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“That’s him.”
“Where has he been?”
Normally, Derris-Kharlan was a world of stark silence. Aside from the occasional whirr of machinery or flapping of wings, one could go just about anywhere and hear nothing but their thoughts and the quiet, empty ringing of the stars all around.
“On a secret mission for Lord Yggdrasill, they say.”
One might expect the sounds of bustling life from a city the size of Welgaia, or a castle as large as Vinheim. But nothing truly lived on Derris-Kharlan.
“It was for the Angelus Project, I heard.”
That silence was what Kratos had been counting on when he returned.
The angel standing guard at the door to Yggdrasill’s office, at least, had nothing to say. He nodded and moved aside as Kratos approached, but Kratos felt the angel’s eyes track his every move, a sensation that didn’t leave him until he was fully through the door.
He approached the center of the room and dropped to one knee, bowing his head respectfully. “Lord Yggdrasill,” he uttered in greeting.
“Kratos. I didn’t expect to see you here again so soon.” In a rare sight, Yggdrasill was seated behind his desk, some documents spread in front of him and a look of mild annoyance on his face that didn’t extend to his voice.
Kratos rose to his feet. “There is...a matter I wish to discuss with you.”
Catching the hesitation in his voice, Yggdrasill slowly rested his chin on one hand, elbow propped on the desk. “And what matter would that be?”
Kratos took half a moment to steel himself and gather his thoughts, reminding himself what he’d rehearsed. “This is regarding Kvar’s conduct during the Angelus Project incident.”
“What of it?”
Yggdrasill had fixed him with a piercing gaze, and Kratos dared not look away now. “His conduct was out of line. He overstepped his bounds, acted too rashly, and the Angelus Exsphere was lost as a result.”
“Acted rashly in what way? Kvar was following my direct orders: to detain you—alive—and retrieve the Exsphere using whatever means necessary.”
“Which he failed to do,” Kratos interjected. “When he removed An...A012’s Exsphere, he did so with the intent to cause chaos and as a personal insult to me. It was a wanton act of cruelty, not the calculated move of a man following orders.”
The corner of Yggdrasill’s mouth turned up briefly. “I hardly think you are in a position to be judging whether or not he followed orders.”
Kratos found himself unable to reply, as though an invisible hand had closed around his throat. He could feel his carefully crafted argument slipping away, his attempt to reframe the atrocity committed against his family as a mere workplace complaint collapsing before his eyes.
“You don’t think I know what this is really about?” Yggdrasill asked, his voice somehow still light and professional. “You may have reaffirmed your loyalty to me and returned to serve Cruxis, yet you still seek revenge against Kvar. You assured me you were leaving this in the past.”
“This isn’t about revenge,” Kratos insisted, perhaps a little too forcefully. “Kvar showed a tendency for reckless insubordination back when you first assigned me to the Angelus Project. He consistently challenged my authority and took actions to endanger the project in order to spite me.”
“Oh? The way he told it, you were the one sabotaging the project. He seemed to think you didn’t have its best interests in mind...that your loyalties were straying elsewhere.” Yggdrasill’s expression was neutral, but something in his tone of voice had shifted dangerously. “And it turned out he was onto something, wasn’t he?”
It was a struggle for Kratos to keep his composure now, to not let his resolve crumble under the weight of Yggdrasill’s judging stare and the reminder of his own mistakes. “The nature of my concern still stands,” he pushed forward, with a great deal of effort. “Had Kvar not acted as he did, Cruxis would not have lost the Angelus Exsphere. Had he captured her alive— ”
“What’s done is done,” Yggdrasill cut in, and Kratos immediately fell silent. “Arguing hypotheticals won’t change anything. I acknowledge that there is some truth in what you say. Kvar’s actions may have been somewhat...emotionally motivated, thus he failed to produce the ideal outcome. However, he is far too valuable a resource to dispose of. He is a brilliant scientist, one of our most efficient producers of quality Exspheres, and more importantly, entirely loyal to our cause.”
“Then, you will do nothing to address this?” Kratos said, voice now subdued.
“What would you have me do? Remove him from his post?” Yggdrasill lifted his head from his hand and gestured at the papers littering his desk, eyes still locked on Kratos. “It’s been a month and I’m still cleaning up messes left by this little mishap. I haven’t the time or inclination to conduct a disciplinary inquiry on one Grand Cardinal, much less devote resources towards appointing a new one. And I think you understand quite well how I am loath to discard a perfectly good resource.”
