"Revelations"

"Revelations"

------------------------------

<username: K_Okimura4651, pass: ********>

<encrypt: SIG AeR,WLRS 253787890.546>

Hey, thought you might want to have a look at this (see below)

>Have you seen these images yet? [image ref: NpH 5565651216848.154] Something's going on out there

>and it ain't just the government this time. You and I both know that the only people conducting real open

>warfare these days are Aruna Trane and Moruki Dana, but take a look at this weird shit. Where are these

>craters coming from? They're popping up all over Akuji between Moruki and the WNHR, and I didn't

>think the former had the balls to even try to take on the whole world at once. Answer? I personally think

>some of those crazy rumors flying around are true. By now you must have at least heard the rumors about

>an all-android fighting force that seems to be sweeping across the land. I've heard everything from them

>being another political cover-up to being God's legions to purify the planet. Whoever they are, they've

>been slaughtering every major city in their path and then some. Right now, it looks like some mysterious

>benefactor is holding them back at the moment, but who? It can't possibly be the Moruki government,

>they're WAAAAY too self-centered on the prosperity of their own economy to go this far out of their

>way. I've heard rumors that it may even be the infamously invisible Yoshiki Sang-Wu, since it's been said

>that he resides on the border of that country. But nobody ever confirmed this for real so it's doubtful,

>especially when the guy himself is more of an urban legend than an actual crook. But what do you think

>this whole coup is all for? Well, I'm sure you can tell from my topic line that it's something big, bigger

>than any of us ever anticipated. I've been lucky enough to know a couple historians, and the research I've

>done with them is astounding. Have any of you ever bothered to check what year it is according to the old

>nuclear age calendar of this planet? I think some of you will find it surprising as to just how close today is

>to the upcoming anniversary of the nuclear holocaust. You want more coincidence? How about that this

>same anniversary happens to be the exact same day that these old timers had been estimating a religious

>"Armageddon" to come about, one of their more ancient sects of beliefs, the name escapes me at the

>moment. At any rate, what happens if history repeats itself? I think I can say with decent confidence that

>life around here ain't as posh as we'd like, but it's still been pretty quiet until just the other day. Something

>big is rising, it's not going to be too long until we find out what it is."

</end transmission>

...

One day I was coming home from Fei's house and I saw a passing train come by and stop at the station I got off at. A young boy came out then, horribly afraid, screaming for his mother. And when he found her not, he turned back to the closing doors of the white transit vehicle in desperation and dashed after it crying at the top of his lungs. The stolid nature of the train's exterior only made the scene more heartbreaking, to watch a child race after an uncaring machine into the middle of a 4-way traffic light. I was thankful that the drivers were not quite cold-hearted enough to honk in protest, let alone ignore his presence and run him down. I doubt the young boy could have been more than seven years old.

That was not something I made up, though I sincerely wish it was.

I did not know the young boy, nor his situation. Perhaps I was wrong to pity him. Perhaps he had done something to deserve his fate. And yet, that day I witnessed his innocence--- his faith in the world--- crack in a way that could never be truly repaired. He had been abandoned cruelly, as many others in this world, and I wished I had had enough courage to help him stand again. But what could I do, a complete stranger? Perhaps bring him home, but in his eyes I am just another man on the street. The one he truly cared for was the one who had betrayed his trust, and for that there was nothing I could do. There was nothing I could do to help patch up his soul.

Some people like to fancy that that which does not kill us only makes it stronger, that it toughens our soft hides to protect from the next assault. However, everything has a breaking point, and there is a clear line between that which strengthens and that which fractures.

...

It has been a little over three years since the summer of '97. In every chapter of this story lies a bit of myself, my naïve aspirations, my process of degradation, my hopes for the future. I am not the same as I was then, and I cannot say whether all I have seen has made me stronger or broken my willpower. Yet, I continue to write. I know what I want in the days and years to come. Thus, perhaps, I have taken a path that was right somewhere down the line...

After "Twilight," I will never again write stories of the heartbroken, of those without [dreams], because now I know that no matter how far we fall into oblivion, there's still an angel waiting down there to lift us back up.

...

"painted with saliva

a paling body was

clung to within sight

a distorted picture of cruelty

even emotionlessness is rotting

dance a short life

the memory I saw at the end

you laughing... die

Psycho while warping, revolving

Psycho cruelty unchanging

Psycho Past Trap

Psycho Past Trip

by... Death Trap"

--- Dir en Grey, "Zan"

...

A perfect world...

Edge did not look for anyone this time, wrapped in the void of his own thoughts. Instead, he quietly sat on the edge of an invisible abyss, swinging his legs listlessly in the endless expansion rooted deep within the recesses of his mind. He did not feel like conversing today, instead dipping deep into the meat of his own thoughts and desires. He felt irritated, helpless, and only more so because he could not figure out what aggravated him as such. For once, he was to face an opponent that did not hold a personal grudge upon himself. Here was a foe of whom he knew nothing about, who held no secret mystery about his intentions, who did not seem as though he held a grudge against his being that was forbidden to reach the lips of speech. Yet, he felt no relief in his temporary reprieve from those who held his name in vicious manhunt. Was it the wings that graced the mysterious seraph's back that bothered him? The fact that he was a real angel, perhaps even holding relation to the kin who resided within the very darkness he now breathed? No, it was not that. He had begun to grow quite accustomed to the abnormalities that had appeared within the breadth of his life. It was something that Adam had said, something that disturbed him far more than any monster that could have wanted to consume his soul.

'Unfortunately, human beings are no longer like that, and when he discovers this, the sole expectation that remains within will be crushed. The purest of these creatures are also the most frail in their beliefs, and are often the first to fall when their hope is crushed.'

A perfect world...

In purpose and structure, the man they now sought out was meant to be a soldier of nobility. His name and presence were meant to be monuments of pride that gathered respect from even the most arrogant people, his power a magic not meant to be understood by the ones he looked over with such mercy. He was an angel, one of [G_O_D]'s sacred knights to stand guard by everything good in the world. What would it be to see a man like that crumpled in pain? What would it be like to see the horror in his eyes, to see one so powerful fall from a grace so high? What would it be like... to witness a fallen angel?

To see such a magnificent creature fall from glory, it pained him to even think about his own aspirations now. If even the great fell from their perches--- with all their patience and tremendous strength--- then what chance did he have in surviving? What chance did he have in finding the Temple of Ordeal, let alone fighting his own battles along the way? He had purged himself of his rage once, but he had never actually ‘failed’ as had this man before him. What would happen if he made a mistake, if--- even just once--- he could not protect Yoshime? What if he was a second too late, a mere centimeter short of covering that crucial distance to cover her from the bony fingers of death's touch? How could he hold the monster within then, his one true possession taken from him? Who would he hurt? How many lives might he take, beheld in the ecstasy of madness? And if he did finally come to, could he really deal with what he had done without facing insanity?

Never before had he done something outrageously atrocious in his state of madness, but what if loss broke down the last of his barriers, driving him to hurt the ones he had come to call friend? What if his reservations dissolved in the face of anger, if all he reverted to was a wild beast constructed to be nothing more than a soldier who killed for his master's pleasure? Sometimes, he liked to favor himself independent of a past life, but his design would forever remind him that somewhere in there was still a battle mecha. It was what Double had said so long ago that made him think now. "Government design," meaning in so many ways that no matter how far he ran, he was still meant to be an instrument of warfare, a cold, heartless beast and nothing more.

"Are you afraid?"

Adam was suddenly in front of him, hovering above the invisible pit with the usual ease. Edge did not need to look up to recognize his arrival, instead identifying him by the feeling of unmistakable warmth that radiated from his white wings in a soft light of mercy.

"It's not so much fear as..." trailed off the green-haired android, staring down into the darkness. He could not seem to finish the sentence, instead letting his eyes look up to the angel's feet as his mind gathered a response. "How do I fight something like this? What if... what if he's right and I'm wrong? I'm no angel. I don't have anything to compare to what he has, no matter how mad he's gone. I'm just an android, a piece of metal who's dragging all these others out on my own journey. I can't change that. And here I am now, chasing down something that people only talk about in stories. How can I even compare?"

"To despair before the fight has even begun is the worst loss of them all," said Adam, his voice hard but remaining nonchalant. "Surely, you underestimate your own abilities as well as your faith in your comrades."

