Songs of the Chained Ones’ Fury: Chapter 5

Karikoga saw Shohiwa laying on the bed, scratching his balls while he was looking at his phone as Gabriel said, “You see? And now I have learned another terrible truth of our reality: that Shohiwa’s complacency and laziness won’t change until he is broken—that people will not accept beneficial change and cast off the shackles of laziness and the terrible embrace of complacency until calamity strikes them so hard that they are broken. That a broken and contrite spirit is the only way Shohiwa and the rest of a troubled, complacent society will see the folly of their way and repent.” Gabriel faced Shohiwa and said, “Little brother! Get your gear ready! We prepare for the mission!” Shohiwa shook his head, “And then little brother talks about reaching the Second Nature.” continued Gabriel, cringing with disgust.

Sometime later, after having a meeting with some high officials and chamber members of the empire, Emperor Milo had retreated to his study. Sitting in his large circular couch located within the lower dais area where a series of monitors and computers floated within the air of the circular resting place, Milo surmised that, most of the time, when a Kai or a Sheenyo-Qi made a choice, they had done it out of a falsely prescribed necessity that dictated that the said choice was done to benefit them and those around them in the long run when, in truth, they were slowly becoming the architects of their doom, believing that their temporary stability and tangible successes were measurements of good wealth and securing a prosperous future after they supposedly sacrificed what they needed to sacrifice in order to make that twistedly good choice to bring them further to the truth of life that they believed made everything worth living. But, in actuality, they knew not that the choices they made would be the catalyst of their suffering, and that any excuses they conjured to deem their choices necessary were deceitful excuses forged from hell’s flames that imprisoned them against any sound reason and truth that called them out on their ways—having excuses for their wrapped minds of selfishness, greed, ambition, wanton lusts, and the like; that their ignorance proved to be their hope and priest in teaching them that the unjust sacrifices they had made were worthy, valuable sacrifices deemed of merit that proclaimed them worthy for virtue.
                Milo turned on the monitor and pressed a button. He began making a call.
                They sacrificed nothing of value to win them true virtuosity; and they knew not that the choices they made were drawing them one step closer to dining at the table of despair and damnation with Lucifer, Beelzebub, Azazel, Belial, Ashtaroth, Lilith, and all those other spirits of the Eternally Fallen who desired the company of those about to become the authors of their oblivion. Oh, how we become the architects of our suffering.
                Yes, and, when that time came, when they all saw the error of their ways, Milo could only imagine the horror that ravaged Kai and Sheenyo-Qi countenances when they realized what they had done were foolish. And yet, when calamity came upon them, they looked not into the mirror to criticize the one who manifested their misfortunate and misery. No. They looked to the heavens. And pointed the finger at The One who made them in His likeness—blaming The One who gave them the power to have dominion over the Earth, hating and criticizing The One who gave them supreme agency over their own free will to choose to enter the straight and narrow road or walk upon the left- or right-hand paths. And they would scream and beat their chests like stupid apes, and cry, “Abba, why did you do this to me?”
                Milo sat back on his platinum chair and closed his eyes. And as he did, he grieved because he wasn’t ignorant as the common man. Not stupid enough to blame someone else for his problems. In reality, most of the problems and pains and sufferings that tormented Milo was caused by his own doing, evils he inflicted on himself. Granted, there were exceptions, oncoming, unforeseen tribulations that was out of one’s control, but even then, was it really an excuse—to believe that such unforeseen suffering was out of control when such suffering were produced by a collective of fools you never knew because the said collective of fools of society decided to use their own divine agency of free will and make the most dumbest decisions that endangered those around them? No. Milo believed it wasn’t an excuse, because, the truth was, if humanity so willed, all they had to do was band together to shape their voices into a formidable instrument of justice to condemn the group of fools who governed them, rather than live their lives in ignorance and say, “Well it had nothing to do with me. So, why should I care?”
