Sinful Blade: Part Six
“Good to see you again, Ælfgifu. I wish it were somewhere queter, but it seems we’re destined to meet only in the most…ahem…lively situations, aren’t we?” Jude chuckled, extending a hand to the lady who had once saved him, but, now, standing at his side. However, her expression sported none of the sweetness typical of a reunion he half-expected.
“HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NA—” The ’Dust Symphonist’ froze midsentence, then hastily waved both hands in denial. “I mean…ahah…I’ve no idea what you’re talking about! I’m Princess Cassandra, the heroine of our galaxy, not some random student now trapped in some bunker…ahah…ah” She concluded with a couple of nervous laughs.
“Well, your quartz mask is spot-on with the one from the Hydro Show—craggy like a mountain peak and fuchsia like a nebula—but that butterfly shape leaves visible the three scars on your forehead.”
For Princess Cassandra’s outfit, Giulietta Di Mario took inspiration from La Pérégrine, retaining its heeled sabatons and skirt armor. However, instead of the original white color, she chose a combination of pink and violet hues to better showcase the protagonist’s personality—flamboyant by nature, yet unafraid to embrace darker shades when needed. Moreover, believing a helmet too unfeminine, Giulietta replaced it with a butterfly-shaped mask—-similar to the elegant ones worn during the Marian Carnival. It was crafted from one of the crystals she had stolen from her brother Valentino, its facets glimmering like the heart of a meteorite to symbolize space. But why a butterfly? Not even Cassandra’s most devoted fans know the reason behind Giulietta’s decision.
“Damn me and my obsession with the series.” Finally, Ælfgifu removed her mask, revealing her hidden beauty to the stranger. “Well…since I saved your life, may I ask for your sile—wait a minute!” Her spine straightened, eyes widening in disbelief. “That Carbon-Woven Armor…that Gaussbow…” The more she realized the truth, the brighter her expression grew, the dust nestled within her scars glowing hot red with excitement. “Are you—RINALDO?!”
“In truth and in whole,” Jude replied with a gentlemanly bow. “I’m glad to see you’ve completely recovered, and I also like your new haircut. Short hair and sharp eyes really suit you—like a real Valkyrie.” The ’Mafioso’ gave her a thumb-up, while the ’Dust Symphonist’ stood speechless, her amethyst eyes glistening like morning dew.
“You’re here…TO SAME M…I mean—us all again, aren’t you?” Every pore of her skin became the mouth of an erupting volcano. “I CAN HELP!”
“Yeah, that’s the goal,” Jude admitted, feeling the pressure of her unblinking eyes. “That being said, we’re already doing our best. So, by saving me, you’ve already hel—” He was cut off mid-sentence when Ælfgifu threw her arms around him in a warm embrace.
“Waaah! Waaah! Waaah!” Unknowingly, in hugging him, the Marcher Lady had pressed with too much strength, her chest crushing against the small bundle strapped to his chest.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to!” She panicked, each cry from the infant driving the knife of guilt deeper.
“Ælfgifu, give her a little space.” Jude gently took the baby into his arms, culling her while humming a soft lullaby, and, within seconds, the cries faded, leaving the girl staring at him in stunned admiration.
“You’re really good with kids. I’m a little envious…” With one finger, the ’Dust Symphonist’ gently poked the baby’s nose. The little girl immediately giggled, grasping at her hand and playing with her fingers, which made Ælfgifu smile softly. “Ahem…Is she your daughter?”
The ’Mafioso’ quickly shook his head, almost defensively. “No, no. She’s one of the few I managed to save from this hell. Well…if I’m being honest—she’s the only one.” He gasped, tone deflated. ”But I suppose one is still infinitely greater than zero, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…” Ælfgifu’s voice, too, grew quieter. “It doesn’t matter who a person is—rich or poor, ugly or beautiful, Soulful or Essentia, etc.—everyone is still someone important to somebody—just like Ysoline was to me. The thought that there’s even one person who won’t have to suffer like I did…” She placed a hand over her heart, smiling. ”That’s a good feeling.” At that final word, her porcelain cracked—no, it was wrong. Rather, the glue that had held it together lost its grip, and the ’Mafioso’ noticed that.