"Heh," said Edge, allowing himself a small chuckle. "I guess coming from you, it seems simple. But from our standpoint--- from MY standpoint--- what Fumiya released is completely out of our league. Even Yujin doesn't compare to this, a real angel turned flesh. I guess it's almost like trying to fight God or something. You don't expect to have any chance just because of the reputation alone. Maybe this guy isn't Him, but he's pretty close, isn't he? And even if I was strong enough to fight him, what about..." He trailed off unconsciously, looking to the side in disdain. How could he explain such an anxiety to someone like this? The comparing of his own aspirations to that of the fallen angel, did he even have a right to do such a thing? What if failure did come that easily, that even the strongest could fall in the face of defeat? He thought he had conquered his madness, but was it still lurking beneath that thin epidermis, waiting for just the right time to leap out once again and tear apart anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby? He did not know if he was strong enough to win, if he was strong enough to cage the beast deep within. If someone so great could fail, then what said that he would not too?

Adam slowly lowered himself from his perch, coming down to his protégé's level and resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"My friend, what you do not realize is that your apprehension is completely unneeded," he said softly, his smooth voice trailing with cool comfort. "You belittle yourself far too much, for it is not he who has the upper hand, but rather you who possesses the greater strength."

"That can't be," said the young boy, shaking his head. "To even attempt to conquer something as mythical as an angel, how can someone as simple as I be stronger?"

"No, Edge," said the seraph, his smile glowing with a hint of his wings' clemency. "What matters not are the tales you hear, the feats of power that you have heeded in the stories that glorify this wondrous creature. His physique, his endurance and stamina, all of that does not matter in the true battle. Where he has fallen, you still hold the most important thing that he can no longer possess. This heavenly spirit has seen far too much to maintain that which he cherishes any longer, but as one of Her true blood, he never had the chance to build a product of his own will, let alone craft such a thing as personal desire. In a single instant, everything he ever believed in was proven wrong, leaving him empty and alone. Without purpose, he has already ascertained that perhaps what he sees in this different age is not an absence of his sacred treasure, but rather a perversion, one that he must cleanse. And yet, without proof and full confidence in this idea, he cannot set out to accomplish what he wishes for in full."

And Adam gave the boy's shoulder an affectionate squeeze, meeting his gaze with his own calm sea of clear skies. "You are different, Edge. Perhaps your hope for a different world is similar to his, but this idea did not merely come forth from darkness, spawned from nothing as one person might impress upon another with mere words. You were given the opportunity he never received, to experience this life and judge it for yourself, to balance the scales of what is right and wrong from your own interpretation and make your basis for ambition based on the results. What you believe in now is not a gift of divine intervention, but something you lived for, fought for. You are aware of the consequences you will receive but continue forth; not for lack of responsibility, but in the hopes of finding something better than you already have. For your foe’s purpose is derived not from his own heart, but rather the maintenance of an obligation to his master, and such a feeble task dictated by a higher power cannot possibly define one's self with proper care. What holds you up is much different, something gathered out of the deepest sincerity of your wishes, your desires. Something whose fulfillment will not equal something as simple as the completion of a task, but rather a progression forward that brings you one step closer to finding true solace. That is a [dream], my friend, and no one can take that away from you."

"…yume?" ("[dream]?") whispered Edge.

"Yes," said Adam, and smiled. "Yume…"

...

To my best friend, why is it that when I question my own sanity, you seem like you're the only one left in the world who isn't consumed by mindless arrogance and hatred?

No, you are wrong. I only act strong to try to hold you up as well. But truly, this world has hurt me as much as it has you, as much as it has every person who lives and still holds a wish for innocence. You are not alone, and neither am I. Thus, we shall support one another in this embrace of pain, together...

...

'What is this solace you seek, Black Wyvern? Why must, in your vision of perfection, lives be wasted?'

"Didn't you see them?" spat the seraph bitterly, sitting in the dust with his legs spread casually, his elbows propped on his arched knees as he hid his face in the shadows of his cascade of blond hair. "Horrible, horrible to think that this is what Her dream has come to, a complete and utter failure that has managed to destroy everything else She created. Somewhere along their path of life, they have fallen into despair, and with their new madness comes nothing but the embodiment of death. How can this arrogance, this foolish, misdirected pride be revised? Be redeemed? It cannot. What has festered here is a disease, a taint deeply soiled in the time that we have been gone from this realm. As would only be [G_O_D]'s wish, I will deal upon them a fitting fate, a merciful judgment that will end the self-torment that is their lives."

'But they are lives nonetheless. Do you truly have that right to---'

"I HAVE EVERY RIGHT!!!" roared Black Wyvern, his voice shaking the ground beneath him with a low rumble that reverberated with his anger. "This is my job, my duty, and I have failed to tend to a garden that has become overrun with weeds. Now I must uproot these foul brethren and clear the soil for pure flora once again. I must replenish the dying cultivation with my own efforts."

'And yet, beneath all those weeds, might there not still be a few flowers growing beneath all the twisted green? Might you not uproot these last beauties along with the unwanted in your quest?'

"They are few in number. It is a small price to pay for the whole. When I finish, they shall be reborn with dozens more to accompany them. This dying system shall be revived in full."

'But it is a sacrifice nonetheless. Perhaps you can grow back their numbers, but that does not change the fact that you will destroy the innocent along with the guilty. Is that something She would approve of?'

Black Wyvern's head turned violently at the rebuke, reminded only briefly by the empty desert air that the voice in his head would not appear physically for him to vent upon.

"You speak as if I do wrong," he said bitterly. "But would you call me wrong to say how terrible man has become since the leave of angels and [G_O_D] from this world? Would you say I lie when so many people lie starving to death, turning to crime and hate only because the development of society has resulted in a hellish circle in which honesty can no longer support the common man? How about those gang members, should I have spared them? Should I have let them harm me, pitying their lack of self-confidence and ability to self-provide so that they feel the psychological need to bother surrounding weaker beings? Should I have died for them, for the wrong that they wanted to do to me?"

Silence. The angel waited for several seconds as he heard nothing, his interest only heightened as those brief moments slowly dragged out into minutes. The voice seemed to have died away, blown away by the end of the man's rage. Nothing remained for what almost seemed like hours, and Black Wyvern even perked his ears up in anxious desire, wondering if he truly had proven himself correct. And then the wind blew, a sigh carried upon a gentle breeze, this mysterious creature's enigmatic response. And from that gentle draft came the answer that he so sought, something that he had not quite expected.

'No... you should not have died for them. No matter what you may think of yourself, you are still an individual, and you have every right to live your life the way you please. And they had no right to kill you, for they did not understand. They did not see who you were, why you were there, what your intentions were, and most importantly, the love you held for them in your heart. But know this: no matter how horrible it may seem man has become, there still exists those among them who have grown up a life full of justice, and--- like you--- they wish only to spread that sense to their surrounding kin. Wars have been fought for this, men have died, often forgotten as new souls picked up the flag in their place. Perhaps their numbers are few, perhaps they cannot be so easily seen at first amongst the arguing and bickering of their brothers and sisters, but they are still there, and they are fighting the brave fight that you so seek in these creatures. In that, they are beautiful, they are the miracle that She wanted to bring forth. Perhaps that may not seem as much, but you would be surprised to see how far the human mind can stretch. The Goddess did not judge all angels when Lucifer fell from Heaven, and it would be wrong to judge all of man in the same way. What you saw was a horrible vision indeed, but do not let that mar your sight of all human beings. Perhaps, with time, you will see that glorification you pursue not in the patterns of the masses, but in a single glowing heart, one who has bore the weight of the weeds in the Garden of Eden and prevailed against their obstruction, reaching up to touch the rays of the sun high above.'

Several moments passed, the only sound coming from the gentle hiss as the last of the wind lifted a soft layer of dust from the ground and cast it away in lazy spirals. Black Wyvern could find no way to respond, no way to reverse the stunning argument, no matter how far he searched. The voice desired no response as well, for it too seemed to have been satisfied with its last statement. And so the angel merely sat in waiting, tracing circles in the hard clay beneath his body with a shiftless finger, listening to the turmoil that churned deep within his own soul.

...

"I've got him on sensors!" shouted Yoshime over the roar of the hovercraft, now speeding low over the dusty plains as the group sacrificed their stealth in a desperate effort to catch up with their quarry. "Just a couple more miles and we'll have him in sight!"

Double simply grit his teeth and floored the pedal as fast as he dared push the old machine under the watchful eyes of Aruna Trane. They had been riding non-stop for almost two hours now, not a single word having flowed between them except for the occasional direction or status of their trail. Yet, he knew the thoughts in all their minds were completely jumbled, questions billowing to the top of their heads that could not be answered by this creature of magic who they now desperately pursued. Had they even considered what they were going to do when they actually met this angel face to face? Attack him? Fight him? Did they honestly have a chance against such a powerful being, a servant of the Sacred Goddess herself? Probably not. Still, they persisted to run into such a fray without a chance in the world. He smirked at the thought. That was, perhaps, what made the futile battle all the more romantic.

