Aetheral Space

Chapter 549 17.21: Aclima's Heart-Pounding Blood-Pumping Special Training Day!!

DAY 3I want to become stronger.

With those words, Aclima had finally thrown away what remained of her pride. She had stood before Zephyr Pandershi, that disgusting, arrogant man, and begged for his help. Not to give her an opportunity. Not to give her advice.

She had begged him to make her stronger -- to make her a warrior.

Aclima was a mediocre person. She had understood that for a long time now. Her skill was rote, the result of repetition without any true affinity. The modicum of strength she possessed, too, was just the inevitable result of someone put through her training. Nothing about it truly belonged to her. She had no claim to it.

From the moment she'd been born, Aclima had been a puppet dancing in the hands of others.

Baltay Kojirough.

Gretchen Hail.

Atoy Muzazi.

The closest she could get to breaking free of those strings was to willingly hand them over to another. Now she danced for Niain, another man she despised, helping him with a cause she didn't believe in at all. Why?

Self-satisfaction, and truly nothing else. She wanted the opportunity to bring her blade down upon Atoy Muzazi. Was it even vengeance she desired anymore? Her father had never loved her, didn't love her, would never have loved her. What would saving him have changed? It could never even have happened in the first place. She didn't have the requisite strength to save herself, let alone someone on her father's level.

No. Yes. She did want revenge. It was all she wanted. It was the only thing she could still fit inside her heart. Atoy Muzazi, who had saved her and fooled her and betrayed her, needed to die by her hand. She had no other aspirations left.

I want to become stronger.

I want to become stronger.

I want to become stronger.

She wanted to bite the hand that fed her. She wanted to tear it apart with her teeth. She wanted nothing to remain but bone and gristle.

Whatever it took to reach that point, she no longer had any right to complain. She would get rid of Atoy Muzazi and then she would disappear herself. The poison in her heart would allow nothing less.

So she stood before Zephyr Pandershi, and she spoke the incantation aloud.

"I want to become stronger."

And Zephyr Pandershi just smiled.

"Sure," he said, with all the kindness of a devil.

"You did well to swallow your pride," said Oé, sitting on a bench at the side of the training room, Black Brush balanced across her knees. "Not everyone is capable of that, even when it becomes absolutely necessary."

Aclima swung Beelzebub with all her strength, cleaving the wolf-things that lunged at her in twain. They twitched and squealed on the floor before decomposing into a red slurry that flowed through the air back into Oé's Aether Armament. Her life-painting abilities were perfectly suited to setting up training scenarios like this.

Pandershi was already working on something to give her the boost she needed -- and in the meantime, he'd asked her to train alongside the members of his Unseelie. It wasn't as bad as she'd expected, to be honest. Unlike the other members of Darkstar, like Niain and McCoy, there was a clear sense of humanity to the Unseelie. These were people who could be spoken to.

"Your movements aren't as good as before," Oé frowned, standing up from the bench. "What's the problem?"

As she approached, the training environment changed -- the rocky expanse around Aclima fading into a stark white plane.

She looked down at the sterile floor. "Is this…" she mumbled, before starting again, more clearly. "I'm still not sure if this is the right way."

"Becoming stronger?" Oé frowned.

"No," Aclima shook her head. "Trusting Pandershi."

At those words, the frown on Oé's face shifted into a reassuring smile. "Ah," she chuckled. "I understand where you're coming from, then, Lady Aclima. I won't lie and say Lord Pandershi doesn't give off an… overbearing impression, but I'll tell you right now that you can trust him with your life."

Aclima looked up at the taller woman. "...do you?"

"Of course!" Oé slung her Black Brush over her shoulder. "I owe it to him, after all."

When Aclima raised a questioning eyebrow, Oé continued.

"Are you familiar with Monadere?" she asked. "We used to be part of the UAP's Central Governing Council, until the Colourless Light struck our planet and rendered it uninhabitable. Our nation collapsed from there. I was born on the Monadere Refugee Fleet -- a huge group of starships that have been searching the galaxy for a planet suitable to be New Monadere for, well, decades now."

She took a step back and threw her brush up, painting several avian creatures into existence. They circled Aclima, screeching as she stood with sword in hand, ready to counter the second they made a move.

"Why so long?" Aclima asked, slowly turning on the spot to keep the birds in sight. "There are plenty of planets out there, right?"

"Right," Oé nodded. "But I suppose they wanted a perfect, true New Monadere. A world that can replace the one in their most precious memories. The sort of place that doesn't exist anywhere."