                Milo clinched his fists. The folly of it all, and yet, once again, he grieved, knowing that he wasn’t like the common man because he wasn’t blessed with the gift of ignorance and stupidity, but cursed with the gifts of knowing and acuity: that the blood he shed for his cause was slowly staining his hands, building onto them a permeant staining of criminality that would mark Milo in the Day of Judgement, seeing in himself that what he had done and what he was going to do would endanger his soul, understanding that the sacrifices and choices he made was bringing him a step closer to sit and lament at the table of Satan and his demons who would laugh at him and then cry and wail for themselves because of their foolishness in believing that they had a chance in a great war deemed eternal in their eyes, and that the punishment they would receive would destroy them and testify to their folly—the same torment that Milo would have to endure…forever.
                He rubbed his depraved jewel on his forehead as it shined pale purple lighting onto the shadows of his personal keep, arraying the dark corners of his private study with a light of despair, stressed out at the foolishness of it all—and the sadness. Coming to his senses, Milo activated the monitor and patched in with one of his “closest” and soon-to-be-cast-aside friends. Kezuo, the son of the Protector Kantz Stalingrad, pulled up on the screen.
                “Emperor Milo! How we are blessed with another day in the sun!”
                Skipping past the banality and meaninglessness of the formalities, Milo said, “The White Wolf, she plans on allying with The Blades of the Most High.”
                Kezuo chuckled. “My my. That desperate.”
                “It seems that way. But things are never what they presume to be with Marla. Her reality is a mirage of shifting shadows, amorphous light, and darkness formed into complete solidarity.”
                Kezuo’s eyes squinted sharply as if he understood the true meaning behind Milo’s words and nodded his head like he just learned a new, significant fact that enriched his existence, but then his eyes went wide and looked like a man who showed up to pass a test that he’d never studied for. Milo fought against the temptation to roll his eyes. Then after looking lost, Kezuo said, “Fascinating. Perhaps we can give her a new lamp so she can see past her shifting shadows? That should bless her with a new outlook on things.”
                Milo lowered his head from the screen and hid his shock and outrage. How could you act so smart and charming and ultimately be a complete idiot? How could people so easily misinterpret an obvious thing and change the intended message into a meaning that suited their interpretation? How difficult was it to understand my main meaning that: Marla was an unpredictable anomaly—a great threat—who needed extreme watching? Bah, if it was someone average in intelligence, they would say something along the lines of ‘We must veer clear of this mirage lest we are consumed by its illusions,’ or ‘Then we must find a way to shatter this solidarity with the hammer of understanding and caution,’ or anything along those lines. Or as his elder brother Murray might’ve said, ‘That may be her mirage, but we are the sorcerers who would dispel such trickeries.’ Fearing that correcting Kezuo would only confuse Kezuo, Milo lifted his head towards the screen and said, “Yes. She needs a new lamp. A new outlook on things.” Milo had decided to lower himself to Kezuo’s level and just play stupid.
                “Indeed. And then make lots of money after killing her.” Kezuo then performed an evil laugh that wrenched Milo’s stomach. Milo temporarily flicked his hands against the screen, turning it off, and buried his face onto his lap. How the hell was he supposed to respond to something as random and stupid as that? How did Kezuo even end up changing the subject to money so fast after they began to talk about the status of The Black Dawn? Milo could not fathom any of this. For a second, Milo believed his intelligence was dropping. Was it really? Fearing the thought, he turned on the screen to a confused Kezuo.
                “My my. The screen went off.” Said Kezuo.
                Milo wanted to scream out loud at the obviousness of Kezuo’s statement. And then he said, “Yes, it did.”
                “A disconnection.”
                Milo wanted to look away from the monitor and commit suicide. Struggling to keep up with the Lord of Obviousness, Milo said, “Yes. A disconnection.”
                “Well, it’s good to be back on screen.”
                Milo went dead inside. This was starting to become much worse than performing satanic rituals. Literally. “Yes. It is…good to be back…”
                “I forgot to say, how was your day Milo?”
