The night after.
Uriel's naked body bathed under the shower, pushing his long hair back behind his eyes while the hot water splashed his pretty face. Opening his bright blue eyes, the Prince sighed—pupils reflecting the past.
'Keres Illustrious. We assumed Alora's father had run off since he managed to escape the mandatory recording of his identification in the archives. Instead, he escaped to Helenheim and joined to work for the Deserters as an assassin. And even crazier, he doesn't possess a normal Predestined Power. This man was somehow bestowed with an abnormal curse ironically named Blessed Freedom. This all began because Apollo Moloch was puppeteering everything behind the scenes. He hired Keres as a proxy, the latter formulated a plan, and he executed said plan. Just because it involved a few countless innocent lives didn't matter. To him, at least. These people are less than human. How could they take lives so easily? It doesn't make any sense… I don't understand how monsters like that can exist.'
He threw his head to the floor, wide blue eyes reflecting the marbled ground beneath him. Those bloody images streamed through his head. Keres killed those undeserving. Compared to himself, he was nothing more than a monster. The Prince shook his head and stood upright, rubbing his shoulder, extending his hand to switch off the shower. Walking out the curtains with a towel wrapped around his waist, Uriel exited his bathroom and sat on his bed.
'I need to make sense of myself. What's right and wrong is starting to blur. That isn't supposed to happen. I need help. I need—'
"Attention! All Syndicate personnel report to Headquarters for immediate deployment!"
'I need Talen.'
In retrospect, maybe he was wrong to choose Amit of all people. The Unconquerable boy was his best friend. Asking him for advice about a terrible sin would have always led to disaster. In the end, the Prince appeared at the end of the corridor, intruding on Talen's stroll.
"What is the truth? Does your strength define you or do you define your strength? Who is the superior in your relation with the Unconquerable?"
Talen couldn't understand. "What're you talking about? Is something wrong? What happened?!" he yelled, grabbing his friend by the arms.
Uri stepped away from his grip, dejectedly looking away. "If I had your power, perhaps I could change something. For a tiny amount of time, I thought everything was changing, but it's not. It saddens me. Everything and everyone around us is nothing more than puppets. They should all perish. You agree with me, don't you, Talen?"
The truth behind his words was beyond his friend's capabilities. He was arrogant to believe he could ever help him. Talen objected loudly, grabbing his best friend by the collar and violently shaking him as he spoke about his sister. But it was meaningless. By the time he'd finished screaming, the memories finished replaying through his head as Barron's hand pushed Amit away.
Then again, he couldn't give up so easily. Talen Amit wasn't just his friend. If he hadn't appeared beside him to begin with, he might not have made any friends at all. But that black-haired youth stood with him regardless.
"If I had your powers, I could make it happen. I could ensure justice was served without spilling any more blood. After all, that's the dream both of us shared. Right… Talen?"
Amit stopped. 'The dream both of us shared.' It was a mere coincidence Tony turned the corner, spotting his friend's discolored hair with a wide smile. His soft voice informed them about a new assignment but the two boys were elsewhere. The Prince focused on the Head's orders while Talen's eyes were trained on his friend.
'What the hell was he talking about? Did something happen with Uri yesterday? I don't understand. He said the 'dream both of us shared' but I didn't even… I didn't think he remembered that. It was so long ago. Though, he could mean a ton of different things just from that alone.' He started walking behind his friends with both hands pocketed. 'Uri isn't the type of person to say things without meaning. He may not say it directly but it's clear he's suffering from something. What though? What exactly is Uriel planning?'
One day later. Evening.
After Uriel's demise, Talen sat on the steps of his family home's porch—palm sunk into his cheek. Eros exited the house with one hand pocketed, tilting his head.
Eros looked down at him. "Why did you resign?" He asked, slowly averting his gaze.
Talen's head raised as he sighed. "Is that a serious question?"
"No… you're right. I'm sorry." He sat beside his son on the steps. "This isn't your fault, you know? There was nothing you could've done. The order shouldn't even have gone to you guys. If anything, it should've gone to me."
The boy shook his head. "No, it shouldn't have. Uriel died. We were powerless. That's all there is to it. But I can't accept that. If I'm going to watch my friends die before my eyes, I'd rather have it be my fault and nobody else. That way, I won't have anyone else to blame but me." Talen stood up. "Hate me. Resent me. Blame me. It doesn't matter. Goodbye, father."
