"Destroy the entire complex - We can easily rebuild reality to be our weapon."
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Please take your seats. The council will see you shortly." The pleasant employee said, gesturing toward a row of black wooden seats.
Zeus could feel the overwhelming amount of Grace in the room.
It was so large that it almost made him feel sick. Caesar, on the other hand, was in awe. The council hall was enormous, much larger than his faction room.
Where should we start on this wonderful venue?
The walls were plated in gloydon, and the walls were glass murals, representing the 5 heads of the War Council.
The floor was expertly built with colour-changing marbles—the kind that slowly fade into different gradients of dazzling hues.
The ceiling was adorned with chandeliers of varying kinds and styles, as if each council head had different tastes.
It was also adorned with marvellous portraits that spoke of time: A man with a hollow void where his heart should be, a crown drowning in impossible jewels, and... Pandorica?
Caesar blinked, and Pandorica was replaced with a five-headed horse.
He smiled weakly, knowing that the goddess might be giggling to herself.
A finger snap was heard near Caesar's ear. "You good?"
Caesar quickly turned around, expecting Fenrir or Zeus to ask the question, but it was Jacques. He remembered when Jacques hadn't even bothered to greet him, which had made Caesar sceptical.
"Why are you asking?" Caesar questioned. "Do you finally remember I'm present?"
Jacques' hair always hid his eyes, which made it difficult for Caesar to read his emotions.
"I-I wasn't t-trying to b-b-be rude," Jacques stuttered while flicking his fingers rhythmically. "I was just... not ready to t-t-talk to you."
Caesar's face turned in confusion. "May I ask why?"
Jacques slumped back in his seat.
"You know how my father is, Fleet Admiral of the Zion's Navy, right?"
Caesar slowly nodded, unaware of what his fate might hold in Jacques' hands.
"A-anytime he and his crew t-t-travel to undiscovered waters, he always w--ants to make sure he knows h-how deep and alive t-they are." Jacques took a deep breath. "They do this by dropping powerful bombs, like t-those with the power to d-destroy a city."
Caesar smiled. "Wow, that is interesting."
Jacques' smile disappeared. "The b-bomb explosions won't be seen, or heard, or f-f-felt when t-they are dropped. It will be like t-t-they were swallowed by the abyss of the oceans."
Jacques slowly turned to Caesar.
"The battle of Black Meadows," Jacques said. "You were the only o-one who could damage the Figure, and after your inter-intervention, other p-people could touch him. You seemed v-very different; feral, primal, more destructive, as if you were con-con-consumed by something."
Jacques stared deep into Caesar's eyes. "You a-are like that Ocean, too deep and un-known to venture into. You looked like a dark knight born out of a forbidden prophecy. I just felt so... w-what's the word?"
"Scared?" Caesar asked.
Caesar expected Jacques to laugh or protest, but Jacques kept a straight face.
"Yes, brother Caesar," Jacques whispered. "I was- absolutely terrified of you. I felt a primal urge to defend myself from you during the battle, or go as far as ki-killing you."
Jacques bit his lips. "Take a look at me? I ran mad in the b-battle multiple times, using my scrambled brain to f-f-fight, and I am here talking a-about fear. I felt so a-ashamed of myself t-to even look at you, so I didn't b-b-bother to talk to you. The guilt was too heavy."
Caesar felt unnaturally cold. He could remember himself trying very hard to defeat the near-invincible villain, not reversing into an animal.
It was painful to hear what Jacques actually thought of him.
Well, why can't I say I am surprised? Caesar said after a moment of dead silence. I always think about being the best, being the hero, being the one that people will look up to.
Caesar turned to Jacques. Even though my memories of my death are fuzzy, I can promise you, Jacques, I am the same Caesar, but with a different goal. I will fight for you, for everyone, and I will never, never, allow my ego or pride to jeopardise your safety. Bind me with the Paladin Gabriel if you want.
Jacques tilted his head. "I feel so bad now."
"So let us use our emotions to push ourselves and each other," Caesar smiled. "You can use that fear to grow stronger than me, and I will use my promise to be stronger than you."
"Is this a bet, Caesar Nova Percival?"
"Yes, Jacques Loius Valeur IX", Caesar replied with a devious smile.
A smile etched itself on the side of Jacques' lips. "You are unbearable. I'm going to wipe that smile off your face when we're done with this meeting."
"I'd like to see you try," Caesar challenged.
The same welcoming employee walked into the hall with a more formal demeanour.
Please arise, for the Heads of the War Council are arriving.
Caesar and his party shot to their feet, and the overwhelming Grace grew tenfold.
Caesar felt as if an ocean had collapsed onto his shoulders.