"Ne, Asimov?" questioned Zero, her voice quivering timidly. Rarely did anything seem to break her indestructible barrier of sweetness, but honest worry now shook her tones. If even she worried about how they would come out after this one, then maybe he was not wrong to fret as well. "What are we going to do when we find this angel? Are we going to fight? Can we... stand a chance against that thing?"

Asimov cleared his throat uncomfortably as he held her close, trying to keep his eyes from meeting hers for fear that she would see the despair impaled deep within.

"Well," he started, struggling to keep the truth from bubbling out of his stained gut. "We'll…...we'll just have to---"

"We’ll be fine," interrupted Double from the front seat, grinning that all-too-familiar badge of cocky honor. "When we meet him, we'll win, I promise." He added a quick glance back for good measure, the confidence on his face oozing out in with perfect charisma. "The good guys always triumph, right? Well, we're the heroes here, and we're here to kick his feather-tailed ass all the way back where he came from."

His face never changed expression, but his eyes saw Zero's anxiety slowly die down, her body slowly loosen from all the tension and uneasiness that wracked her mind. Asimov smiled as well, and though he said nothing, the assassin could see the thanks embedded in the golden warrior's eyes for restoring the pigtailed-girl's faith in their cause as well as bring solace to their heart with the knowledge of sure victory. Double knew that he couldn't guarantee his own words, but he didn't care. Sometimes, you just had to ignore the fact that things were against you, that you didn't really have a chance in an unfair world because some higher being just didn't seem to enjoy your presence. God didn't seem to like him much, any of them for that matter. But he was going to laugh in His face until the bitter end, spitting, cussing, and fighting for every last inch that he laid his corpse down upon. Fighting was the only thing he had ever truly known in his entire life until the day he met Edge. That day had changed so much for him, opened up so many doors. He surely was one of the older mecha in the troupe, but often felt as if his own experiences paled in comparison to those of his cohorts if only for the fact that they drew an intangible pleasure out of life that he could not relate to with his own past. He was learning now though, slowly gathering together something more than that straightforward mission and goal. It was never enough for Him though, and now he had sent down one of his own servants to kill them all. But the assassin wasn't quite finished looking for his peace, and no matter how big the name was that opposed their path, he would cut them all down just the same until he reached that distant place. Double chuckled as he considered that last thought. Perhaps, in that respect, he really hadn't changed all that much...

'If God exists and He is using my life to screw His mind for pleasure, then I want---just

once--- to defy His will, the fate He wishes to create for me, and make myself happy, because that's what we all live to achieve: happiness...'

...

"They come."

Black Wyvern's eyes strained themselves as they watched the distant blur slowly transform into a more tangible enemy. Over the heated wasteland's rising fumes came a small caravan of warriors, a few scattered souls banded together as humanity's champions. They would be his final opponents before he took it upon himself to break the universe.

"It's too late," hissed Black Wyvern as he slowly climbed to his feet, the vehicles growing more solid on the horizon with each passing second. "Too late, for them... and for myself."

Rising up to his full height with his arms loosely held to the wind, the angel's wings spread wide as he began to lift off the ground. He closed his eyes in ecstasy as he lost hold on every reservation implemented deep within his mind, and the earth began to shake with his omnipresent anger. The ground split apart as beams of white light reached up to touch the heavens and tongues of flame leapt forth from the newly sown crevices to envelop their caller. As his gaze renewed with a tinge of rage, he lifted his hand and welcomed the searing heat that wrapped about his body in a massive column, watching his final enemy march closer in a procession deafened by the roar of the towering destruction. This was the last thing he had. If he was to lose this day, then the last act of mercy She would have upon him would be to grant him death.

...

"... never seen anything like it..." whispered Kouryuu in awe, her eyes pasted on the fiery pillar that parted the dark clouds that had gathered across the sky. Bolts of lightning flashed about everywhere now, tearing up the ground in massive upheavals that wrenched forth hundreds of tons of solid rock at once. The air was full of cacophony, thunderous crashing reverberating in every direction. In the middle of it all stood the mysterious angel, one of his majestic pinions stripped of feathers down to a leathery, jointed hide of obsidian. Even this far away, the anger his gaze radiated towards them was unbearable, the sheer rage searing out of his mind and ravaging the landscape with indiscriminant hatred.

Double slowly brought the hovercraft to a halt, having no intentions of bringing it any closer to the conflict than need be. Planting his hand on the side and lifting himself out in a short leap to the ground, he wordlessly began to walk towards the cataclysm, never once looking back. The others slowly followed in tow, not wanting to break the small comfort they could each gather in their own solitude. Yoshime, Iesu, and Clef were the only ones left in the vehicle, knowing that they could not follow unless they wished to achieve an early demise, rendered helpless by the fact that their abilities meant nothing in this fight.

Only a few minutes passed as the androids plotted towards their foe, but the sound seemed to carry their departing images in hours. A few of Fumiya's soldiers cautiously edged out towards the fire but quickly retreated back again, fearing the end of the lives. Fumiya himself had unlocked himself from his chamber, but he did not see what the others did. Whereas his followers saw something out of fairy tales from their childhoods, he only saw the monster that he had unleashed, a creature of twisted morality, a fine specimen to reflect his own black heart. He had believed himself to be doing something noble, but it was all an illusion in the end. He tried to run away from the man who had twisted his life in a cloth soaked in blood. In the end, his flight only served to leave a stain on the lives of others rather than purge his own vice.

"They will win," whispered Fumiya to himself, lifting his gaze to watch the small band of six converge in the distance, the mighty seraph rising up into the sky with the fury of the gods. "They have to... because I must still redeem myself for what I have done."

And slowly the beast reared up into the air and bellowed in anger, eyeing the creatures below with jealousy unrivaled. From the molten earth rose up an enormous wave of red fire that gathered in his hands, apexing in a beautiful arc that cut upwards across the sky as the angel rose up with the blooming flower, his eyes burning with passion that only murder could satisfy. And far below him, a small group of warriors watched him descend, standing their ground to prove that there was still something worth fighting for in a world of sadistic greed.

...

"You are still unsure of the outcome of this battle?" mused Adam, watching his student pace in the darkness.

"Of course I'm unsure!" said Edge in frustration. "He's more than we could have ever expected. It's taking all our strength just to keep up with him!"

"And yet you risk visiting me here in the midst of the fight," interrupted the angel, crossing his legs as he lounged in midair, tapping his cheek lightly with his index finger. "That's dangerous, draws away your concentration from where it's truly needed."

"But you're an angel as well!" said the young boy. "Isn't there something you can do, something to help us? Something you can tell us to beat him?"

Adam said nothing as he stared at Edge with eyes clouded over with ambiguous mystery, something that the green-haired android could not perceive. Slowly dismounting from his invisible chair, the man rested his palm on the end of his sword hilt as he walked towards the young boy in brisk, clear steps. Edge feared that the seraph would run right into him as he covered the distance between their bodies with unnatural speed, stopping just before the robot's face and looking down at him with those same mysterious eyes. For a moment, it seemed as though he was angry, as though he resented the last remark with a hostility unnoticed. And then he bent down a bit so that his eyes could meet the shorter figure's more closely, and what reflected in those clear orbs was not something of animosity, but rather clarity and peace.

"Why do you come to me for answers?" questioned the angel. "What gives me any right to say that my experiences possess an air of superiority in comparison to your own? What you are asking me is a rhetorical question that only your own mind can ponder, nothing more. What you seek in this battle will not and cannot come from me. It must come from your own desires--- and thus--- your own actions."

Edge stared up at him helplessly, his hands clenching into impatient fists because he wanted an answer to his problems and would not receive any. His anxiety gave way to anger as stray bolts of electricity began to rise off his armor. Here was a man who knew exactly the kind of enemy they faced, and yet would not help them solve the riddle of how to defeat it. He was hard pressed to keep from breaking down under the futility of the situation.

"That's... that's it?" he said softly, trying hard to repress the heat beneath his voice. "That's the only thing you can suggest, even though we're fighting something that may very well destroy every human being on the face of this planet? Even though you're both angels, even though you both carry the same wings on your back, the same power in your hands? And that's all you can tell me?!"

Adam's face never hardened. Instead, he merely turned on heel and relaxed himself in his perch once more, tapping the end of his blade with wandering interest.

