The Dawn of the Future

by Jun Eishima

  　That power, Lunafreya thought. It’s the same as the power I’ve been given. But I’ve used mine only to destroy the daemons. I hadn’t realized it could be used to heal as well.

  　Lunafreya had brought comfort to the ill during her travels as Oracle. However, the powers she wielded in that role merely bolstered the recipient’s innate capacity to heal. It was a world of difference from being able to remove the root of the scourge itself.

  　She witnessed Ardyn in his plain and simple garb, on an endless mission to treat the suffering people of his land. Never did he rest. She witnessed his growing conflict with his younger brother; after a disagreement about the best way to govern and aid the people, Ardyn was forced to run for his life. Even near the end, as the scourge ravaged his body, he labored on for the sake of his people. He was the very picture of a savior.

  　Ardyn desperately tried to contain the scourge that roiled inside his body. He feared that he might someday become a monster, and struggled against the worry that he might lose his own humanity. It was the same battle that Lunafreya had been fighting during these past few days of her returned life.

  　“Ultimately,” Aera said, “Ardyn’s calling as bestowed by the gods differed from what he believed himself fated to do.”

  　Despite the fact that he had labored to heal the people of his land―no, because of it―he was ravaged by the scourge, rejected by the Crystal, erased from Lucian history, and imprisoned on the island of Angelgard. There, he was renamed “Adagium” and branded a monster. Entombed deep beneath the rocky shores, brooding over the unjust way he’d been treated, he had millennia to grow and foster his hatred. The woman he loved had been killed before his eyes. His happiness and future had been stripped away.

  　Nothing matters―none of it. Not the “blessed” gods above nor the accursed kings below. To hell with them all!

  　His words full of rage and malediction shook the surroundings.

  　Ardyn had put his faith in the gods and had given everything to his calling. Yet the gods did not heed his pleas. In fact, it was far worse than that―his fate as prescribed by the divine was of unparalleled cruelty.

  　It was because of what she’d been through that Lunafreya could understand his despair. She had been granted the same power, and she now struggled with the same fears.

  　How awful, she thought. How could I have been so blind?

  　“Please, you must stop Ardyn,” Aera begged.

  　She appeared before Lunafreya now not as a lifeless statue, but as she had been in life. Upon her face was immeasurable sorrow.

  　“I beg of you. Deliver him from his long years of anguish.”

  　Aera made no motion to wipe away her tears as she delivered her appeal.

  　Stay the Usurper.

  　So, too, the Draconian had commanded. The prospect of stopping Ardyn the Accursed seemed difficult enough. Now she was supposed to allay his suffering? Lunafreya did not know if she was capable of it.

  　“Why me?” she asked.

  　There was no answer. When she looked around, Aera was again a lifeless statue and Lunafreya stood right where she’d been before the vision. Directly before her was the pedestal inscribed with Aera Mirus Fleuret.

  　“Luna?” She could hear Sol’s voice again.

  　“I . . . ”

  　“Did that bother you? What I said about you looking like some ancient Oracle?”

  　Lunafreya remembered having heard such a comment, but it felt like quite some time had passed since Sol made it.

  　“No, that’s not it at all.”

  　“So you’re not angry? You weren’t ignoring me because you were mad about what I said?”

  　Apparently, the exchange with Aera had occurred within a brief instant. She’d seen Ardyn’s past and heard the first Oracle’s plea all in the blink of an eye.

  　“Are you feeling okay? And don’t lie to me,” Sol warned.

  　“No. I am fine.”

  　Lunafreya met Sol’s concerned expression with a smile.

  　“Come. We must hurry.”

  　Had she truly had a vision? It had been far too vivid to dismiss as just a hallucination, but the revelation felt too earth-shattering to accept. She didn’t wish for conclusive evidence so much as some sign to confirm what she’d seen was real and to help lead her to the truth.

  At the back of the sanctuary was a small room, and inside that was a stairway that led underground. One level deeper into the earth, they found themselves at the entrance to the cavern.

