by Greg Laurel
“Are you just eating soup in the darkness?” she asked.
“Lemme tell you something, Veralis. Eating soup alone in the darkness evokes an emotion that I really don’t have a name for, but it’s one of the best damn ones I get.”
She was still rather confused. “So uh… should I hold off on this for a bit?”
“No, you’re fine. Besides, I’ve been doing this since I was given this house. One interruption isn’t going to ruin me.”
Veralis unpacked the things she’d brought over, including the Holographic Arena Projector, which they set up in an appropriate room. After a quick test run to make sure it was working, Miles went back to the table to finish that soup, albeit neither alone or in the darkness. Veralis joined Miles at the table, eyeing him as if she couldn’t figure something out about how he worked.
“Need something?” Miles asked.
“It’s just… The way you’ve adapted to The Aura, the things you’ve already done for the worlds, that takes a particular kind of person. But the thing is, you were born on a planet with no Fonts, no means of fulfilling yourself in any way. It’s a wonder you didn’t turn catatonic on such a purgatory world.”
“Who’s to say I didn’t?” Miles commented. “I still feel like I am sometimes. Earth wasn’t just the kind of place to drive you nuts. It’s the kind of place that takes you beyond insanity, to when screaming itself becomes silent because after all that time of all that bullshit and madness, it tunes itself out. You get so mad that you no longer feel anything, like when an ear-splitting screech becomes high-pitched enough to be outside your hearing range.”
Veralis grabbed some soup of her own from the pot.
“And I wonder if… that level of anger will go back down to an audible level, if that makes any sense. With finally my escape from Earth and its confines, will I suddenly find myself outwardly insane again now that the hate can die down, back into that hearing range?”
“I more believe that your silent catatonia has overloaded and died altogether,” Veralis postulated. “You came to Cynofrax, and had your first nights on a planet that wasn’t Earth. I’m willing to think that would’ve caused that nonsensical confusion to become too much to even continue surviving. And with already the screech beyond your hearing range, as you put it, the popping of that overfilled balloon wasn’t even hearable.”
Miles half-nodded, in a way that showed he hoped she was right.
Eventually, Veralis took her leave, and Miles was once again eating soup alone in the darkness. One does not know nirvana-level solitude until they have eaten soup, alone, in the darkness. He sat there for a while, pondering this. He closed his eyes.
He heard the harmonic hum of the sound of silence.
“I never actually could really get the best of looks at you,” Miles said as he opened his eyes. “I’d always understand that you were here, even when I couldn’t see you physically. But now I can. I guess The Aura’s giving you a little boost into my visual cortex.”
He had once again summoned his wiser effigy to sit with him as he ate soup in the darkness. “Do you think… there’s gonna be some kind of big trial? I honestly wonder, will my life in this new universe consist entirely of the odd skirmish here and there, helping out where I can? Or am I gonna fight a proper battle, against a real foe?”
Miles thought for a moment. “Those were not the right words. I know that for sure. I just don’t know what the right words are. Although, it is nice that you’re still here. There’s a lot of things I left behind on Earth that definitely need to stay behind. I think you’re the one thing I’m happy to have taken with me.”
Miles nodded, and closed his eyes, ‘dismissing’ the effigy once again.
But out of nowhere, Miles felt a jolt through the earth, like something had slammed against the ground with sudden and potent force. He whipped around in his chair, but saw the field outside his home consumed in a swirling crimson storm, this house of his in its eye. Everything pulled itself apart around him, the roof, the walls, the table, even that bowl of soup. The grass tore away from the dirt, and the dirt tore away from the stone. A dark figure emerged from the whirling walls of the storm, encased in a deep red glow. Miles thrust his hand out to fire a bolt, but only a few sparks that quickly fizzled out were all he created.
“Dammit, no!” Miles yelled, attempting to fire again and again, to no avail. The figure approached loomingly, and when Miles took a few steps back, the shadowy being seemed to move forward in his vision beyond its footsteps, a lurching doom that did not cease, the manifest of a timer running out.