"You do not find my advice useful?"

"Of course I don't find your advice useful!" said Edge angrily. "Your words aren't going to stop that thing out there---"

"But yours will," interrupting the seraph suddenly, his voice suddenly slamming down with such authority that it easily quelled the android's fierce rebuke. "Do not think that I am blind to your plight. I am well aware of who your foe is, and yet, what can I do? My wings do not mean I hold a universal similarity to your opponent, as a man cannot be so easily categorized with any dozen similar men."

Standing up once more, he pulled the elegant no-dachi from its sheath, admiring its gleaming blade for a second before returning it to its shelter once again. "Tell me, why do you fight today? What makes this day so different from any other? Why not leave, let the others take care of it, follow your own desires by yourself?"

"... I... I can't do that," said Edge, a bit shaken from the unexpected reprimand. "They're my friends, they've fought for me too many times already. I just can't leave them like that."

"Hmmm," acknowledged the angel, smiling to himself. "Then you already have the key component that you need to defeat your enemy. You see Edge, what I say does not and cannot matter in the long run because I am not you. I can lend you my advice based on every experience I have ever encountered, but it will never be perfectly synched with your mindset, your loves and hates, your desires, your despair. That is something you and you alone create for yourself, something that no one person will ever be able to fully understand for the simple fact that they are not you. I cannot fathom the heart of the reason of why you choose to fight this day. And yet, that is the very drive that makes men do the things they do, no matter the odds. Without meaning, actions are useless, and likewise, actions without definition are just as futile. I could dictate your plan of battle, but it would not reflect your true passion. That is something you must do on your own."

"My own desires?" questioned the android cautiously. His vision wandered as he stopped for just a moment to discern the real reason behind this battle. He knew that he did it to prevent further slaughter, to keep the world safe from a war machine of the past. Yet, there remained something deeper, something he could not see and could not recognize through the confusion in his own mind. Gradually, he began to realize that that was the true source of his doubts, that perhaps the only real obstacle in his path was his own lack of decisive opinion.

"But... what if I don't really know why I'm fighting? What if I simply don't know why I've chosen to do everything I've already done?"

"Oh, you know it," said Adam. "Perhaps you don't realize it, but you know it. That is what separates the kinds of people in the world, Edge, those who dream but do not act, and those who realize their own goals and set forth to accomplish them. There are many downtrodden human beings in the world, many of them coming from a society they find little worth living in. They too, like all people, have desires to escape the trap, but are not strong enough to act upon their own accord. Then there are people like Kouryuu, the rebels, people who can still see how poor they are but continue to make an effort of defiance. For them, the government is their angel of death, an adversary just as omnipotent and fearsome as the one you face now. And yet, knowing that does not stop their trials because they continue to hold faith in their own beliefs. They continue to fight to make their enemy see the shining lights within their own hearts. That is what it truly means to fight, the thing that has driven man to kill himself time and time again for conquest, money, religion, and love, the thing that defies everything logical and makes us a unique creation in our own right. It is easy to speak your wish, but the real conviction comes when you try to accomplish that aspiration for yourself."

A few silky feathers flew about his face as he readjusted his wings, letting the soft down grace his cheeks as he turned back to the darkness, his footsteps ringing eternally in the invisible void.

"You are strong, Edge. Perhaps you do not directly see everything now, but in time your blindness will be cured by the light. One does not have to realize his own needs in order to fulfill them. As long as you keep hold of a [dream], as long as you can keep fighting for yourself, everything will be all right."

...

Silver flashed through the air with lightning speed as Black Wyvern's arm snaked forward with knife in hand, cutting around Double's blade with incredible ease and bringing the magically infused weapon down upon the base of his neck. The assassin winced as his armor's integrity completely fell apart, not because of the actual force applied to its surface, but rather from the shock of an energy wavelength that nearly dispersed every molecule in his entire body. Forcing himself to take the wound in stride, he whirled about with an arm extended at neck level, his striking edge sharpened for the kill. Yet, his opponent had already moved out of range, flipping upwards with unnatural agility as he crouched in upon himself in midair. The sky suddenly exploded as the angel's upper torso shredded apart in a tornado of bloody bone tendrils, lashing out with crimson strings of detached muscle that wrenched apart anything they could get a grip on.

"Terpfen!" called out Edge, his body shimmering with gravitational distortion as invisible signals ran between their processors faster than mere words could carry.

"I understand," said the behemoth stolidly, a spark of light gathering in his palm as a small ball of nuclear force took form. Still navigating his way through the maelstrom, the green-haired android suddenly took control of the nuclear device himself, his invisible pushes guiding the destructive ball right up into the face of the seraph with unerring accuracy and ferocious speed.

"NOW!!!" he shouted, a blue flash suddenly glazing over him and the others to shield them from the coming explosion. On perfect cue, Terpfen released the required elements into perfect position and the bomb erupted in their enemy's face at point blank range, a hexagonal barrier erecting itself around the victim to guide the excessive force into the atmosphere above.

Temporarily blinded by the light, Double moved in as close as he could to the edge of Terpfen's special barricade to see if that blow had done the trick. However, his eyes widened in horror as he suddenly felt his gut disemboweled. Ripping through the shimmering walls with clawed fingers, Black Wyvern's cold eyes held no mercy as his knife plunged into the assassin's belly, his magic disabling the killer's ability to morph around the piercing weapon.

"All fools," hissed angel, the ground beneath them suddenly groaning in pain. "You were foolish to believe you could kill someone like me..."

The earth suddenly burst forth from the flat plains, raising the killer and the messenger of God high above the barren desert. Where once was rock and dust suddenly grew red meat and flesh. Where once pulsed dried up veins of oil and water now flowed a deep, crimson blood. Sharp bone protruded from the malleable mass of muscle and tissue as it flowed over itself again and again in a futile attempt to achieve a physical form. Great maws filled with teeth cracked open over the plains and lolling tongues that sprayed saliva in every direction sought to taste the entrails of their adversaries. The planet pulsated like a living, breathing creature, and the mighty seraph stood in the middle of it, holding the assassin at his mercy.

"I am everything," said the winged man, so softly that it sounded like a whisper, yet with such passionate hatred that his voice seemed to stretch to every corner of the universe. "She gave you a chance and you ridiculed it with your arrogance. She wanted you to inherit all, but you could never overcome the bickering between yourselves. Perhaps She will not redeem this mistake of evolution because you are merely a lost cause, but that does not have to mean that our efforts--- that of myself and the others who sacrificed so much for you--- shall go on in vain!!!"

Grasping the red android by the neck, Black Wyvern reared back and threw him towards the ground below, a gigantic, toothy mouth dozens of feet wide splitting open the scarlet meat to swallow him whole. Just as he was about to be consumed by the monster of the earth, a thin line of blue light shot out towards his hand and firmly wrapped around his forearm. Fighting his depleted energy levels, Double grasped the wire with strong fingers and felt himself being pulled from the depths of darkness back into the light of the battlefield.

"Don't get weak on me now!" said Kouryuu over her comm-link. "If anyone deserves to kill you, it's me!"

Double could only chuckle as he realigned himself in midair, jogging his sensors as his feet hit the ground.

"I think it's the other way around," he said with a grin. Displays flashed about his eyes as several tables assessed his levels. Thirty-six percent energy reserves remaining, serious damage to his armor structure. Not good. In just one pass, he had nearly been killed. Even a nuclear explosion in close quarters had done nothing for the creature. How much would it take before it finally fell? Could it even be defeated at all? Had they completely miscalculated their chances in this battle? Would it have been better to simply accept the inevitable fate in peace rather than violence?

The assassin shook his head as he forced himself to stare up at the winged beast once again. Deep in the sky's atmosphere, Asimov and Zero bathed in a sea of hellfire as they dove down towards their foe encompassed with the shadows of a thousand angry souls. Even though the angel merely swatted them away with quick bursts of energy, they circled back time and time again, always persisting in their defiant assault. As the pair abruptly backed off for a breather, Edge leapt in to take their place with just as much fury, enormous bolts of electricity riding off his arms as he slammed his opponent over and over with walls of sheer gravitational force, shredding the fleshy tendrils of the earth into showers of gore before they could even touch his hide. Even though the angel shrugged off the torrents of pure force as though they were nothing more than a cool breeze, the young boy refused to surrender even an inch of ground as his hands flared with blue intensity, a blade of solidified gravitational energy spouting forth from his hands to block his enemy's silver balisong that flashed towards his face. None of this was even about winning. Perhaps it would be a small consolation if they could even achieve such a thing, but this was really about the fight. It had always been about the fight, the struggle, the ambition, and the will to twist the world in new and different ways. Perhaps they were fated to die here today. Perhaps, as some greater force had so dictated, they were not meant to live to see the fruits of labor that the next generation would endow upon the planet. And yet, in the most basic of animal instincts, they would fight for the sheer right to survive, no matter how far tipped the odds might be. To hold hope until the bitter end, to continue standing as long as your legs could lift you, that was what it was all about. That was everything.