                Milo forced himself to keep a straight face. Milo’s empire was at war, conquering and killing people just to make a group of certain followers feel good about themselves in participating in whatever unknown mad cause he’d immersed himself into. His brother that he loved so much was missing. His wife died not long ago. He almost lost one of his best friends before witnessing the Second Event that he’d unleash. And he was constantly concocting plans while evading the maws of his enemies—an experience that Kezuo, hopefully, could relate too. But probably not.
                 How the hell do you think I’m feeling?
                “Good.” Milo said finally.
                “Nice couch! Is that new?” asked Kezuo.
                “No.”
                “Expensive?”
                “Yes.”
                “Can I have it?”
                “No.”
                Kezuo yawned, his eyes contracting like a tired baby imp, then they went wide. “Did you train your new nephews in the dark arts yet? Are they getting along?”
                Milo narrowed his eyes at that one. Though that was a decent question showing signs of intelligence which was somewhat a relief, Milo knew the motivation behind it. “For your first question, no. Second question, most of the time.”
                “Ah! Perhaps they could come to my home and bond together!”
                Milo folded his arms. As much of an idiot Kezuo was, he was such a talented scheming actor. But Milo knew what he was up to.
                Desiring to get back to the subject, Milo said, “That would only be a necessity if they really hated each other. Alas, more important is maintaining my bond with the other nations, and King Tutelain’s impatience is always so beautiful and a joy to be around as usual. And it’s wonderfully refreshing to witness Aapeli, Orson, Letha, and Itsuo smile and make certain comments to heighten Tutelain’s pleasurable anger. The Five Kings are always pleasant.”
                “Not at all! They’re idiots! And if they keep up the shenanigans, idiots will get buried in ditches.” then he started laughing.
                Milo facepalmed himself so hard that a loud smack reverberated throughout the chamber. Tiring of keeping his thoughts hidden he said, “You don’t say.”
                Kezuo ceased laughing, no doubt offended and said, “What?”
                Milo narrowed his stare. “Exactly what I said. And, when I mentioned that ‘the Five Kings were pleasant,’ I was actually speaking with sarcasm, but, unfortunately, you yourself are too stupid to fathom that.”
                Kezuo scrunched his face and said, “Excuse me? What madness has afflicted you?”
                Milo ignored him and continued, “You think you’re clever, but you lack a mind of awareness. And even in nefarious matters, you still fail to be a schemer, and, for that, you’ll never be successful at being a powerful influential ruler despite your wealth.”
                “Ha! Like you’re so high and mighty! How could a fool like you fail to—”
                 “If only you were more like your father Kantz or even his grandfather or his father before him. Yes, if only you were wise enough to at least possess some of their subtlety or sophistication, then you would, at least, have a better chance in being a schemer. But alas, you’re a damn failure.”
                “You stupid, monkey humping, roach intestine eating, worm breast chewing, baby wipe buffoon. You damn false king. Like you’re so damn high you would-be con man loser.” He hissed.
                Milo chuckled, entertained by Kezuo’s colorful display, and Milo’s depraved jewel shined brighter, the act causing Kezuo to grimace in anger as fear lived in Kezuo’s eyes, and Milo continued, “You rule a small kingdom where most of your servants despise you. Your wife cheats on you, which, you may already know about, and your son hates the sight of you because you’re such a greedy, avaricious, and stupid fool who only cares about his mad schemes of power and influence of which you’d never achieve because you’re so stupid. It’s a shame you can’t even give your family at least some attention.”
                Kezuo’s lips fumbled, looking like a man who was shot by his dearest loved one. But it wasn’t that he cared about Milo’s companionship where the words pained him. It was the fact that Milo simply and unexpectantly assaulted Kezuo’s ego. Chomping his teeth in anger, Kezuo was about to say something until his twisted countenance of outrage and shock had shifted to a calmness that resurfaced his absurd handsomeness. Soon, a darkly conniving, malevolent glare beamed from Kezuo’s eyes and he winked at Milo like a scheming wolf.
