by Thomas Green
The platforms were positioned to work as massive stairs, and the gate was on the far end.
A text of light floated in the air, ‘I hope the water refreshed you, because this is the Gate of Swords.
Intruders who passed this gate: 352
You’ve brought a sword, right?’
Three hundred and fifty two was a hell of a drop from the two and half thousands that passed the previous gate.
“Can’t you just teleport us to the door?” Joseph asked.
“This isn’t open Void. Things work differently in here,” I said and refocused on the test. We’ve brought two swords, mine and Katherine’s. And she was already putting Amaranta on the ground to draw hers.
No way was I letting her do this. I walked to Zhang, took my hat, put it on my head, and tied the strap under my jaw. And then I took my sword, drawing the long blade from the sheath.
“I can do this, Lucas, take a bit of rest,” Katherine said.
No. “You have your own gate to open and we’re screwed if you get too wounded on the way,” I said, walking toward the nearest platform.
Katherine raised her chin. “I’m not here just to look pretty next to you. And how many gates are there, anyway?”
“Nine. And you do look pretty next to me.” I grabbed the edge of the first platform with my free hand, and pulled myself up, ignoring her exasperated sigh. The moment I stood up on the platform, the statue in the middle—a large man in rags with a double-bladed battleaxe—turned to life, becoming that man.
I was too tired to take this slow, so I stepped forward, rising my sword in front of me. Wordless, he changed, swinging wide. I parried the strike, throwing off his momentum, and stabbed him in the gut. I pulled out the sword, blood gushing out, and whirled, severing off his head in one clean cut.
His flesh turned into stone, becoming a broken statue. With a smirk, I walked to the platform’s end, and pulled myself up to the next one.
This one had two statues, Teutonic knights with two-handed swords. I let them attack first, parrying the strike of the first one while slamming my body into the second one before he finished his swing.
He lost his balance, staggering backward under the impact. I clenched my muscles, shifted my movement, and kicked him in the chest, throwing him off the platform.
I turned just in time to parry the stab of the first knight. I stepped past him, spun, and stabbed him behind the knee, where the plates weren’t thick.
I withdrew my blade, seeing crimson on the blade, parried the next strike, and rammed into him. That threw him on the ground. I followed up, striking at his helmed. He parried that, but I whirled, grabbed his leg, and threw him off the platform using the whirl’s momentum.
I continued to the next platform. The opponents got tougher on each platform, but in the end, they were only constructs, replicas of real warriors.
After cleaving through the previous twelve platforms, I climbed onto the last one, the thirteenth one. There stood five statues, four in the corner and one in the middle.
As they turned to life, the central one caught my eye. It was that of a man in black armor with a white cross on his chest, a longsword hanging by his waist. He had a Spartan-style helmet without a mane, but with holes on top. Strange.
The other four were a knight with a sword and shield, a Viking with two axes, Persian male soldier with a spear, and a Samurai with a large katana, a nodachi.
“You come alone?” the man in the middle asked curiously.
I froze. I knew that voice. “Why wouldn’t I?” I asked, tucking the hat deeper into my face so he wouldn’t see my eyes at all.
“This gate hasn’t been passed in twelve hundred years and the last time someone did, there were over three hundred of them, most of whom died by my blade.”
I shrugged. “I alone am more than enough.”
He laughed heartily. “Well then.” He motioned to the other four. “Kill him,” he said and stepped back.
I wasted no time waiting for them to take a formation. Instantly, I charged at the knight with a stab aimed at his visor. He blocked by raising his shield. I withdrew the strike and rammed my shoulder into him. Since he was still near the corner, he had nowhere to retreat, and fell off the platform.
The Viking ran after me, trying to get me with the axes. I whirled, ducked under the swings, and severed off both his legs at the knees. Instantly, I bolted toward the Persian. He stabbed with the spear.
I parried, slid to his body, seamlessly turning my sword, and smashed my sword’s pommel into his face. His helmet bent in, nose breaking under the impact, head jerking backward. I did half a step back, and kicked him in the chest, throwing him over the edge.
The Samurai was already at my back, slashing. I stepped sideways, ducked, and stabbed backward. My blade met short resistance. I whirled, blood sprinkling in the air from his thigh, and cut diagonally. He blocked but needed to use the second hand to support his blade to withstand the impact.
I raised my blade and swung down. He blocked again but fell on one knee. Another strike shattered his wrists, and the last one cut into his shoulder, through the rib cage until the platform stopped my sword. I took out the blade, looking at the last man. “How much of your memories do you have?”
He narrowed his eyes. “That’s a really interesting question. I take it that you know who I am.”
“Something like that,” I said, removing my hat to let him see my face.
“Oh…” he paused for a moment, and then he removed his helmet. “I suppose we can skip the introductions,” said Lucius Addis.
Lucas 12
SOMEHOW, Lucielle made a copy, a reflection, or an imitation of Lucius Addis, the original bearer of the soul of Lucifer. Now, we stood on opposite ends of the last platform, the next gate right behind him. I calmly measured the man. His face looked nearly identical to mine, and his stature matched the ancient times he grew up in.