“Since we’re on the topic,” he asked while subtly opening a [Window]. “Did you ever find the piece of shit who took advantage of your friend?”
“Sadly, no.” She sighed, a bittersweet expression spreading across her face. “I’ve squandered my fortune trying to infiltrate every social circle in the Academy. There, I’ve humiliated myself by laughing at their pettiest jokes, and fought with all my might not to vomit at the filth I’ve uncovered among the so-called nobles…and yet…I’ve found no clue…” She grinned her teeth. ”The bastard who killed Ysoline hasn’t betrayed himself, and, right now, he’s probably laughing at me!” Within the heart of La Marquise de la March, a stew of emotions boiled—a soup of rage seasoned with bitter determination, yet diluted by regret and guilt. ”That’s why I’m here now. To make the Korinthians pay for what they have done, and maybe, if I create enough damage to their army, the bastard will be ordered to kill me, exposing himself.” She firmly declared, first high, but Jude’s attention was focused on something else.
It’s not that much [PublicFavor], but should I waste even a single point on an answer I could get in a couple of weeks? I’ll never reach 999 at this rate.
“So…do you want any help with that?”
”NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Ælfgifu waved both hands in frantic dismissal. “You two must already be busy saving the world. Small problems like mine shouldn’t weigh—oh! Now that I think about it, where’s the other Rinaldo? The one who calls me Elf-GF?”
“Ahem…let’s just say this time we split the job between us.” Jude began to whistle, buying himself a few seconds to think. “Just imagine a narrative arc in a novel—I’m the protagonist in the first half, and he’s the one in the second.” Ælfgifu eagerly nodded, her mind already racing with fan theories about what that plan might be.
“May I help?”
“Yeah, you may help by escorting me to the ’MIMT.’ There is to a tunnel connecting it to the People’s Collegium.”
“I know, that’s how I escaped the bunker and got here,” Ælfgifu revealed, surprising him. “How? The other Rinaldo has spent hours studying the Miraval City maps to find that.”
She smirked, her amethyst eyes gleaming with pride. “Let’s just say each atom is like a different musical instrument, and once they connect, they form a unique orchestra. Hence, everything and everyone has their own personal symphony, and the difference between a normal wall and a teleporting gate is pretty obvious, even for an amateur like me.” Jude whistled in appreciation, clapping his hands as Ælfgifu rejoiced in the praise. “However, I want a favor first.” Her tone softened, almost shy. “Could you…take off…that helmet? I want to see your face!”
Under the helmet, Jude frowned. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but…” He scratched the back of his neck. “That’s beyond my authority.”
“It’s because of the secret organization, right? Then let me join this Original Sin! I want to save the world like you two!”
Fucking Jacques and his damn club. Now I’ve got to crush that sparkle in her eyes before it gets worse.
Desperate for a solution, the ’Mafioso’ fell silent, lost in thought, graying the atmosphere as the ’Dust Symphonist’ fidgeted with her fingers, eagerly waiting for his answer.
“Look, I’m ready to prove my worth,” she insisted. “Just tell me what the plan is about, and I’ll—” Suddenly, Ælfgifu’s spine stiffened, her face paling.
“What’s wrong?” Jude asked.
In reply, she raised her palm and a swirling vortex of red dust formed above it, spinning faster and brighter with each second that passed. “Think of it as an instrument for detecting Radiation. The stronger the threat, the faster and brighter it glows. And right now…” She pointed toward the baby. “Something big is coming, and you can’t fight it with that little girl around. I’ll try to stop whoever’s approaching—can you make it back to base without me?” They stared at each other for a couple of everlasting seconds, then both nodded.
“Stay safe!” He shouted. “Always!” She replied.
Next, the ’Mafioso’ dashed toward the bathroom, disappearing through the mirror-portal, leaving the ’Dust Symphonist’ alone in the gym.
Despite their short reunion, Ælfgifu didn’t waste a second daydreaming about joining the Charming Rinaldo and the Nasty Rinaldo in their so-called secret organization. Instead, La Marquise De La March pointed both index fingers toward the piles of debris and began tracing clockwise circles in the air. The rubble responded, swirling into a vortex that quickly sealed the holes the lizards had torn in the wall. “Now, if the enemy wants to enter, it’ll have to walk through a thousand degrees of hea—”
*KRRAAAK–THUDDD–KSHHHHHHH!*
Ælfgifu hastily raised her head, just in time to see a massive foot descending onto her—hit by the crushing weight of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
*Crack!*
Her high [PER] triggered her reflex, prompting the debris around her to instantly solidify into a concrete shell. It was not enough to completely stop the force attack, but it was enough to spare her life, rolling away the moment it shattered.