Kratos stared ahead, looking blankly in Yggdrasill’s direction but unable to meet his eyes anymore. The realization that this had been a wasted conversation was slowly sinking in, like a heavy stone settling into the pit of his stomach.
Yggdrasill leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers. “Believe it or not, Kratos, I do trust your judgement. Therefore, I will consider what, if any, disciplinary actions might be appropriate against him. I will let you know whatever I decide. In the meantime, consider this conversation finished.”
There it was. There was no point in arguing it any further. Kratos felt the tiny flame of purpose he’d managed to kindle for this cause snuff out, leaving behind nothing but an exhausted wisp of smoke. “Yes, my Lord,” he replied automatically.
“Now, as long as you’re here, why not give me an update on the task I’ve assigned you.” Yggdrasill’s tone was pleasant and businesslike once more, but it was a command, not a suggestion.
“...I have hit something of a standstill,” he admitted. “It will take more time and research.”
“See that you do, then,” Yggdrasill told him. “Perhaps with the matter of Kvar no longer on your mind, you can focus more exclusively on this. Dismissed.”
Kratos bowed his head and left without another word, unsure he could stomach any further conversation with Yggdrasill right now. Pointedly ignoring the guard at the door and fixing his gaze straight ahead, he took the shortest route possible to leave the castle, feeling claustrophobic among its gloomy, dimly-lit halls.
***
As he exited the warp and made his way down the path back to Welgaia, a voice stopped him in his tracks. “How did it go?” Kratos nearly jumped; he’d been so focused on maintaining his tunnel vision that he’d forgotten he could still hear. He turned to see Yuan leaning against a nearby pillar; almost as though he was waiting for him. “By the look on your face, I take it your little talk didn’t go as well as you’d planned.”
“What are you doing here?” Kratos asked, immediately feeling defensive.
“I thought I’d check up on you,” Yuan said, pushing off the pillar and walking over. “I’ve barely seen a glimpse of you since you came back.”
“And how did you know I’d be here?”
Yuan glanced away. “Guess you could say I heard it through the grapevine. There’s an awful lot of chatter about you these days. Everyone is fascinated with Cruxis’s prodigal son.”
Kratos chose not to reply; he was well aware, and it was a topic he didn’t feel like discussing. He continued walking, figuring he could shake off Yuan along the way.
“What did you talk with him about, anyway?” Yuan followed him as he’d expected, somehow keeping pace with his purposefully long strides.
“It’s none of your concern,” Kratos said blandly. “I don’t have time for idle conversation. I must return to my assignment.”
“Of course. Best to make a good impression on the boss after such a long absence, after all.”
Kratos clenched his teeth, continuing on without looking at Yuan. Perhaps it would be harder to shake him off than he’d realized. Yuan had always been too damn stubborn for his own good, and it wasn’t that he couldn’t take the hint—he was doing this on purpose. He wouldn’t leave until he’d gotten whatever it was he wanted. Kratos just had to figure out what that was and give it to him.
“Speaking of which,” Yuan continued, as they entered the sterile, gleaming halls of Welgaia, “what sort of mindless busywork has he tasked you with?”
Half a dozen angels, scattered about the plaza they now walked through, turned to stare when they entered, only turning away as the two seraphim approached. The whispers followed them out, trailing behind them each time they passed another angel.
“Do you think it’s true that he left to free humans from the ranches?”
“I heard he tried to sabotage one of the Grand Cardinals.”
“If that’s true, why did Lord Yggdrasill bring him back?”
Kratos briefly squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to block out the unwanted chatter this time. It took him a moment to realize Yuan was still waiting for an answer.
“I’m creating a comprehensive record of the Mana Lineage,” he responded at last, once they were alone. “Somehow, it’s never been properly documented until now.”
“Because it’s a convoluted, inefficient mess,” Yuan murmured. “But why bother doing it now? The Mana Lineage may not need to continue. By all accounts, this latest Chosen is the closest match he’s ever had to Martel.”
“That’s precisely why,” Kratos said. “Should some unfortunate fate befall this Chosen, it would be prudent to have a record of the exact lineage that produced her so that preparations could be made for the next one in a timely manner.”
Yuan made a derisive humming noise. “He’s as paranoid as ever, I see.”
