The Unfinished World (The Armor of God Book 2)

by Diego Valenzuela

  “Shut up, Goodwin,” said Vivian. “I thought Lys was coming together through the Flecks, that they were returning to put him back together.”

  “He’s a parasite. He comes to a planet, infects its inhabitants, and then absorbs them so he can become more powerful. That’s what’s happening right now.” Dr. Mustang groaned and began to cough. A slimy red liquid poured from his mouth and nose. “Listen, Vivian: Tessa might be one of the three, or made from—she’s unkillable. Don’t let her—”

  His coughing became more violent, and Vivian could see that Dr. Mustang could no longer breathe. He was being strangled by his own encrusted throat. The man dragged himself away as best as he could with this massive, useless limbs, desperately convulsing and gasping for air.

  She ran to his side, held his head in her hands.

  “Don’t—Viv—afraid . . .”

  “No, don’t be afraid,” she said, trying to comfort him, and her own throat grew tight.

  “I—help—help you,” he said, and he finally closed his eyes.

  His throat was swollen, his tongue sticking out of his mouth, and the smell almost made her vomit.

  “You helped me.”

  And then he was completely still.

  “He’s gone,” Felix said, inviting her to come to him, away from Dr. Mustang’s body, as though it could betray and kill her.

  “No, wait,” she said, looking down at the dead man, fighting tears. “He’s still breathing, I can hear it. He’s just passed out, right—he’s not dead, not yet. Right?”

  “Poole, he’s gone, but you’re right about him not being dead. He’ll continue to grow now and pretty soon he’ll be like those things we could only fight in the Creuxen. You and I need to figure out a way to get out of here. Understand that Tessa is not coming back for us, no matter what Mustang thought.”

  “There’s no way out of here!” she yelled.

  Dr. Mustang’s body shifted on the floor. His eyes were open, but no longer human. They were only dead, yellow orbs without a retina, and they somehow knew that he was looking at them.

  He didn’t blink, was no longer breathing. He was no longer human.

  She was glad that if she was going to die, at least she’d do it as a human being. Still, she was disappointed. If she was going to die, she didn’t want to do it here.

  Why die to the lesser monster?

  ф

  Akiva knew what had to be done. He recognized the bigger sacrifices, and could only wish that his friends—the only form of god that he could perceive externally—would forgive him for it.

  Though he knew they wouldn’t. He didn’t expect them to understand.

  He thought of heaven, and the music of Milos Ravana’s heart bursting with power and bringing him to his other life was intense and arousing, even under the desperate circumstances.

  Once again Akiva was in control of his real body, the one that came first, and the one that would go last. He moved every powerful finger, tested every joint. His shoulder was still broken; the arm was only at 94 percent capacity.

  Drat, he thought, but didn’t blame Garros for his rage-fueled attack.

  He was only human.

  Milos Ravana left the circle of the Creuxen and took three steps towards the atrium protecting the city of Clairvert.

  It has to be done, he thought. And it will be done.

  He drew back his fist and punched. The azure stone cracked.

  He drew back his fist and punched. Pieces of stone fell onto the ground.

  He put his hands on the wall and drew the power from his heart. Light covered Milos Ravana’s hands. Then the heartflow gathered on his palms until the stone melted. The blast was shot so hard he hurt his shoulder even more—down to 92 percent.

  The wall the people of the city called the atrium—a winding maze of surreal folding stone that kept all monstrous threats outside—shattered before his hands. The fortress, impregnable to the lesser creatures, even to his other, lesser half in purple, had not been able to stand before him, and now fell in large, heavy pieces of rock.

  Milos Ravana walked into the hall that housed the city, now wide open, and the battle began.

  Chapter 16

  The Gravity of it All

  Elena—

  “What did you just say?” asked Farren, picking Ezra up by his robe. Ezra’s eyes focused to the darkness of the passage; no one had set the torches alight, and with the door to Clairvert closed behind him, all he could see were hundreds of shadows wailing like phantoms.