  　“Beyond here, I can offer no guidance. This area was not open to us.”

  　“So does that mean that it used to be sealed off? Like, there was some gate across the opening or a giant boulder rolled in front of it?”

  　“No. But there was always someone standing guard to keep people out.”

  　The entrance to the cave and the stairway leading down to it looked the same as they had during her training. The only changes were the lack of a sentry and a faint light that seemed to emanate from the depths of the cavern. The survey team must have taken lights to set up along the way.

  　“So anyone who could get past the guard could just go right in?”

  　“Of course not. It was strictly forbidden. The cavern was not to be defiled by mortal hands.”

  　“But didn’t it being off-limits just make you that much more curious?”

  　“Among the citizens of Tenebrae, I doubt you would find many whose curiosity outweighed their respect for sacred ground.”

  　Even Lunafreya could admit to the possibility of visitors with untoward intentions, who might have taken an opportunity to sack the ruins if one presented itself. But at the time, at least, sentries had proven sufficient to keep the cavern unsullied.

  　“In any case, let us make haste,” she said. “We cannot afford to waste any more time.”

  　The stairway leading down was narrow, which perhaps made the cavern seem all the more vast. The ceiling was so high as to make their voices echo eerily. Large piles of stone rubble littered the ground. They were clearly not the product of explosives meant for any survey. Great sections of the cavern walls had been blasted or torn away.

  　“Is this the work of a daemon?”

  　“Probably. Seems about what you’d expect from some giant daemon-powered magitek monster.”

  　“The creation that waylaid the survey team?”

  　“Right. They call it Sapphire Weapon. Supposed to be a real tough customer.”

  　According to Sol, it was yet another juggernaut developed by the Niflheim Empire. After its manufacture at a nearby research facility, it had presumably been sealed away in this cavern. Or the cavern may have been intended as a location for its first experimental activation. “Or there was some other screwed-up reason we’ll never understand,” Sol concluded.

  　The underground cavern was certainly large enough to serve as a testing space. But Sapphire Weapon was a variation of the armor used in the destruction of Insomnia. Diamond Weapon had toppled skyscrapers with ease. If a creation of similar magnitude had indeed been allowed to move about down here, it seemed nothing short of a miracle that the cavern itself had not collapsed.

  　“Still, it didn’t have to go and open up huge holes in the place,” Sol muttered, staring at a remarkably large depression in one wall. It might have been the result of some massive punch or kick. In any case, the result spoke for itself in terms of the sheer power behind whatever created it.

  　“Hey, come take a look at this.”

  　Lunafreya looked over to find Sol peering into the depths of the hole. At a glance, it seemed to be just another element of the cavern wall, but as Lunafreya drew closer, she saw what Sol had noticed.

  　“It looks like something’s buried back there,” Sol said.

  　Lunafreya squinted. To Sol’s human eyes, they were likely only vague shapes, but for Lunafreya, more accustomed to the dark, the outlines were clear. Weapons. A spear and
a sword. And it looked like there might be more buried farther back.

  　“Why are these here?” she wondered aloud.

  　“What is it? What do you see?” Sol asked.

  　Lunafreya was unable to answer at first. The spear and sword were of unusually large size. So large that not even the empire’s magitek creations would be able to wield them, let alone a human. The owner of these two weapons therefore must have been neither human nor daemon. They had in all likelihood belonged to one of the Messengers. If she had to guess, Odin.

  　When Lunafreya finally answered, she said, “Weapons, I believe. Ones that would have been used in the Great War of Old.”

  　“What, you mean like the War of the Astrals? I thought that was just a story.”

  　“It most certainly is not. The war truly happened. I have heard accounts of it from the Messengers.”

  　Long ago, man had received the gift of fire, along with knowledge divine. Both had been bestowed by Ifrit, the Infernian. And with those gifts, man built a great and advanced civilization: Solheim. But the mortals grew arrogant. They turned against the god who had helped them to thrive and sought to drive him away. The Pyreburner, enraged, desired to put an end to mankind. This conflict between god and man would grow into a battle among the gods themselves, when first Shiva, the Glacian, and then the others intervened to safeguard the mortals.