Miles cursed and charged the figure, striking at it with a flurry of trained punches and kicks, but the being was not harmed. The strikes didn’t even make this being’s cursed flesh move, and Miles was only pushed back by his strikes, like he was trying to kick through a wall of solid steel. The being did not budge to his assault.
It threw a strike of its own, swinging its arm at Miles like it was going to swat him away. Miles put up his arms to block it, but this seemingly inconsequential move utterly overpowered him, and Miles was sent careening through the air and onto the ground. Miles yelled in frustration, still trying to fire a few bolts, but now the sparks were barely fizzles. The being stood before him, and turned its back to him. Miles unleashed hell with hands and feet, hitting every weak point on the body, but the being was as unmoving as ever. Miles could not harm it. He tried to put his knee into its spine, but he didn’t pull it down into his knee as much as lifted himself up on it, only for nothing of use to happen. Miles kicked at the crease in the back of its legs, but his foot was pushed back like he just tried to move a skyscraper with a flick. He climbed this creature, and drove his elbow down on top of its head, several times, screaming in rage, but nothing happened. The creature reached up and grabbed him, tossing him aside like he was a disobedient fool.
The being stared at him with piercing red eyes, evil darker than the storm around them was harsh. Then, it all stopped. Miles still lay on the ground, but everything faded. The being faded, the storm faded, and his home faded back into reality. The bowl of soup was still on the table, undisturbed as if Miles had simply fallen out of his chair.
“That damn nightmare should be gone!” Miles growled.
He came to The Aura Prism to discuss this dark vision. The Effigy couldn’t help him on this, he needed answers.
“And this is not the first time you have been haunted by this vision?” The Prism asked after Miles told his story.
“No, far from it,” Miles said solemnly. “I’ve even had a name for it for years: The Opponent Unbeatable. No matter what I do, no matter where I strike, stab or shoot, or anything, this dark foe simply cannot be harmed by me. And it knows. It barely tries to stop me from… wailing on it! I do everything I know how, and it gives me nothing! I can’t stop this damned thing!”
Miles sighed and sat down at the peak of The Mountain. “And with The Aura… I thought that nightmare was over! I thought that vision should fade and become a thing of the past, a twisted machination of a mind that no longer needed to think that way!”
A moment passed.
“Maybe there’s been some Demon haunting me on Earth that just now figured out I’m on Cynofrax? Maybe we can run some trace on this thing’s energy? It might still be there since it’s that recent, right?”
“I truly wish I could tell you yes, Radien,” The Prism said with an ached tone. “I do wish I could say that a Demon does just haunt you. But this is unfortunately a spawn of your mind, indeed a machination of one that should never have had to think that way.”
Miles sighed again, knowingly. He knew there was no way this was anything other than him. “Yeah… It’s not even that this thing is scary, you know? All that parts that make it up, the storm, the being, the physical appearance of it all isn’t a scary thing. It does not scare me the look of what I beheld. It’s the message. It’s what it stands for, and tells me, and makes me understand. Hell, I can hear already all those t
oken voices from everyone else all ‘face your fears!’ or ‘stand up to it!’ and the like, but this isn’t something you can face like you’d face a fear of heights by going into like, a skyscraper or some shit! This isn’t a fear of what is or was! It’s a dread of how it could go so horribly wrong! I mean, I can’t even call it a fear proper because I don’t feel the emotion of fear with this, and I know that!”
Miles let out an audible ‘ugh,’ and flopped backwards onto the ground.
“I would ask why you have not told Veralis, Jarrek, Arakai or Miirkae of this torment, but I already understand. And no, it’s not because I can read your mind. It’s because I understand how someone like you works,” The Prism said after almost a full minute of silence.
“Aye,” Miles acknowledged. “People can misinterpret, people can fail to understand. But powers don’t lie. The Aura isn’t something that can lie. It’s a power, a fact of the universe. It can’t have an ulterior motive or a ‘different experience’ in the traditional sense.”
“You understand me to not be a person?”
“I understand you to be what I need for this, and what I need is decidedly not a person.”
“Then I suppose that is a compliment here.”
“In this sense, absolutely.”
