"I understand your frustration ... but let us have hope. The boy's skills show potential."
Lights flashed, walls shook, and the ground quaked.
Blue streaks of light, moving at impossible velocity, darted across the gloomy caves, and they each got countered by invisible forces.
Circus master flew through a large stone pillar, with determination and annoyance evident in his eyes. With his deep brown overalls being untouched, and his quirky warm smile being as bright as ever, he seemed to be chasing something. Someone.
He swung from pillar to pillar, some being average stone pillars, while others were studded with beautiful crystals. Crystals glittered around the cave, with glistening lights of blue, yellow, white, and red. The circus master grabbed a handful of dazzling blue stones, Emerthost.
"Found you!!!!" The circus master said excitedly.
He hurled the stones at hypersonic speed towards the shadows. The 7 broken pieces of Emerthost were hurled towards a dark and damp cave, and from the cave emerged a madman.
Worker 45 hurried out of his hiding cave with impressive reflexes due to his sickly stature and thin limbs. He looked like a malnourished beggar on the roadside, with sunken cheeks and deep blue eyes, but his smile was different. It wasn't insane or wild; it can be described as terrifying.
Worker 45 locked eyes with the Circus master, with his petrifying smile emitting a presence of violence and pure bloodthirst.
Worker 45 dodged the first 5 waves of Emerthost using agile flips and jumps. As the last 2 stones were closing the distance, they suddenly grew in size, turning about 8 times the original size and 2 times of Worker 45 height.
"Let's entertain ourselves, don't you think that'sinteresting?" The Circus master said, while pulling out a hat from thin air, and softly placing it on his head. He made a dramatic bow and raised his head to see Worker 45. "LET'S HAVE SOME FUN!!"
Rocks were being hurled at Worker 45. The terrain of the large cavern changed; drawings on the wall, consisting of prehistoric paintings of spear warriors, came alive.
When Worker 45 closely evaded the 2 large blue rocks about to flatten him, he saw a greater threat. Stone golems stood at attention, live prehistoric paintings lifted their spears while chanting in excitement, and the floors of the cavern grew grimy human hands with eyeballs placed around them.
The scene was so uncanny that it was quite comical.
The stone golems lumbered towards him, but Worker 5 swiftly destroyed them with a flurry of kicks. The grimy, amaciated arms grabbed him, which sparked anger in his chest. The drawn warriors lunged at him, trying to pin him down as their inky hands tore at his clothes.
In a single step, the circus master was face to face with Worker 45 and positioned his hands for a devastating blow.
"No, you don't!!" Worker 45 screamed.
A wall of bright blue light sliced through the entire army. The golems shrieked as they turned to dust, the warriors screamed and exploded into ink, and the eyes on the arms rolled back before dissolving into shadow.
Still smiling, The Circus master was on the roof. Curled in his fingers were black chess pieces: a bishop, a knight, and a pawn. He dropped the pieces casually, and they transformed mid-air. Mid-air, the Bishop turned into a 12-foot statue with a book in its hand, the knight turned into a larger jouster sitting on a calvary horse, and the pawn turned into a smaller soldier with two large cleavers connected by the hilt with a chain.
"Play with them."
The three chess pieces advanced towards worker 45. Worker 45 sprinted toward the pawn and seized its cleavers. With a swift twist, he used the chain to snap its neck. The Knight descended from above, but 45 kicked through the horse and penetrated the chest. The Bishop was steadfast, swinging its book in rapid succession. But 45 stepped on the book, leapt into the air, and drove the Knight's spear into its face.
The circus master appeared next to 45, trying to deliver a right hook, but 45 dodged. With fluid movement and mastered techniques, they exchanged blows. This was a fight that relied purely on hand-to-hand combat. No grace, no divinity, no Sacred runic; just straight combat.
The Circus Master appeared beside 45, swinging a right hook. 45 ducked low and countered with a palm strike. They moved with precision and fury—no magic, no theatrics. Just fists, instinct, and raw skill.
Blows cracked the air. Shockwaves echoed off cavern walls. Just as they prepared to unleash twin uppercuts, a high-pitched tone split the silence.
"Circus Master. Worker 45," a metallic voice echoed, "you have already killed the beast."
Both men froze.
They turned. There it was—the monster's carcass, grotesque but still fresh. Its five white eyes stared blankly from a decapitated head. The yellow hide was shredded, stained red, and fading to a ghostly white.
They exchanged glances.
"Fancy a bite?" 45 said dryly, nodding to the grimy corpse.