  The screams intensified when he heard the Carriers crashing against the door, trying to break it down. People started to move away, towards the chapel, hoping that there would be safety there. Ezra could only hope the door would hold, or there would truly be no escape.

  “I thought you’d leave us out there,” said Ezra, panting.

  “What? What do you think I am?” Farren asked, and Ezra noticed a white binding covering his nose; the swollen purple flesh was still clear beneath. “I apologize for hurting you when you attacked me, but I was sworn to protect everyone in Clairvert. No, I don’t like you, but I’ve already lost too much. Too much, man.”

  “We need help here,” Garros said after the young woman in his arms cried out in pain. “Move out of the way.”

  Ezra felt the huge man walk past him and used one arm to open a way between the people. Ezra took the chance and followed him into the chapel. He could barely move—it was too many people in a tight space—and he could barely hear Garros. He couldn’t even tell if the words he heard were aimed at him.

  “We need help!” Garros said when he finally reached the open space of the chapel. “She was stepped on—her arm is broken. Anyone here? Who knows her?”

  “She’s my wife!” an older man said. “My wife! Maria! Thank you!”

  Garros put the young woman down and the man shouldered her weight. He thanked Garros again and they walked away, both crying in their relief.

  “You, come on,” Garros told Ezra. “Captain, you too. Back there. Sorry about yesterday, by the way.”

  Though Garros was being earnest, Farren didn’t reply.

  Two soldiers who wore a uniform like Malachi’s had stood guard outside of the door leading to Lys’ sanctum, perfectly aware of the importance of protecting it—and the citizens—from each other. They didn’t even ask for any kind of accreditation, or waited for Farren’s verbal order; they moved aside to let the three of them pass.

  “What the hell happened? What did you people do now?” Farren asked.

  “No, Captain, that wasn’t us,” Garros growled. He had been hiding his rage from the citizens in an attempt to avoid worsening the situation. “That sure as hell wasn’t us.”

  “It was that thing,” Jena said when she saw them step into the sanctum, and pointed at Alice, standing incomplete at the other end of the chamber, held in the hands of a giant. “It’s been controlling Lazarus from here. I don’t know how—it’s doing it. It can do it—where’s Kiv?”

  Ezra and Garros looked at each other.

  “Where is he?” Jena asked again.

  “He’s out there. He ran off,” said Ezra. “But he’ll be okay, I’m sure.”

  She shook her head and clenched her teeth, cursing Akiva’s name bitterly. Months before, a vain and selfish side of Ezra would have been secretly happy about the deterioration of their relationship; now that the world had rid him of both those qualities, Jena’s anger only made him sad. After all, he had other things to worry about now.

  His stomach hurt when he thought of Elena. He could only hope that her safe refuge would be such, keeping her alive just for a few more minutes.

  Then they’d leave together, and the ridiculous exile would be lifted.

  “What happened? What happened out there?” yelled William. He was showing the obvious signs of a panic attack. He could barely speak through the tears, could barely breathe as his lungs refused to be still. “Are the people safe? Are we going to be okay—”

&
nbsp; He fell to his knees and clutched at his chest. Jena ran to him, checked his eyes. “You’re going to be okay, William. We’re leaving this place, now, and you’re coming with us. All right? All right?” said Jena comfortingly, as though they had never crossed angry words.

  “No,” the man said. “This is—this is where we’ll be safe—”

  It wasn’t the panic attack that stopped him from talking, but Lys’ laughter, resonating in the sanctum and becoming omnipresent. It could hear them, and it was mocking them.

  The laughter was drowned by the sound of an electric shock. Bright sparks flashed and showered down the chasm as one of the cables linking the giant to Alice’s body disconnected from her shoulder. The limb detached and fell down the chasm as the wire began to thrash violently.

  It stretched away from the monster, gaining dangerous reach.

  Lys laughed, coiling Alice’s purple lips.

  The thick wire whipped towards them.

  Erin ducked, and the deadly cord cut through the air inches above her.