                Milo nodded his head, appreciating how Kezuo wasn’t going to result to the typical ‘You bastard! You’re gonna die!’ rant. Instead, Kezuo demonstrated some dark bravado that entertained Milo. And Milo said, “Very good. With your winking and cool face forged from the coldness of your bootleg evil, you give me subtlety that at least could make you an intriguing idiot.”
                Kezuo chuckled and said, “I know what you plan to do. And I know who you send my way. But alas, what you did was foolish as you have inadvertently blessed me with such undeserved gifts.”
                “And that’s why you’re about to receive your gifts.” Milo then smiled. Good thing I don’t like you. That makes this current operation so much easier. “We’re done for today Kezuo.”
                “Indeed.” Kezuo said sharply with a cold, plotting glare in his eyes.
                Milo got up from his chair and, before turning off the screen, he said, “Hyenas so thought they would eat their reward of the prey they had tricked till the dragon had came unsuspecting from skies and had snatched the hyenas to doom for their folly.”
                “Interesting. Sounds like the song of a stupid fool such as you.” Kezuo quipped.
                “The proverb does sound like a song, yes.” Milo said, ignoring the fool’s insult. Milo bowed his head. “Good day.”
                He turned off the monitor. Milo was so relieved that he wasn’t talking to Kantz himself, because, if he was, Milo would be in tears. He couldn’t imagine that he would have to cut ties with such a wonderful, God-fearing person. Thank goodness Kezuo was a scum.

                Karikoga tightened his tactical, retrofitted, combat gloves, while he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, channeling into his Kai Wheels. Gabriel approached him, and said, “How do you feel big brother?”
                “Ok I guess.”
                Gabriel grinned. “I can tell that you are priming yourself to unleash that power from earlier.”
                Karikoga folded his arms. “Yea. I’ve only been practicing it for over a week. But I got to make it habit of using it more often. I was a little nervous on our first mission so I couldn’t get it out then. In fact, I didn’t even think about it at all.”
                “I see.”
                Shohiwa approached them and said, “Yo, check this out,” He played a song out loud from his combat gloves.
                “…self-sufficient, please! And get to work! And if you complain once more, you’ll meet an army of me, and if you complain once more, you’ll meet an army of me, army of me…”
                “The hell kind of track is that?” Karikoga said.
                “It’s Bjork! She’s so extraordinary. I feel like I want to swim in the melodious waves of her sweet peachy vocals.”
                “Definitely has to be from Old Earth.” Said Karikoga.
                “Most indeed she is!”
                Gabriel narrowed his eyes and said, “Little brother, you seem to be…quite articulate today. Your syntax was quite nice. An improvement to say the least.”
                Shohiwa folded his arms behind his back and straightened out as he went on his tippy toes—the gesture so feminine-like—reminding Karikoga of a royal girl who finally satisfied her mentor in whatever task the girl had succeeded in. “Yea…” Shohiwa said shyly. “I’m trying to get on your level, but, have my own style and voice ya know? To innovate and reinvent myself.”
                Gabriel smiled with devilish delight, looking like a father who began to be proud of his son for the first time.
                ‘Jet doors are opening in two minutes. Stand by our lords.’ Said the Sons of Morning pilots.
                “Gabe, you should hear Shohiwa when he talks more about Old Earth poo culture.”
                “Pop culture.” Shohiwa said, correcting him.
                “You’d be surprised of little bro’s words if you hear him then, Gabriel.”
                A beeping blared throughout the jet, reminding them that they were nearing their destination.
                “Fascinating.” Commented Gabriel.
                Shohiwa jogged to them, took hold of Karikoga and Gabriel’s gloves, and pressed a series of buttons. Soon, the Bjork song from Shohiwa’s gloves were playing on their gloved hands. “To get you guys amped for our current mission.”
