Atop a cliff, he overlooked the completely destroyed forest, a frown still on Aegraxes' face. The forest was by no means small; you could fit at least seven towns in it and there would still be space. Yet, he destroyed it easily, though he cared not for the absurd show of destructive power.
"The Harbinger of Fate. The spawn of Octavia is at sea, so how is it that he brought that blade into existence?" Aegraxes gave a humorless chuckle. "So you damnable Gods would go this far, truly laughable how desperate you lot are." He smiled as he gazed at the now clear blue skies.
They, Octavia, had created another spawn. Someone who proved themselves more of a threat than even Lucinda in such a short time. He underestimated just how big of a threat Mikoto initially was; among them, he himself was the only one that would stand a chance against that boy. Aegraxes rubbed his chin in thought.
("Though unlikely should he have Arcane Ascendance, then he becomes nigh-unstoppable, and while in this husk, I would find myself lacking in combatting him. And with the others experiencing the metamorphosis, they weaken as the years go by. If they were all at full strength, they alone might best the boy, hmm, I'll have to alter my plans.") But then an idea hit him. "If Mikoto Yukio is to be my kind's executioner, then so be it. Even executioners need to face judgment.
He had an empire he could use, so why not use it?
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[Vel'ryr capital city]
The city was a behemoth, a sprawling, organic entity of steel, glass, and stone that seemed to defy the laws of gravity. From a distance, it resembled a colossal, iridescent insect, its carapace glinting in the sunlight, a maze of intricate structures and towering spires that reached towards the heavens. Closer, the city revealed itself as a labyrinth of towering skyscrapers that were sleek, imposing monoliths of glass and steel, their surfaces shimmering with an otherworldly sheen. Some were crowned with gardens, verdant oases, while others were adorned with holographic displays that shifted and changed with mesmerizing fluidity.
Between these colossal structures, a network of elevated walkways connected the city at various heights, creating a dizzying three-dimensional tapestry. The city's heart was a vast, open plaza, a space as grand as a cathedral. At its center stood a towering obelisk, its surface etched with symbols and runes that glowed with an ethereal light. Surrounding the plaza were colossal statues of previous emperors. The streets were a living, breathing organism, a constant flux of people, vehicles, and information. Sleek, silent electric cars glided effortlessly through the traffic, their forms sleek and aerodynamic.
Overhead, personal flying vehicles darted between buildings, their propellers a blur of motion. Pedestrians, a colorful mosaic of humanity, moved with purpose. The city was a blur of light and sound. Holographic advertisements danced on the buildings, while the air was filled with the hum of machinery, the chatter of people, and the distant roar of traffic. Yet, for all its grandeur, the city was a place of stark contrasts. In the shadows of its towering structures, poverty lurked, a dark underbelly to the city's glittering facade. There were areas where the old ways of life persisted, where people lived in squalor, clinging to traditions that were rapidly fading.
Amaury found herself a stark contrast to the opulent world she inhabited. As ever, her head of pitch-black, short, wildly unruly hair framed her face, her striking red eyes scanning the large city. She did not consider ever dressing casually; she was still in her 'battle' attire, a silver chest piece adorned with crimson accents, paired with sleek silver sabotans and black gloves. A white coat, sleeves rolled up to reveal toned arms, completed the ensemble, lending her an air of both regality and practicality. And of course, on her hip, her sheathed blade sat docile. She moved through the heart of Vel'ryr's capital; it was as ever a metropolis that was a jarring juxtaposition of medieval grandeur and futuristic audacity.
Towering spires of obsidian and crystal pierced the sky, yet Amaury moved through this bustling world with a sense of detached observation. She was a ghost in this grand spectacle, her eyes scanning the crowd with a cold, clinical detachment. The faces that passed her were an array of emotions: joy, sorrow, anger, hope. But to her, they were merely fleeting expressions, ripples on the surface of a vast, indifferent ocean.
A bitter taste lingered in her mouth. Vel'ryr, her home, was a colossus, its shadow stretching across the continent. Her elder brother, Selwyn, the Crown Prince, was a man of relentless ambition. His thirst for power had seen the empire expand at an alarming rate, swallowing smaller nations whole. But Amaury knew the truth: it was not conquest they sought, but something far more sinister. As she walked, her mind drifted to the darker corners of the empire. Secret laboratories, hidden deep within the bowels of the earth, where captured rebels were transformed into something...other. Their empire's scientists spoke of harnessing their mana, of merging it with Vel'ryr's advanced technology to bring forth another weapon. But Amaury knew better. She had seen the results firsthand - twisted, broken shells of humanity, their minds shattered, their bodies transformed into weapons of war.