  William Heath grunted and wheezed. When Ezra turned around to look, the wire had gone through the man’s chest.

  “There’s blood—are you all right?” the old man whispered in a hoarse and labored voice, looking at Erin with dead eyes. His legs gave in under him.

  When blood started pouring down from the deadly wound in William’s chest, Farren roared and ran towards the president, but the man’s body was dragged away like a marionette.

  The captain fell trying to reach William, and screamed in horror when the wire pulled the body past the edge of the ground, and into the long stretch of darkness below.

  “Get out of here!” Erin yelled when another wire disconnected from Alice’s body and thrashed with killing intent. “Get out!”

  Jena was too far away from the rest, too close to Alice at the other side of the blue pit—the heart of the mountain, the source of all this evil. “Jena!” Ezra screamed, but his efforts to warn her only distracted her.

  She was looking back at him. The Asili, which could have very well been a whole world, stood between her and safety. The wire lashed down to strike and kill.

  Jena turned around.

  Ezra closed his eyes, and heard both Jena and Erin scream.

  He opened them again. Farren was standing between Jena and Alice, the wire sticking out of his armored back.

  “Protect—everyone . . .” said Farren, and his teeth were red with blood.

  When Farren fell limp on top of Jena, Ezra ran towards her in a reflexive action that didn’t require any consideration. He didn’t care about the dangers anymore. He couldn’t hear Erin yell his name. He couldn’t hear Lys laughing, sure that it had already won this and any future battles.

  The monster in Alice’s flesh drew back the wire to drag the body into the chasm. Jena grabbed ahold of Farren’s breastplate, and when she was losing grip, Ezra grabbed the man’s hand. The combined strength of Jena and Ezra was barely enough to keep Lys from taking Farren away and feeding him to the darkness.

  The pierced plate on his back snapped off his body, and Farren fell free of Lys’ grasp.

  Taking the chance, Ezra dragged Farren’s body away from the monster, and when he found his strength running short, Garros’ proved to be more than enough. He picked Farren up and ordered them to run, to get out of the sanctum.

  Ezra pulled Jena by the hand as they circled around the Asili and ran towards the door, hearing the whipping noises of the wire indiscriminately searching for a third victim.

  When everyone else landed at the other side of the tunnel, in the crowded chapel, the soldiers closed the heavy doors to seal Lys’ mocking laughter away. But there was no silence to replace the bloodcurdling cackle; the people’s screams began when the first person saw the dark maroon hole in Farren’s naked back.

  “Stand back!” one of the soldiers yelled, rolling Farren onto his back so he could breathe. “Captain! Captain? What did you do now?”

  Farren looked up at the man.

  “Thank you,” he said at no one in particular before turning his head to inspect the faces of those who were going to witness his death. His eyes landed on Ezra and stayed there.

  Ezra was sorry. He knew the captain deserved better, despite all he had done. He kneeled down next to the dying man. “Captain—Captain Farren, there’s something you should know.”

  The captain looked at him. If he wanted Ezra to stop speaking, he couldn’t say it anymore, so Ezra just spoke a few final comforting words. It was his only chance of making it easier.

  “She’s okay, Captain. She’s alive. Elena didn’t die out there. She’s alive. I’ll take care of her for you.”

  “She—who?” Farren said and his face began to twitch, battling muscular reflexes of unbearable pain and sadness. “Who—?”

  And then, with that final thought, he died. Ezra heard a sickening gurgle of liquid clogging Farren’s throat, and when he let out his last breath, it streamed down his cheek.

  “Be laid to rest,” whispered the soldier who had been holding Farren’s head, and clenched his jaw in anger. “Where’s the president?”

  Ezra was unlucky enough to be the recipient of his question, and couldn’t answer. The soldier looked for it among the others, and it was Erin who shook her head to let him know that the president was also gone.

  “You need to go,” said the soldier. “Malachi, the captain, the president. I don’t care what’s happening out there, but you need to go. And anyone who wants to go with them should do it!”

