Aw, don’t scold this old woman too harshly now. Wasn’t it fun to let loose after so long? All you ever do is form that creepy eyeball of yours. Embrace the carnage, Xeros; soak yourself in some blood every once in a while.”
He glares, unamused, and gestures to his body. “As you can see, I am already soaked in blood. Are you satisfied now?”
But the woman feigns innocence and turns her head, whistling like some infantile little child. “Fine, fine, you uptight coot. I didn’t come here to see anyways. Now just where is she…”
Libevich looks around the surroundings with the intensity of a beast, and eventually she spots her quarry in a nearby alleyway. Luxanne attempts to hide out of sight, but even the shadows fail in deterring the woman’s unnatural instinct.
“Luxanne, darling!” she days, beckoning her with a childish wave. “Come here, come here. It’s been much too long since I’ve last seen you. Come give your godmother a hug!”