Forcing his feet to hold his weight once again, Double crouched forward and rocketed across the ground towards his foe in full sprint. At that moment, he felt as though his body was limitless, as though he could do anything in the world. Leaping right into the angel's face with no fear left in his heart, he curled back with arms of sharpened mercury and prepared to strike down his adversary. He would join his friends in this dance, whether it be their final or just their first, and he would live and die with the honor of knowing that he fought alongside the men and women who challenged the end of the world.

...

Man's champions stepped up again and again with no sign of fatigue in their unbridled assault, but their game somehow seemed a worthless battle to the angel. Why did he feel no satisfaction in winning against these opponents, these traitors of God? Perhaps it was because these were merely artificial automatons, a mirror image of his true foe but an illusion nonetheless. Had this been done to mock him? To tease his intellect on the true, horrible nature of the creature known as man? Perhaps. Perhaps it was merely another tactic done to delay the inevitable. Perhaps his true enemy was not the one he saw in front of him, but rather an object of hatred that the voice was trying to conceal from his eyes.

"You hide them from me," he murmured to himself, his body breaking the air with unbelievable speed as he stopped directly in front of the sword-bearing rebel, grasping her neck and slamming her body into the ground faster than their mortal eyes could follow. The red assassin dashed in to take her place, but tendrils full of teeth and bone held him at bay with their poisonous venom, their insatiable hunger threatening to swallow the morpher whole. Black Wyvern watched the struggle with cold eyes as he rose above the scene once more, analyzing every movement as the robot's arms shot out in quick blades of silver to slash and distract his attacker. This was only a puppet. No matter how real its thoughts were, they came forth from mere silicon nonetheless. It was a worthy imitation of his real object of hatred, and yet the intense similarity only fueled his anger even more.

The green-haired android launched a fist directly at the angel's jaw while he was still occupied with his other quarry, a resounding thunder crashing across the landscape as a field of microscopic black holes tried to tear his face apart. The seraph merely chuckled as he filled the void with sufficient matter to counter the vacuum effect, twisting about his opponent and smashing his elbow into the back of his head.

"Too weak," he snickered, watching as the android plummeted into the ground below. Turning his head towards the horizon as the flesh of gaia swirled about his body, his eyes looked into the distance and found his true prey. On the outskirts of the storm awaited a small group of humans, patiently awaiting the outcome of the combat in the distance. The very sight disgusted him. Even on the eve of their own deaths they continued to act as cowards, goading others to fight in their place. Nothing he could say or do would ever change who they were or how they acted. It was far too late in their state of evolution to turn back the evil within. The only solution left was to destroy them completely and hope that the next successors of the earth would not turn out the same.

The air shattered with the splitting of the sound barrier as he suddenly ignored his assailants and headed straight towards his real objectives. The voice within had tried to distract him once with a show of power, but he knew better. Man was weak, without will, without hope, without conscience, and without strength. He lived off of self-loathing, killing one another in order to raise himself higher in his own tainted society. This was his real target, a beast that hid behind his mechanisms of war because he was too cowardly to face his own demons himself. Now he would take the fight directly to their faces without all the extravagant flare and see how they fared against a pure heart.

...

"The hell---?!" said Double, covering the sides of his head as the angel rocketed off towards Fumiya's caravan, the enormous masses of living flesh rolling along at incredible speeds in his wake. The assassin's eyes widened in shock as he suddenly realized what had just happened.

"Goddamnit!!!" shouted Kouryuu as she sharply changed her direction along the ground, heading in full sprint back towards the small human troupe. "He's going after the others! If we can't even get this guy to break a sweat, then... then..."

Double watched as the rebel suddenly stopped her desperate dash towards the crowd in the distance, watched the archangel close in on his new target with relentless passion, the earth tearing itself up to join in ferocious spirals about his body, leaving mile-wide ravines in their empty wake. Catching her breath, Kouryuu’s arms slowly fell to her side in hopeless despair, her grip upon her blades finally loosing their slack. Slowly, she let the heat melt away from her body as she slouched forward in downfall, the dust licking her boots as her feet stumbled forward, her frame finally feeling the effects of her expenditure. Calmness replaced the fury in her eyes, recognition silently overpowering her stolid manner. It was scary to see her simply watch as their foe escaped the hungry end of her saber. It was the first time he had ever seen her give up.

"He's too fast," she panted, her gaze sharpening despite her tired shell because she knew that nothing she could do would be able to stop their enemy. "Too fast, too strong, too damn good. We can't... I can't..." She did not continue, and the killer could not blame her. They had tried their best and it simply was not enough. What did you do when even that desire deep within was not enough to achieve your aspirations? What could you do when even your greatest fight meant nothing to the world? Death had no meaning to the true warrior. The real wounds came when he simply could not make the difference he so desired.

Stepping forward, he lay a gentle hand on the rebel leader's shoulder, meeting her defeated gaze with one of calm acceptance.

"We fought," he said softly. "That's what mattered, that we still defied him until the very end." It was a thin victory, but the rebel managed to smile for it nonetheless. Her hand reached back to meet his own, not wanting to be alone when the world finally did come to an end.

"We fought," whispered Kouryuu. She squeezed his palm gently, her strength far greater than the assassin could ever imagine. "We fought."

The atmosphere suddenly roared with noise as the rebel's mane was tossed about wildly by a sudden blast of wind, and Double was temporarily blinded by an azure haze as he struggled to see what had just happened. Sensors jumped off the charts as he resorted to his computers to reach the information before his vision cleared.

"Edge?!" he exclaimed, reading the sudden burst of energy that had just soared past them. Flinging his companion's hair aside with one arm, he watched in amazement as a thundering streak of blue light rocketed back towards the small group of humans, the air shimmering with gravitational distortment in its wake as it quickly gained distance on the horrible angel.

"He's still out there," whispered Kouryuu, the seconds seeming to tick by like years as they watched the young boy refuse to give up to anyone or anything. And then she smiled, because she knew that they still had a chance. That they hadn't lost until the last of their numbers had the door nailed shut on their coffin, and Edge was too strong too let anyone do that to the ones he truly cared for. "He'll do it for us," she said, her hand tightening on the grip of her sword. "As long as we can still stand up, we can still win."

Double said nothing as he watched his friend disappear into the distance to bravely carry on their battle. A long time ago, he had told Kouryuu that there was something different about this one. There was some secret he help deep within his metal heart that none of them could read, that maybe there was another side to him that he could not and would not show to them for fear that it would be too horrible to gaze upon. There was another side, but it was not what he had thought. Deep within that young boy lay something more powerful than anything he had ever seen in his life. It wasn't the ability to conjure gravitational waves. It wasn't the combat training that he had so easily picked up since their first meeting. It was nothing tangible, nothing that he could give name or credit to. But somewhere within that soul lie someone who did not give up, not for anyone or anything. Somewhere in there lay a drive that he did not recognize nor understand, but respected nonetheless simply because it would not feel fear nor doubt, not pain nor despair. In that respect, he was surely the most powerful man on the face of the earth.

"Heh," grinned the assassin, arrogantly wiping his nose with his finger. "That little bastard. He better come back to us in one piece."

...

"I can't die yet. I won't let Yoshime go, not matter how weak I may be..."

...

Black Wyvern's gaze was suddenly distracted by the blast of energy that shot past him, roaring with a force that even he could not best. Something back there had been able to match and exceed his own power? Had he simply not seen it before or had it merely been a clever ploy to deceive his evaluation of his opponents? Regardless of origin, one of the machines had decided to cast off its shade of deception and join the battle in full force. The blue streak continued to soar towards the crowd of humans before finally planting its feet into the hard earth and bring itself to a startling halt. Gradually, the sapphire haze melted away to reveal the green-haired android as the valiant knight of metal skidded to a stop in front of the young girl in the black dress and the young boy bearing a cross. His body now raged with an aura of which the angel had never seen before as wave after wave of shining white energy whipped about his body and climbed into the air. His eyes no longer held the tinge of uncertain immaturity that they had in their earlier exchange of blows. The only thing left was determination unrivaled, a passion he had not seen emerge from a living creature for thousands of years.