A large bonfire crackled in the monster's abdomen, illuminating the dark cavern. The two warriors sat on the body of their spoils, tearing charred meat with their teeth, the warm light illuminating the cavern like a forgotten hearth. The quarrel began with 45 mocking the Circus Master's stance. It was harmless at first, until it spiraled into a brawl. And ended with the monster caught in their crossfire. What an unfortunate beast.
"Two more days," the Circus Master muttered. "Then we head back to the mainland."
"Can't wait to see my nephew," 45 said, reclining against a bone spike. "He got accepted into Black Meadows."
"Congrats," Circus Master replied, tossing a chunk of cooked meat into his mouth.
Silence settled... until 45 spoke again. "Ever wonder why the King sent us here? Why this wasteland?"
The Circus Master paused, then dug his hand into the beast's body and pulled out an organ, tossing it into the fire. "That's the smartest thing you've said all day."
He stared into the flame as it flickered briefly blue.
"Even the King doesn't know," he said. "The real orders come from above. The higher-ups "
Off the corner of his eyes, Worker 45 saw the shadows moving in a sinister motion.
"Above the King?" 45 said, trying to ignore the paranormal occurrence. "That's mad, I thought the king was supposed to be the leader?"
The circus master smirked at him, "Even though you are closer to royalty, you don't know an awful lot."
Worker 45 scoffed and tore a piece of the meat.
"But no," the Circus master said, "After the war-hungry empire fell, Zion's government system changed. It turned into a pro-militarized system, run by a military group, instead of a monarchy. The King's just a puppet."
45 stared at him. "So who's pulling the strings?"
The Circus Master's smile faded. "The Golden Order of the Holy Cross, or the Golden clad in short."
Stones began to roll with no force pushing them. The flames crackled louder and burned hotter.
45 raised an eyebrow. "Wait a moment, weren't they the ones who fought the…?"
"Don't say their name," Circus Master snapped, eyes darkening. "Yes. The ones who 'liberated' us. The heroes who built the system, the lords who still run this mighty kingdom. They could declare war, and the king would have no power to stop them. They chose the Winter line because it's obedient, and they smile for the public. But make no mistake, the King is a pet, a pawn. Just a mouthpiece."
45 stared at him, half-disgusted. "Didn't know you were such a worshipper of the regime."
"Oh, I'm not," the Circus Master said, picking up a chunk of seared flesh with bare hands, unaffected by the heat. The cavern felt submerged in shadow. The stone growled, the walls trembled, and the fire blazed higher.
"Then why all the praise?"
His eyes darkened further. The flames turned swamp green, radiating scalding heat. Shadows transformed into laughing audiences, with their cheers creating petrifying echoes. Tiny eyes blinked open across the walls; some wept, others stared, unblinking.
"Because I despise them. Questioning them is forbidden, but I don't trust them. Do we have to place the fate of this kingdom in mysterious people we have hardly seen?" Circus master took a bite from his food, "This kingdom is too deep in questions, and we are scolded if we ask."
Worker 45 tore his gaze from the Circus Master, and he stared at the crackling flames. He knew that The circus master grew up questioning the world, the system, even the gods. But he was silenced for his overwhelming knowledge. Worker 45 wished for a person to spark the flames of curiosity, tend to the will of adventure, and raise the zeal to explore the world in the circus master. He wondered if anyone could reignite that fire in the Circus Master—or if it had burned out forever.
During the overwhelming silence, A low hum cut through the silence.
45 flinched, then dug into his coat, pulling out a dented metallic device. "Didn't think this thing still worked after the battle," he muttered.
The Circus Master gave a soft smile.
45 casually glanced at the screen, then froze. His breath hitched.
The meat fell from his hands.
Sweat began to bead on his brow. His lips parted, but no words came.
He shoved the device into his pocket, rose sharply, and ran.
"Circus Master, move! Now!"
The Circus Master blinked, startled. "What? What's going on?"
"Black Meadows." 45's voice cracked. "It's been attacked."
The Circus Master caught up. "Isn't your nephew...?"
45 stopped.
His blue eyes shimmered with horror. "Yes... Chalybe." He clenched his jaw."He was my pride..." A pause. A tremble in his voice. "And now...my pride has been impaled."
Hello. Yes, you. I can see you. But we will get to that later. The rainbow clan incident was more confusing. Turns out a survivor might be out there. Further evidence will be gathered. Now, back to the solemn Black Meadows.
