"Therefore, I can easily relocate the 89th dimension if I so choose. But you stupid asses forget that our enemies exist outside the Monotone Equilibrium, so they can catch up and destroy it... whenever they want."
. . . . . . . . . . .
The glorious star of ZuiZui, the third sun, was preparing for rest, welcoming the beautiful night accompanied by the 5th moon, Rosselle.
Gregory Albert Percival was beginning to end his session with his son.
'And what does the Rewgey vial do?' Gregory asked sternly.
'They heal bone wounds of most races, except the Neptunians, due to their brittle bones.' Young Caesar answered, with the same wild glint of madness in his deep brown eyes.
'Excellent. And what does the Hyrutai Vial do?'
'Uhm, doesn't it..' Young Caesar clicked his fingers to recall the information desperately. '...heals Titans from fatigue and bleeding, but it can cause severe pain to hybrids? And even though it causes the pain, it still heals them.'
Gregory's minuscule beard curled into a satisfying smile.
'Excellent work, my boy.' He closed the green leather-bound book he was holding, etched with a drawing of a vial and other pharmaceutical symbols. 'Take the books back. You have done exceptionally well today.'
'Thanks, Father,' Caesar said as he hurriedly carried eight stacks of books, hoping he could showcase his growing strength to impress his father. He playfully skipped from the large sofa to a wooden bookshelf, plopping the books on its base with a loud thud.
They were in Caesar's personal study room - A small and relatively bare room. It consisted only of a glass-panel central table, a U-shaped arrangement of hard benches cushioned with silk pillows, and a wooden shelf containing various books.
Every study room of every child adopted a similar design, as Gregory adapted the style to eliminate any form of distraction.
Caesar gleefully placed his bare foot on the soft, rugged floor as he carefully sorted the books, slipping them in their original slot.
After carefully sorting out the books, he turned around and hurriedly skipped to his father. He slumped on the couch and grabbed his bare, firm right arm, exposed by a sleeveless blue shirt.
'Father, I have sorted out all the books and have done all the assignments.' Caesar squeezed his father's arm. 'Can I please, please, please go outside and play with Zeus?'
Caesar was actively excited as he felt he deserved proper leisure. He had just completed two-horas revision after coming back from a grueling 6-horas of school.
But Caesar realised his father was staring at him deeply. His single monocle pierced his soul, and his firm arm became stiffer, but amicable.
'Caesar, what is your goal?' Gregory asked.
Caesar wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. 'My...goals?' ...
'My goal is to be heaven's best,' A voice washed through the clouds.
The Room was drowned in darkness, as a dim spotlight shone on the stage like a light from the heavens. The light fell on a young man who was wearing a peculiar choice of clothing: a Stark white shirt tucked into a large pair of black trousers, with brown polished heels, all complemented with a comical, large grey blazer.
The crowd broke into a soft cheer of laughter, thinking the performer in front of them was a comedian.
Art is perceived as valuable, with all living things exploring the concept. But this man stretches the concept to new heights...
Caesar pondered the question hard, thinking of a decent answer. 'Maybe to be a rich entrepreneur, or maybe be well known. Is that the right answer?'
Caesar looked at his father, seeking validation. His monocle was still fixated on him, like an eye of a slaver beak raven. Gregory gestured to Caesar with his index and middle finger, urging him to lean forward.
'My son, have you ever heard of Attributes?'
Caesar's face lit up. 'I know, I know. It's the characteristics or properties that anything is composed of. Like if you are nice or evil, short or tall...' Caesar slowed down when he noticed his father's face.
Gregory looked rather disappointed, with the wrinkles on his forehead etched more deeply than before, which made Caesar feel that he had gotten the question wrong.
'No, my son.' Gregory's wrinkles softened.'You were close, partially.'
Gregory opened his palm, and an orange translucent sphere appeared over it. Gregory stretched his hands, and the sphere covered the entire room. Caesar felt a rush of adrenaline, bursts of strength, and a refreshing renewal of energy.