“You bad lizard…” Both foes rose to their feet, and La Marquise De La March could finally admire the dinosaur in full, one of the finest examples of the Next-Generation of Sphinxes—the new specimens explicitly genetically engineered for this war.
The creature towered to half the gym’s height, a gigantic lizard that, however, sported an unusual difference from its prehistoric brothers—its scales were of pure titanium, not armor, but a biological exoskeleton as tough as a battleship’s hull. Worst of all, when the beast opened its maw to roar, Ælfgifu caught sight of three concentric rows of fangs—each tooth embedded with a Mana Aggregator.
*VRRRAAAHH-ZZAAAPPPP!*
A blinding red beam erupted from its mouth, scorching a trail across the gym floor, carving molten scars into everything it touched.
“Oh, come on, that’s cheat—” She failed to finish the sentence as the Tyrannosaurus Rex twisted, its massive tail sweeping across the floor and smashing Ælfgifu into the bleachers—a crushing victory for the Sphinx.
During the development of Next-Generation Sphinxes, the Korinthians found themselves trapped in a debate—what does it really mean for a creature to be intelligent? After protracted arguments, the brightest minds of Western Chaotia at least agreed that a reasonable goal for ’perfecting’ intelligence was to design a beast that, given the least informative prompt, would deliver the most lucrative outcome for a specific task—in the Sphinxes’ case, hunt a prey while maximizing terror. The solution turned out to be simpler than they had expected, and it was revealed during a rant by the Black Lion, exhausted by the repeated delays to his perfect plan.
“What’s the clearest sign that we’re in the presence of an intelligent species? Empathy. Yes, that’s it. You know, I’ve traveled the world, met most of the planet’s animals and monsters, and after years of observation, I’ve formed a theory. I’m no scientist, and perhaps what I’m about to say might be incorrect, since it’s based on my imperfect knowledge, but please, listen.
”When I sailed through the Mediterranean Ocean, I admired a pod of orcas hunting a whale—their coordination was so precise it shamed our own Phalanxes. However, despite their efficiency, after hours of pursuit the whale was still alive---all the hunters were still, just watching their prey as it leaked a trail of blood as wide as a Hydroway. At first, I thought the orcas were trying to herd it toward a safe place, but then I heard a sound—eeee-eeeeee-click-click-click-click-whhoooOOOoooo! High-pitched shrills echoed from every orca, followed by frenzied leaps into the crimson sea, and in that moment, I understood everything—they were me, or rather, this was the first time I saw another species as equal to humans. The more the whale suffered, the more blood it shed, the more agony it displayed, the more the orcas rejoiced, singing and dancing, hailing each other for the torment they had inflicted—just as we humans have done with what we consider inferior since the dawn of our species.
“And that’s my theory. The more empathetic a species is—aka, the stronger it can emotionally respond to the suffering of other creatures—the more intelligent it tends to be. Do you want to create the perfect killer? Do you want a new generation of Sphinxes able to operate on their own without constant monitoring and new orders?
MAKE THEM LOVE THEIR JOB!
”
*KRRAAAK–THUDDD–KSHHHHHHH!*
Ælfgifu barely had time to crawl out of the hole she’d made that the Tyrannosaurus Rex was already upon her—jaws fully open, eager to taste the most exquisite fillet of the Auxerine cattle.
”[Overture]!” The ’Dust Symphonist’ wrote the first note of the Requiem. Rocks, debris, and even the mangled metal of the demolished bleachers, all rising into the air to rush in her defense. The fragments first detached into atoms, then fused into an improvised shield that clashed against the monster’s snout—cracks splintered across its surface as soon as the hit struck, but it held, saving her from being devoured.
*KRRAAAK–THUDDD–KSHHHHHHH!*
The Sphinx took the insult personally, and after recoiling from the impact and roaring out all its rage, it charged again.