                “How’d you do that?” Karikoga said.
                “I must admit that Shohiwa’s charms has incited a slight curiosity in this…uh…Bjork’s talents. As much effort as you place in learning technology and ancient history Shohiwa, I hope you put this much effort in your Kai training soon.”
                Shohiwa nodded his head. Karikoga was relieved—grateful that Gabriel didn’t cast any critical judgements that would kill the current mood. “Also, you guys are set with a playlist. After Bjork finishes, Denzel Curry, Muse, Marilyn Manson, The Intangibles, Stellardrone, Trippie Redd, and a few other artists are set up for yall.”
                Karikoga scratched his head. “Gabriel, I’m lost.”
                “Indeed. For my mind rides with Karikoga through ignorance’s waves on the same boat of confusion of which we rock-to-fro from the rabid storm of Shohiwa’s knowledge on strange Lesser Human musicians.” Karikoga looked at Gabriel with harsh eyes. “What is it Karikoga?”
                “You know what you said.”
                “I do not—oh! Forgive me…I meant Sheenyo-Qi musicians.”
                Karikoga relaxed his scorn.
                The jet began to slow as the lights changed. Kronos and Abimelech approached them, the Beasts wearing combat gear.
                “Stay sharp fellas.” Kronos said.
                “I better be entertained.” Followed Abimelech.
                Shohiwa placed his arms around Karikoga and Gabriel’s neck and said, “We’re the Salem Lords! We got this!”
                Karikoga’s hearts thumped. Even Shohiwa’s charisma and encouragement wasn’t enough to stem the tide of uncertainty that fell over Karikoga.
                A great dread fell over him.

                Kezuo was leaning over the thick, marbled handrails of his diamond floored balcony, overlooking the steeped lush terrace of land that was a part of his grand palatial estate as a warm, bitter wind swept over him, causing the hem of his custom trench coat to flow effortlessly. The calming wind suited his current rising vigilance that was bred from a sexual engagement between excited anticipation and a hair-raising dread—a union made real by the growing awareness of some subtle sinister but smooth shift in his current atmosphere. He squinted his eyes, observing his massive terrace of steep, verdant hills. Then he stared deeper into the west, passed the edges of his terrace which bordered his personal forested region of land. Kezuo stood straighter, gazing into the Estate Forest as surveillance drones flew over his terrace. More of Kezuo’s surveillance drones passed over his head, scanning the perimeter of his estate. Footsteps sounded behind him. Misha approached.
                “Lord Kezuo, a foreign element has past over Albatras City and now nears the estate.”
                Kezuo licked his lips and grinned. “I know.”
                “Lord Kezuo?” Misha said with concern.
                “I’m aware of what’s happening already. So,” he turned to face Misha, “How is it that the fool believes himself to one-up my cunning when he so foolishly sends me the very individuals who I always wanted?” Misha raised her brows, clearly baffled. “Oh, how sweet will it to be to have his nephews as the fulcrum of the very evolution that will transpire in our world. The soul-humping thrill will hurl our very minds into a state of transcendence as the blood of those boys will usher our technology and weaponry to greater heights!”
                “Uh…yes my lord.”
                “Oh. The old fool believes he is connivingly betraying me, but he has blessed me with gifts as they slowly come to arrive in my lap today. The time is ours sweet Misha! It’s time for the Kezuo family to rise and even be a threat to not just the Alastor Family of Blue City, but to even strike fear into the Kai all over New Earth and the galaxy.”
                He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her, her eyes going wide.
                “My lord, well…” she said, breathing heavily, “I’m sorry if I’m out of line, but your wife would’ve gone berserk if she had seen this.”
                “She probably has and I don’t care. The stupid woman’s escapades will see her on the streets soon. And then you will be at my side.”
