"Can a mortal match the power of a Deity?" This is the question I posed to my creator, the Ancient, the morning of the thirty-eighth day in the year one thousand, fifty. Mere moments before, the day's battle brackets were released and Ramza's opponent was someone this question was not wasted on.
"Yes," was his only response. The three of us, the Ancient, Ramza, and I, were in the Ancient's throne room, which was similar to the rest of his home of clouds and ivory. He sat on his gold and silver throne as he looked at his son. "You must use caution."
Ramza was looking out an opening in the wall of clouds, his back to us. He made no indication he'd heard the warning. His father went on.
"He is different from the rest. I cannot get a firm understanding on him. He's holding back much more power than he's shown."
"That means I can let loose more power then I have shown," he said brightly, before flying out the castle through the ceiling. It was rare to see such enthusiasm for battle from the Deity of Unluck, who, for countless millennia, was a pacifist of godly renown. His current attitude towards violence didn't cause me to worry, but I could see how the skin around the eyes of the Ancient crinkle in his son's wake. My creator was a god of infinite patience, but his reaction to Ramza's caviler attitude towards his coming opponent had me doubt, for the first time, the infinite part. This prompted me to ask a second question.
"Is Soul Style truly that great?"
"Willard Drax is the only mortal that comes to mind with the power to rival that of Tier Alpha Ramza. This year, there are more than a couple that could have beaten his former self." The Ancient casually waves a hand, conjuring a vision of the man his son would soon face in combat. The life scale interpretation towered over me forebodingly; I felt a need to take a few wing flutters back from the overwhelming eclipse. Just looking at the being dressed head to toe in a form fitting suit of total midnight sent a shiver through me. The Ancient stood to his full height, walking up to his illusion, the top of his head reached Van Black's chin.
"I don't understand this aura around you," he said absently, like he wasn't talking specifically for me to hear. "Or why I can't see your face."
I got the sense I shouldn't be here for my creator's private musings, so I took my leave. I went the opposite way of Ramza, descending below the cloud floor. Hundreds of feet below was a cloud bank and thousands of feet below that, the Pinewhite Wood. A forest of trees with needles and bark the color of the snows of Ja'ir, stretched for over four hundred miles to the Bay of Marshmallows. The pine needles shifted colors as the violet light of the Papuru star struck them at angles I witness in my flight over.
My thoughts drift to Van Black and how the Ancient couldn't even view his face. What did that mean? Was he faceless? Or did he mean on a more spiritual level? My creator being unable to understand a mortal made me uneasy as I head north at a modest clip. I could cover about sixty miles in forty-five minutes, getting home in time to watch my friend's battle with my wife, who was now a fan.
I had been gone for days on an adventure with a Taurus friend of Ramza and I and had ran out of pixie dust, thus no instantaneous transport. We had gotten lost in the Mines That Glitter searching for a special ingredient my Taurus friend needed for a sculpture he was constructing; no surprise, it was of Ramza. The seeking of the moonrock he wanted led to many dangers; a cave in, gas that made one hallucinate they were amphibious, even moss which spores could turn a person into moss if exposed. These incidents left me to take the long way home, giving me alone time with my thoughts.
My recent adventure and the unease of my feelings, brought, unabated, long past memories to keep me company for the journey home. Two hundred years after the 'Arrival', Ramza and I went to visit my aforementioned Taurus friend, whose name is Kimukor. The half man, half horse people like living in nature; open areas with little to no shelter. The Avondala Taurus roam the Foldham Plains lush green and white grass fields, feeding on the fruits of the many trees. Kimukor shares our sense of adventure and the three of us went out in search of one.
Since Kimukor had no experience off world, Ramza had decided we would go to one of the planets nearby. At certain times of the year, Pia can be seen with the naked eye from our world and Kimukor had always been curious about the celestial body relatively new in the second sky. A sprinkling of pixie dust took the three of us there; another, temporarily changed our forms to better fit in with the mortals.