  He yelled the last words.

  “Yes. We’ll go out there,” Erin said. “We’ll clear this place for you. When we do, everyone who’s leaving with us needs to move quickly outside. We’ll try to have the carts ready to go.”

  “One of us needs to stay here,” said Garros and looked at his wife. “You need to stay here. I’ll go out there with Jena and Ezra. We don’t need more than that; you can keep these people calm in here. You’re good at keeping people calm. You’re—”

  “No. We talked about this. I’m going out there. We need to fight and clear a way for Ezra and Jena, and I’m not risking you going alone. I know you’re afraid, but we’re going to be okay, Garros. If we stick together.”

  “People are dying,” he yelled, and the citizens immediately detected his panic—it became more infectious than the disease. “Please, I swear—”

  “No, don’t swear. Let it go. Listen to me,” she said and placed her bloody hands on Garros’ hairy face. “Listen. Baby? Listen. Let it go. We’re going out there, together. We’ve fought those things before. Please stop thinking that something will happen to me. Nothing will happen to me. Remember. Remember this?”

  Garros had begun to cry; his jaw was quivering. Ezra had never seen him cry, and he wondered if this pessimistic fear and anxiety for Erin’s life was truth, or just the result of extreme proximity to the Asili.

  “We stick together. We’ll be okay,” she said, and did the gesture with her hands: her two fists bumping together, then thumbs up. “Say it, baby. Say it: we stick together—?”

  “Stick together—we’ll be all right,” Garros said, and repeated the motion.

  She nodded. “Thank you. Let’s go out there.”

  Seeing Milos Ravana fight was poetry written in light. Ezra didn’t understand when Akiva developed his ability to fight; it was like every time he saw Milos Ravana in action, he had become faster, stronger, and more capable of wielding the light at its core.

  Ezra was the third in a line of four. When the doors back to Clairvert proper opened again to the display of vicious destruction and death, they had to risk running to the outside, where the Creuxen waited for them.

  “He destroyed the atrium!” yelled Jena. “The monsters are coming in!”

  Ezra knew there were still Flecks left in the planet; they had been too optimistic in thinking otherwise.

  Akiva could sense their presence. When they began their run towards the exit, they
could see Milos Ravana turning towards them. With carefully planned motions, the giant suit of armor ran closer, slicing Troopers and crushing Carriers in the way.

  Still, he didn’t feel safe. The creatures had also seen them, and were intent on destroying them. He crashed against Jena when one of the Troopers jumped in front of them so quickly it was as though it had materialized on their way. The monster roared so loudly it made his ears ring. Jena fell back.

  The creature suddenly exploded in a shower of dark gore.

  He didn’t have time to understand how Akiva was doing it; he had to run. Ezra helped Jena up and ran, now flanked by Garros, who was too busy trying to be Erin’s second set of eyes.

  They ran past the city square, past the pillar which still stood, dodging and ducking to avoid getting hit by the blasts of light and the rain of debris.

  They reached the atrium. “No—no!”

  There was a line of large Troopers waiting for them. One of them roared and slammed giant fists on the floor. The entire cave shook.

  “Watch out!”

  Massive pieces of broken rock were falling from the ceiling, cracked by Milos Ravana’s forced entry into Clairvert. One piece fell mere yards away from them and shattered into hundreds of small shards. Another piece snapped off the ceiling and crushed one of the Troopers.

  It would all come down if the battle didn’t end.

  “This way!” Ezra yelled, and led the way to the far end of the atrium, to a hidden tunnel Malachi had shown him. “Through here!”

  The others didn’t question him and took the miraculous way past the roadblock of monsters at the gates of the city. He was panting, barely able to stand. He helped Garros keep his balance when it looked like he might faint. “We’re almost there!” yelled Erin.

  Ezra emerged at the other side. Nandi was just one sprint away.

  Everything was an echo when that sprint began. They could only hope Akiva had seen them disappear into the small tunnel and would cover them—