A sudden commotion drew her attention. A large, imposing vehicle, sleek and dark, moved through the crowd with an air of menace. Its surface was smooth and reflective, and it seemed to glide rather than roll. Inside, figures sat hunched, their faces pale and lifeless. Prisoners, no doubt. Rebels from some conquered land, destined for the same horrific fate as countless others. A wave of disgust washed over her. This was the empire she was born into, a behemoth built on the bones of the innocent. Yet, she was trapped. To speak out would be to invite the wrath of her brother, to become a target for those who served him with blind loyalty.
("Yet I am no better.") She relented; she did much for her nation. Things she was not proud of, but as the fourth crown princess, she had a duty to fulfill. Though it left a bitter taste in her mouth, she shook her head to rid herself of any of the thoughts. She continued walking, her gaze fixed on the horizon, a distant look in her eyes. The city, with all its splendor and its darkness, was a microcosm of the empire itself. A place of dazzling beauty and unspeakable cruelty. And she, the fourth Princess, was but another face.
"Amaury!" An eye twitch escaped her as she heard the annoyingly familiar voice yell her name. Luckily, the name was not yelled loud enough to alert others that the fourth princess was walking among them. She turned to face the source of the voice, pitch-black hair styled into some unruly pigtails and gleaming red eyes. The smaller girl's attire consisted of a combat dress, black in color with red decorating most of the chest area, the sleeves of the dress were connected to red gloves with sleek alloy on the knuckles as well as large red bracelets on either wrist. Finishing with black stockings adorned in red with heavy black combat boots.
Emilia Von Auerswald, sixth in line for the throne and her younger sister. Said sister gave her a toothy grin.
"Sister," Amaury greeted evenly. "What brings you to the capital?" She was not really curious per se but she rather just get a conversation over with.
"Like I wanna spend all my time in the palace." Emilia answered dismissively. "Not to mention those demons stink up the place." Her little sister truly had no reservation, openly speaking like this.
"You should not speak so openly about those lot; there are eyes and ears everywhere." The older of the two advised.
Emilia shrugged her shoulders, "Who cares, not like anyone would do anything about it." She reasoned, staring at the array of people and activity. "Yeah, cowards the lot of 'em." She scoffed. "They wouldn't dare oppose anything we do." She stated with a grin.
"And you are okay with it?" Amaury asked; her sister looked at her with a questioning gaze, waiting for her to continue. "Working with those lot, spilling this much blood."
"Does it matter what I think? Father certainly doesn't care for my opinion." She mumbled out. "But it's for the betterment of Vel'ryr, right?" Amaury wondered about that.
Back in Verdantis, she along with Selwyn was stationed there; they were tasked with capturing those who inhabited smaller towns and villages. Those demons, the Chaosmaw's-they whispered ideas into her father's ears. Ideas of power, to expand Vel'ryr and have it dominate all-he was always an ambitious man. Even with Vel'ryr being one of the three large nations, that was not enough for the man. It did not help that Selwyn was a crazed man who gained pleasure through violence.
He had overthrown a myriad of smaller nations all for sport; it is why their father favored him the most despite Avice clearly being the better choice as ruler. But alas, that Aegraxes, the bastard knew just what to say to entice her father, even their mother's words fell on deaf ears. And so that is the reason they were in Verdantis, the Chaosmaw's required mortal souls as a catalyst to revive the corpse of a dragon. In turn, that dragon would need to have been killed in order to secure a much stronger soul to offer up to bring forth something much more powerful to use in the upcoming festival.
("All for Vel'ryr.") Those thoughts passed through her mind, but her frown deepened still. ("How many did I have killed, men, women, and children.") But it was for her empire, right? As a princess, she had a duty, right? No, she could not find justification; those horrid faces would not leave her be. She exhaled sharply.
"Hey, I heard you had your ass kicked back in Verdantis." Amaury's thoughts were halted as she heard Emilia's pompous voice; turning to the shorter girl, she noted the grin on her face.
("Hmm, mayhap that Nybbas disclosed it.") He, in particular, seemed to like the sound of his voice too much. "I had merely suffered an injury, not a defeat." She corrected.
"Sure~" Amaury suppressed an eye twitch at her sister's tone. "Who injured you anyway? Must've been pretty strong."
"He was." She admitted, recalling the exchange. The masked boy, Mikoto was his name, he was strong. Even when she had taken his arm, he did not stop fighting, having even matched her in pure physical prowess. Before having found a way through her defenses, she smiled. She would very much like to meet that boy again.
"Hoh? You're smiling." Said smile immediately dropped at her sister's words. "It must've been a guy then, right? Was he hot?"
"Quiet." Amaury began walking.
"Come on, tell me!" Emilia whined, following her.
"No."
"Ugh! You're the worst; now I'm just curious."
"Shame."
Her sister just stuck out her tongue in a childish manner; well, she was still a child so that checked out. Amaury merely shook her head at the antics of her younger spawn.