Chapter 23
The Cult of the Black Sword
Justina and her lieutenants arrived at the Istar outpost on the day Tokiya and Karasu left. They had already been there for two days now, dealing with the destruction their target left in Istar Forest. Jayce was getting bored and decided to treat his partners to drinks. So, they left their Oravell plates at one of the military offices to not draw unwanted attention and made their way to a tavern.
For a while, the three of them enjoyed lighthearted chats while sipping drinks. Jayce groaned.
"I can't believe we're still here. We should be almost to Ardston by now."
Justina calmly took a sip of her drink. Unlike the rest of her companions, Justina refused an alcoholic beverage. She instead opted for tea.
"It can't be helped. We have to hand all the info about the incident to the people here, so they can deal with it, and we can get to Ardston. It's just a minor setback. Besides, we'll be ready to leave tomorrow anyways."
Jayce dramatically placed his head into his arms on the bar counter.
"Aren't you at least a bit upset by the fact that our one lead is getting further from us. Not to mention the Second Phase is two months away."
Without even glancing at Jayce, she continued to look forward. She didn't respond. Aitzer laughed as he finished his third drink while everyone else was still on their first.
"There's no need to be so uptight, you two. We should look on the bright side. That Tokiya guy seems to be on our side since he's already been behind the defeat of two existents. It'll all work out."
Jayce glanced over at Aitzer who was sitting on the other side of Justina.
"Yeah, but it just seems like the whole universe is trying to slow us down. You remember how long it took us to get permission to even investigate the cult. Most of the stuff we're doing isn't even official."
He frowned at his partner.
"Oh, and you're going to pass out if you continue on like that."
Aitzer scoffed.
"You know it takes more than this to get me drunk, let alone pass out. Don't you remember that one time we played truth or drink?"
Jayce blushed as he lifted his head.
"I-I thought we said we'd never talk about that in public."
The two of them glanced at Justina to see her reaction, but they both frowned when her reaction remained still. Jayce placed his head back in his arms. Aitzer raised his hand and directed his attention to the bartender.
"Another drink please."
Justina instantly lowered Aitzer's hand.
"I think you've had enough."
"Heheh, alright."
There was a moment of silence between the three of them as Justina and Jayce finished their drinks. Eventually, Aitzer broke the silence with a question.
"So, do you think he's going to wait in Ardston for us?"
Justina responded.
"If you're referring to Tokiya, I believe he will. From what that captain, Gremory, said about him, I believe he'll cooperate just fine."
Aitzer chuckled to himself.
"I can't wait to find out what that farmer could've possibly done to get on the cult's bad side."
She finally turned to her left to look at Aitzer and allowed a small smile to creep onto her face.
"Yes, I am quite curious about that too."
Jayce chuckled as well.
"He's clearly not just a farmer. I mean, he's already defeated two existents. Not to mention all that destruction he caused in the forest. It's a shock that he didn't blow up his whole town when he fought Essentialism."
Aitzer raised an eyebrow.
"Weren't we told that Captain Gremory was the one to actually defeat the cultist?"
"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Well, there's no doubt that he was responsible for Istar."
"It could've been the bodyguard we were told he has."
"Fat chance-"
Justina interjected.
"That's enough. Keep your theories to yourselves."
Reaching up with one arm, Jayce patted Justina on the head.
"You're always so serious, Justina. You know, you'll never find a boyfriend if you're like that all the time."
He began to laugh at his own joke, but his laugh was replaced by a sharp shriek once Justina grabbed his arm with a forceful grip. He cowered under the pressure.
"Would you like to repeat that, you blindfolded nuisance?"
"N-No, ma'am!"
Aitzer broke out in a fit of laughter.
"Finally, the savage is getting what he deserves."
Eventually, the drama died down, but Jayce wasn't over it. He scoffed at his companions.
"Whatever. My bad for trying to lighten the mood. I have to go to the bathroom anyway."
With that, Jayce made his way to the back of the tavern where the restrooms were. Justina shook her head.
"I can't with you guys, I swear."