As Caesar falls unconscious, a stunned silence settles over the battlefield. The courtyard, once a place of confrontation and chaos, filled to the brim with youthful energy, is now eerily quiet — only the distant crackling of burnt shrubbery and the hiss of dissipating magic remain.
Bloodstains plastered the entire premises, with scalds and broken properties evident. Rain began falling, and the students didn't bother cowering for shelter. They were stunned.
Leo stood motionless, her size returning to normal, and her clothes torn in some places. The pain of the Hryutai potions was etched in her memories as she stared blankly at her healed hands. She couldn't scream, she couldn't cry. She could just wish to disappear. She wanted to die.
Chalybe looked devastated. Not with pain, but guilt. The prince of the Zion kingdom proved to be useless in the face of battle. But Chalybe knew it was not his fault. The enemy was far beyond his power, but the guilt ate him inside. He was completely fine, except for the partial hole in his chest. He walked over to Caesar and picked him up with one hand. Caesar's face was drenched with blood, his hands scarred, and his chest marked. But his face was still peaceful, like a newborn.
Zeus knelt under the pouring rain, while Fenrir sat close to him. Fenrir's usual upbeat personality vanished, replaced with...fear. The Paragons feel fear and dread.
Fenrir was shaking with fear, his hands shivering and his eyes still.
"Did we win...Or did we just survive?"
Megara stood in the rain, her voice still hollow, and her eyes soulless. Devoid of any emotions.
"He...escaped."
Instead of dread or sorrow, she smiled. A wide, devilish grin appeared on her face. She was ecstatic, planting fear in the Figure's heart. She began to laugh manically, startling the other students.
"Hey, why are you laughing?" A student asked, with anger in his voice, but Megara continued laughing.
The student grabbed Megara by her collar, squeezing it like a leash."Hey, do you think this is funny?"
Even with the hint of hostility, Megara locked eyes with the student, "Does it look like I care?"
"You brat." The student wanted to slap Megara, but a hand stopped him.
"That's enough," Jacques said with his blue hair plastered all over his face.
"But she..." The student wanted to complain, but Jacques stopped him.
"I understand, but we don't have time to fight among ourselves. Please, forgive her."
Megara suddenly had a splitting headache. It felt like her mind was torn in two. Her eyes grew heavy. The hollow voice faded. Then—darkness. Megara fainted.
Medics and Izobel worked tirelessly to save whoever they could save. Students died. This was traumatic for everyone, as those whom they connected to, those that proved to be worthy companions, or hidden lovers, died before the relationships could be nurtured.
"Wake up, wake up, please." A cry was heard.
"Please, I can live without you." A wail echoed through the area.
"Brother. No, you are alive, right? We will conquer the world, right? RIGHT?!"
Cries and wails spread across the area as the rain fell on them. The door burst open, and other teachers and students appeared on the scene. Edith ran into the scene, half dressed in sports kit and a school uniform. She reunited with her little sister, and Leo poured out her fears and worries, while hiding in her warm embrace. Professionals hurried to the wounded, helping the younglings. The next generation of the Kingdom has been cut short, drastically.
Chalybe set Caesar's body on a mat, ready to be carried away. High-ranking officials weren't present, but they monitored on screens. They were visibly struck.
"Sire, what shall we do to this threat?" A thin, tall man spoke in a dark room. He wore black tinted glasses and an oversized black robe. His voice resonated emotions, like each lyric contained a hidden secret.
Sat on a throne was a silhouette. Reginald Dan Gerald, the Headmaster of Black Meadows. Blending in the dark, you couldn't see his emotions, so predicting his verdict was difficult.
"Gawain, my loyal apprentice. Tomorrow, I summon the War Council. The target was Prince Chalybe, but in a way..." Reginald paused, "Caesar's fate was tied into this."
Gawain slightly tilted his head. "You throw around the word 'fate' a lot, Sire."
"Of course," Reginald said, with his voice getting deeper, more strict. "After all, Fate is my specialty."
Gawain bowed his head and left the room. Reginald's eyes turned dark. "I was afraid this day would befall us." Reginald's eyes drifted to the door, "I know you are there, Gawain."
Gawain, who was resting on the metal door, dusted his robe and strode away.
Next Morning was no better. All classes were halted, and the atmosphere of the entire school crumbled.
Caesar woke up in a hospital bed, half-naked and bandaged. He was in a ward, with a nurse exchanging the tranquility stone from a casing, a rare stone that heals wounds or diseases, and slowly replenishes the body.
