Amongst the fiery battlefield where innocents' bodies stood burning and trapped, citizens' moans infecting the heated air, a fight had occurred. Once it ended, however, the unexpected occurred, too. Thought to be a disfigured skeleton after withstanding Katie's transformation, Callum Rivers had mystically reappeared. And he now stood behind Ace Wilder with a blade stuck through the Ginger's back.
"So… you're still alive..?" Ace asked through agonized moans.
"You should be grateful. I'll be the one to properly succeed your bloodline… imposter," Callum's unscathed face queried.
But Ace couldn't take arch a blatant insult sitting down. He pushed his index and middle fingers together, combining energies scattered about the wind to hover above his cuticles. Seconds after having started the process, his right eye manifested a lens flare, and he pointed his fingers over his shoulder. Callum's eyes widened, eyes darting at the crimson sphere afloat over his extremities and then Ace's smug expression.
'Unstoppable Scarlet - Unbridled Divergence.'
The attack was too fast. Not only was the Founder unable to stop time, but his recovery while free falling through the air was interrupted. Seemingly appearing randomly, a slug-like snail monster engulfed the descending usurper before he could collapse. Ace coughed up blood upon uncontrollably kneeling, holding his chest, watching the wound close itself once it properly healed.
"Ace!" distantly yelled a feminine voice.
Seconds before his inevitable crash Young the rubble-littered ground, his body slid into the comforting arms of his beloved black-haired lover: Kima Myers.
"Kimmy…" the wounded ginger moaned.
Remaining motionless in her arms, Divergence's scarlet coloration examined everything. From the darkened clouds of the endless night sky to the unknown silhouettes walking past his field of vision, now protecting damaged Wilder brother.
"Who… who were they?" Ace asked through a cough and more groans.
"Don't ask any more questions!"
Upon a reply that didn't originate from Kim's mouth, Ace turned his head to the source, and funnily enough, there she stood. Holding her sword's snowy sheathe, Katie turned her head to look upon his bloody figure.
"Remember the promise we made three years ago, Ace. We'll get outta this mess… and go back home!!"
Beside his cousin, there was June's flowing white hair. She didn't bother looking back at her sibling. He questioned why, but his face immediately fell upon realizing. Some of his sights had returned but the wounds grew deeper—for all he knew, he had internal bleeding. Kima turned to the Master standing over them.
"Please heal him!" She urged.
Hana instantly complied, taking his body into her arms and invoking her soul's territory a second time. Shielding them in a flowery barrier, while the Master recuperated his life force and reanimated his physical form, Kima watched from within as her lover's family fought for that redheaded rascal.
But while Katie and June intended on battling the resurrected Founder, more ongoing chaos occurred in the distant city not demolished by either Katie's Storm or Alex's transformation.
Having easily sprinted past two soldiers, they hadn't even realized they'd died once the Crow stopped. His Blade dirtied with their blood, the only sound that entered his ears was the satisfying squelch their bodies made upon splashing into gory puddles. Turning his head after raising it to stand up, Azazel removed the mask from his lips and sighed.
"What's wrong with you?" August asked, jumping down an overlooking rooftop to land beside his partner.
"What you said about the Source still bothers me. Why did I ask that—I already knew it and yet, it disgusts me every time you answer me. Why do you answer me when you know I know the truth?" Azazel's rapidly-asked questions culminated in his hands grabbing at the Reaper's suit. "TELL ME!! And don't you dare give me one of those fucking vague irrelevant bullshit answers you give to Ace or June! I'm… different from them… you know I am."
"Because you need to be reminded. As do I. Both of us are terrible people but that does not mean we have to be terrible parents. We don't have to be like our fathers, we don't have to be like our mothers… we can be better. As long as we acknowledge our faults for all their worth, and come to terms with our inner hatred, we'll be able to become the better people we desire to be. That is why I answer you every time you ask a question you already know the answer to," August informed his partner, removing his hands from his clothing.
Stepping back after having his hands removed, Karlo's head fell, looking to the road street.
"Why now of all the times? To be considerate of your children, to think about them in that way… what makes you think about them like that now, to feel responsible when you didn't even do anything wrong in the first place?" Azazel tearfully asked his old friend.