They entered one of the city’s largest buildings and stepped on an elevator; Kratos pressed the button for the basement level and allowed himself a brief sidelong glare at Yuan as the man settled onto the elevator beside him, arms folded under his cloak as usual. As the elevator began to move, the drone of its mechanisms filling the empty, awkward space around them, Kratos turned away from him and subtly aimed himself at the door.
“Is there a reason you’re still following me?” he asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
“I told you, I wanted to check up on you. I haven’t had much chance to talk to you of late.”
“Well, now you have. And I don’t need your pity, I’m fine.” The elevator came to a halt, and Kratos stalked off as soon as the doors opened. The swish of Yuan’s cloak followed close behind him.
“Something tells me you’re really not. Besides, I’m not offering my pity. I’m offering my ear.”
They were finally getting to the root of it, Kratos thought wearily. “And why would I need that?”
“Because you’re not the only person who’s ever lost someone, and I doubt Mithos has been terribly understanding.”
Kratos stopped dead in the middle of the hall. They were within a stone’s throw of his destination, and this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have in front of the guard. “I’m handling things,” he said, quiet and deliberate, “in my own way.” He turned his head to look at Yuan directly at last. “I need to return to my duties. Excuse me.”
He walked off without waiting for Yuan to respond, and didn’t immediately hear him follow. Breathing an internal sigh of relief, he approached the angel standing guard at the door towards the end of the hall. A fiery-haired man with a bulbous nose, the angel seemed to be eyeing him up and down from behind his helmet’s visor, but Kratos paid it little mind.
“I’m here to access the genealogical archives for the Mana Lineage,” Kratos said.
Instead of the typical instant acknowledgment, the angel waited a beat, then responded, “My apologies, but the archive isn’t open to traitors.”
For a moment or two, Kratos was dumbstruck, thinking he couldn’t possibly have heard him right. “What did you just say?” he finally managed, unable to keep his voice entirely steady.
“I cannot allow you entry,” the angel reiterated, his cadence mild. “Someone willing to betray Cruxis for a mere fling with some human can hardly be trusted with our most valuable documents.”
Kratos felt his breath quicken, his blood turned to ice in his veins. This couldn’t be happening. How did a low-ranking angel know details like that? His mind went blank from shock, and he found it impossible to form any kind of response. The angel bobbed steadily in front of him, his gaze still leveled at Kratos, completely expressionless.
“What exactly is going on here?” Yuan appeared beside him, seemingly out of nowhere. Kratos didn’t doubt he’d heard the entire exchange, because he sounded indignant.
“Lord Ka-Fai,” the angel said, bowing his head briefly. “I was explaining that I cannot allow access to traitors.”
Yuan’s eyes were wide. “You must know who you’re speaking to,” he said incredulously. “He is Lord Kratos Aurion, one of the Four Seraphim.”
“Indeed. And a turncoat who abandoned Cruxis and Lord Yggdrasill to cavort with humans.”
Yuan stepped past Kratos, who was still too numb with shock to move, and stood face-to-face with the angel. “What may or may not have transpired during his absence is no concern of yours,” he hissed. “He is here now, conducting research under Lord Yggdrasill’s direct order, and you will grant him entry.”
The angel lifted his chin in defiance. “I need do no such thing unless I receive the order from Lord Yggdrasill himself. I must ask you to leave.”
“Then you won’t recognize my authority here, either?” Yuan asked, furious.
“If your aim is to allow this traitorous human access to the archive, then no, my Lord.”
“This is absurd,” Yuan fumed, and spun on Kratos. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” he demanded.
“I…” Kratos managed, but he was lost for words. What could he say that Yuan hadn’t already said?
Noticing how unsettled Kratos appeared, Yuan’s face shifted suddenly from outrage to concern, and he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me,” he said, turning Kratos around and ushering him back the way they came.
***
They walked through Welgaia for some time. Kratos wasn’t really paying attention to where Yuan was leading him, his mind still stuck on the unexpected exchange with the angel guarding the archives. He’d almost grown accustomed to the whispered rumors; it was easy enough to tune them out once he heard them. But no angel had ever so much as questioned one of his orders, much less with such open hostility. That utter rejection—and the implications behind it—shook him to his core.
When Yuan finally stopped them, they were thoroughly alone in some deserted corner of the city, standing in front of a small building. Yuan opened the door and brought him inside; it appeared to be some sort of storehouse for miscellaneous machine parts.