Back then, he was tall, yet now, I had good four to five inches on him. But he had armor while I didn’t. “Back to my question,” I said, “From the records, your main powers were soul absorption, dreamwalking, and teleportation, called dreamstep or soulstep. I’ve figured out the first two, what’s the trick to the last one?”
He laughed. “I like the angle you take to your path of learning about yourself. Why bother asking about your own past, origins, or history, when you can learn a new spell, right?”
“It’s been eighteen hundred years since your death, so the other stuff isn’t exactly relevant.”
“You would be surprised. But anyway.” He attached the helmet to his belt and drew his sword. “Prove me you’ve got what it takes.” He charged.
Putting my hat back on, I met him with a swift slash. He parried, and we started exchanging blows. Blades flashed between us, sparks flying off. Neither of us were gaining ground. He was technically better than me, much better, but I was taller, heavier, stronger, and faster.
After a few longer exchanges, he stepped back. I was panting since the fighting reminded my body of the previous abuse, while he looked as if he was taking an easy stroll. “I suppose you don’t fight much with swords these days.”
“Mostly, I blow things up with magic. So, how do I teleport?”
“It’s called a Soulstep,” he corrected me. “And amuse me first, how many souls have you devoured in your life?”
“Over fifteen million.”
He whistled. “That’s more than the total world population back in my days. And if that’s true… why are you going through this labyrinth at all?”
“Personal reasons,” I replied, hoping my team wouldn’t overhear that.
“I see you share my approach to honesty. Is a lover involved?”
“Multiple lovers,” I said. “Which reminds me, had you ever met Vivian?”
“She was the reason for my fall.” Nostalgia flashed in his eyes, and then he charged again.
I parried his initial strike and fought defensively, evading most attacks, pa
rrying the rest. Due to the difference in skill, I wasn’t going to win unless I first got used to his technique. But I also couldn’t take too long due to being tired from the trials of the previous gates.
A minute later, he disengaged from the exchange. “So, how’s the old bloodsucker doing?”
“Hard to say with her.” This time, I launched an offensive. My idea was to smash him down using my physical advantage, so heavy, overhand blows rained at him. Thanks to me being faster, he couldn’t avoid them. But he was too damn good at parrying, so I wasn’t pinning him down as I had hoped I would.
A moment later, I had to catch my breath, so I stopped the offensive.
“You are gassing out rather quickly,” he commented, stretching his neck. “You do realize that I can’t let you through without you beating me, right?”
“Yeah, but I don’t quite want to cut you down without you telling me about the Soulstep.”
“Ah, that.” He tilted his head, studying me. “Land a clean strike on me and I’ll tell you.” As the last word left his mouth, he attacked, coming in with a simple stab.
I parried and counterattacked. He parried as well, and once again, we exchanged evenly. But my strength kept draining. I had to try something different. When he turned a parry into another strike, I bolted forward.
He instantly stepped sideways, slashing at my chest. I didn’t dodge. Instead, I swung at his leg, going for the exchange.
Simultaneously, my blade hit his thigh while he slashed my chest. Pain exploded through me, his sword cutting my barriers, coat, skin and muscle, almost reaching the bones.
My sword dug into his thigh, but only a bit, stopped by the armor through which I couldn’t cut deeply.
He disengaged, eyes narrowed, focused on my bleeding chest. “That was rather suicidal.”
“But I landed a clean hit, so tell me.”
He nodded. “Can you soulstep in the Void?”
“Yes.”
“To do the same in reality, place aether marks around, and throw your physical form at the barrier between the real and ethereal. That buys you a split second of being able to act under the principles of the Void before the barrier throws you back into reality. Use that time to move yourself to one of the marks.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiled, and charged. Now that I was bleeding, my power was going to seep out through the wound, so I had to finish the fight now.
Predictably, he parried my strike while evading me to the left hand side. I pursued, launching a massive overhand strike. He parried. But as our blades touched, I let go of my sword, and threw myself at him. He turned the blade, piercing my side next to my ribs. My chest crashed into his, I grabbed his legs, raised him, and slammed him on the ground on his back.
To his credit, he knew how to wrestle, letting go of the sword, trying to get underhooks to form a guard. But if there was a martial art that developed the most in recent centuries, it was fighting on the ground. And on the ground, his sword fighting technique wasn’t terribly useful against my superior size and strength.
I passed his guard, getting my legs above his, postured up, and launched a punch at his face with full strength. He raised his arms to block. My fist hit his forearm. The impact echoed through the entire hall, his arm shattering, followed by his skull getting crushed by the strike.
He turned into a broken statue.
I exhaled. Hell, this hurt. “I’m finished,” I shouted, and untangled myself from him. Everything hurt, and as the adrenaline flushed from me, I lost the strength to get up.
I sat by the broken statue. How did Lucielle make him? He clearly had all of the original’s memories, or at least most, which would explain why I couldn’t remember anything from his previous life. Well, it was Lucielle who killed Lucifer, so she probably took all his memories and used them to create this copy to guard her vault.
But that would be awfully personal, which didn’t fit how I understood their relationship, or well, the lack of thereof as far as the records indicated.
