The vast wasteland outside the vibrant city of Vel'ryr was, as ever, a stark contrast. Dante glanced around, his keen eyes taking in every small detail or indication that they had been followed.
His mission was a success, as expected. He had been successful in rescuing the test subjects of all northern and western district labs. The more he freed, the more desperate Vel'ryr grew to reclaim that which they saw as theirs. Yet not once was Dante deterred.
Turning on his heel, he glanced at the accumulation of people, mainly comprised of humans with an odd demi-human here and there. All outfitted in white uniforms in varying states of tattered and dirty, most sporting fresh injuries while some were missing limbs. There were over a hundred captives here.
They looked around in fear despite their freedom. Some merely sat on the ground, a blank look in their eyes, as if they awaited something.
("Lyraeth and Isabella have not yet returned,") Dante noted, folding his arms. He had taken the most burden yet he finished long before any of them. It no doubt meant something was halting their progress. Something more than mere Vel'ryr soldiers or magitech. ("I doubted this would be an easy endeavor. A Von Auerswald may be involved, or mayhap another descendant of a Great Dragon. Barring the Von Auerswald's the only other descendants would be....") Dante frowned beneath his helm.
"W-what now?" Evelen's voice snapped him out of his mulling. Her hand clutched Jeanne's remaining one. The latter merely looked around in wonder; it must have been too long since she had seen what it was like outside of a cell. However, this barren wasteland was hardly the best thing to witness after a long time of captivity.
"The best place to send you all would be Galadriel; it is large enough to accommodate all of you. Though I am from Verdantis, injured as you all are, you would not be able to combat the harsh weather conditions," he explained. Evelen furrowed her brows while Jeanne's expression lit up with excitement.
"Galadriel? What...what's it like?" Jeanne questioned curiously; her innocence seemed to calm the nerves of everyone there.
"It is a vibrant nation, filled with diverse masses. They will welcome you all with open arms," Dante stated. "They are a prosperous nation with each city more thriving than the last."
"But how will we get to Galadriel? The truck we used won't be enough," Evelen worriedly noted.
"A moment," Dante got confused looks all around as he suddenly kneeled, placing a gauntleted hand on the vast shadows surrounding them. "Come, Aerinon." Confusion, however, gave way to bewilderment as the shadows seemed to fluctuate as if sentient. Liquid shadow rose and began to take shape.
Its dark interior outlined a human shape; not long after, the shadows seemed to solidify. And finally, like fragile glass, the darkness began breaking apart, revealing a familiar form.
"I say, you chose a rather inconvenient time, Dante," Aerinon mused, his single eye scanning the area. "But you would always have a good reason, I suppose. These people have to do with why you saw fit to call me."
Dante nodded his head. "Captives subjected to torture in Vel'ryr labs," he curtly explained.
"I see," Aerinon's eye scanned the faces of the former captives. Some were noticeably wary and tense. "So where do you want them?" he asked, getting straight to the point.
It was a quality Dante respected from his brethren. "Galadriel, any city there should welcome them with open arms."
"Hm, Veron should suffice then," Aerinon murmured, turning to face everyone. Some recoiled in apprehension and uncertainness. Dante raised a hand.
"Worry not, Aerinon can be trusted. He will guide you all to safety," Dante clarified. His words had a minute effect, but it was there all the same; he was the one to save them all, after all.
He suddenly felt a small pull on his cape, causing him to glance down at the doe-eyed Jeanne. "You're not coming with?" she asked, sounding downtrodden at the prospect.
"No, I cannot," kneeling down to her level, he gently removed her hand. "Worry not, Jeanne. You were very brave through this ordeal despite the suffering you have endured. Stand proud and focus on your path forward," he stated, his voice carrying conviction that resonated with the young girl.
"I-I will! I promise!" she exclaimed.
"Good," he rose back to his full height, giving Evelen a nod as she clutched Jeanne's hand once more.
"Worry not, I shall deliver them safely," Aerinon assured. "But what will you do in the meantime?"
"Lyraeth and Isabella are still within the capital, something no doubt halts their progress. I'll retrieve them and the rest of the captives," Dante explained. "Following that, I shall pursue a new mission. A greater threat than the Ancestors looms upon us."
"A greater threat, meaning?"
"You're stationed with Lyra in Galadriel, so merely tell her that someone means to bring about a calamity. She will know what that means." Though Dante's words were cryptic at best, Aerinon diligently nodded his head all the same as the Inheritor of strength turned away from them all. ("Once this is all over with, I will have to locate Nihil once more. It is no doubt an important piece to kick-start the calamities. Sealing it away won't be enough; I'll have to destroy it if necessary.") Dante pondered.