Fenrir's fangs lengthened involuntarily to the surge.
Izobel's ears popped as if she had suddenly risen thousands of feet into the air.
Zeus gagged, his body physically reacting to the magnitude of Grace.
Jacques winced, his Divinity urging him to attack.
Seven white pillars rose from the ground, each with a throne. This was surprising, as Caesar and Jacques had only heard of five members.
Behind the thrones were black and gold floating platforms with handrails on the edges.
The ceiling slowly opened, shadows grew and crept, roars of feral beasts were heard, yellow streaks of light appeared, reality seemed to unfold, the sweet aroma of food filled the air, and a blinding glint of light flashed above the clouds.
"The Seven Heads of the Council," The employee smiled. "I present:"
"Ganymede Cyrus Habakkuk, Head of Safety and Defence."
Reality seemed to unravel as a large cut in space-time appeared behind the seat, its contents screaming of randomness and the beauty of entropy.
"Scipio Oprah Vashti, Head of Magic and Hexes, and Head of Mathematics."
All the shadows in the room amalgamated into a floating mass of darkness, its edges glowing crimson and screaming of the primordial void.
"Mercury Asher Theodore, Keeper of the Ancient Relics, and Head of the Ancient Language."
7 large wings appeared in the sky, as a person descended above the clouds like a Paladin, terrifying and immaculate, the appearance screaming of untempered secrets.
"Theta Domino Diomedes, Zion's Sword, the 36th Soldier of the Crucifix, the Hero of Orion, and Head of Physical Education. Absent."
"Newly appointed, Liebe Angel Hebe, Head of Catering and Housekeeping."
The sweet aroma turned into a mealstorm of divine power, the energy rippling through Caesar's and his companions' latent fear, its presence screaming of nurturing and lusting hospitality.
"Newly appointed, Bjornsen Frej Aksel, Head of Commerce."
A large mechanoid appeared behind a pillar, its body clad in raw grace and its limbs distorting time around it, screaming of dominance and unquestionable loyalty.
"And our master, Reginald Dan Gerald, Headmaster and Head of Foreign Affairs."
The blinding light in the heavens struck a pillar so fast and was too powerful. Caesar and his companions passed out, their bodies failing under the impossible weight of such power. The light was blinding and divine, screaming raw creation and the power of the heavens, far above mortals.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"The extraction has been complete."
Caesar caught a glimpse of Pandorica, her flawless face twisted in anger and... envy?
"Caesar...Yesterday...Miracle...Divinity...Careful."
Caesar's eyes shot open as he saw his companions weary and fatigued, as if they were forced to carry the heavens themselves.
Izobel smiled, but her breathing struggled. "Glad to see you awake, Caesar."
Caesar's head felt heavy and his vision blurred. But he noticed a bright orange figure next to him. When his vision cleared, a smile returned to his lips.
"Martha?"
Martha wore her school uniform, bright golden to show that she was a part of the Thunderclaw Faction. She smiled at Caesar with wild eyes.
"I was the one who harmed the Unkindness first after all," Martha said. "I'm not gonna let you steal my glory, you damn paragon."
"And before you," the employee stood, perfect and untouched, "the War Council."
A loud snark echoed through the room.
"War Council?" A member said. "Are we still getting called that?"
"Habakkuk, please," a female member spoke up. "Practice some decorum. You are in the eyes of students."
Habakkuk chewed on the toothpick in his mouth. He was the least flashy of them all. He wore a simple white jacket adorned with metal jewellery that changed colours.
His trousers were midnight black, decorated with chains and nails that buzzed with cyan light. His feet were protected by a pair of Obesin black boots with streaks of turquoise light running around the edges.
His entire attire was riddled with graffiti that moved and changed, as if it refused to stay in one form. His face was stern, and his cold red eyes spoke of silent rage.
He sat with the tension of a soldier in repose, his mismatched outfit betraying the quiet chaos beneath his stoicism.
Fenrir felt blessed to be in the presence of the powerful council. But his admiration turned to shock when he saw the person sitting on the last throne to the right.
"You!!!" Fenrir shouted. His sudden outburst startled his companions.
Sitting on the throne was a tall, beautiful woman. She wore a large, brown, fluffy coat over a dazzling black dress that glistened like stars. Scarlet heels echoed the bold red of her lipstick. Nestled in her long black hair were two wolf ears, signifying that she was a demihuman.
When her deep purple eyes—with their sharp pupils—saw Fenrir, a warm smile appeared on her face.
"Heyyyy!" she screamed, waving both hands at Fenrir. "How are you doing, little Fen? You've surely grown a lot."