'Whoa, what's that?' Caesar asked in excitement.
'This is an Attribute.' Gregory said, 'Attributes are basic skills that one with the ability to control grace can learn. These skills are simple, yet complex. Ironic, isn't it?'
'Think of them like an amalgamation of your grace, simple to learn but difficult to master. For example, Neverland.' Gregory gestured around the room, referring to the sphere surrounding it.
Caesar was intrigued, as he saw dim streaks of orange light. 'This sphere is Neverland? It feels warm and comfy.' Caesar said while hugging himself.
Gregory repositioned his monocle. "Indeed. It is an attribute that utilises your grace to create a domain that boosts the power of you or your allies, and hinders the power of your enemy.'
Caesar smiled, 'That sounds amazing.'
Gregory looked pleased. 'Very. And we have many more. Like Surgeon.'
Caesar impatiently bounced on the cushion. 'What's that? What can it do? Does it have something to do with a surgeon?'
'Patience, my son,' Gregory said. 'My friend claims that Surgeon lets you sense wounds — physical, and with mastery, even mental or spiritual. You can locate the problem… and know how to fix it.'
Caesar's eye widened in awe. He looked at his hands and repeatedly folded his fingers. 'Can I learn Attributes myself, Father?
'Of course, anyone can learn it,' Gregory laughed. 'Since all that breathes has been conceived by the Almighty, his power has lingered deep within us."
Caesar's eyes brightened until a face of confusion appeared across his face. 'Why are you telling me this, Father?' ...
'2 Show U D Way!' was scribbled on a leather suitcase that the supposed comic was holding, which he gently plopped on a side stool stationed next to him.
He unclipped the locks, which made an echoing sound that spread across the dark room, as he carefully opened the suitcase.
Murmurs ran through the crowd, each wondering what the man was planning to do. Those who knew him were only there to make fun of his performance.
He brought out a pure black violin with white strings, each string seemingly casting a dim light of its own. There wasn't a bow, and that made the murmurs grow louder.
The man simply hovered his hand over the strings, his mismatched blue and purple eyes staring intently at his instrument. As his hands moved above the violin, sounds began to resonate.
There was a screech, then a hum, then a symphony, then a melody.
The sweet sound of the violin was so harmonic and heart-warming that all the murmurs immediately ceased...
Gregory relaxed back on the cushions. 'You can't master every Attribute. Learn too many times, and they'll stay weak. You must choose which paths matter the most.'
'Think of your dream — you mentioned becoming an entrepreneur. But in what? Furniture? Weapons? Technology? Without focus, you'll wander every road and master none.'
Caesar wasn't shocked because of his Father's wisdom, but by his method of laying out the wisdom. He would trade all the play dates in the world to listen to his father's teachings.
Gregory took a deep breath. Your mother wanted to tell you, but I guess I am just too excited,' Gregory adjusted himself into his regular talking position.
'What is it, Father?' Caesar asked, and the Neverland went down. 'I promise I didn't steal Xebec's Artichopper.' Even though the domain was not active, Caesar still felt the residual energy within him.
'Don't worry about Xebec. He got a new one,' Gregory cleared his throat. ' How do I say this? I'm not an expert, but rarely, very rarely, my son, The Almighty can choose to bestow you with something more than grace. Something more peculiar...'
As the man played his violin, tears fell, women's hearts were broken, and men listened with unbreakable attention.
The melody was a sad tune, as if the violinist poured his hardship and struggle into every note.
Every chord, every beat, every tempo change - It all resulted in a heart-shattering tune.
'Time to change it. This isn't quite my tempo.'
Suddenly, the tune changed. From a tune about grief and melancholy to a more upbeat melody. Initially, some audience members found it jarring, but their hearts were illuminated by the song.
From dark to light.
The theatre erupted in a flood of light as the 4 strings of the violinist produced a bright flash of light.
The Audience was shocked; some were pleased, as large avatars of music notes danced behind the artiste...