Ramza's look was that of a Pian. strong of body, with flowing black hair, while I became his pet crow, always perched on his shoulder; Kimukor, his sawhorse. We were posing as members of the Traveler's Church, a religious sect comprised of roaming clergymen. They can be found on most planets, so we weren't seen as too uncommon. We lived this way for twenty-seven years, helping those in need with the wealth provided by generous Pian donors for this very purpose, or offering Ramza's services as a handyman.
It was on the eigth hundredth day that we met elderly married couple Ackbur and Reah Calamoor, farmers living in the Kingslands. Ackbur needed help cultivating the ground to attract the midotortoise, who lay their eggs in cold soil. The egg shells of newly hatched midotortoise can be grounded up and used as a spice, which the elderly couple were hoping to sell to save their farm from a greedy baron. Ramza, as per his nature, gave a helping hand by drawing the heat stored in the farmland into himself, making it perfect for the midotortoise needs. The couple was surprised at the number of amber shelled animals that crawled onto their property. The narrow beaked creatures could somehow sense the perfect incubator for miles around and soon after many, many eggs had been laid.
"The Godly Union shines on you this day and the days to come," my friend said, referring to the married gods of the Traveler's Church religion. "My prayers have been answered, so I leave you in better care then when I found you," was the customary parting words he spoke a few days later as we rode off into the sunset.
"The herd ate all our remaining crops," I heard the husband say to his wife. "Will the shells be enough," was her reply. It must have been, for the man began to cry with joy.
Ramza loved helping those in need anonymously. Being a deity of high virtue, he never needed nor wanted thanks and never seemed to mind other gods taking the credit for his work. For all we knew, the Godly Union could be behind the creation of the Papuru Galaxy and thus responsible for Ramza being here to help those he never would have met otherwise. So, them getting the worship of those we help was an adequate sacrifice. This attitude was a first for me, all those millennia back, when I first met the Deity of Unluck.
I was used to the Ancient's jealous nature when it came to worship. His son revealed to me that gods can be 'down to Oym' as the old saying goes, helping those with his actions. The first time I met him, he was helping a Gnimini family move into a new mountain home. The first time I saw him really argue with his father was the inauguration of the Coalition Carnage Competition. And the first time I ever saw my friend go all out in battle to help the helpless, was in that very competition, a hundred years later, against the Death Hand, Van Black.
During the 100th Coalition Carnage, when he was standing a foot from the masked Superstar in the midst of the dilapidated scenery of the Underbay, my friend was not smiling. My wife, Lorix, who sat beside me on our leaf during the broadcast, was shocked to see Ramza without the mega smile he usually wore. We heard him tell the masked man to give up, for he could not defeat a god. Van Black responded by punching my friend off our holoview.
The scene switched in time to catch Ramza nearly crash into the structure behind him. He skidded to a halt inches from it, kicking up dust beneath his boots. A Human male watching from a hole in the wall jumped from a ground floor window, disappearing in the darkness of an alley. The holoview visual was split between the two Superstars, but condensed back to one when the Deity of Unluck streaked back to where he was with a punch of his own. Van Black was knocked out of view as well, but was quickly picked back up. The holo-cams installed in the geodome kept pace with the action, seemingly effortlessly.
Van Black crashed through one of the lights illuminating the street, plunging half the avenue into the forever night of the underground metropolis. The holo-cams provided their own source of light so home viewers didn't miss the Superstars clash in a flurry of fists. They were striking so rapidly, I could not register if any of them landed. This blinding exchange lasts a handful of heartbeats, before a clear hit sends Van Black into a building that was already a third way to rubble, sending it the remainder.
Ramza hovered over Van Black's landing area, arms crossed; the Death Hand rose on a green cloud to meet him. Their fists slam together, creating a shockwave; our holoview was state of the art and I could actually see dust shake free of the buildings at each contact. Van Black was knocked away a third time, hitting a pillar supporting a small crumbling ramp leading to a higher avenue.
Two massive orange hands appeared from thin air to encompass my friend with a clap. Lorix jumped in her seat with a squeak at the sudden sight and sound, gripping my hand in hers. I kiss it to calm her, but she didn't notice; she was too busy cheering as our deity pushed the hands apart with strong arms that showed no hint of strain. Van Black came in on his cloud faster then my friend could get free and stuck him dead center, right into another of the poor buildings.