Fenrir's cheeks turned red-hot. "What are you doing there?"
The woman's smile grew larger, showing her pearly white teeth and canines.
"Oh, well, I got an invitation, did a lot of gruesome tests, these people don't play with their tests, and I got newly appointed," she replied. "Isn't it fun?"
Izobel chuckled. "Fen, who is she?"
"I don't wanna talk about it," Fenrir replied immediately.
"Ahh, Fen," the woman gasped. "You are breaking my heart. You wouldn't even allow Izobel to remember me."
Other members of the council looked unbothered, but Habakkuk looked bored.
"C'mon, Fen," Izobel pestered.
"She was my master. My former teacher," Fenrir finally confessed.
Caesar's face beamed with excitement.
"Wait, is that...?" Caesar snapped his fingers, trying to recall. "I know the name, I know the name. Ahh... Mrs Hebe."
The woman's face brightened, indicating Caesar guessed correctly. The party laughed at Fenrir and teased him. Caesar was glad that happiness had returned to his confidant's face.
The employee, who had been silently laughing at the amusing reunion, requested silence.
Reginald looked at Jacques sternly, and his voice broke through his thick white beard. "Martha Chaste Hope, could you please rise?"
Martha swiftly stood up.
"Firstly, I commend you for your contribution to the battle," Reginald smiled. "Now tell me, what was your thought process when you tried to attack the mysterious figure without any Grace?"
Martha's eyes gleamed, and her wings fluttered in excitement. She took a deep breath and spoke confidently.
"Headmaster Reginald," Martha started, bowing before him, "the Head Council," and she bowed again.
"I noticed that the Unkindness was reflecting Divine attacks fueled by Grace. So, I decided to test the waters by throwing him my weapon without any Grace, and my theory was proven correct. Then, I chose to only combat him with my physical ability. That was my thought process, Headmaster."
As Martha bowed again and sat down, Caesar was finished taking in all of Headmaster Reginald's appearance. He had a thick white beard—which Caesar had noted earlier—and a surprisingly smooth, almost infant-like complexion.
He wore a heavy black gown adorned with gloydon and slaver platings. Massive Goz copper pauldrons covered his shoulders, each decorated with three tiny metal wings, welded like ornamental feathers.
Floating just above his head was a dark barrette, crowned with a large circular structure and a forward-facing jut, like a mechanical halo. By far, Reginald was the flashiest figure in the room.
Zeus realised that all the sickening Grace had dispersed.
No—it had been absorbed.
His eyes drifted to the warm employee, standing near their rows. Zeus knew the employee had something to do with the sudden disappearance of the overwhelming Grace, but he couldn't prove it.
That kind of Divinity could be classified as a Righteousness class, Habakkuk chimed in as he spat the toothpick on the floor with a tink. But that power... It's unheard of. I'd love to fight him.
"If we even call it Divinity," Scipio said. "That kind of power is unheard of. My influence can't even get a reading on it."
"But we have to consider the grand picture," he added, his tone now heavier. "According to reports, his primary objective was to assassinate Prince Chalybe. He might have a grudge against the royal family. Or worse… against the Kingdom."
"I've sent word to the Capital," Theodore sang, his clear, youthful voice lilting like a nursery rhyme. He swung his legs idly beneath his chair, as if perched on a school bench instead of in a council meeting. "The King surprisingly allowed Prince Chalybe to remain in the academy. How fun."
Theodore was perhaps the most unsettling among them. He looked no older than Caesar, yet his elongated ears and three conjoined pupils revealed the truth—he was an elf, like his sister.
Given their absurdly long lifespans, Caesar guessed Theodore must be somewhere between 80 and 110 years old.
Aksel leaned forward, hands slicing the air in wild gestures. "So, Prince Chalybe, do you know the enemy?" His words came fast. "Relative? Lost brother? Vengeful uncle? Unaware twin? Or maybe a former employee—cleaner, guard, chef? A jealous fan? No, wait, admirers don't usually try to kill you. Unless they used to admire you. Ooh, maybe a forgotten foe? Or a bored villain looking for kicks? Come on, chop chop, Prince—we haven't got all day!"
Aksel's rambling questions halted abruptly. His hands froze mid-air, and his tone dropped.
"Well?" he whispered, eyes narrowing. "You do know something… don't you?"
Chalybe's jaw locked. He looked at Aksel, then at the other council members.
Aksel was no less strange than the others—a portly old Hoggoth - Orange burnt skin, 6 intense eyes, 4 strong arms, and a shell on his back.
Chalybe stood and bowed deeply. "Council Heads," he said with forced calm, "I know not who our adversary is. His reasons for targeting me remain a mystery—even to me. My Lords."