" Interesting," grinned the seraph, suddenly picking up speed as the fleshy tendrils of the earth began to twine around his body in patterns of bloody red. Where man could not learn loyalty to God, here a machine had been able to learn devotion to its human masters. Here, an unliving being had found that ray of light that the others could not see. Whether or not this thing could feel the blows he inflicted upon its gleaming hide, he respected it well enough for possessing that affection that even its creators had failed to reach. That at least deserved a proper killing blow, one fit for a warrior who was willing to fight until his last breath.

Black Wyvern's speeding body suddenly exploded in crimson as he brandished his silver balisong in the palm of his robotic arm. The rolls of flesh and muscle following in his wake twisted up and about in maws of white teeth and claws, hungering for prey to satiate their never-ending appetite. The branches of blood quickly gathered about their host, winding about the winged man's body as they sensed the gathering of energy in his simple blade, driven wild by the ambient focus of such killing desire. A blazing trident of focused destruction gathered in a tidal wave of muscle tissue, the angel roaring across the barren landscape with his fingers loosely gripping the cutting tool from which he would unleash the gates of hell upon his unlucky foe. The roaring sea now exploded with force, rearing up and collapsing upon itself over and over as it sought a physical body upon which to finally deliver the hatred of its master, becoming an ocean of churning gore that followed in the seraph’s wake.

The [Critical Fault].

"Feel honored to die by my hand today, young boy," whispered the angel, bearing down upon his prey without any mercy left for the world. His body exploded forth all at once, and then he became a shaft of light, ripping through the atmosphere faster than the eye could see. "You are my last obstacle on the path to the new world."

...

All you must do is ask yourself what it is that you desire most in this world. Once you know, the rest is only a matter of following those dreams.

"I won't let her die. I don't care if I'm torn to shreds. Yoshime is the one who really matters."

One does not have to realize his own needs in order to fulfill them.

"I can't give up. Not yet."

...

The green-haired android moved slowly at first, stepping forward with casual grace to meet the messenger of death that came to wipe him off the face of the earth. And then his feet began to move faster, then faster, until his body had accelerated into a maddening blur that trailed arcs of electricity in its wake. As if time itself had suddenly slowed down, the boy brought both his hands about to his right hip as a brilliant glow encompassed their angular frame, bright shafts of light that seemed to pierce reality slowly being drawn forth between his firm palms. His eyes never left the angel's, forever burning that invincible determination into Black Wyvern's own memory. Something about that stare suddenly spilled nostalgia over the seraph like a bucket of ice water, something about it suddenly made him remember things that he had thought were long past in the books of history. The glow in those spheres was not of this world, not of this degradation that he had first thought man to have stooped to. It was something fierce, strong, unstoppable. It was a strength that would not be denied, something that he knew, that every angel knew because it was a sign of the true, real intensity of the pure spirit...

And slowly the broken pieces of glass took on a whole new meaning.

...

The difference between you and him...

"I'll never give up, not while she's still alive."

... is that you still have something to believe in.

"Never."

...

Black Wyvern's own eyes widened as he watched a beautiful trail of white glory linger in the tracks of the android's path. Yet, it was not the optical illusion of afterimage that he had first thought. Rather, it was the legendary picture out of his past that every seraph knew by heart. Slowly, that seven foot shaft began to take shape, wrapping around itself in intricate bends and folds as a lengthy stave of scintillating intangibility began to take form. From that pole gradually came the sharpened edge of a thin sword, its blade gleaming with the brightness of the sun. Suddenly, it was no longer a glare of energy that was held between the boy's hands, but a massive no-dachi whose edge shone with a light that could not be described by mortal words. And suddenly that boy's hands wrapped around the hilt of the weapon as though the action were mere instinct, the passion in his eyes never hesitating for a second as his body wheeled back with no intention of ever being stopped. He twisted at the hip, but those blazing orbs continued to peer over his shoulder with love and hate painted in their deepest cores, refusing to slow down for anything. It was then that the angel realized that nothing in his power could stop this one. Nothing.

That sword---!" breathed Black Wyvern, his grip on his switchblade growing unsteady as the mountain of flesh bending about his body actually trembled back in fear. Now he knew why that voice had talked to him so closely, why it had been able to penetrate even his deepest most hidden thoughts. Now he knew why he thought this android's power aura to seem familiar, as if he had seen it sometime in the past before. This was no ordinary battle. This was not merely a matter of his struggle to restore a humanity that had sunken deep into the crevices of sin. Somewhere along the line, the Sacred Goddess had realized exactly what he had meant to do. She had seen and taken the necessary precautions to keep his murderous movement from ever reaching its full accomplishment. And somewhere along the line, she had sent out her harbinger, her own chosen warrior, to reverse the wrong that was intended.

In the past, there was the story of Lucifer and how he turned from the glory of God's favor to spawn his contempt for man in the pits of hell. To combat the fallen angel's army of darkness, God sent forth Michael with his army of light to combat and overcome the legions of hatred and preserve justice within humanity. That was a part of history that everyone knew at the time. He himself was not Satan, and likewise this young boy was not Michael. Yet, for the first time since he had reawakened in the world of Her clemency, he felt doubt. And slowly his faltering desire to fight broke down in the face of his own oversight.

"That sword is the legendary..."

And the hero looked up from beneath the veil of his emerald mane in the distance, his mouth opening in a cry that nobody could ever ignore.

...

"I must protect her---!!!"

...

The cataclysm of crimson split without resistance in the face of the blade of light, Edge whirling about in a single mighty swing as his mouth opened in a vacuum of sound that tore apart all life with its silent word. For a brief second, the atmosphere around the two completely collapsed as the deafening weapon started its blazing arc through the angel's body, brilliant shafts of light flaring in every direction while the hurricane of blood swirled about the mighty sword like a moth attracted to a lamp. And Black Wyvern froze in the absence of time, only his eyes capable of reacting to the movement around him, helpless to prevent his foreordained destiny dictated by Her. Yet, he now welcomed his own death with open arms, for only in the immediate face of demise did he finally begin to realize how much he had underestimated the strength of the sheep he had been entrusted to herald. How much he had wronged both those he was entrusted to protect, as well as himself...

You see now, do you not?

And Black Wyvern grinned, the seconds slowly ticking by as the blazing, white edge began to tear through his stomach.

"I see," he whispered to himself, unable to move his lips but knowing his response would still be heard. "I... see..."

The air roared as a blinding explosion of white glory exploded between the two, time suddenly regaining its meaning as the green-haired android's powerful motion sliced through the seraph without obstruction, his streaking body sailing out of the impact like a bullet fresh from the barrel. Soaring through the air as though he would never stop, his feet finally touched down on the hard surface of the earth and kicked up enormous clouds of dust as they dragged him to a halt. His arms, still tense from the strike, held heaven's blade in tight palms by his left hip, his final blow now completed in action, his eyes never straying from that distant goal that lay straight ahead. Slowly, the young boy turned around to gaze upon his fallen enemy, his orbs returning to their previous brightness, the brand in his hand melting away on waves of fading light. He never noticed the weapon leave though, for he was too busy watching the storm of feathers that swirled about as the Black Wyvern's fallen body was cast to the winds in a final tribute to his existence. Despite the immense tempest of living innards that had just encompassed the angel moments before, not a drop of blood perverted his pristine image now. Only white clemency remained, a clear, beautiful hail of perfect feathers that parted the last of the man's physical body with his soul and flew it up into the sky to join his fellow deceased brethren. Even his single angular wing of black corruption seemed to burst into the silky down and disperse with the rest of his form, as if that vice that once pervaded his tainted form had finally been recompensed for.

And despite all the passion, all the hate and worry, all the want and need, everything that had invaded his heart just moments before, Edge let himself be reduced to a simple observer as he watched the beauty in awe. He had thought that perhaps he had been pitted against the devil himself, a monster so strong and twisted that the raw potency of its depraved mind could not be gauged on a human level. Yet, even in the eye of the madness, he had seen those eyes soften, the grip slacken, and the monster reduced to nothing as he let himself be slayed. At the last second, when it had finally counted, the angel had chosen not to strike him down. He had chosen not to strike man down. Perhaps that was why he was allowed this last ceremony of grace as he left the plane of reality forever.

So distracted was everybody by the spirals of ascending elegance that no one noticed the steel balisong fall back down to earth, its metal shaft sticking soundly in the hard dirt and settling down against the soil to peacefully sleep for all eternity, no hand to ever call it a tool of death again.