  　In time, Bahamut, the Draconian, tired of the conflict, both of man against god and among the gods themselves. The Bladekeeper, inhabitant of the heavens and among the Six standing apart, attempted to bring an end not only to mankind but to the Star and the five gods who resided upon it. So great was his power that his ends were almost accomplished.

  　Four of the Six―Titan, Ramuh, Leviathan, and Shiva―defended against the Draconian’s blow, and the Star and its people were safe. In the end, all members of the Six retired in exhaustion, and the war ended with no clear victor or resolution.

  　“That’s a lot different from the version I grew up hearing,” Sol said, her head tilted to one side, as Lunafreya finished recounting the details.

  　“Much about the Great War of Old has been lost to time. Few today know its details.”

  　When Lunafreya was young, she had constantly begged Gentiana to tell her stories of the gods. Ravus, her elder brother, had shown no interest, but Lunafreya loved to listen to Gentiana talk.

  　“The Great War of Old stemmed from mankind’s rebellion against the divine. It is not a tale to pass down with pride.”

  　“Right. I get it. It’s the kind of thing people want to bury.”

  　Lunafreya did not know who first labored to see the story covered up. The truth of Solheim’s conceit would have appealed neither to Niflheim, seeking to return the glories of Solheim to the world, nor to Lucis, wardens of the divine gifts of Crystal and ring.

  　Whichever side was behind the cover-up, it had clearly made use of the natural hiding space afforded by this cavern deep underground. They’d buried away the unhappy relics of the war, then proclaimed the cave a holy site and constructed a place of worship above it, thereby discouraging unwanted exploration.

  　“The faith of the citizens of Tenebrae is great. If a place is said to be sacred, they can be trusted not to intrude. Whoever buried these artifacts abused that faith to ensure the truth would remain concealed.”

  　“Well, can’t blame ’em for wanting to cover up something like that. That doesn’t make it anything you have to feel bad about, though. It’s all ancient history, right?”

  　“I suppose . . . ”

  　Lunafreya admitted to herself that Sol was probably right. At the very least, the modern survey team had either ignored or failed to notice the remnants of the War of the Astrals. They had neither connection to the line of the Oracle nor to Tenebrae. To them, this secret was irrelevant.

  　“So what if humans defied the gods and buried the truth? It’s not like the gods did any better. Were they seriously going to let some stupid war escalate into the destruction of the entire world? Who even thinks that way?”

  　Here, too, Sol provided food for thought. What if it was not man’s folly being hidden? Perhaps the truth that needed to be concealed was the narrowly averted fate of their star―that the gods might be petty enough to engage in pointless quarrels or reckless enough to destroy everything.

  　“Perhaps this is not a statement befitting the Oracle, but . . . in light of such knowledge, one cannot help but wonder whether the gods deserve our faith.”

  　In her mind, Lunafreya heard Ardyn’s words once more.

  　Nothing matters―none of it. Not the “blessed” gods above nor the accursed kings below.

  　They ended up paying a price for the time they spent lingering at the site of the buried weapons. Soon they were accosted again, this time not by daemons but by people.

  　“What are you doing here?!”

  　As soon as Sol heard the voice, her face scrunched up in dismay. A second angry shout joined the first. “Bloody hell, Sol, I thought I told you to stay out of here!”

  　Lunafreya immediately surmised the identity of the two men: Biggs and Wedge. Avoiding this encounter was precisely why she and Sol had opted to use the training ground’s hidden entrance. Sol had thought that the two men would be busy helping seal off the entrance. Instead, here they were in the depths of the ruins. Clearly they had felt the same drive to assist Aranea. Even now, as work began on sealing the ruins, they’d ventured farther down into them hoping to perhaps carve a way through the pack of daemons encircling the trapped squad or locate some alternate route out.