'This power granted by The Almighty mutates your soul, and your existence. We, mortals, call it - Divinity.'
Gregory paused briefly, then resumed.
'Don't tell your mother I said this, but during your birth, the doctor found something — a 33.385% chance of awakening one. That's well above average, Caesar.'
It took some time for Caesar's brain to register the information, but when it happened, he screamed. Caesar sprinted around the small room, leaping for joy. He eventually sat down next to his father, with no sweat trickling down his face.
'Father, have any of my siblings awakened a Divinity?'
Gregory's shoulders slumped, and his wrinkles etched deeper. His face wasn't painted in disappointment, but in regret. 'Yes, 3 others before you have awakened. One of them is your step-brother. But he chose to use it for a... controversial purpose.'...
The notes flew around the theatre, making pleasant tunes. The Artiste played his heart out, his grin captivating the female audience.
'Semi quaver, please.' The artiste sang
The note dashed to a woman, its tails dancing with amusement, which made the woman cry out in laughter.
'May I have an octave?'
An Octave note twirled and spun, falling in a comedic manner. Several men burst out laughing with glee.
With enthusiasm, the audience danced with each other, forgetting about their worries and pain.
Dancers, 7 brightly dressed woman swung their hips behind the artiste, his song spreading joy and unimaginable splendour...
'My second wife had a second son, who developed a divinity. She was a Nature spirit, a river spirit to be precise, and when two races mix and create a spawn, the chances of a divinity are lessened. His Name is Cyrus Comet Percival. A son who actively hates me. I was too blinded by pride..."
When the performance concluded, a roar of applause followed. The former silent dominion of the room was replaced with chants, cheers, and praise. Flowers and gifts were showered on him.
The avatars disappeared as the artiste raised his left arm.
'I have achieved my dream,' The artiste announced. 'The dream I have longed for, the prize I have strived for, the wonder I have prayed for, the position I worshipped for.'
He calmly bowed, and the crowd erupted in a wave of applause.
'I AM CRYING CYRUS. The one who cries from joy, and he whose songs capture my sorrow.' He screamed with his head bowed down, a warm tear falling from his left eye, which glowed a deep blue hue...
'Okay, Father, I know my goal!' Caesar said with enthusiasm and excitement.
'Oh, I'm listening,' Gregory said, positioning himself to listen to his son.
'I don't want to be like Cyrus. I want to get a divinity, and when I get it, I don't want to be very powerful and famous. I want people to be able to rely on me so they won't cry.
Caesar jumped off the Sofa. 'I want to protect you, my mother, my siblings, my friends, and myself. I am going to be the best.'
'YES, THE BEST!!!!"
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Caesar was still awestruck, staring at the mysterious synagogue he was in.
'HELLLLLLLLOOOO!!' He screamed, wanting to know if he was alone.
'Man, is this the 7th heaven?' Caesar thought. 'But where are the Paladins? The blessed soul?'
Caesar's eyes widened. 'Will The Almighty be here?'
Caesar was filled with excitement, very eager to meet the omnipotent creator of his world. His excitement immediately dwindled when his memories flooded back.
'Oh, that's right,' Caesar thought. 'I died to that villain. People also died. Guess I wasn't good enough.'
Caesar squeezed his knuckles, tears falling from his eyes.
'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!'
Caesar grabbed his face, shivering as he fell to his knees.
'They are all dead. Stephenie, Zeke, Kane,' Caesar's breath hitched. 'I wasn't strong enough. I'm sorry, The Almighty, I'm sorry, Izobel, Chalybe, Fenrir, Jacques.'
Caesar clawed at his face. 'I'm sorry, Father.'
Caesar was ashamed. Dying due to failure? That was the worst death a person can be remembered for.
His fear welled up, and he hesitated when The Figure killed so many people while staying still.
'Please let me go back!' Caesar placed his hands together in prayer. 'The Almighty, the great and the living, the father of all and none, please let me go back. Let me avenge the lives I failed to protect. Please!'