Lorix watched with increasing interest while I watched her, wondering for the millionth time how I got so lucky. I had no doubt Ramza would emerge victorious, so I allowed myself to be distracted with her beauty. I kiss her cheek, hearing her small voice whisper, "Don't you lose." I put my arm around her waist, but she was too transfixed to the holoview to notice my intentions.
I turn my attention back to it as well; just in time to see the two crash into the bridge Van Black hit earlier, making the upper level inaccessible via that route. They skip along the ground in each other's grip like a rock thrown over the surface of a lake. The end part of that had them hit the hood of a land vehicle occupied by a Dycordian couple, who exit the ruined vehicle, sans clothing.
"Oh my," was Lorix bashful response to nudity and I avert my gaze as well. "I still can't believe people live there," she said, eyes to the floor.
"The Underbay is below the surface, my love. The planet Ksush is actually pretty nice above ground. Full of fun things to do. I will take you one day."
Her gaze returned once she saw it was clear. "I think I'm fine right here, dear."
My writings can do no justice to the flurry of action the two powerful beings displayed for the galaxy to see; including the people inside the geodome, unwilling witnesses to the fury of a god and a devil. All religions I have come across always have a devil; the evil in contrast to the righteous. If Ramza was always a force for good, then who was his opposite? At the time, I wouldn't hesitate to say this man dressed in black, juxtaposed to the light that always radiants from the deity. Now, after all that has happened over the years, I'm not sure if I was completely off the mark.
Van Black was strong, fast, and intimidating, but Ramza still outmatched him in every category. I had no doubt my friend would be victorious; evil may have its time, but only then, can goodness truly shine. And shine my friend did, after he absorbed the energy that gave the two orange hands life. Van Black was without his smiting fists of radioactivity, but by no means was he helpless.
He disappeared before our eyes. My wings shiver when Ramza starts recoiling as if from a mighty blow. A second and third rocked my friend's head back in rapid succession.
"Isn't this cheating?" Lorix wore a worried expression, full lips in a pout. Her right wing caressed my left absently, as my friend went careening into a pile of preexisting rubble.
"All's fair in war...and love." I turn her face to me and I kiss her wide, sexy nose. I look her in the eye and channel all the confidence I could muster. "He's got this, my dear. Let's make out." And we do, for about three minutes. She called a halt when we heard my friend yell in pain, a rare, body shivering sound that had both of us floating on flittering wings, inches from the holoview.
Ramza was grasping around between his legs, bent over. He was punching rapidly at the air beneath his hunched form, seemingly connecting with something solid, but what currently was gripping him refused to let go. The street beneath him crumbled and he was pulled from sight, white teeth in a pained grimace. He later told me that he couldn't sense Van Black's soul the entire fight, meaning this was a Sync putting up such a struggle.
My understanding of Syncs was that they were composed of some magical substance created by the Kujin people and infused with the mental imprint of the 'Base' subject. Ramza and I learned a little about it and the Dagon culture when we spent time there as members of the Traveler's Church nine hundred years prior to his battle with the Death Hand. It just so happened to be during that year's Coalition Carnage Competition and the populace was under a shared sense of excitement. Their world's Superstar was close to achieving Unity's first victory in the tournament. I will spoil it for whomever is reading these memoirs; it was the planet Braloor that brought home this victory, their first as well.
It was the middle of the year when we encountered a Dagon family in our travels. Ramza was posing as a Dagon himself with me, transformed into his trusty walking stick. The husband, Wafor and wife, Iba, were with child and were traveling to the Trinity Citadel to ask permission to give birth. Their culture was permitted one child per family, with their son, Rabkai, being born eight years prior. When asked what would happen if they were denied, their answer prompted Ramza to abandon our disguises and we went along with them as their advocates.
The place that housed Unity's ruling body was grandiose in scale and made of blocks of packed stone. It rose as high as forty meters and I wondered if they achieved the feat through the sheer strength of the Dagon, the magics of the Kujin, the versatility of the Risen, or a combination of the three. The audience chamber was small and nondescript when compared to the grandeur of the structure and only held a table of polished wood. Three men sat there, watching our approach, a Kujin and what I thought at the time, was two Dagons. I later learned the Dagon with the duller skin was a Risen and he was the first to attack us.