"That's…" Aclima searched for the right word, and failed to find it. "...sad."

One of the birds swooped in, and Aclima swung Beelzebub, crushing the tiny body against the flat side of the large blade. Oé nodded in approval.

"A lot of people have broken away from the Fleet over the years, found their own new home," Oé continued. "But my family were true believers. They were there for the long haul… and then, one day, there was an incident."

Aclima did her best to keep listening as she repelled the bird's attacks, but Oé's voice had grown distant and soft. She had to strain to hear over the squawks and shrieks.

"It was something with the engines -- our ship ended up adrift, lost between stars, ten-thousand people just waiting to slowly die…" Oé murmured. "We were in Weird Space, so nobody was willing to risk coming to help us. We were just refugees, anyway… there wouldn't have been any benefit for them."

This time, when the next bird came in, Aclima caught it with her hand. Squeezing, she reduced it to paste, before looking back over her shoulder at Oé.

"What happened?" she asked, mouth dry.

"We were out there for years, in the dark," Oé said distantly. "We… they tried to make a proper thing of it, keep their society together, but… it's the hopelessness that gets people, not lack of food or water. Knowing they'll never taste fresh air again, knowing they'll never set foot anywhere but the ship again… it breaks people. Cults started springing up, the Captain clamped down in response, people just started… by the end, there were suicides everyday. Food… issues. There were only around ten of us left when… when…"

Oé choked back the last word, and Aclima turned away from her training, raising her hands. "Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean to --"

"Pay attention," Oé said sharply, her anguish suddenly gone.

The human before Aclima had stepped back into the territory of a warrior -- and Aclima tried to do the same, swinging around and repelling a set of talons that had been aimed for the back of her head.

"There were only around ten of us left when Lord Pandershi came to save us," Oé finished her story, much more composed, her manner reminding Aclima more than a little of Atoy Muzazi. "The area of Weird Space we were in was among the most volatile. Everyone else said rescue was impossible. Everyone else gave up, but not him. Zephyr Pandershi is a man who will accomplish whatever he sets his mind on, regardless of whether or not it is impossible."

As Aclima sliced apart the final bird, Oé took a deep breath.

"He took me in and raised me as his own, without obligation or reward," she said seriously. "I promise you this if nothing else, Aclima: you can trust Zephyr Pandershi."

"The boss?" Sōngshǔ asked, catching one of Aclima's punches directly on the jaw. "Oh yeah, he's a real son-of-a-bitch. Don't trust him."

Aclima blinked, her knuckles pressed against Sōngshǔ's chin. She hadn't been intending to seriously injure her sparring partner, true, but that had been a real punch she'd thrown just now. This tiny girl -- a grown woman only the same size as Aclima herself, if not slightly shorter -- had just taken it like it was nothing.

In fact, Aclima's hand ached like she'd just punched a brick wall. She slowly withdrew it, rubbing her knuckles. Sōngshǔ's words, too, had been unexpected.

"That's not what Oé said," Aclima mumbled, taking a step back across the training mat. "She promised I could trust him."

Sōngshǔ shrugged, before cracking her neck and beginning to hop on one foot, fists in a ready position. "Well, she's got that whole daddy issues thing going on. I don't really get that -- my dad was a real son-of-a-bitch too -- but that's the way it is. I love her, but I'm not gonna pretend like she's objective or anything, you know?"

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"So you don't trust him?" Aclima asked, thrusting her fist forward.

"Eh, I dunno if I'd go that far," Sōngshǔ said, easily blocking Aclima's punch. "I mean, I trust him to pay my wages and he's been good for that so far. All I'm saying is he's definitely the kind of guy to touch himself to his own reflection, right?"

"Uh… right."

It was a crude way of saying it… but Aclima couldn't actually say that Sōngshǔ was wrong there. Zephyr Pandershi was definitely a man in love with himself. It radiated from every word he said, every expression he made, like he was dedicating each and every aspect of his life to self-aggrandizement.

That sort of confidence must have been nice.

"I mean, I haven't been here that long," Sōngshǔ said, casually throwing a punch that sent Aclima skidding back across the floor. "So take it with a grain of salt, y'know? Pandershi had Oé invite me here to be the template for his whole clone body thing, and he paid me to stick around afterwards, so that's basically the extent of our relationship. It's a cushy gig. You want my advice?"

Aclima lowered her trembling arms. "What?"

"Vengeance and all that bullshit…" Sōngshǔ waved a dismissive hand. "Not worth it. Find a comfy spot of your own and cling to it as long as you can. That's how you lead a happy life. Not everyone's cut out to be a warrior or whatever."