“This ought to be private enough,” he muttered, shutting the door and turning to face Kratos. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”
“I’m...not sure.” He ran a hand across his face, not ready to meet Yuan’s eyes. “I wasn’t exactly prepared for...that.”
Yuan let out a heavy sigh and began pacing the room. “You want to know why I was following you?” he started, keeping his voice low. “Because it’s been a month, and you still can’t keep it together when you’re under stress. Just look at you, you’re a mess right now.”
A dull throb of anger pulsed through Kratos’s chest. “So, a month is all it takes to move past someone’s death?” he growled. “Maybe you should be counseling Mithos instead.”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Yuan shot back. “Just that you don’t need to go through this alone.”
“I certainly don’t need an escort wherever I go.”
“Really? I’m not so sure about that anymore.” Yuan stopped and faced Kratos again. “When I found you in the forest that day, you came awfully close to hurting yourself, or worse. And it doesn’t seem to me as though you’ve made much progress since then, but I can’t know for certain because you keep avoiding me.”
A thick, heavy silence surrounded them as Kratos took in what he said, Yuan’s words forcefully calling to mind all of the blackest feelings he’d felt that day. It was as if he’d slipped and fallen back into the murky swamp he’d spent the last several weeks trying to climb out of, struggling to bring his head above water once more, desperate for just a gasp of fresh air.
“Why didn’t you just let me?” Kratos asked dully. He still couldn’t bring himself to look straight at Yuan. “It would have solved both of our problems at once.”
Yuan closed his eyes, took a breath. “No,” he said. “You weren’t in your right mind. I wasn’t about to let you do something you couldn’t take back when you were hurting that badly. And I don’t think that’s what Anna would have wanted, either.”
Kratos felt a lump in his throat at the mention of her name. It had been weeks since he’d heard it spoken aloud, or heard her referred to as something other than ‘human woman’ or ‘host body’. He nodded once, slowly, trying to hold onto the warmth he felt when he thought about her.
“So then,” he said after a moment, though there wasn’t much life in his voice. “What do you propose I do now?”
Yuan looked down, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “I’m not sure. At first I just thought I'd try to get you to open up to me, but...if there are people within Cruxis who know details like that, who’re being openly antagonistic to you...then I think we have a much bigger problem on our hands.”
“I don’t understand it,” Kratos murmured, almost to himself. “There’s no reason he should have known anything. When I returned to Cruxis, Mithos assured me that the only people who knew the truth of what happened were the three of us, Kvar, and one or two high-ranking Desian officers.”
“Then we should let him know about this; the sooner, the better,” Yuan said. “It sounds like we have a rat.”
***
For the second time that day, Kratos found himself standing in Yggdrasill’s office, now with Yuan at his side. In truth, Kratos hadn’t wanted to come here and keep bringing this up to Mithos, hadn’t wanted to give him yet another opportunity to sneer and sigh and act as though the aftermath of his family’s loss was little but a troublesome inconvenience. But he couldn’t think of a reason to tell Yuan ‘no’; in fact it would likely set off more alarm bells if he did, and the last thing he wanted right now was another well-meaning lecture. So he went along, once more trying to keep his composure steady as Yggdrasill glared from behind his desk.
“Don’t tell me you’ve roped Yuan into your little crusade,” Yggdrasill said, unable to keep the derision from his voice.
“No, I…” Kratos was unsure how to respond, or even how to bring this up in a way that didn’t make him look foolish.
“Mithos, we have a problem,” Yuan began, saving Kratos from his floundering. The use of his first name sparked Yggdrasill’s attention, and he sat up a little straighter. “The angel currently guarding the historical archives in Welgaia denied Kratos entry. He called him a ‘traitorous human’.”
For once, Yggdrasill appeared to be concerned. “Denied him?” he repeated. “But that isn’t right. I restored all of Kratos’s access privileges upon his re-induction. I suppose I’ll need to send a message to the archival team.”
“Wait...that’s it ?” Yuan asked, confused.
“Yes, this is a simple matter. Was there something else?” Yggdrasill’s skeptical glare was returning. “Or did you really accompany Kratos here just to tell me this?”
Frustration bubbled up in Yuan’s voice again. “It doesn’t strike you as odd that one of your lower angels would show such disrespect and insubordination towards a Seraph?”