Aitzer stared at her. There was something he wanted to say, and he was thinking hard on how to say it. Justina noticed his stare and turned to face him.
"What is it, Aitzer?"
He now felt pressured to quickly say something, so he decided to just say what he wanted unfiltered.
"You seem bothered. I'm not sure if it's the approach of the Second Phase or our recent encounter with the Existent of Essentialism, but if there really is something wrong, you should tell us."
Justina turned her head away from Aitzer, but his gaze remained fixed. He slightly tilted his head to the side.
"As a doctor, I can tell when patients aren't doing well, and you certainly aren't doing a good job at hiding it. Besides, I'm not only a doctor. I'm also your lieutenant, and most importantly your friend. With those three roles, I'm the perfect person to share your troubles with."
Justina finally spoke again.
"Yes, I see that you're quite qualified, Aitzer."
Aitzer smirked with pride. Justina turned to face him but couldn't quite bring herself to look him in the eye. She ended up staring at his legs, but that was fine with Aitzer.
"I appreciate your concern, but as your superior, it would be terrible for me to burden you with my personal struggles."
Aitzer leaned in his chair with a professionalism that matched his title as a doctor. It was analytical but also layered with a warm and welcoming persona.
"Then don't talk to me as my general. Talk to me as my friend."
Justina sighed. She finally found herself able to look him in the eye. It was strange for the calm and collected General Justina to be acting like this, but perhaps it was the nature of the conversation that had her behaving so oddly.
"You sure are relentless."
"Heheh, I always get what I want out of people. You should know that by now."
Justina took a deep breath.
"But still, even if you are my friend, it would be shameful as your leader to openly converse about my failures."
Aitzer raised an eyebrow.
"Failures?"
"Yes, her failures, and trust me, she has many."
Justina and Aitzer immediately turned their heads to face the ominous voice. In the seat, where Jayce once sat, was a man with a black jacket that looked like it wasn't from their time. The hood of the jacket was up, obscuring most of his face. Both of them immediately recognized him as the cultist who assisted Mors in his escape.
The two Imperial Knights jumped from their seats. Justina instinctively reached for her sword, but it wasn't there. Before she could switch to another method of attack, the man raised his hands almost as if he was surrendering.
"I'm not here to fight you. Besides, if we did, you would certainly die."
Justina's face scrunched with rage.
"Would you like to test that theory?"
A ball of light formed within her hand, but before it could get too big, Aitzer placed his hand on Justina's shoulder.
"General, we must be rational about this."
The bartender turned to the three.
"Whatever you guys have going on here, take it outside. I don't need another mess to clean up."
The hooded man grinned as he watched the ball of light dissipate. He proceeded to get more comfortable in his chair than he already was.
"General Justina Lumen. You have quite an impressive record. You've won numerous battles for Oravell in the Kankaran War, mainly on the eastern front. In addition to that, not long after being appointed to the position of General, you spearheaded the mission to take down the Phoenix Cult. Through all of that, you've been known for your persistent levelheaded demeanor. However, there seems to be one enemy that you just can't stay calm around. That enemy would be us, the Cult of the Black Sword."
Justina gritted her teeth. The hooded man noticed this and continued pushing.
"I wonder why that is. Perhaps it's because of something that happened in your past? Or maybe it's because no matter how hard you try, you can never catch us. I suppose there was that one time you took down an existent, but since then, I'd say we've gotten pretty good at covering our tracks, especially after our recent arrangements."
It took everything out of the General to not lash out at the man.
"What arrangements are you talking about?"
The two couldn't fully see the man's expression, but from what they could see of his mouth, he looked slightly dumbfounded by Justina's question.
"What would make you think I would tell you something like that?"
"I could kill you if I wanted to even without my sword. So, if you don't want to die, I suggest you start answering my questions."
The man's dumbfounded expression returned before he burst into laughter.
"Fighting you certainly wouldn't be ideal given your strength, but it's not something that would make me fear for my life. Besides, there's a reason I chose this exact moment to make contact with you."