  　“Enough with the heroics. Time to back it up to the surface. No hope of getting any deeper than this, anyway.”

  　“But . . . !”

  　As Sol began to argue, Lunafreya placed a hand on her shoulder and stepped forward instead.

  　“Please let us pass. I journey here as part of a calling bestowed upon me by one of the Six.”

  　In truth, her actions had not a thing to do with the new calling. Lunafreya doubted such a transparent lie would ensure them passage, but she decided to try anyway.

  　“Of course, miss,” one of the men began in a placating tone, “However . . . ”

  　She continued over him. “I have come to save the people trapped here using the divine powers granted to me.”

  　She had no idea which of the two was Biggs and which Wedge, but both wore equally befuddled expressions. They turned to look at each other.

  　“It’s all right,” Sol offered. “You can trust Luna.”

  　She said it with curt confidence as she stepped forward, now standing alongside Lunafreya.

  　“Please, you must allow me to fulfill my calling.”

  　One of the men turned back to Lunafreya, shooting a dubious glance at her before asking, “Do you really think you have a chance?” Which was immediately echoed by the other’s, “You think you’ll be okay down there?”

  　“I do. I am sworn to protect this site sacred to the people of Tenebrae.” Lunafreya placed a hand over her heart as she spoke and bowed her head. There was a tense pause, and then finally the two men seemed to assent. They stepped aside to allow Lunafreya and Sol to pass.

  　The two women made their way forward quickly. If they lingered, they risked having their bluff called. Spinning such tales was anything but Lunafreya’s strong suit. Her constant losses during the card games with Sol had certainly attested to that.

  　When they were far enough away, Sol whispered into Lunafreya’s ear, “Pretty impressive back there. Turns out you’re a decent actress.”

  　“Yes, I was quite pleased with the performance myself. It went much more smoothly than I had anticipated.”

  　“Heh. Getting a big head now, too.” Sol laughed, then after a glance forward, her face grew serious again, “Looks like we don’t have any more time to chat.”

  　Daemons. Undoubtedly some of the same pack that was keeping Aranea’s squad
from pulling back to the surface.

  　Lunafreya sensed Sol reaching for her shotgun. They had fought successfully together enough by now to be able to anticipate each other’s moves―who would go where, who would provide cover when, and so forth.

  　The daemons were many and the quarters cramped, but neither posed a problem. The horde had been a thick black wall blocking their way, and now it was nothing but piles of fading dust. Beyond, they saw their destination. The furthest reaches of the cavern opened up even wider than before. This was clearly Sapphire Weapon’s lair.

  　The air was frigid, perhaps because of the great depth beneath the earth, but if a shiver traveled up one of their spines, it was due to fear, not cold. The magitek armor towered before them, its overwhelming power obvious at a single glance.

  　Lunafreya and Sol gazed upon the monster’s enormous maw―easily large enough to consume either of its challengers in a single gulp. Just above that was a red protuberance, like some manner of tumor, located where the forehead would have been had the face been anything like a human’s.

  　“That red orb up there. Is that its core?” Lunafreya asked.

  　She now felt grateful for the summary she’d received from Sol along the way explaining the makeup of the empire’s giant, daemon-infused creations. That was how she’d known to look for the core, which was both a deadly weapon capable of emitting an infernal red beam, as well as a weak point whose destruction could stop the giant.

  　“You got it. Let’s hope that thing doesn’t light up, because if it does, we’re in for more than just a pretty fireworks show.”

  　They spoke in low voices while covering the remaining distance to the creature. For a while, it seemed like sticking close to the walls and moving quietly might get them surprisingly close. But in the end, reality was not so kind.

  　Sapphire Weapon turned and let out a roar.

  　“Looks like that’s as far as our luck goes,” Sol muttered indignantly.

  　This time, she produced a different weapon―one she’d brought along specially for the occasion.

  　“Time for Tiny to say bye-bye,” she said, grenade launcher steady on her shoulder.