A comfy spot…? Aclima looked down at her hand -- the hand that had punched Sōngshǔ. The knuckles were bloody and raw, like they'd hit a brick wall. They hurt.

No.

It felt like, until she'd finally paid that man back, all her wounds would just keep on hurting.

"You're interested in my sword, aren't you?" Terada Takeo smirked, looking up from the bench. "Would you like to hear more about it?"

Aclima glanced over -- she'd just been in the middle of downing a bottle of water. Her eyes flicked down to the sword that gave Unseelie Sword his title -- well, what was apparently a sword. There was a long rectangular box strapped to Terada's hip, with chains wrapped tightly around it. Aclima had been told that inside that box was a sheath, and inside that sheath was a sword, but she hadn't seen it with her own eyes.

"What?" she said, surprised to be suddenly addressed -- until now, Terada had just watched in silence. "Oh, uh, that's okay, thanks."

Terada was silent for a good long moment.

"The name of my sword is Jikininki," he said. "Though… fufufu… to call it my sword is perhaps a marker of disrespect. Methinks I am more its human, the instrument through which it exerts its hunger upon the world, and -- oho -- it is a hungry one. Were I not holding back this demonic sword even now, it is like to run wild and devour us all whole. Ah, but the seal holds… just barely, fufufu."

"Oh," said Aclima. "Okay."

"It's one of the great works of the Maker-Guild's Swordsmith," Terada went on. "You're familiar with him, aren't you? He's a man of flamboyant soul who takes his blades as his brides. Fufufu… quite scandalous, don't you think? Although, perhaps that divine spark of madness is what gives his Armaments their potency. I've supped upon the same before… although my lunacy is that of the battlefield itself, fufu, a finer vintage indeed."

"Mm-hmm," Aclima looked away.

"Considering his blades are his brides…" Terada rubbed his chin, smirking. "I'm sure the Swordsmith must see me as the worst kind of homewrecker, fufufu… but not even the most radiant saint could have resisted Jikininki's song. A beast of the apocalypse that wishes to devour the world… fufu, what finer partner could there be for me? If 'that detective' hadn't interfered, I would surely hold Jikininki's sisters too, but no matter… one calamity alone will serve, perchance."

"Absolutely," Aclima said distantly.

"An instrument of malice that devours everything of this world, even Aether itself…" Terada chuckled, running a finger down the length of the box. "What a dark glory. It's no surprise that good Maxim took an interest in it and reached out to me. Men are tempted by sin, didn't you know? Fufufu… it truly is a rotten world we live in, don't you think? And yet, at the same time… a garden of delights, fufu -- and I'm still hungry."

Aclima didn't really get why Terada was talking about being hungry when he'd been using a garden metaphor, but she just kept nodding politely.

After a moment, though…

"Aren't you supposed to be training me?" she asked.

It had been an exhausting morning.

Oé had put Aclima through her paces, and just landing punches on Sōngshǔ had been exhausting in itself. After he'd finished talking about himself, Terada had actually started sparring with her too, but that had felt more like a break than anything else. Aclima guessed that Jikininki must be a really good Aether Armament.

She downed another bottle of water, sitting back on the bench, hair slick with sweat.

To tell the truth, she didn't feel any stronger than before… she just felt more tired. It wasn't as if she'd been slacking on training until now, anyway. She'd worked hard in order to fit her role as the Supreme Heir. It was just that the gap between herself and Atoy Muzazi was so wide that no amount of training could fill it. He was just a fundamentally different sort of creature to her.

Aclima was a mere human, and those she wanted to reach were warriors. That was the abyss she had to cross.

"Your core is hatred."

Aclima nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of that grating voice -- and even when she turned to see the speaker, it didn't help much. One look at that face -- that face looming high above her -- immediately brought back memories of the Banquet. Memories of one of the monsters that had tried to kill her that night.

Maxim, the man known as Unseelie Gun, looked down at Aclima with the teeth that took up most of his face bearing a perpetual grimace. The Hive of Malkuth had left their mark on this massive man. It was as his features had been warped into insecthood, then forcefully pulled halfway back to humanity along a different route. That massive coat and wide-brimmed hat were for disguising the grotesque features that had resulted more than anything else.

He looked down at her, and when he spoke again his words were sharp and harsh, resentment threatening to burst free from every syllable.

"I asked you a question, girl."

Had he? It certainly hadn't sounded like a question. Everything this man said sounded like a dire statement, or at most a vicious command. A questioning tone was softness beyond what he was capable of.