The nurse, who wore a gentle smile — an odd comfort in times like these- handed Caesar a letter. An invitation to... the War Council. He was shocked and annoyed. He was an admirer of the Black Meadows elite War Council, but he was still too tired to attend a meeting that would remind him of the scary event that took place yesterday.
Caesar was further informed by the nurse to attend the meeting in a new uniform, as the Council upholds formality.
He got suited with the help of the nurse, as the pain of yesterday's battle took a toll on his body. Caesar walked out of the sick bay and ventured towards the Council section. The Council building shared Black Meadows' gothic style, but its darker tones and plated gloydon made it feel like a war fortress rather than a school. The building housed all high officials in the school, responsible for different sections of the school curriculum and dedicated to making Black Meadows the best in the kingdom, even though it has been for 60 years straight.
It was quite a long walk that Caesar didn't enjoy. He could feel the sorrowful and drained mood of the entire school. It was more traumatic than the last incident. The fall of Chester Mine. Caesar forced himself to patiently stroll towards the building, as trying to go full speed would certainly snap a rib. As he reached the sector, he was pleased to see his companions.
"Caesar!"
Izobel ran toward him and stopped just short, her eyes scanning him from head to toe. Then—
Thud.
She struck his chest hard with her fist.
"Why do you always have to try the craziest things?"
Before he could respond, she collapsed into his chest, burying her face against him.
"Just... be careful."
Chalybe walked over to Caesar and gave him a deep hug. The two best friends were thankful, as they both saw each other on the brink of death.
"Well, I guess we both survived." Caesar joked
"Shut up, Nova." Chalybe retaliated
"How dare you say my middle name?" Caesar complained.
Zeus's braided hair was loose and roughly combed. His red eyes were dark and heavy, but he still exchanged a warm embrace with Caesar.
"Caesa!!!" Fenrir ran towards his feet and knelt. "I'm soory. I couldn't help you. Even though I was strong, I couldn't do anything. Please forgive meeeee. Caesa!!!!
Fenrir's eyes were filled with tears as he cried out in frustration.
Caesar sometimes saw Fenrir as unbearable or annoying, but he never realized that he meant so much to him.
Caesar knelt close to Fenrir. "Fen, we all tried, but we failed. We are still youths who have no proper high-level training. But you still managed to damage him. That is enough for me."
Fenrir picked himslef up, and dried his eyes his his sleeves, that were surprisingly not torn. "Yeah. If we see him again, We ain't gonna lose."
Jacques didn't bother exchanging greetings with Caesar, but he didn't mind. The wounds of the battle must have been too deep.
Caesar was about to meet the Headmaster. The leader of the best Battle academy in the entire Zion kingdom for the past 60 years. He was excited, worried, and determined.
Caesar's goal was to be strong, a vague goal in the words of his father.
But his goal evolved again. He will fight to protect, to defend, and to uphold.
Being a warrior isn't about the most kills, but the most saved. He swore to be the greatest Zion has ever seen. When he sees the Figure, the barrier wouldn't be the only thing he would wither .
The large metal door opened widely, and a cool breeze escaped. Caesar could already feel the apocalyptic powers the Council exudes, but that made him more excited. He wanted to see how powerful he had to become. Izobel stood beside him, with others preparing to enter the Meeting. As they all stepped inside, Caesar's eye shone crimson.
In a dark room, lost to the cause of time and history, the figure fell. Voices from the shadows spoke to him as his throne was present in front of him. Ravens beckoned to him as they flocked around him. They arranged themselves to form a walkway, leading to the large throne.
The figure raised his deep green eyes and stood. He walked towards his throne, the one he rightfully owned. He had a purpose now. He shall not be bested by a 14-year-old.
Zion was nothing but a society of devils that labelled him one. Zion has been shrouded in pure evil, and they are training children to uphold that agenda. How ruthless.
The Figure will show his master that he is competent again. Chester Mine was the past, now the future is certain. He swore to make Zion crumble. He shall execute his grand plan, and make the kingdom fall.
His goal has evolved, past his wildest dreams. To be strong enough to execute his plan. To evolve fast enough to purge any obstacle. He shall fight to destroy and defend, Corrupt and withhold. He will be a devil or a god.
As he sat on his throne, ravens flocked around in celebration.
"Welcome back, Klein."
The voice of the paralyzed and naked boy in chains resonated in... Klein's head.
In a last show of power, Klein flexed his abilities. Somewhere in Zion, a man plotted the death of his bastard son.
Reflect
The man's lungs collapsed moments later. Silently. Efficiently.
A war is coming.