                Her eyes went wide, glowing with wonder, and then, without warning, Kezuo’s comm-channels chimed. One of the female soldiers, who stood protecting his patio entrance, approached him. The soldier said, “My lord, the foreign elements are now close by.”
                He flicked his hand. “Now now, let’s not be disrespectful and call our guests that. Come, we shall show them true kindness and treat them with the utmost care.”

                Nuisance was staring into the village settlement as he stood-balanced on the tip of a tall, worn aspen tree which swayed in a cool wind as gently as its family trees that surrounded it. After observing the forested village in the region of Wicker Valley for some time—becoming excited from the booty’s of women as they bent over to pick up water pails and wood-made laundry bins, squinting his eyes at bow and gun wielding men who patrolled the settlement’s parameter and licking his lips at baskets of fruit that children were carrying into their homes—he realized that these people would soon learn what it meant to be broken. And that, by experiencing it, they would change their ways and know who to worship and respect Nuisance and his species. Nuisance snapped his fingers through glee, and a host of Kai jumped from the trees and launched themselves towards the village. It wasn’t long before one of Nuisance’s warriors impaled a patrolman with his fist and a scream erupted from one of the terrified women. Songs of despair and terror played from the voices of shocked denizens, and chaos embraced the village like a reaper of death who slowly hugged a long-coveted soul. Nuisance jumped from the tree and darted into the village.
                Lust and desire inflamed him.

                Moira came upon the besieged village and smiled. It was time for the Metoraf fools to meet their doom, and she would show them terror. She channeled into her Kokhott Rukhaniim while a host of warriors appeared near her, and she shouted. “Twelfth Hunter Pack, the fool Nuisance and his rabid band thinks they received a wonderful jackpot today, but they’ll soon know the fury of the Supreme Ori Malakoff and know the wrath of The Blades of The Most High!” She darted into the village alongside her four lieutenants Starchus, Bantu, Leonora, and Mika who trailed her.

                The Kai hunters came fast. Nuisance was appalled. He cursed under his breath after the vision of having a woman in bed fled from his mind. He tensed himself. The hunters began to attack his band. He charged towards an enemy Kai and fired a Baemett Ryy at her, knocking her over and exploding her head. He then fired a Bakhanitt Teuratt at swarms of enemy hunters who evaded the blast which smacked onto aspers, decimating the group of trees, thousands of wood shards and tree chunks flying upwards from the explosion. Nuisance ceased his glide-sprint and jumped upwards upon noticing four Kai hunters who were onto him, and Nuisance traded a series of blows with them before he landed hard kicks and punches onto each of them, knocking them out in mid-air and watching their unconscious bodies fall towards the concrete. Landing on the roof, sprinting along its edge while firing a Bakhanitt Teuratt at a fighting group between his band and the enemy hunters, some of his Bakhanitt Teuratt blast waves landed against enemy warriors and exploded the bodies of two hunters before Nuisance landed onto another roof and continued sprinting towards the high clock tower of the village. Reaching it, he jumped towards it and run up along its surface until he reached the top of the tower and leapt inside. Now in the lookout center, he gazed around, only to see that his warriors and warrioresses were being killed. The hunters were having the best of them. He grimaced, hating this day, then heard a large wind. He looked in its direction and noticed hunters flying towards him. He cursed under his breath, abhorring the fact that he still never learned to fly after all his years of studying it, but he darted from the tower as hard he could and crashed into one of the flying Kai, grabbing their neck and twisted it. As their eyes lolled to the back of their head, he jumped from the body and fired another Bakhanitt Teuratt at the same flying Kai who heading towards him, and he killed them with his landed blasts too. Suddenly, he landed onto his back. Biting his jaws from the annoying landing, he got up.
Kai charged towards him while shouting, “This one needs to die!”
A voice shouted, “Wait!” He turned around to see a female hunter approach him, her face containing sharp angles but beautiful, nonetheless. “I’ll have at him.”
                The other Kai backed away from Nuisance and another Kai shouted, “Now you done it fool. I wouldn’t have gotten Moira’s attention if I were you!”