Yggdrasill shrugged. “What does it matter if one pawn steps out of line? He’ll be replaced with someone willing to do the job.”
“He knew,” Kratos said, finally finding his voice. “He knew details of the incident somehow. Details you assured me were kept private.”
There was silence for a moment; Yggdrasill seemed a bit startled that Kratos had spoken. He leaned back in his chair, contemplating the ceiling. “That’s...strange,” he admitted. “It could be nothing but a rumor that happens to have truth to it.” He leveled his gaze at the two of them again. “But either way, it matters not. A little gossip here and there shouldn’t keep you from performing your duties. Isn’t that right, Kratos?”
The question was just a formality, a way for Yggdrasill to direct the conversation. “Of course not,” Kratos said tonelessly, like he was reciting his lines in a play, but he felt like he was being crushed from the inside. He’d had enough of this farce, of asking Yggdrasill for favors and pretending he might seriously consider them. It was too much for one day, much less one month. He silently begged for them to be dismissed.
“Very good. If that’s all, then the both of you can be on your way. I have enough to do without these interruptions.”
Kratos bowed his head and left as quickly as he could. Yuan seemed about to object, but then closed his eyes and shook his head, and turned to leave without a word alongside Kratos. It wasn’t until they reached Vinheim’s main hall that he allowed himself the outburst he’d been holding back. “‘ What does it matter? ’ Is he serious? How can he not see how this might affect you?” he seethed.
“I hardly expected anything different,” Kratos replied wearily. “He didn’t take my previous request seriously, either.”
Yuan looked at him, curious. “Your previous request? Is that what you saw him for earlier today?”
Kratos spoke after some hesitation. “Yes. I asked him to investigate Kvar’s actions as insubordination. He...disagreed with me.” He glanced away, unable to bear the look of pity that flitted over Yuan’s face. “He wants the whole matter swept under the rug. The faster it’s dealt with, the sooner we can return to the business of reviving Martel.”
“And is that how you feel about this?”
He wanted to tell Yuan off, to point out that he wasn’t making things any better by inserting himself into this situation, but he knew he couldn’t summon the strength for another confrontation. “Obviously,” he said, his voice quiet, “it doesn’t matter how I feel.”
Yuan sighed, his fingers twisting the end of his ponytail the way he often did when he was thinking. “Listen,” he said a moment later, “I’ll look into this. These rumors…they had to have come from somewhere. If this starts to spread around…”
Kratos thought of the whispers that followed him each time he passed through the city, thought of the furtive glances, the poorly-hidden interest in his every move. He remembered the angel’s clinical accusations, worse somehow than if he’d been passionate with anger. He imagined a future where it never ended, and the thought was like a vise around his heart.
“...All right,” he said. “Please do.”
***
In the days and weeks that followed, some part of him hoped that the angels’ unnerving interest in his personal life would wane as details failed to emerge, but the rumor—wherever it had originated—seemed to have added fuel to the fire. Given their enormously extended lifespans and little else to do with their free time, the angels had taken to gossip and idle speculation like a new fad. Nothing much ever happened on Derris-Kharlan, after all, aside from Cruxis’s normal activities, which had become routine long ago. And anything that happened in Sylvarant or Tethe’alla were the dealings of mortals, and therefore beneath their concern. But the sudden disappearance—and reappearance—of a Seraph, and the murky accusations of betrayal and paramour that surrounded him...it was all by far the most interesting occurrence of the last several hundred years.
As one of the founding members of Cruxis, Kratos was accustomed to recognition, but ordinarily it came with some degree of respect or deference. Instead, the citizens of Welgaia now seemed to view him with an alarming flippancy, their dulled emotions leaving no room for tact. His interactions with the angels had once been routine to the point of mundanity; now it was impossible to predict what any given angel might say to him.
Kratos presently struggled to focus on the report being delivered by a lesser angel, an update on the current Chosen’s welfare recounted in a monotonous drone. The girl was nearly three years old and in good health, with a stable mana signature. It crossed his mind that Lloyd would have been close to her age were he still alive. If they had made it to Iselia like they’d planned, perhaps the two could have even become friends.
“...concludes my report,” the angel finished, snapping Kratos out of his reverie just in time. “Although there is one point on which I request clarification.”
“What is it?”
“The creation of human-type angels appears fraught with difficulty,” she began. “The various Chosens, as well as yourself, are the only known cases. Is that correct?”