The records had some serious gaps.
And another thought occurred to me. This was Lucius Addis, the man who hosted Lucifer. Deeper inside, she had a copy of the actual angel, of Lucifer himself, didn’t she?
Moments later, Katherine climbed up onto the platform, eyes widening as she saw me. She rushed to me. “You should have let me help you.”
I smiled. She sounded so full of worry, and that brought warmth to my chest. “This wasn’t anything to bother yourself with.”
Katherine knelt above me. “I can see.” From a bag hanging by her belt, she pulled out a vial filled with dark-brown liquid. Since this was clearly an aether-imbued elixir, it could get into the Void. She had actually prepared.
As the others were getting onto the platform, Katherine pulled the vial open, and started pouring the contents on my chest. That burned as if she put hot iron there. I gritted my teeth not to scream.
“You are the first one who hasn’t shouted from this,” she said with a faint smile once she finished with the chest. She poured more on my side, which burned even worse. As she did, the vial emptied. She threw it aside. “I don’t have any more of this though.”
“It won’t be needed,” I said, and started getting up.
Katherine helped me, just in time to see Amaranta getting onto the platform.
Amaranta was still utterly exhausted, rolling over the edge as she lacked the strength to stand up. She clearly overdid it with the digging.
Zhang offered her a hand to help her rise, but she refused, trying to get up by herself.
Katherine sighed and went to help her.
Zhang shrugged, exchanged a glance with Joseph, and they both walked to me, expressions grim.
I arched an eyebrow.
“We’ve got a problem,” Zhang said, and took a pause for Joseph to catch up. “Ever since we entered, Joseph and I have been analyzing the defense mechanisms. Aside from being unbelievably ancient and complex at the same time, all these gates are one way only.”
Was I supposed to pretend I didn’t know? I wasn’t sure. “And?”
“What do you mean, and?” he almost shouted.
“And what? Our mean of escape is the teleportation matrix, not walking backward.”
At this point Katherine and Amaranta also joined us.
“By what I have seen in the matrix,” Joseph said, stuttering lightly. “It’s made to carry two people. For any higher number, the travelling distance would be decreased dramatically.”
“I can supercharge the matrix with my aether,” I said.
Both Zhang and Joseph paused.
“For the record,” Amaranta whispered, too weak to speak normally, “in this particular instance, Lucas is not lying.”
Thanks. I picked up the stone sword Lucifer fought with, turned, and walked to the gate. In the middle was a slot, where I inserted the sword.
The gate slid open, revealing another hallway. Three gates down, six to go. Slightly wobbly on my feet, I led the way. The labyrinth’s interior changed from stone to steel, glass, and plastic. We entered a massive hall.
On the opposite, glass wall, was etched in black Lucielle Holding Inc., beneath which was the map of the world with pentagram markers at every spot where the corporation had a branch. I had seen our corporate network map a few times, but never this large. The markers covered Europe and Russia in its entirety, then there were our many branches in Africa, and one on each other continent, always in the largest city.
Beneath was the organization chart with pictures, names and positions. I had seen that one a few times as well, but for others, it was new, so I let them observe. The head was Lucielle, smirking in the photo, titled CEO.
Among the others in the level beneath smiled Vivian, the Chief Interventions Officer, my direct boss, beneath whom was me, the Head of Interventions at Lucielle Holding US Inc.
Joseph pointed at that, staring at me. “Why are you on this wall?”
“Because I work for the vault’
s owner.” I searched for exits, finding one on the right hand side, no door, just a hallway with tall ceiling. What disappointed me were no marks of life since I had hoped we would find whoever was still alive in the labyrinth.
I checked the gray-aether owls floating above us, but they haven’t changed their behavior, sending reports about us every three seconds. Mine and Katherine’s still had more than enough of my aether for all signals sent to be contaminated with it.
I checked the barrier I created around the maelstrom outside, verifying it absorbed another aether impulse, apparently a notification of someone breaching the third gate.
“Let’s go,” I said and led the way.
Reluctantly, the others followed, conversing in hushed voices. From the words I managed to overhear, they were trying to calm Joseph down.
The next hallway’s walls were covered with photographs with text etched next to them. Chronologically, the walls told the story of Lucielle’s corporation, how she moved into Rome after the World War II ended and started her legal practice, Lucielle Legal.
From there, winning one big case after another, she spread across the country, then Europe, and then she diversified into other industries. At this point, Amaranta and Katherine took out their phones and started taking pictures.
This was an excellent documentation of Lucielle’s operations, since the wall marked all milestones of her corporation, like founding the drugs-dealing division, the smuggling logistics department, the weapons-making subsidiaries, and all the other criminal enterprises she owned.
The day she spread onto another continent—Africa—was the day the pictures started being accompanied with company net worth number, both official and unofficial. By the current year, 2013, the official net worth was eight hundred billion dollars. But the unofficial one was seventeen trillion dollars, having a modest seventy-nine percent share in all illegal dealing in the supernatural world.
As he read the texts, Joseph kept shaking his head, muttering, “What did I get myself into?”