Justina remained silent, trying to calm herself before speaking, so Aitzer spoke in her place.
"What's the reason? Or are you not allowed to tell us that either?"
The hooded man grinned.
"Well, just look who among your little trio isn't here. That's all I'll say."
Angrily stepping forward, Justina grabbed the hooded man by the neck and lifted him off his chair. The man was genuinely caught off guard.
"Are you saying you fear my lieutenant more than me?"
The hooded man began to choke under the pressure of Justina's intense grip. Chaos erupted as the others in the tavern, including the bartender, became aware of the rising tension. Aitzer found himself being the one to have to calm them down.
Finally, the hooded man managed to spit out some words through his choking.
"What's with this reaction? This behavior is a disappointment to all of your subordinates. Maybe this is why your lieutenant, Jayce Fotya, was offered the position of general before you."
Justina's grip tightened.
"How do you know about that?"
"Ack! I believe since you've become a general, he's been asked to leave your side and become one himself several times. Honestly, I don't know why he keeps choosing to stay with someone like you, who can't even stay calm under the verbal assault of an enemy. This is really just-"
The hooded man's neck began to glow bright yellow, causing him to stop his monologue. It began to burn and vibrate like it was about to explode. The man became alarmed.
"Gah, fuck!"
Suddenly, Justina winced and immediately jumped back, creating space between her and the cultist. However, the energy she stored in his neck was still present, and it detonated causing his head to go flying.
Oddly enough, there were no screams in reaction to all the gore. But Justina didn't have time to worry about that, for she had a much bigger problem. She couldn't remember who she was fighting. Her hand was shaking.
She looked up at the man in front of her. Smoke cleared from around him, and as it did, it was revealed that his head was miraculously back in place. The cultist adjusted his hood.
"Damn, Strife's not going to be too happy about that one."
Justina stood her ground.
"W-Who are you?"
The hooded man grinned sinisterly.
"Did you forget me already? What a shame."
Justina stared at him intensely, trying to piece together the situation. She had no remembrance of this man, but what she did remember were his words. However, she didn't remember who he was or how he got there or even when he got there.
The cultist sighed.
"If this is what I have to expect from the rest of the Four Generals, I better prepare myself for disappointment."
He turned to the exit of the tavern and began walking away. With his back visible to her, Justina could see the symbol of the Cult of the Black Sword on his jacket. Her face contorted with rage as she remembered his status as a cultist. The hooded man paused at the exit to say one last thing.
"Let me give you a warning, General Justina. Don't continue chasing the cult. I'm sure whatever grudge you have against us isn't worth sacrificing your life for."
With that, he exited the tavern, but Justina ran after him. However, when she pushed open the door and looked around, he was nowhere to be seen. She no longer remembered meeting him for the first time, but maybe that was for the best. After all, she wouldn't be able to handle the fact that the same cultist eluded her twice.
A groan came from the back of the tavern. Jayce emerged from the restroom.
"Ugh, whatever they served for breakfast in the cafeteria this morning is not treating me well. Justina, do you have any tea left over?"
He looked around the tavern, and although not visible, his eyes widened at what he saw. Everyone in the tavern was fast asleep, except for Justina and Aitzer, who were standing silently.
"Aitzer, I know you did this! What happened here?"
Aitzer rubbed the back of his head.
"The civilians here burst into chaos, so I needed to calm them down. I got a little carried away though."
Jayce shouted at his partner.
"You think? General, how could you let him do this?"
Justina stood there silently, staring at the ground. Jayce approached her carefully.
"General? What's wrong?"
She muttered something, so softly that it didn't even seem like it should've come from a person so seemingly confident as her.
"General, I can't hear you."
Justina repeated herself. Her voice was still low and soft, but her sentence was audible this time.
"I'm sorry, Jayce. And to you too, Aitzer."
Jayce remained still in a state of confusion.
"Huh? What's this all about? Wait, did you mess with my breakfast? What could I have possibly done to warrant such a tumultuous toilet experience?"
Justina shook her head with her gaze still fixed on the floor.