                “You tell him Starchus!”
                “You already know it Leonora.”
                The woman known as Moira approached Nuisance. And soon, the fighting began to die down. Nuisance looked onto the road paths of the village, seeing corpses of his fellow warriors and warrioresses.
                “Damn you all! May Beelzebub rape you while his spider pets stick their sex organ into your mouths and fill your throats with eggs that would burst babies to devour your insides!” shouted Nuisance.
                Laughs erupted around Nuisance. A Kai said, “This one is tough Moira. He thinks fast on his feet.”
                “Indeed Bantu? Thanks for the insight.”
                Harnessing his Kokhott Rukhaniim, Nuisance fired a Baemett Rye at her. But she disappeared—the blast hitting air. His eyes went wide. Suddenly, she appeared next to him, a kick struck his face so hard that he flew off the roof, traveling through the air which pounded onto him because he fell so fast, and landed into a village house, splintering pounds and pounds of wood as he heard screams. Sheenyo-Qi ran past him. Vertigo struck his vision.

                Moira flew up and traveled towards the fallen Kai. Screaming Sheenyo-Qi ran out of the ruined house, passing the beaten body of Nuisance who was one of the targets on the Black List.
                Once the dust settled, Moira noticed Nuisance struggling to get up. Soon, he laid back onto the wreckage as he stared in defeat. She stayed a few feet away from him, observing from mid-air, and Nuisance shouted, “That damned Tele-Step. You would’ve never escaped my blast if not for that damned trick.”
                She crossed her arms.
                One of the hunters said, “Moira, his blast was truly fast.”
                “But God had blessed me,” said Moira. “And now…” She raised her hand towards the Depraved One, “the justice of the Lord shall reign today.”

                Nuisance eyes reeled. His shock mortified him. For he couldn’t move. Such power. He’d never felt a strike this hard before. The woman was incredibly strong. And to believe she could handle me with one punch. After fleeing from the thoughts of the enemy warrioress, his twirling vision ceased. His surroundings sharpening into focus, Nuisance’s hearts thumped. Though he sensed his demise, the sight of the woman’s aiming stance terrified him. He’d never seen that technique’s stance before. Gasps erupted from his enemies. And he looked to see one of the Kai fly towards the air saying, “No Moira! Not that one!”
                But Moira shouted, “Can it Bantu. Just can it! Most of the people have fled from here. They can repair and rebuild whatever is left later.”
                Bantu ceased flying towards her as a blue glow appeared from her hand, and soon, the blue light shined bright enough to eclipse her body. A white light flashed at the center of the maelstrom of swirling energy. Nuisance gasped. The enemy hunters stared and moaned in awe.

                Moira smiled. The surge was complete. Excited to unleash her special technique—one that she honed for over a decade, keeping track of her favored technique’s anniversary date—a technique that fallen outside of her core abilities, she shouted, “Angel’s Wrath!” and unleashed it.

                Moira fired her technique, and it flew quickly until it stopped in its tracks, a few inches from her hand, delaying like a thrown lightning bolt until it entered slow motion, and a gust exploded from between the ball of light and Moira’s hand and brushed past her hunters whose cloaks had rustled with violence from the technique’s wild wind, and then the ball of light flew towards Nuisance. He noticed its energy was tearing apart the ground underneath even though it was hovering dozens of feet from the ground. And then his vision was consumed in a great flash. He seemed to flip upside-down, and he soon saw himself, his very own body, burst into pieces and disintegrate. All of this happened while he rose from his body. What was happening? How was he still alive? Anger, despair, and terror gripped his being. The world crumpled around him. And the world he knew was no more. Nuisance found himself standing in darkness. But he was very alive. He looked at himself. He now understood. He was disembodied. He was now his soul. His body was gone but his soul yet lived. He looked around, noticing a realm of darkness all about him. Where was he? He turned around and saw a great abyss. From within the great abyss, there came cries of suffering. Soon, Nuisance inexplicably hovered towards that dark and terrible abyss. Loneliness assailed him. Soon, he regretted raping women and experiencing joy from killing and conquering his enemies. What had he done? From the abyss, the moans of pain and remorse grew louder. Nuisance cried.