*THRANG!* *THRANG!* *THRANG!*
Dozens of times, the dinosaur’s metallic jaws smashed into the barrier—each strike echoing like a hammer on a cathedral bell—but each time the shield cracked, new debris rushed in to mend it. Thus, the beast changed its strategy, shifting left and right to rapidly swap its angle of attack, but the levitating shield followed, intercepting every blow until the metallic creature grew exhausted. With no other option left, the Tyrannosaurus Rex opened its maw, summoning its ultimate weapon.
*VRRRAAAHH-ZZAA—
However, as the Laser Ray was half-formed, all the debris of the shield detached, stuffing the inside of his large mouth
*Kaaaaaaa-BOOOOOOOOOOM!*
With its only exit sealed with concrete, the beam detonated inside its own skull—its head consumed in an infernal blaze.
That trihump gave Ælfgifu the momentum she needed, escaping from the cornered position and reclaiming her combat stance—ready for the next stanza of the Requiem. But…“Oh c’mon, you filthy lizard—just stay down!”
It wasn’t the first time a Sphinx had managed to blow itself up, a routine problem that had forced the Korinthian scientists to improve their heat resistance. Therefore, the Tyrannosaurus rex rose again, enraged like never before—a row of three concentric lines of razor teeth beaming red through the black smoke.
“[Crescendo]!” The debris scattered across the gym levitated once more, but this time they did not regroup into a shield. Instead, the fragments formed a raging sandstorm of gray concrete and red brick that engulfed the beast. The monster roared, thrashing wildly as the cloud invaded every orifice—the dust forcing its way into its guts.
*RRRRAAAAHHHHRRRRHHHH!*
Once inside the dinosaur’s body, the storm of particles accelerated, colliding and grinding against one another, over and over again, until the generated heat liquefied the titanium from the inside.
“Now die, you ugly lizar—” Ælfgifu was stopped mid-sentence by a massive and incandescent ball shot through the air toward her, barely twisting aside in time as the burning Mass passed over her shoulder and exploded against the floor behind her. “What the—” She turned back toward the beast, only to meet its wide grin—a row of three concentric lines of razor fangs. “It’s…impossible…”
She was wrong because, like all Next-Generation Sphinxes, the Tyrannosaurus Rex was embedded with an Antimagic Destabilizer, designed to activate upon detecting the specific frequency of an Essentia’s Radiation.
“[Intermezzo]!” Desperate, the ’Dust Symphonist’ unleashed everything she had left, and her dust obeyed without hesitation, solidifying into high-speed bullets, snapping into molten whips, erupting in heated sandstorms. Nevertheless, each strike disintegrated the instant it touched the creature’s metallic skin—the spell’s Mana evaporating on contact.
”It’s…over…” Now powerless, La Marquise de la March could only watch as the colossal dinosaur roared before rushing at her one last time—ready to end both the battle and her life.
*Clang!*
A sharp clang of metal on metal cut through the doomed finale of the ’Dust Symphonist’s’ performance.
*Clang!*
A new instrument joined the orchestra, striking the Tyrannosaurus rex on its left flank.
*Clang!*
Another blade joined from the right, completing.
*Clang!* *Clang!* *Clang!*
The assault intensified into a storm of strikes from above, below, left and right, confusing the beast. It stepped back, snapping its head in all directions in a desperate attempt to catch the flying blade, but they were too fast. Soon, the dinosaur found itself cornered at the far side of the room, trembling as it stared at the knives floating in the air in front of it, while, between it and Ælfgifu, hung irregular strands of violet light, sporting the same hue of her amethyst eyes and the sharp edges of the knives.
“FOUND YOU, YOU NASTY LITTLE GIRL.”
Ælfgifu looked up toward the shattered ceiling. There, standing on the broken roof, was a man with a body as sculpted as a gladiator’s statue, yet sporting a face as weathered and wrinkled as a dried plum.
“Mr…Anhogi,” she murmured.
“YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF MY ABSENCE TO RUN AWAY? YOU—THE REASON THIS DAMN WAR STARTED—HAVE DONE IT AGAIN!” He jabbed his finger at her, shaking it in fury. “I SWEAR ON EVERY COMRADE I’VE LOST THAT YOU ARE GOING TO BE SPANKED A THOUSAND TIMES!” His scream could have shattered crystal, and yet, somehow, the girl didn’t even flinch—her expression hardened and her tone turned deadly serious.