My friend introduced himself as the son of the God of Oym and when they doubted his godliness, he demonstrated his power by absorbing all the light produced by the room's torches. The Risen, Ulmesh was his name, had rushed us after the introduction, wielding a huge club of dark grey metal. I flew out of his range, but he paid no attention to me, aiming all his strikes at the Deity. The Dagon drew a sharp looking short sword and joined his companion. The third Trinity member sat in his seat, looking up at me with curiosity. The Kujin's eyes examined me from a distance and I felt a little violated at his gaze.
The assault ended when Ramza halted both weapons with a hand each, pleading them to hear his case. Hearing the sincerity in his voice I'm sure is what caused them to retake their original positions, but the smug looks they exchanged made me wonder.
The hours long discussion produced fruit. Despite the barbaric nature they had practiced for the past hundred years in dealing with unplanned children, they opt to allow one of the couples children to live off-world with one of the parents. The father refused to break up his family and challenged any of the Trinity to a duel. He refused all of Ramza's pleas, his sense of honor as a warrior and father overshadowed any sense of self preservation and he died in sight of his wife and child. His death kept the delicate balance of the population stable, and thus, Iba was allowed to give birth and keep both her children. We buried him behind their home before returning to ours, heartbroken at what my friend perceived as a failure. His alternative to child care is still practiced by those of Unity, last I heard.
Rain started to fall in the Underbay and Lorix's question about it raining underground drew my mind back to the present. "It's not the only planet in the galaxy where it rains underground." I explained. "Yon also has its society below ground and it rains often; which is miraculous since they are the closest planet to the star and survive practically on water."
"Must be heaven for them, as this is for us." She gripped my hand when Ramza rose into view. He was covered in dirt, but didn't seem injured; we cheered at the sight. Then, the giant orange hand of radiation returned and smacked him back out our view. The holocams catch up to him halting himself in mid flight and zipping back the way he came. This time, the holocams were too late to document Ramza's returning blow that had a visible Van Black on one knee. He stood, hands planted firmly on hips, rain running along his toned body, smiling down at the muscle being clad in darkness.
"That punch was to show you that I've been holding back. If this continues, I will be forced to go full strength, which is not good for you or the people here. Do you yield?"
The giant fist came from above, which my friend halted and vaporized with one raised hand. He had prevented the strike from pushing his boots into what made up the avenue, but suddenly, he was ankle deep in the street. A look of strain appeared on Ramza's face before a fist from the dark one sent the Deity into the side of a vehicle that was fleeing the scene.
It was dark grey, box shaped, and moving on rubber wheels. It toppled on its side with a screech, knocking over another lightpost that sparked in the modest rain. My friend was standing on the vehicle's dented side in an instant, tying his wet hair out of his face with one of his armbands, that was now as dirty as the rest of his previously white tunic and trousers. His smile had morphed into a smirk.
"You asked for-" He paused. Looking at his feet. He must have heard something inside the box transport, for he was quickly next to the back, tearing open the two swing doors. From our vantage point, we only saw Ramza's eyes widen, his mouth working silently. Arms that looked so malnourished, I couldn't tell what species of alien they belonged to, appeared just within holocam, thick chains around the wrists. A high, feminine voice was picked up on the audio.
"Please," the voice was joined by a chorus of others that drowned out the rest of her plea. The voices were repeating the same phrases, talking over each other, but it only took a few, blood chilling moments to make out their cries for help and freedom. Ramza was gently helping those in the overturned vehicle out and my wife cried out so suddenly, my heart felt like it jumped into my throat.
Those we saw exiting were chained together by the wrists and ankles, only a few were of the same race. Some were hurt by the crash; they were all women. As terrible as the sight was, it wasn't what caused Lorix to shriek. Her next words put fear in my thudding heart for my dearest friend's well-being for the first time in over ten thousand years.
"Van Black is right behind you!!!"
End chapter