But Aclima wasn't about to say that to his face.

"Uh, yeah," she said, looking up at him with wide eyes. "My Aether core is hatred. Why?"

Maxim straightened up. "The Director is ready for you," he said, ignoring her question. "Come with me."

With that, he turned and began to stride out of the training room, ignoring Aclima's question. His stride was as wide as he was tall -- Aclima had to scurry to keep up as they moved out into the hallway. A pair of Seelie Rangers who'd been standing guard offered Maxim a salute as they passed, but he ignored them too. He didn't even turn his head in their direction.

Aclima kept sneaking glances up at Maxim as they walked. To tell the truth, she hadn't heard of him before coming to Nehr Müt, but she'd picked up some scraps of information over the last couple of days. Those had made her wonder just how in the world she hadn't known of him already.

After all…

This was the man who had faced the forces of three separate Supremes.

This was the man who had broken free of the Hive of Malkuth's control through sheer force of will.

This was the man who had created the infamous Anti-Aether technique, Der Frieschutz.

"My core is hatred also," Maxim suddenly hissed, pulling Aclima out of her observations. "Tell me, girl. What is it you hate?"

Aclima thought about it only for a moment. "Atoy Muzazi. I… hate Atoy Muzazi. That's why I'm doing this. I need to take my revenge on him."

"Insipid," Maxim nearly spat the word. "And insufficient. So specific a thirst will quickly fade. You will find no strength in it."

Aclima frowned. "What do you mean?"

"As I said."

He offered no more than that, even as their walk stretched on in silence, occupied only by the thumps of his heavy footsteps. That strange man Harry Phantasm passed by with his scantily clad entourage, on his way to god-knows-where, and offered them a cheery nod. Just like with the Seelie Rangers, though, Maxim ignored him.

Aclima did the same. Her eyes were still on Maxim, and her frown was still deepening into a scowl. When it became clear he intended to say no more, she opened her own mouth instead.

"Well?" she asked. "What is it you hate, then, that's so much better?"

"I…?"

Maxim chuckled, an awful alien sound like a warped electric bell. Aclima winced to hear it. That sound contained nothing but bitterness and barely-buried malice.

"My hatred is reserved for that which dictates the shape of this world. Look…" he raised a clawed and wizened hand, and sparks of purple crackled between the digits. "...it infests even me. Aether the infector. Aether the rapist. Loathsome Aether. Vile Aether. It is a power humanity should never have held, and we have used it to make evil gods of ourselves. Behold the world of suffering and strife the ancient idiots have created. Aether." This time, he actually spat the word. "This, my hate is reserved for," he growled. "This alone."

He looked down towards Aclima once again. This time, she could see the tiny red dots of what might have been his eyes, deep in the darkness beneath the brim of his hat. They burned with a resentment cultured over two-hundred years of life.

"I am from the World Walden," he continued. "Whenever it pleases them, the whores of Aether come to torment us. It happened for the first time at the beginning of this vile farce, and it has happened over and over again since then. Even your father, brat -- even he came to our forests and butchered our champions. Named our finest disappointing and threw him aside like trash. He too was scum -- but make no mistake. Aether guided his eye, and Aether bolstered his fist."

Aclima said nothing. How could she? The man who had barely spoken before was now letting the words pour forth without end -- and more than a few of them were packed with scorn for her. She had the awful feeling that, if she responded unwisely, the hatred within Maxim would boil over and he would forget himself.

"I have seen more of what Aether has wrought than any man alive," Maxim clenched his fist. "Thus do I resent. Thus do I despise. My magic bullet… I have devoted my life to obliterating the eyesore that is Aether, and yet my only medium is Aether itself. It infests all, and so my hatred extends to all. That is what it means to hate, girl.

To hate.

Hate.

Hate."

As the cold rage poured from Maxim's mouth as mist, the doors before them slid open -- and the one who had been waiting there smiled. A young boy, maybe ten years old, with the distinctive hair and arrogance of Zephyr Pandershi. He narrowed his eyes, inspecting his specimens.

"Miss Aclima," he said. "Splendid. Everything here is ready. How about you?"

Aclima took a deep breath and stepped forward, Maxim's venomous words still spreading through her brain. Her hatred was her strength. She had known that. But she had been thinking of that hatred like a human, merely tapping into what was in reality her only source of power, imagining she could find it somewhere else.

No more.

If humans and warriors truly were two different things, then there was only one way for Aclima to become Atoy Muzazi's equal.

She just had to stop being human.

"Yeah," she said, her voice steady. "I'm ready."