"No, it's nothing like that. I need to apologize... I need to apologize for always holding you two back and constantly failing."
"General, you-"
Justina took a step back.
"No, Jayce. There are no excuses for me. Ever since we took down that existent a year ago, I have failed to gather any other leads about the cult. Our first real lead in over a year, Essentialism, escaped because of me. And now today. The way I lost my cool was unacceptable."
She clenched her fists.
"You two deserve better than me! Aitzer, you are the best healer in the country. And Jayce, you could be one of the most legendary generals Oravell has ever seen. You're leagues stronger than me, Jayce. Nothing about this is right! I shouldn't be your general!"
Jayce looked at his general's depressed state. Aitzer stood behind him, but didn't dare say anything. He was a master at telling when something was wrong with someone, but at the end of the day he was a physician, not a psychologist. Jayce's face became stern and strict.
"You're right, Justina. You shouldn't be my general. Not with the way you are now."
Justina sucked her teeth at Jayce's words but certainly not out of spite.
"We both know that I'm stronger than you, but it seems like only one of us knows that strength isn't the reason I stay with you. For a whole year, through countless dead ends and no matter how many times people told you to give up, you continued to search for leads on the cult. That's my general. The woman whose determination surpasses all. And so what if you get a little hot headed sometimes? No one is expecting you to be a nonchalant leader all the time."
Jayce forcefully jabbed his finger into Justina's chest, causing her to finally look up at him.
"Most importantly, my general is the person who saved me, and I will always admire her for that. So, if you're going to stand here and sulk in your own self-expectations while the Second Phase is only months away, then you're not my general. But if you are that woman I admire so much, then you'll straighten your back, look me in the eye, and tell me we must move forward. That's what my general would do!"
Justina's eyes widened. She felt Jayce's words resonate deep within her heart, igniting her fire once again. She straightened her posture and stared deep into his-
"Heh, I can't see your eyes, idiot."
"Pft, you get the point."
Justina took a deep breath and hardened her resolve.
"Jayce, Aitzer, we will move forward. The Cult of the Black Sword won't wait for us. We'll go at them with everything we've got! We leave for Ardston tonight."
Aitzer popped his head between them.
"I thought things wouldn't be ready until tomorrow."
"I'll see what I can do about that. I am one of the Four Generals after all."
Aitzer smiled. He stretched out his arms and pulled both Justina and Jayce into a tight huddle. An unsettling grin crept onto his face.
"Let's make those cultists pay."
Jayce whimpered quietly.
"I'd prefer if this huddle was just between us, Mr. Doctor, but I guess since it's Justina, I'll allow it."
A red blush quickly spread throughout Justina's face. She scolded her lieutenant.
"Why do you have to make everything so weird?"
Jayce broke out into laughter.
"See, I told you. You're anything but nonchalant."
Justina whipped around, preparing to leave the tavern without them.
"Whatever! Just be ready to leave by tonight."
Both Jayce and Aitzer saluted her at the same time.
"Yes, ma'am."
*****
Somewhere in an ominous alley in the Istar outpost, a shady meeting was being held. The hooded cultist from the tavern leaned against a wall, while another man stood completely obscured by the darkness of the alley. The hooded cultist spoke first.
"Tell your brother I'll be needing his ability for a little while longer. It was quite helpful today."
The disembodied voice responded. His tone was frantic, but not in a manic way like Mors, but in a cowardly and apologetic way.
"Y-You got hurt today?"
The hooded cultist crossed his arms.
"Something like that. But don't worry about me. I'm fine. You're heading back to Zahrket today, right?"
"Yes, and I'll make sure to catch my brother up on everything. B-But um, where is Mors? Wasn't he with you?"
The hooded cultist bounced off the wall as he prepared to leave.
"Oh, him? I sent him back to the church to inform the others of the next steps. Hopefully he doesn't find a way to screw even that up."
"I-I believe in him. It's not that hard of a task. A-And besides, we're so close to our goal. Sh-She'll be so proud of us! Maybe she'll even say I did good. Although I doubt it. I haven't really done much."