He bowed again and returned to his seat, his glowing cyan eyes flickering faintly.
"Wow," Theodore smiled. "The prince bowing to me... amazing."
Caesar watched his companion closely. He was still missing one heart, but they managed to place an artificial replacement in the meantime.
Trying to find another Nephilim is difficult, and finding one willing to give up their heart for the Prince can be next to Impossible.
What would the future hold for the Heartless Prince?
"Everyone," Scipio said warmly. "Let's not forget our star of the show."
She smiled broadly, her presence dark but gorgeous.
She wore a dark veil that clung to her alluring shape, her face completely covered under a face curtain. She was decorated in multiple pieces of jewellery that melted and reformed, her hands slender and sizzling, and a white-hot amber floating on her head.
She was a star spirit, most probably a neutron star spirit.
"I'm talking about Caesar, of course." Scipio giggled. "The boy was the first to, somehow, destroy his divinity, giving other students the chance to damage him. Shouldn't we give praise when praise is long overdue?"
Scipio's jovial presence broke the tension like dark sunlight through storm clouds.
"Caesar Nova Percival," Scipio's voice sounded sweet and reassuring. "Please rise."
Caesar leapt to his feet, posture straight. This was his moment—and he wouldn't waste it.
"So, Caesar," Scipio began. "The reports about you were awe-inspiring to say the least. You were on the brink of death and still managed to come back. I thought you had a Divinity Revelation, the awakening of one's power, but that wasn't it. So, educate me on your endeavour. I am most curious."
Caesar composed himself to contain his excitement. "Ms Scipio," Caesar bowed. "Head Council." He bowed again.
"I would love to bask in your praises, but it was truly Martha who taught me how to damage him in the first place by teaching me Shallow. Zeus also aided me in the battle greatly."
Zeus suddenly perked up.
"When the villain first arrived, I thought I could eat away his defence with raw power, but I was wrong. I also thought I could wear him down or cause him to turn off his defence, but it was also futile."
Caesar's smile weakened. "But when his secondary ability was used, people died, a lot of them, and I couldn't do anything. When I almost died, I suddenly got the ability to pass through and even cripple his barrier. But that ability was short-lived when he transformed into his black-and-white form."
Scipio listened intently, digesting every word and intonation.
"Why are you lying, Caesar?" Scipio said, and Caesar felt as if someone had grabbed his heart.
"You didn't almost die, you died." Scipio continued. "Your death sparked some kind of power surge in you. Maybe a contract with an Imperial beast, or a spirit animal, or a- "
Clack.
Reginald tapped his staff on the marble floor. Instantly, the air shifted.
Scipio kept quiet, folding her arms in annoyance as the amber on her head glowed brighter.
"Caesar, young lad," Reginald said. "I have seen the craziest phenomena you could only dream of. So I ask of you, do not dare lie to me. What happened when you died?"
Caesar hesitated. He wasn't sure whether he should explain everything: The Synagogue, Pandorica, the agents of death, the time travel.
But as he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came.
Not silence. No hesitation.
The words were gone.
It wasn't that Caesar couldn't speak; it was as though the language itself had evaporated. His mind strained, searched, but no words formed. And in that moment, he understood something terrifying:
His brain could no longer comprehend what he had seen.
It was as if what he had experienced was too large, too alien, to translate into human thought. It was exhilarating… and horrifying.
Pandorica… Her power didn't just bend reality. It broke the boundary of understanding itself.
"I apologise, Headmaster," Caesar said, voice low. "I don't remember."
Reginald stared at Caesar with the weight of a billion stars. His presence was too immense, but Caesar couldn't describe the event anymore.
Suddenly, Reginald gave a slow nod. "Very well."
Caesar was allowed to sit, and the moment he did, the memories returned in perfect detail. Pandorica's smile and bubbly nature, the Synagogue's infinite expanse and radiance, and the moment with Melios.
"I understand, Pandorica." Caesar thought.
The Council turned to the rest of the group. They asked questions—about their health, the battle, the enemy's tactics. The employee documented everything with tireless precision, her pen never pausing.
The Council adjourned, vanishing once again into their respective mode of entrance.
The ever-present employee ushered the students out of the chamber, handing each of them a grab bag filled with supplies as they passed.
"Theta, the most powerful knight in Zion, was absent." Izobel sounded disappointed.
"All these powerful knights," Zeus sighed. "Only there if they want to be."
Caesar smiled. "Maybe we will meet them later."
"Last person to reach the main building owes the group Wonder Bread," Martha announced with a grin.
And just like that, they ran out of the council chamber and back into the world, chasing laughter to forget the weight of what came next.