There was no reply.
Anger and frustration welled up in his chest. 'I have worshipped you. I made a contract with your paladin. I fasted, donated, spread your word... Why can't you just send me back?'
The silence was deafening.
'Why can't you? Why?'
The halls were as empty as a graveyard.
'Almighty. Why? Why? Why? Why? WHy? WHy?'
Caesar's sorrow turned into frustration as he grabbed a piece of his clothing. 'WWWWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!'
A soft giggle was heard. Caesar's bones stiffened. It was the same giggle he heard this morning, and the same he heard when he died.
'Turn around.... Nova.'
Caesar's brow knitted, shocked that this presence knew his name. He was afraid to turn around, wary of what might be waiting for him.
But alas, his curiosity took over.
Caesar slowly turned around, as a bright light made him wince. Caesar's curiosity must be rewarded.
Bathed in a golden and blue light was a large woman, 5 times the size of Caesar.
She was clothed in the same attire Caesar wore, but her entire face was hidden. She was adorned with multiple gloydon jewellery, with a gloydon wreath on her head.
Caesar stared, his mouth left ajar.
'I didn't know that The Almighty was a woman.' Caesar murmured. 'Or are you?'
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The Figure was left in a tight spot.
As a thousand students attacked him, his main concern was the maiden, Izobel, and her hellish transformation.
Unfortunately, his barrier was still forming.
Fenrir and Martha lunged towards the enemy.
The Figure blocked an attack from Martha, but Fenrir thrusted his claw in his gut. The two danced, each landing an attack when the other's was blocked or countered.
The Figure created multiple ravens and raven monsters, trying to keep his distance.
'A Wing and a wolf,' Martha grinned. 'Happy to be working with you, Fenrir.'
Martha leapt into the air and threw her hammer, eliminating several ravens in their path. The Figure dodged the weapon, but Fenrir appeared behind him, caught it and spun it back faster into his head.
'Strike him down,' Fenrir shouted.
The Figure managed to block the attack with some ravens, grabbed Fenrir by his shoulder while dodging his claw, and retaliated with a devastating kick to the head, sending him flying into a wall.
Martha appeared atop him to land a ghost particle, but The Figure sidestepped it and-
"What was it called? That attack," The Figure took a step back and charged up a punch. "Oh, yeah, I remember it..."
The Figure punched Martha in the face, applying his Grace and swiftly removing it in a fraction of a second, creating ghost particles.
"Direct Impact."
Martha's eyes slid back, her knees buckled, and her hammer heavy in her hands.
Before he could finish her off, he felt an uncanny presence.
'Forgotten me already?' Abyss appeared behind The Figure, her face twisted in a morbid smile.
A raven flew through her gut, leaving a gap.
'Ahh, oh no, oh no.' Abyss cried out, but it was immediately replaced with a hollow laugh. 'Using the same move twice?'
Izobel's wound closed up, steam rushing out as her cells replicated and her leather suit stitched itself.
'You call yourself Untouchable. Well, I am unkillable.'
The Figure sent 5 more ravens at Abyss, but she swiftly dodged all of them.
'She is fast and agile,' The Figure thought. 'And her grace control has multiplied.'
A crow grazed Abyss's cheek, but the wound closed.
'This is unexpected.' A flash of memory clouded The Figure's head, and sorrow weighed his chest. 'Not again. I shall not fail again.'
The Figure's claw and Izobel's cleaver clashed, sending waves of pure, malicious Grace that poisoned existence.
As the Figure refocused on Abyss, she was surrounded by a bright, purple avatar of the dying insect, the halo radiating hate and malice.
"Oblivion." She whispered, as a pitch-black orb of energy appeared at the tip of the umbrella in her left hand.
The unfiltered power of destruction.
. . . . . . . . . .
'No...' The benevolent being whispered in a soft lady's voice to Caesar. 'I...god. And...you...dead.'
Caesar squinted. "Okay??"