...

"So is this all She will leave me with?" whispered Black Wyvern, clutching his arms tightly about his shoulders as he crouched in the empty void. "Is this the penalty I shall receive for my actions, to leave me alone, to deprive me of the very thing I had mistakenly killed in order to protect? To deprive me of my ability to love Her?"

The barren vacuum seemed to whisper back an answer of despair, and for a moment the angel truly thought himself to be abandoned in a desert as desolate as the regions of hell itself. And then a soft chime seemed to ring out in the blackness. At first, he thought it to be nothing more than an illusion, a trick of the ear that came from the sheer loneliness of solitude and the desperate desire to hear another's voice once again. Thus, he was reluctant to look up at first notice, to even allow himself that distant hope that perhaps pity had been shed upon his broken body. However, the second bell brought with it a gentle touch upon his forehead, and his eyes slowly rolled up to see a white feather of mercy that drifted down from above to answer his question. As his vision began to finally adjust to the everlasting space, he watched as that one feather was joined by many, covering him in a peaceful snow of forgiveness.

"I knew you would see it the way She wanted you to in the end."

Suddenly, that voice that had led him so far was no longer a distant rustle, but something strong and firm that stood directly before his eyes. Black Wyvern turned his head in the direction of the voice to now look upon the man whom every angel knew, who he did not recognize until his last chance to turn back from his path of destruction. The fine strands of hair that blew in front of his face on an invisible wind, the chiseled features of his hard yet compassionate face, the three pairs of seraph's wings, the six-foot no-dachi held at his hip. The legendary warrior...

"Arikku..." he breathed, looking up to the stolid traveler with tired eyes.

He could not continue what he wanted to say, so filled with shame and self-loathing. But he didn't have to, for the other angel reached his hand out towards him with an open palm, beckoning him to take it up and rise to his feet once again.

"Stand," said the seraph, smiling gently for him. "We are equals here. There is no reason why I should have to look down upon you."

Black Wyvern only shook his head and bowed in shame, unwilling, unable to grasp the outstretched offering put forth before him.

"I can't," he whispered. And then he forced his voice to become firmer, stronger, resolute in pronouncing his mistake. "I saw what I did. It was at the last minute, but I saw it. I know that I was wrong, that She had judged my ultimatum. That is all I need to know."

"Surely, you misconstrue the Sacred Goddess," laughed the traveler lightly. "Simply because she chose to abort your plans did not mean she would condemn you to the darkness."

"But why shouldn't she?!" burst out Black Wyvern, flinging his head up and staring at his savior with a gaze that desired explanation. "I wronged her. I went against what she declared to be the right thing. Do I not deserve punishment? Do I not deserve to be enacted upon in vengeance?"

He awaited an answer, but instead the higher archangel merely crouched down on his knees until he met Black Wyvern's eyes on an even level, until they were both equal and commensurate. And his colleague laid a strong yet gentle hand upon his shoulder, squeezing with compassion, affection, and understanding.

"She understands that what you did was not in her best intentions. She understands that it is not possible to reverse the lives you have taken, the destruction you have dealt. But that is not what She wanted you to learn, for She is also forgiving. Indeed, this is no longer the world you were once accustomed to. Indeed, the things here today are in a far worse circumstance than what we would have expected and desired so many years ago. But also, you cannot misjudge them. You cannot generalize the human being because they are too individualistic, too strong, to ever completely fall into oblivion. And maybe most will fall into the hands of the lord of lies and hate, but as long as there remains one--- even just one--- who continues to dream wonderful dreams, who continues to follow those aspirations with faith and hope, who fights with all his heart for what he thinks is right, then there's still something worth saving. Humans are resilient in that manner. They never give up, no matter how far they've fallen."

Black Wyvern simply stared at the man, stared into the eyes that shined to brightly, so clearly. Slowly it dawned on him, that because he had seen at the last minute, because he had seen that glimmer of incredible, invincible desire before that knife in his hand had tried to strike down the hero in his path, She would not let him die. She would continue to let him live, continue to give him another chance because therein continued to lie the potential for something great. Just like the humans.

And suddenly he began to wonder about the green-haired android, if that light he had seen had not even been Arikku's spark, but actually something that the boy could claim as his own, a fighting spirit strong enough to clear everything in its path, a love that refused to die out.

Maybe someday, he could reclaim that love for himself as well.

"I am a monster, but... I won't give up. I will never give up."

"You see now, don't you?"

Black Wyvern finally let himself smile, and left himself in the hand of his savior as Arikku pulled him to his feet. It would be okay. Someday, maybe he could redeem himself for what he had done. All that mattered now was that he had seen the wrong of his actions and was granted another chance to start over.

"I see," whispered the angel in the void, never noticing as the metal on his robotic right arm slowly melted away to flesh and muscle, finally repenting the killing machine implanted within his tainted soul. "I will try again..."

He felt Her arms reach out to him, embrace him, hold him, burn away the blackness with their sacred, holy light and guide him along the path of justice. He did not resist as She caressed his body, as the vision once obscured by darkness was enveloped by the spreading light. He welcomed it, welcomed being brought in by Her love and mercy and returning to that familiar place by Her side in a place where he could love and respect Her without obstacle or obstruction. Where everything he had thought was destroyed by selfish greed and desire still existed in a haven far above the reality of the thing called 'life...'

"I will try... again."

*...*

When the brightness finally cleared, the sole archangel was left alone once again, smiling in the bathing light of his own wings, his hand gently caressing the scabbard of his brilliant blade. With a light toss of his bangs, he glanced over his shoulder up into the never-ending vacuum, his gaze lying upon the one who had kept hidden from Black Wyvern's melancholy view.

"He now knows what he is looking for, my friend," said the seraph. "That is what's most important, to dream."

And from the shadows stirred a gravitational distortion, a bending of light that abruptly dropped its illusion and let the red armor and green mane see through once again. Edge slowly let the mirage fade away, staring at the man he called Adam not knowing what to think or say. Yet, the silence between them was not one of tension, of confusion or bitterness. Rather, it was one of silent understanding, that one man had finally realized what the other was trying to show him all along, that the only way he had finally learned the lesson was--- ironically--- through the death and rebirth of his own enemy. Maybe he did not live in a world of perfection, but certainly there still existed hope. There still existed faith. All inside himself. Maybe, the only thing he really needed to do was look inside for that guidance. Maybe... he could still win.

Satisfied that the young boy had seen what he wanted him to see, Adam smiled and turned his back to leave. At first, Edge raised his hand in protest, to question, to ask about the things he still did not know. But in the end, he simply let his palm fall to his side as he watched the man walk away. Perhaps he still possessed those inquiries, still possessed a thousand things that he did understand about life and its mechanisms, but they could wait for another time, another place, another destiny.

Today, they could wait.

...

"Tadaima." ("I'm home.")

"Okaeri." ("Welcome back.")

...

Double simply watched the others as Fumiya's men rushed about frenetically with their tools, administering mechanical help to the tired warriors where they could. He had pushed them off early on, still unwilling to accept anything having to do with the mercenary. Yet, today he carefully observed their numbers as they made a genuine effort to assist, to help and heal, as though witnessing the battle just previous had opened their eyes to their own mortality. Something had happened out there, something that pushed Edge further than any of them had ever seen him fight. He had no idea what it was, but it brought the young boy victory where their own weapons lent little more than scratches on the angel of death.

"That light..." muttered Double, his eyes glazing over as he recalled as much as he could of the miraculous scene. It couldn't have taken more than a single second, the entire action that Edge accomplished from the blazing sprint to the slash of blinding light that tore their enemy in half. Yet, nothing he had ever seen had matched the power of that singular attack. As his companion's arms had streaked forward to deal the final blow, his computer had gone completely haywire. Failing, crashing, and suddenly coming out the other end as if nothing had happened in the first place. It was as if for a brief second the normal laws of physics no longer applied. His programs could no longer tell what direction he was facing, where he was, what he was doing, or what was going on about him. And then it was all over, a sweeping sea of calmness having quietly swept the storm away.

"Are you going to look sour forever or will you simply accept the fact that we actually won?"

The assassin arched an eyebrow upwards at the shadow that approached him, knowing all too well that it was only Kouryuu, her arms crossed and a slightly cocky smile of relief gracing her face.

"Ah, you know I'm the guy who can't appreciate anything good that happens around here," he grunted, half jokingly, dismissing her with a brush of his hand. "I just still can't believe we're alive."