The disembodied voice trailed off as he got closer to the end of his comment.
"Pft, it's just like you to say that about Mors. But you're right. She will certainly be proud of us, even you."
As he began to walk off, the hooded man waved to his fellow cultist.
"I'll be off. And please pray for Mors for me."
*****
The grandiose church that Mors was in was dark and candle lit as if it was trying to be overly ominous. The sound of his footsteps echoed, as he merrily skipped down the hallway. Eventually, he made it to a set of large double doors. He pushed open the doors and exclaimed his presence.
"Mors, the left hand of Fate, has returned!"
Despite there being three other people, the large, lobby-like room remained silent, signaling that Mors' loud presence was unwanted. In the back of the room was a young man with his cult cloak on and black clothes underneath to match. He didn't even lift his head from the book he was reading to acknowledge Mors.
Sitting on a bench next to one of the pillars of the room, was a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties. Her hair was dirty blonde with green highlights and set into two low ponytails. She didn't look up from sharpening the katana in her hand. The final person who was already in the room was a muscular, bulky man whose most notable accessory was his large red beaded necklace. His expression didn't change much when he finally turned to address Mors.
"Does that mean there's a right hand of Fate?"
Mors nodded as he walked further into the room.
"Of course! That title belongs to the cult's one and only Ubi Que Centrum!"
Mors' whole expression flipped once he said that name.
"Well, there is something I'm meant to tell you."
He paused before the grand reveal.
"Our dear friend, Ubi, has died. But, we mustn't be sad! We should be happy for him. After all, he is now reunited with Lord Fate! Now, he will be rewarded for his service in the afterlife."
The bulky man's expression finally changed as he raised his eyebrows in shock.
"Ubi's dead? That can't be. He's the strongest member we have here in Oravell besides the boss. Did that farmer really kill Ubi?"
Mors shook his head vigorously.
"No, no, no, that sinner would never be able to kill Ubi. It was one of his associates who did it."
"I pray to Fate that this person stays far away from here. We wouldn't stand a chance against someone stronger than Ubi."
Mors proudly put his hands on his hips.
"Fear not, the boss is already making preparations for her. And besides, Lord Fate shall look after us in Ubi's place."
"Tsk, you fate obsessed idiots. That egotistical maniac got what he deserved."
Both Mors and the bulky man turned to face the woman who had just spoken. She finally sheathed her katana. Mors' body began to twitch.
"What did you say, Anko?"
The woman, revealed to be named Anko, sighed.
"Nothin'. Nothin' at all. I'm just wondering why we even have to chase this farmer around the country anyways."
Anko reached into her pocket and pulled out some tree gum. She popped it into her mouth and relaxed as she began chewing it. Mors stretched out his arms and looked up at the ceiling.
"Isn't it clear? That farmer is a sinner, and he must be exterminated in the name of Fate. He even has the mark of that cursed Divine Blessing."
Mors shivered.
"It reminds me of that wretch, Ghilgah."
Anko scoffed.
"Ghilgah? Who's that? Is he one of your Bibel characters too?"
Mors crossed his arms with frustration.
"It's called the Bible, and it's quite popular where I come from. And no, Ghilgah is not from the Bible. He is a being so vile that-"
"Whatever, I already don't care."
"Don't interrupt me, you sinner!"
The bulky man rested his hand on Mors' shoulder.
"Calm down, Mors. She's just trying to get under your skin."
Anko laughed at the easily enraged Mors.
"Haha, why don't you just die."
Strangely enough, Anko's comment calmed Mors. He proudly scoffed at her as he pulled out a sickle from underneath his cloak.
"Ha, that's not this insult you think it is, sinner! You see, I can't die because Lord Fate has decided it is not my time."
Mors plunged the sickle into his chest. Anko stared intensely as blood leaked out of his body, but the bulky man simply facepalmed, refusing to entertain the antics. Anko looked up at him.
"Come on, Hawthorne. You're gonna to miss the best part."