Another moment of silence.
“I’ve said it before, Radien,” the Prism iterated. “You spent way too much time on a planet you didn’t belong to. When you say ‘people,’ you think of a human person who, if misinterpretation was a profession, they’d be champion of the universe.”
“Depending on who you ask, it is a profession on Earth.”
“Regardless, you hear the word ‘people’ and can’t help but think of humanity. That ridiculous, word-twisting lot who almost seem to like taking the piss in direct proportion to how much they need to not do that at a given moment. I know you don’t see all your allies like that, but I do know you keep yourself vigilant, just to make sure things work. Or rather, make sure things at least don’t utterly fail to work.”
“Everyone has plenty on their table to worry about, this is a trivial matter. It concerns only myself and my own little bad dream. Veralis has a bar to run nowadays, she actually manages that place in Kaldres-Viane. Arakai’s Arch-Militant of the Cynofrax Militarium now, Jarrek has Redaria’s own military to command, Miirkae has his Conclave business, Jaden’s got her research, which she’s done surprisingly miraculously on… I would gladly consider this something that can wait for them to deal with their own business taking place within physical reality.” Miles even considered checking in on Jaden as he recalled these details.
“I have no doubt you would,” The Prism affirmed.
“If this becomes a physical reality issue, it will without hesitation be brought to their attention, with all the information I have so that we may combat it, even if I can’t figure out how myself.”
The Prism remained silent on this. Not out of doubt or judgment, but because there was nothing more that could be said without losing the point. Miles stood up finally.
“This helped, Prism,” Miles said. “Thanks.”
“Needed someone to listen but not advise?”
“Not really. It’s not that I needed someone to listen, or someone to affirm me, but just… I needed to speak with The Aura Prism on this matter.”
“I think I get it…” The Prism hesitantly noted.
“You only think so?”
“Radien, I do sincerely hope you don’t think I am omniscient. If I knew everything, the universe would simply be no fun. There’d be no reason to watch over it, no purpose in participating in the experience of reality.”
Miles nodded. “I might use that one someday.”
It was another few days before anything new came to his attention, but Miles remained vigilant in this downtime all the same. The return of his vision of the Opponent Unbeatable shook him, the very idea that it could still come to him after all he’s done, and all he’s proven himself to be to himself…
Either way, Miles took his ship to the planet of Bol’Drakkin, homeworld of one of the genetic castes of the Draconian species. Specifically, the Bol’Drakkin Genetic Caste, as one might expect given that this was their homeworld. Regardless, the Bol’Drakkin Draconians were likely what Melaqros was.
Miles was to meet with someone by the name of Lakarium the Brightblade, a patriarch of the Jurovendr Battle Brothers, one of the prominent families on Bol’Drakkin, but not in the traditional sense. More in the sense of a family that one chooses to call themselves a part of. Miles met with Lakarium, one of their warrior-trainers, and was led to a private ring, normally meant for testing.
“Though I normally use this for testing purposes, it serves well as a place for private discussion,” Lakarium established. “I’ll cut to what you need to know: I’m not sure I’m comfortable with your support of your Human kin entering the wider universe.”
“Neither am I,” Miles said. “It’s a risk for sure, and I’ve little doubt I will question myself many times before the result is realized.”
“Sooner than you might think,” Lakarium commented, sliding a table in, where he placed a dossier folder. “There’s already a human gang on Bol’Drakkin making waves in the way of, how might you say it, ‘shitting things the fuck up’.”
Worried, Miles flipped through the folder, seeing that hundreds of Human colonists on Bol’Drakkin had been less than stellar by the laws of the Draconian people. Several assaults, along with goading citizens into fights only to disparage them for accepting the clear challenge. A few accounts of disorderly conduct-like regard, and it was clear there wouldn’t be much time between now and when someone did something particularly egregious.
“I wonder if these guys are even supposed to be off Earth,” Miles questioned. “The Conclave made it clear that people would have to prove themselves of good moral before entering the wider universe… but the problem is that humans can be very good liars when they want to get something done that a truthful answer can’t”
Miles continued looking through the folder, becoming progressively more angered as the offenses became more heinous.