Each calamity was not merely a natural disaster that sought to ruin the realm. Each was unique, sometimes comprised of individuals. The seven calamities originated from myths originally. It was a vision seen by the God of time and space, calamities that would utterly destroy the realm.
("Humanity would be hard-pressed to survive a single calamity; even if one is survived, the others will follow through either way.") Casualties would be staggering. ("In the event that the calamities do come to pass, we will need to be prepared.")
Dante shook his head, as if disapproving of something. ("You've fallen too low, Aegraxes. To go through with this is to forget who you once were, what you once stood for. Of all the Fate Walkers, you were always the most reasonable. The most trustworthy, yet you would bring about these calamities.")
Discerning the calamities would need to come first. Lyra could help with that; her knowledge was vast and useful. However, there was still the Ancestors; they would not be forgotten because of the calamities.
Walking further, Dante began to speed up his stride, his surroundings quickly blurring as his body was propelled forward at astonishing speed. A sonic boom erupted as a result; it would have taken mere seconds to reach the capital city.
Or it should have. Dante came to a skidding halt, maneuvering expertly as he leaped backward just in time for something to come crashing down on where he previously was. The ground shook violently, cracks snaking through it as a cloud of dust was kicked up as a result of the intensity.
Dante raised his right arm, with a simple gesture he swept it through the air, the mundane action generating enough force to completely dismiss the dust generated. It revealed the source quickly.
A young girl, she had long, dark-black hair in twin tails with red ribbons. Her eyes were a striking red, and her expression was almost borderline excited. She wore what seemed to be a combat-style outfit in shades of red, black, and dark gray. The jacket-like top portion had prominent red and black details, and the skirt was a darker, almost navy gray. The outfit included numerous decorative details and straps.
"Heh, I finally found you," she spoke, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance with it. "Do you know how irksome it was to find you? I wasted so much time!" she exclaimed. "I don't know why Anuran even sprang this on me. I was busy doing my nails, you know! And now I have to fight and ruin them!" she finished exasperated. Truly, Dante did not know what to make of it.
"Then begone, Von Auerswald, I would prefer not to harm a child," he eventually settled with.
"Hah! As if! And don't call me 'Von Auerswald'; our surname is so unsavory. It's Emilia, got it, you....you snow cone?" she sassily insulted. "And child? I'll have you know that I am almost fifteen!"
"I see."
"Hmph! Now be a good boy and give up, and then maybe I won't have to beat you bloody," she ordered, dramatically flicking her hair bangs.
"You would ask me to surrender?" Dante shook his head at the proposition. "Tell me, child, do you have a clue on what is truly going on?"
She rolled her eyes at his words. "Of course, you're attacking Vel'ryr labs like some mad monkey."
"You are ill-informed," he stated. "Vel'ryr has labs dedicated to the extraction and siphoning of mana from live individuals. The experiments they conduct are torturous; what I am merely doing is rescuing those wrongfully held captive."
"Hah! You lie," she immediately shot back without even taking a second to consider his words. "Vel'ryr is the grandest nation of all. It would never stoop so low as to do what you are suggesting. You're merely a crazed attacker."
"Naivety is a given, I suppose," Dante murmured. These experiments were extremely reclusive. It was not at all surprising that the girl did not know of them. She was not acting either; when you lived as long as he had, discerning a person's truth became all the more easier through time. What he was dealing with was merely a girl oblivious to the dark side of her nation. "Then step aside, girl."
"I take it you won't give up peacefully?" Emilia questioned, a brow raised. She did not seem all that bothered despite that. "Well, no matter," she flexed her fingers as she took a simple left-leading stance; it seems she preferred fighting barehanded as well.
It made no difference; he dwarfed all the descendants of the Great Dragons in pure physical prowess. However, what made them dangerous was not their physical prowess, regenerative abilities, or passive nullification of magic. No, it was their unique powers, entirely different and foreign from magic.
The descendants' abilities varied depending on the dragon who favored them. Regardless, if this was a child, he would need to remain on guard.
"Now prostrate yourself! For the Great Dragon of Vehemence saw fit to choose me!" she declared. He tensed his body for action as the air shifted.
("Yet another meaningless squabble.") Dante took a simple step forward. "After this, there will be one less to worry about."