“That’s why I’m here fighting against the Korinthians! People have died because of me—YSOLINE HAS DIED—and I’m going to avenge them, no matter what!” The three scars across her face burned brighter than ever. “You, and no one else, are going to stop me.”
The Sinful Blade whistled, almost proud of his student. “Well, not to ruin your delusion, but if you can’t even kill a Mecha Rex, your chances against the Juggernaut dominating Miraval Lake are—ABSOLUTE ZERO. Even if I had to admit that thing might be an upgraded version of what I fought at Bloodmarch.” He shrugged while Ælfgifu’s fist slammed against the wall in frustration.
“I’ve tried! But how can I fight an enemy I can’t even touch?” She screamed, her determination cracking under the weight of helplessness. “All my [Skills] are being neutralized by something on its skin”
“Ahah! So pathetic—ahahahahah!” Her professor laughed, mercilessly.
“Why are you laughing!?” She shouted, pointing a trembling finger at him like an ace attorney. “You should be terrified knowing the Korinthians have found a way to counter our power!”
“Little girl—you’re a damn Class S! You’re a goddess, blessed by Adam and the Holy Trinity with power beyond the wildest imagination! And yet you’re scared of a lizard just because it’s wearing some fancy tech?” Mr. Anhogi snapped his fingers, and his flying knives returned to his side, freeing the dinosaur.
“Are you insane!?” Ælfgifu froze as the Tyrannosaurus Rex’s glowing red eyes were back on her.
“Since I’m a kind professor, I’ll give you a hint.” The beast took its first thundering step forward. “The Antimagic Destabilizer is ancient tech, dating back to the Ancient Shurapatri. Theoretically, it can erase any spell. However, realistically, it only succeeds with the simplest ones. Why? Because Essentia’s [Skills] are far too complex, and trying to nullify them directly would drain too many resources—the cost to dispel a spell increases cubically with the amount of Mana used to cast it.” The creature roared, shaking the gym’s foundations as it charged. “But, as always, the most complex problems have the simplest solutions. The Shurapatri discovered it was more economical to target something smaller, the thing that guides the whole ship—the Radiation!” The beast was upon her now, jaws winding open as it savored the taste of her fear. “All our [Skills] are embedded with a Radiation called Will. Separate the Will from a [Skill], and it collapses. So, little girl, time for an oral exam—what do you do when fighting an enemy with an Antimagic Destabilizer?”
Ælfgifu smirked, her scars flaring gold. “KICK IT!”
*CRACK!*
The heel of the Dust Symphonist’s sabaton stuck into the Tyrannosaurus’s titanium, folding it like paper beneath her step.
*KRA-THOOM!*
The metallic lizard propelled through the air like a ball at Miramble before smashing into the ground.
“You have to free your mind from outdated concepts of logic,” the ’Sinful Blade’ explained as his student leapt twenty meters into the air. “It’s taller, it’s bigger, and its skin is metal—none of that matters. Adam blessed you with a higher digit in [STR], and that’s what counts.” As he spoke, twin wings of dust blossomed from the Dust Symphonist’s back—butterfly-shaped, like Princess Cassandra’s. “Class S rarely use their [Tree.Skill] because against anything outside fellow gods, it’s a waste of [MP]. Our [Stats.Skills] alone are enough to dominate inferior beings.” The wings lasted only an instant, long enough for her to swing them down and propel herself straight into the Sphinx.
*KRUNCHK!*
Her sabaton heel pierced the titanium skull, and when her foot followed through, the whole head splattered like an egg.
“Congratulations, little squirrel. You just passed grade one of your training—thirty-six more to go. Now let’s head back.”
“No,” she barked, eyes blazing. “Now I know how to use my powers—IT’S TIME TO MAKE THE ENEMIES PAY WITH THEIR BLOOD.”
“I like the spirit—very patriotic,” he declared, amusement in his tone. “So, how about a little deal?”
***
“It seems this place hasn’t seen fresh sunlight in decades,” Ælfgifu declared after staring at the spiked-silk drapes that shrouded the barred windows, and the dunes of dust coated what remained of the wooden furniture that once decorated the atrium.