“I suppose this also is a test that I might better know you,” Lakarium added. “After your battle at Hulae, I figured I needed to meet you at some point.”
Miles was more concentrated on how much the humans on Bol’Drakkin were insulting their welcome. “I’d definitely end these guys if it weren’t for how early it is in their universe career of sorts. I just know what kind of problems it would cause… but that said, I certainly can make sure they won’t be harassing people again if they want to continue living.”
Lakarium nodded as Miles took his leave, grabbing the folder to make sure he remembered who he was after. It turned out they weren’t difficult to track, as some locals had been keeping tabs on where they were at any given point, so as to let people know where to avoid. A group of six humans walked down an empty sidewalk, laughing degradingly and making ridiculous comments, mostly around how scared the locals seemed to be of them.
“I mean, look at this shit! The dumbass lizards can’t fuckin’ stand up to us! At all!” one of them shouted out in the open, clearly intending to goad someone into a fight. Miles rounded the corner and faced towards them.
“Ey, ey! There’s one of us!” another said as he pointed at Miles. “Ey, you know where they all went? Can’t stand the idea of getting on our bad side, am I right?” He held out his hand, expecting a high-five.
“I think they just consider you lot not even worth their time,” Miles commented.
The group of humans seemed confused at this, and one of the women in the group scoffed. “So, they just run away? You ask me, I’d say they’d have to put a lot of time into planning how to run away!” The rest laughed with that.
Miles sighed. He knew how this had to go, and also how he’d prefer to run things.
“There’s not a word I can say that will convince you to believe otherwise,” Miles said. “
So instead I’m going to take direct action.”
Before any of the group could even let out a chuckle at the comment, six bolts of The Aura’s energy flew towards the group, stopping themselves just beneath each of their throats.
“If I had things my way, these bolts would not stop. They’d pass straight through you and loop back around to punch through your chest as well. Unfortunately, as indeed ‘one of you,’ I understand that shitwits like you will only grow in number until I inevitably have to put all of you down, or at least get every species in the galaxy to help me with it.”
The bolts fizzled out with a wave of Miles’s hand, and the humans just stood there. Miles could feel them wanting to shout some slur, yell some profanity or curse. He could taste their want to call him a sympathizer for what they would undoubtedly call ‘sub-human,’ because to a human, all things other than themselves are beneath them. But they knew they could not hope to win this fight.
“If I hear of you or any other human on this or any planet causing this kind of trouble again, flaunting your dicks about thinking you’re so much better than everyone else because you’re you and you’re just that special, you will all become the dirt I walk on. That will be my insult to you. You will be proven the lesser that you call everyone that isn’t you.”
A moment passed. “Now get lost, and don’t let yourself be found,” Miles spat, and the hoodlums quickly shuffled away. They didn’t run, they’d never let their pride be that damaged.
Though it felt nice overall to give hell to the kinds of Humans Miles would’ve killed on Earth, he cringed slightly once they were out of sight. He definitely could’ve had a better speech and even target for his bolts to stop right before. At least, ones that didn’t make him look like the kind of person you might accidentally cut yourself on their edginess if you listened to them for too long.
Chapter the Fifteenth
Miles sat in his home, once again eating soup in the darkness. Over the past few weeks, strange incidents had been occurring with Humans that had been allowed into the wider universe. Not even necessarily evil, but strange. Some reported a sudden spike in intelligence, such as one Human on Sharaeine, homeworld of the Loriken species, who suddenly invented an ‘auto-smelter’ device, capable of sorting scrap metals and alloys into their individual elements, a process that while it had been done, it needed an enormous industrial machine. But a Human apparently found a way to make a sort of ‘desktop’ version, and even out of reasonably affordable materials. Conversely, another Human on the Taigron-controlled planet of Kayvas-Sorven had gone catatonic, exiling himself to a cave on the planet, and detonating an explosive charge at its entrance, sealing himself in. His last words were allegedly. “Exilon cora, Malmaxus denira!” before the cave-in.