Eros turned his head, noticing his son wasn't beside him anymore, quickly realizing he'd warped away. He dug through his pockets and found a cigarette, quickly putting it in his mouth and lighting the exposed rear. The smoke flew out his mouth as he exhaled only once. Peering at the sun lowering from the heavens and sinking into the horizon, he sighed.
"What a day…"
Later that night.
Atlas returned to the scene of the crime. He was unfortunately met with nothing but ruins and dried blood. The schemer sighed, scanning his surroundings before dangling his hand over his coat and withdrawing his cane.
"I didn't think he'd take the Prince's body so quickly. Then again, that's alright. I always have contingencies," he said, fully unsheathing his misty blackened sword.
The long-haired man raised his blade, covering half of his face with the sharpness down the middle. Sharply, he inhaled; his weapon's darkness fully enveloped him in a cocoon of shade. The crevice transcended space, instantly warping both Atlas and the shell surrounding him to his desired location.
Once the exterior broke down, the mastermind stepped out with the sword in hand, quickly pushing it back into the cane. He sighed.
"You're making me go and work for this, aren't you… Uriel?"
Atlas stopped before the dear Prince's tomb, smirking. He turned around but briefly, gawking at the massive palace overlooking the abandoned graveyard. Looking back at Barron, he chuckled and tightened his grip around the cane.
"Ah, I understand. Do you think it was gratuitous for me to sheathe it when I arrived just so I could unsheathe it now? You see, Uriel, whenever I put the sword back in its cover, it recharges the Fate used when I withdraw it. By the time I take it out again, it's—" Atlas unsheathed his trusty sword, the black aura surrounding it contorting violently. "—already rejuvenated. Awaken, Chaos."
The spirit within the sword disconnected from the vessel, hovering behind its black-haired master. Atlas grinned.
"Each wielder of the Unconquerable technique is granted a contract with a specific celestial being that feeds on the fears of humanity. Chaos is empowered by all things opposite from order. Massacres, war, simple battles. Anything involving violence makes my Chaos even more powerful. Even near graveyards, depending on the way someone dies, Chaos can take the remnants of their Fate and give them to me instead. For example, if I hadn't killed you by slicing you down the middle, perhaps I wouldn't have the power to do this. But I did and so, I do. You will be a useful pawn. Oh… and thank you for getting along... with my grandson."
'Original Unconquerable - Necromancer.'
…
Even as the sun sets over the horizon, light doesn't fade. Instead, it's replaced by the moon's brightness, blessing everyone and everything with blinding irradiance. If you asked the Prince though, he'd think it were the same. His stark naked form stood atop the palace, bathing in the moonlight with both arms extended and snowy hair flowing. There was nothing comparable to this moment. The view from the height he stood atop—the numerous lights, the vast green beyond it, and the tall mountains across. It all made for the perfect scenery. Reflected in his baby-blue eyes, the Prince's pupils shimmered, and as he stepped forward, he could only smile.
The Capital kingdom. Barronia. A place that, on the surface, seemed perfect. Yet, it was crawling with filth and monsters hidden by human skin. Of course, he couldn't forget. The truth of this world and perhaps all others besides it—was violence. Though he despised it from the depths of his soul, it mattered not. For the sake of a better tomorrow, for the sake of everyone else, it had to be done.
Instantly, Uriel vanished; reappearing inside Syndicate headquarters fully clothed. Aura slowly enveloped his risen hand, bursting around the area and condensing these hidden whereabouts. The pressure was all too familiar. Everyone immediately dropped their belongings and ran to the hallway, stunned at the sight of the resurrected Prince with one raised hand and white glowing hair.
Upon lowering his hand, numerous Syndicate agents had surrounded him, leaving Uriel isolated with a mischievous grin. The Prince scanned them all and sharply inhaled.
"Thank you all for arriving when I summoned you. From this day forward, I will be secretly controlling the Syndicate of Dictation. You see, I wish to rebel against the Crown because this kingdom is corrupt! People are slaughtered like animals or treated like monsters just because they can do something different. But the King in his castle does nothing about that! No more! I will personally prepare a plan of retaliation and, over the coming years, begin my rebellion one step at a time. If you have any objections—" Uriel snapped, revealing the numerous Angels stationed above the crowd. "—I will kill you. You cannot reject it. This is an order coming directly from the New Head of the Syndicate of Dictation. You will obey me. Now, let's begin… shall we?"
'I don't like monsters. That's the truth I chose.'
Origins arc - Fin.