A yellow glow surrounded Mors as his body healed itself. Anko clapped her hands and cheered.
"Ah, I can never get enough of that part. But seriously, I do wish you'd die permanently. It's what you deserve after all."
Luckily for him, Mors was too proud of his display to listen to her words. Hawthorne gave Anko a warning glare.
"Fate will punish you if you keep playing around like that. I'm surprised you're not wary, for we are only months away from the return of our lord."
She sighed and began to chew her gum more forcefully.
"Hawthorne, you're usually a sensible guy, but I just lose all respect for you when you start soundin' like Mors and going on about Fate. The purpose of this cult has nothing to do with your stupid god, so get over yourself."
Hawthorne clutched his bead necklace as he towered over Anko. He stared down at her sternly.
"Take it back, Anko."
Anko rudely spit her gum on the floor.
"Do you wanna fight, Hawthorne?"
The two were locked in an intense staring competition until it was suddenly interrupted by a rustling in the back of the room. The young man who was there closed his book and shoved it into the inside of his cloak. He stood up, muttering something under his breath.
"Idiots."
Hawthorne stared at him curiously.
"Where are you going, Zennith?"
Zennith didn't respond. Instead, he walked to a door on the back wall of the room and entered. Anko groaned.
"I hate all of you."
The door that Zennith entered led to a dark staircase with no lighting. Zennith had walked up this staircase so many times that he didn't need light to successfully make it up. Although, in his earlier days at the church, he found it a meaningless action to even be careful on these stairs in the first place.
His short, messy, unkempt hair swayed as he ascended the stairs. At the top was another door which he also went through. On the other side was a nave with about twenty people sitting in the pews. These were low-level members of the cult, and they simply looked like the average person.
Zennith muttered to himself as he walked through the center aisle of the nave.
"They're all idiots. They know nothing about this cult or its purpose. They're just all fools who have been deceived. I would feel bad for them, but it's futile trying to save fools like them."
He finally arrived at the altar, where a large statue of a blindfolded figure with a crown stood. Zennith glared at it.
"But maybe it is just as meaningless to even think about saving them, for what could a lost soul like me ever know about purpose."
Zennith raised his voice so that the people in the pews could hear his next words.
"One of you come up here now."
He didn't turn around but simply waited to hear the approach of one of the cultists which eventually came. Still glaring at the statue, he commanded the middle-aged man who approached him.
"Stand next to me."
The man obeyed, and Zennith finally glanced at him. He picked up a knife from the altar and handed it to the man.
"Slit your finger and pay tribute."
The man seemed repulsed by the idea.
"Pay tribute to what?"
Zennith's voice was soft but in a detached way, and the man seemed to be creeped out by it with good reason.
"To the Black Sword of course."
After some thought, the man decided that slitting his finger wasn't as bad as defying an existent of the cult, so he did as he was told. A small red dot appeared on his finger. Zennith returned his gaze to the statue.
"Good."
Suddenly, the red dot on the man's finger became as sharp as a razor blade. It grew bigger and ran up his arm, exposing more blood. The man screamed in horror, and the others in the pews sat in silent terror.
The blood from his arm flowed out in a controlled manner. Once there was enough, the blood lashed out at the statue, slicing it in half. More blood continued to flow out of the man until he completely dried up. He fell to the floor, and the knife in his hand produced a horrifying ring.
Zennith sighed, and as he did, all of the man's blood collapsed on the ground.
"If all continues to go well, your blood will not have been meaningless."
He stared up at the chandelier above him.
"The person who killed Ubi. How great it must be to be them. To be strong enough to leave an impact on the world and anywhere you go. That power is indeed desirable."
Zennith adjusted his gaze to face straight ahead. He covered his face with his hands as his breathing pace increased.
"But with the true purpose of this cult, I have been promised this power. The power to change the world forever. The Second Phase is upon us, and with its completion, soon, for the first time, meaning will be brought into my worthless life!"
Small sobs began to come from Zennith as tears began to form. He widened his fingers so that he could see between the gaps.
"Yes. I can't wait."