“From what I’ve heard, this used to be a little church founded by the first immigrant shipment to Miraval City—the Saint Bramwell Church.” The professor pointed toward a large copper washbasin by the door. “Steelworkers used it to wash before Mass. Incredible it wasn’t looted– we should thank the dust.”
“Are we here for a history lesson or to kill some Korinthians?” She complained, scanning the desolate hall for any sign of military gear.
“I told you that I saw a squad of Kataphracts patrolling nearby while I was looking for you.” He pushed open the door leading into the church aisle. “So, let’s try inside.” The ’Dust Symphonist ’nodded, and whatever fear she’d had about not finding the Korinthian officer his professor had promised her to kill evaporated the moment they crossed the threshold.
Churches of the Trinitarian Faith varied in aesthetics according to their geographical location, but their blueprints were the same—long vertical aisles converging at the center where the altar stood, where the priest celebrated Mass. It was there, at the altar, that Mr. Anhogi and Ælfgifu spotted their target—on his knees, hands clasped, and head bowed, praying to a whitened painting of the ’Romantic Dreamer.’
“That blue armor…how do we know he’s an officer and not just a common soldier?” Ælfgifu asked.
“That massive blue armor is worn only by the Loyal Knights of Heroine Korinna,” Mr. Anhogi replied, watching the steel plates glitter after being kissed by the colored light from the few still-intact stained glass windows. “That alone makes him a far worthier target than most Korinthians. But look at his cape—purpure. From generals to infantry, the uniforms of the Demmies are always blue. But, the higher one’s rank is, the more purpure decorations one can wear. That cape…he’s a big fish…to big. We should—”
“A Kataphract? So he’s just a Soulful—DIE, BASTARD!” Her professor’s angry shouts failed to stop her. Every broken pew, every shard of glass, and every chunk of stone in the aisle rose and propelled forward—thousands of incandescent projectiles converging on the same target.
*SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAGHHH!*
The acoustics of a church are renowned for amplifying sound, but they also seasoned it with a dark resonance—a ghostly echo that blurred the sound like incense. And for such a guttural scream, the result was the most horrifying sound the ’Dust Symphonist’ had ever heard.
“What…” Of the thousands of bullets she had unleashed, not one struck its target. Each was caught midair by something beyond the realm of plausible. Something had sprouted from beneath the knight’s purpure cape, intercepting every single shot—a tree, a writhing and pulsing mass composed entirely of organs and flesh, featuring hundreds of twisting branches, each riddled with bullet holes that bled streams of blood.
“Oh, fuck…anyone but the H gem n.” The ’Sinful Blade’ instantly materialized his thirty-six knives, each spinning in orbit around both to deflect the volley of bloodied projectiles ejected by the fleshy abomination.
“Did you know…” the Korinna’s Knight began, voice calm, almost motherly. “That committing violence in a holy place is one of the gravest sins imaginable?” He finished his prayer with the Sign of the Holy Trinity and rose to his feet. “I was always aware that the Reactionary pigs were one of the worst kinds of infidels, but never could I have imagined their blasphemy would sink this low.” He turned to face the intruders. However, his smirk remained concealed under his featureless helmet—a smooth surface of blue steel, devoid of eyes, nose, or mouth. “Essentias are not human, but abominations sent by Adam to test our faith—killing you won’t be a favor to anyone except yourself.”
“What…the hell…is that thing…” Ælfgifu’s focus wasn’t stolen by his speech or his uncanny armor, but by the pulsing mass on his left arm—a crimson tumor of muscle and viscera that quivered like a living parasite.
“Oh, you mean my loyal steed?” The fleshy tree’s roots were fused into the knight’s armor, binding metal to meat. However, as the Kataphract snapped his fingers, the writhing mass shrank, squeezing along his arm. “This is thr prize I claimed when I severed the head of the last Hound of Bloodmarch, eight long years ago.” The tumor surged forward, freeing the knight’s arm as its flesh contorted and hardened over his hand. On the flesh mass, veins burst and blood spilled, but the crimson fluid solidified, forming a blade of coagulated hemoglobin that extended the full length of the spine of meat and rage.
“Rougeserker.”