                Then, SCHWOOMP.
                Something had taken hold of him.
                And Nuisance was hurled into the abyss.
                Nuisance screamed.

                Moira blew the hair over her face. She studied the wreckage of trees, ground, and building that covered a blast width of fifty yards and a distance over three hundred yards—the size big enough to encompass this entire settlement, and then some.
                Some of her warriors clapped in joy. Some stared in silence. Others, with surprise. What a lovely way to end their third mission. Her most cherished and advanced technique had never been disappointing, and, although she knew a plethora of intermediate techniques and some advanced powers to give a veteran extreme problems, none of them compared to Angel’s Wrath. And with it, if Moira continued to remain successful, there was no telling what Supreme Blade Olir would do for Moira. In fact, it was possible her great and holy leader would make a few adjustments to the positions of authority within the organization and add a third Holy Sword. The prospect of that future promotion showered life into Moira’s being.
                Moira Lowenthal—Third Holy Sword of The Blades of the Most High.
                Moira commanded the Kai to make their way to Bartuga for their fourth mission. A hunter reached her and said, “Moira, our intelligence has received word that a recon unit of Mugen’s Fourth Hunter Pack has spotted an imperial ship of the Sons of Morning heading towards the Kezuo Estate.”
                Moira grinned. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time we put the fourth mission on hold. God has surely blessed us today!”
                “Moira, you can’t! We’re not supposed to deviate from the mission! And the fact that you already know what the Recon were doing—”
                “Means that she was colluding with other Recon Divisions without our knowing Bantu.” Mika said.
                Starchus and Leonora grinned while Bantu stared wide eyed and said, “I can’t believe you were actually serious about it! Are those boys really worth it Moira?”
                She said nothing and turned towards the northeast.
                “We must focus on the mission and—"
                Moira had turned away from Leonora in the middle of her speech and was already extending both hands into the air, inscribing symbols and runes and circles and stars with her fingers. Moira channeled into her Kokhott, Hakokhott, and Shekokhott wheels. Finishing, she slowly squeezed her outstretched hands into fists, and the space within the air collapsed into itself, causing a rent that created tendrils of swirling, jagged waves of energy around a transparent center of defiled air. And through the transparent chiasmus, a city undulated on the other side. The portal was complete and fully operational now.
                The group awed.
                Moira turned around and looked at them all.
                “It can’t be…” Bantu said.
                “It is. Cantor’s Paths. Tune of the Fallen Musician. A dark art ritual.” Mika said.
                “So you collude with the occult and with demons Moira?” said Bantu with warning in his voice.
                Moira shrugged. “Times have changed. To kill all the Depraved Ones, we must be depraved ourselves.”
                Bantu cursed under his breath. Closing his eyes and folding his arms, he said, “Must you experience tribulation? Must you be broken to change your ways, Moira?”
                “No need. If that were so, why hasn’t God broken me when I fought Nuisance?”
                “You don’t understand.”
                “I do. Only fools will break. But I won’t. I am chosen by the Lord God, just like you.”
                Bantu squinted his eyes. “But wasn’t it the Lord Himself who broke His own people? Giving them devastation and a just death for being a stiffed necked people? For participating in dark, twisted things they weren’t supposed to do? By being hypocrites?”
                Moira grinned her teeth and ignored him. “We go to Haven Nebula Continent. To the City of Albatras in the country of Hazvicia! Go forth!”
                The group of warriors flew past Moira and entered through the portal. A tinge of shame entered Moira’s being. She ignored it.
                I shall not be broken. I won’t. I’ll show them. Yes. Those boys shall know me now.