"My father wasn't the best. Inequality in our family does exist. Tormented by the sins of his past, he got to work to have an heir. But, more than anything, he wanted a daughter. He wanted to teach a young girl the ways of pacifism and kindness so they wouldn't have to live in the world he resided within. Unfortunately, after one success, I was a failure at everything. Because I was a boy. At the time he was unaware of his ability to peer into the future, but he knew the burden of a Requiem legacy perpetrated by men. They would be forced to fight. The worst thing about it, though, was the factor that he didn't even consider it. Ben Rivera never considered the probability that I shouldn't have to fight. Instead of being a responsible father and holding the weight of the world's future on his shoulders—not mine. It was pure luck that the world ignited my hatred of oppression, that fateful day I discovered Celine's corpse."
Azazel glared through his spiked hair, turning away from his white-haired friend; August's eyes turning wide, naturally extending his arm to his comrade's back.
"You say you don't want to be like your father, that you don't want to be like your mother but you know you're wrong. More than anyone I know, August, you resemble the Emperor the most. Did you... wish for that to be your fate?" Azazel asked.
August's lips' parting was abnormally gradual than before. A croak of a word exited his mouth, but he tripped over it and returned to silence yet again. Azazel turned around with curious eyes, examing his features with darting eyes.
"I... I didn't. I hated that throne more than anything. Because, for as long as I can remember, I never wanted anything more than to be with the girl I loved. And when that wish wasn't granted, I thought my family was enough to replace her. I don't know when or how, but eventually, this cycle will end. And when it does, I, for one, will be ecstatic to witness the next direction of the New World. Whether or not we resemble our mistaken fathers, it doesn't matter. We could never be their replacements--if anything, we're imposters if we think about them in that way. We can only be the best 'us' we can be, no matter our past, no matter our lineage. Isn't that what I taught you way back when... Azazel?" August said.
The Reaper then granted his friend a shoulder pat with tears in his eyes' corners; lips branding a sad smile. The mention of that past sent timeless memories coursing to Azazel's mind, the forefront, to be accurate.
Carrying August's corpse through the Old World's Texas desert, Azazel bound that vow to his eternal soul. That, no matter where he was, he'd obeyed the contract his spirit was confined to. Then again, being a slave to that fantastical idea--to never look back at his past and make the most of the present, the future. Isn't that what August taught him during that unforgettable time? The days of their youth when they fought for something far fickler than this all-inspiraling chaotic cycle they were caught within.
Unexpectedly, Azazel vented a chuckle. August's calm, closed eyes opened, momentarily expanding as he puzzledly jerked.
"W-what? I didn't say anything corny, did I?!" worriedly asked the Reaper.
Azazel finished his laugh with his hand on the Reaper's shoulder. "No, you didn't. In fact, for the first time in a while, you said something reasonable."
The Detective turned his head toward the distant destroyed battleground, releasing steam to the skies from ongoing fires. "Now we just have to hope those two troublemakers are the same," he said.
"You mean 'three', don't you?" asked August.
The question garnered Karlo's curious head turn accompanied by an upturned eyebrow. "Three? Whaddya mean 'three'?" he asked.
"Well--"
An unnatural sound infiltrated their outer airspace: an imminent whistling. Not only did August's Eternal Sight pick up the unknown factor enter its range but Azazel's ears perked up, courtesy of the impending audio. His hand hovering over the Blade's snowy-tinted cover, the Reaper went for his hood, throwing it over his white strands.
"You hear that?" asked the Crow.
"Yes, get ready," the Reaper replied.
And, as anticipated, what they predicted came to pass. The enemy crashed onto their immediate whereabouts, scattering the differently-shaded duo. The Crow jumped to the right whilst the Reaper leaped leftward respectively. Swatting away the irritating smoke sneaking into their eyes, August's vibrant eyes lit the path forward once his retinas' discolored glow brightened. Once exiting the grey mist, his dramatic coughs halted, and he was left with a disappointed face.
"Heyyy..." August held the word's end. "Didn't Gramps burn you to ashes in the Old World, 'Uncle'?" he asked.
Azazel cut away the smoke prohibiting his vision, now looking upon Captain Azrael's casual stance in the crater's center. Affixing himself into a battle-ready stance, holding his sword overhead, the Crow sharply inhaled.
"I'm surprised you remember, Reaper. And now, the cursed Rivera bloodline ends... with you."
To Be Continued!