"Normally I'd probably question such luck as well," said the rebel, leaning back to join her companion in watching the others recover from the onslaught. "Normally, I'd probably think that this might just be another nightmare, a shade covered over our eyes while the real destruction is still going on outside the illusion. But today..." She paused as she casually rested her arms behind her head, staring up at the sky. "Today I'll let myself be content with what I see right now. I have no idea what happened back there, but I don't want to question it. I'm just going to accept that we're still here, that the others are still here, and thank Edge for whatever the hell it was he did because we all came out in one piece."

The assassin thought about his friend's words as he stared off into the distance, turning them over and over again within his mind. And finally he settled on a snicker and let his gaze move up towards the sun as well. Maybe it was simply that he hated to relax, that he hated to think that all conflict and trouble had actually passed by them already. Kouryuu would say that he just had a stick stuck too far up his rear end. Then again, maybe he should simply accept things for what they were. For once, maybe he should just be thankful that he was still alive.

"Ch," spat the rebel contemptuously, abruptly breaking the peace. "He never gives us a moment's rest, does he?"

Double lifted his head to look to whom the rebel was referring to, only to find himself regretting the action once his eyes finally fell upon the approaching target. Fumiya Sang Wu had detached himself from his lackies and was casually making his way in their direction, his dark bangs of purple hair casting long shadows over his face with the sun's dying rays of light. However, his stature seemed slightly different this time, his shoulders a little more hunched, his movements more quick and precise in their response. It almost seemed as if he were trying to hide from his men, as if he was attempting to ignore their persistent questions and requests.

"Come to thank us for cleaning up your mess?" said the killer with a heavy hint of sarcasm gracing his tone. But to his surprise, the mercenary didn't even shoot him a stare of contempt.

"... yes. I came to thank you," said Fumiya slowly, keeping his eyes low to the ground. "You succeeded where I failed, and I am grateful for your efforts. I think, perhaps, I let my past get the better of me, that I did things without considering their consequences on others." And suddenly he raised his head once again, but his eyes burned with bitterness unrivaled. Even Double was taken aback by their distant flame, something not directed toward Kouryuu nor himself, but something that neither of them could tangibly see. Though the young man's body showed nothing of violent intention, his gaze wove threads of animosity so deeply imbedded in the young man's heart that they seemed to radiate an aura of madness. The assassin had never really noticed the trait before, but now the mercenary stood only a few meters away, still and unmoving. It was hard not to notice the sparks that erupted within the man's vision. "I have one last favor to ask of you before I can rest, though I believe it will have high beneficiaries for yourself as well," said the mercenary.

At first, Double felt obliged to outright refuse the man's request for anything. He had had more than his fill of trouble from the mercenary. If the man’s efforts thus far were any measure of his being, they easily proved that he would be nothing but trouble in the future. But before he could open his mouth in rejection, Kouryuu's elbow roughly jabbed him in the ribs with a silencing blow. The assassin shot a menacing glare in her direction, but something in the rebel's eyes told him that perhaps a hasty action was not something they needed to make in this situation. He almost considered relaying her a rebuke over his comm-link, but ended up relaxing once again as his companion did the negotiations. The least he could do was hear the man out first.

"What did you have in mind?" said the rebel, crossing her arms before her, her posture speaking purely of business.

"First, I'm sure that you've already acquainted yourselves with Yoshiki, my... father," said Fumiya, spitting the last word with reluctance.

"Yoshiki Sang Wu, eh?" said Double from the sidelines. "There's a lot of people who'd kill to get their hands on the bounty for his head."

"I'm aware of that," muttered the mercenary, half-ignoring the assassin's impromptu comment. "At any rate, I'm sure you’ve also deduced that Yoshiki has connections to the one you call 'Toy.' I do not know much of this particular contact myself, but I do know that he is someone with powerful resources and ability, someone who has been giving you trouble, going so far as to attack you within the confines of my own headquarters. I also happen to know that he is Yoshiki's primary contact on this planet. In the past, I've seen them often exchange information for the weapons that you were attacked with just the other day. Severing this bond through sabotage of their communications will severely cripple the resources of both, giving your team the time it needs to accomplish whatever it is you've set out to do. I still remember where Yoshiki's residence is. He was always one to defend his treasured home rather than move for the sake of secrecy. There is a hidden path through the mountains northeast of here, something that neither Aruna Trane nor Moruki Dana informats know about. This path leads to the rim of Moruki Dana's northern border, a secluded area that's been kept intact from the warring countries. That is where he resides. If you attack properly, that is where you will lift a heavy burden from your shoulders as well."

Kouryuu absently scratched her chin as she considered the offer, gently nodding her head at the advantages such a detour could bring them. Thus far, Toy had proved to be a considerable thorn in their progress, slowing and weaking them again and again with his persistent assaults. Perhaps it would be to their convenience if they took to the offensive for once and tried to shut him down.

"Your proposal has merit," she said slowly. "But what do you want in return?"

Fumiya did not say anything at first, the flames in his gaze instead intensifying into a raging inferno that yearned to consume everything alive. The man abruptly forced himself to glance off to the side, reigning control upon the insatiable appetite of his hatred and compelling himself to put forth his invitation.

"I want you to take me with you," he said softly. Then, as he quietly regained control of his past, he looked into the rebel's eyes once again with a face that almost seemed to ask for mercy. "I have dragged strangers into my fight for too long. I have taken too many actions without considering the consequences of innocents. Now all I want is to face my father one last time, alone. All I want is to leave these people, to accompany you to Yoshiki's residence, and for you to leave me there once your business is through so that I can finally settle my feud with him. Alone."

Kouryuu said nothing, tapping her forearm incessantly as she considered the proposition in her head. For a brief second, it almost looked as though Fumiya had let every defense he had down, as if he had realized the futility of asking for compassion and despaired at not being given the chance at vengeance that he so desired. It was almost pityful.

Finally, the rebel leader closed her eyes and gave a curt nod to the man, keeping her words as succinct as possible.

"We will leave tonight, while the others sleep," she said. "That way, you can do what you have to do without their interference."

They were few words for a response, but Fumiya accepted them gracefully and gave a nod of thanks, his face still solemn and cold, his eyes still distantly aflame.

"Thank you," he whispered softly, and turned to walk away.

...

Edge sat hunched over in the dust as Yoshime meticulously picked at the back of his neck with her tools, cleaning and rewiring to make sure that he functioned to his fullest potential. He could not stop staring at his hands, the hands that had drawn forth the sword that he had seen many times at Adam's side, by Arriku Terusuke's side. He could not stop wondering what such a thing meant for himself. Was there some significance in him pulling forth the angel's sword for his own usage? Or had that merely been another sign of the seraph's assistance in his battle?

"Are you okay, Edge?" said Yoshime, noticing his distraction as she continued to work at his back.

"Yeah, I'm okay," said the boy, watching his fingers serenely bend in the air. They were delicate tools that he sometimes took for granted, that he picked up objects with, touched with, killed with. That he crafted with. That he built his life with. There was something he didn't see beyond the construction of his own being, something that he could not explain in words. Perhaps he was simply not meant to. Perhaps part of being human was having those things that would always remain a mystery but were accepted as truth nonetheless. Perhaps there really was no 'truth,' per say, but rather only one's own perceived truth, one's own desire, one's own aspirations and goals. And from that, each individual derived the substance of their lives.

"You need to take better care of yourself!" said Yoshime firmly, giving him a light smack on the head. "You always rush into things like it’s the end of the world. If you keep that up, you're going to seriously hurt yourself one of these days."

"I will, I will," said Edge reassuringly, though she gave him another smack on the head for good measure before going back to her work. She always seemed to be so concerned about his well being. Yet, wasn't she the one who was human, who could be so much more easily damaged than himself? And still she continued to contradict her own words, doing things that put herself in danger so that his wish could be satisfied. Often, he felt guilty that she did so much for him while he did so little. Someday, in the future, he would make up for it all. He would give her everything she ever wanted and gain solace in knowing that she was happy…

"Yoshime," he started, still slightly unsure of himself. What was he asking? Why did he ask? Or was he doing something merely because it was an inquiry from deep within, because he really wanted to know what it was that she really desired beyond the façade of reality?

"Do you have... a dream?"

And the young girl simply laughed lightheartedly, embracing him about the neck and shoulders and burying her face in his soft hair.

"Of course I have a dream," she said.

"... I see..." said Edge. And he gently reached up to take her fingers into his own, to touch and hold a part of her, to protect her.

And he smiled.

...

“***’Programa de Sueno’ loaded. Time until activation: 498300 cycles.”

...

End "Revelations"