It was a strange question, but Kratos decided a little clarification couldn’t hurt. “...That’s right. Human bodies do not channel mana the same way as those with elven blood do, which complicates the process. However, they tend to produce far more compatible vessel candidates, which is why they are used for the ritual of the Chosen.”
“I see.” The angel contemplated him for a moment, unblinking, then said, “I heard you produced a child with the human host body of the Angelus Project. Was the child human as well, or an angel like you? If it is possible to produce human-type angels in this way, perhaps it would be more efficient.”
The question stunned Kratos into silence. Maybe he should have expected it after her first question, should’ve been more on guard—but how could you prepare for a question like that? And how could he even begin to explain that his son was more than his race, how he’d been playful and sweet, hated eating tomatoes and loved watching the stars; how to Kratos, it was not war or Cruxis, but fatherhood that felt like the proudest achievement of his life?
The angel waited in silence as he collected himself just long enough to dismiss her without answering. Then, against his better judgement, he left to track down Yuan.
***
Kratos found him in his personal study, rifling through the books on his shelf with a frown on his face. He turned towards Kratos as he entered the room, shelving the book he’d been holding. “This is unexpected,” he said. “What brings you here today?”
Kratos closed the door behind him and paused a brief moment to listen for any nearby eavesdroppers. “Have you made any progress?” he asked finally, keeping his voice low.
Yuan’s gaze fell to the ground. “Not as much as I’d like. It’s been more difficult than I anticipated.” He leaned back against the bookshelf and closed his eyes. “The rumors have spread like a sickness. It’s so widespread that half the people I talk to can’t remember where they first heard them, and the other half aren’t willing to say.”
“It’s getting worse,” Kratos said, trying to hide the desperation he felt. “They used to at least pretend to hide their gossip. Now they’re saying these things to my face.”
Yuan sighed, and tugged at his ponytail. “Look, I do have some leads. I’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise you. Just hang in there.”
It wasn’t the answer he’d wanted to hear. Wordlessly, Kratos sank into a nearby chair and resisted the urge to put his head in his hands.
Yuan regarded him for a long moment with an expression that Kratos couldn’t quite read, but somehow made him feel as though he was being analyzed. “Tell me something,” Yuan said at last. “What do you plan to do from now on?”
Another question he had no idea how to answer. The day he’d lost his family, he’d stopped considering the future. Forcing himself to live through each new moment was a trial enough of its own.
Kratos hunched forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes downcast. “There’s nothing left for me to do,” he said dully, “but to stay here and help Mithos achieve his goals. I owe him—and Martel—that much.”
There was a loud thud as a book tumbled from the shelf and hit the floor; Kratos glanced up to see that Yuan had pushed away from the shelf, eyes wide and indignant.
“That’s it, then? You finally grew enough of a spine to stand up to Mithos, and you’re giving up because they’re dead?”
“I’m exhausted, Yuan.” His voice was small and flat, but he felt like he was speaking from the heart for the first time in a while. “All of this has gone on long enough. I just want it to end, for something to be put to rights.” He clasped his hands together and looked back to the floor. “Mithos promised me that once all was said and done, he would restore the worlds to the way they once were and put an end to the human ranches. At least that way, no one else will suffer the way Anna did. That is the best I can hope for.”
“And just what, exactly, is right about letting Mithos toy with the worlds for his own ends?” Yuan spat. “You and I both know this isn’t what Martel wanted. I thought the time you spent with Anna was what woke you up enough to see that. If anything, her death should have steeled your resolve!”
Kratos felt a pang of agony, but not for the reason Yuan might have wanted. Even in death, Anna was being used for someone else’s agenda. He squeezed his clasped hands more tightly, enough to turn his fingertips white.
“You know,” he began, “I find it strange how you’ve chosen to care so much about me now, given how just a few months ago you insisted I should release Origin’s seal at the cost of my own life.” His anger smoldered too far beneath the surface to be clear in his voice, but he felt it all the same. “You had no qualms with discarding me then, but now you’re tripping over yourself to help me.”
“Kratos, you are my oldest and closest friend.” Yuan was no longer shouting, but his voice was no less intense for it. “Sacrificing you is not an option I want to take, if there’s any way I can avoid it.”
He sighed, then bent down to scoop the book off the floor. “I’ll admit, I acted too rashly back then. I felt desperate at the time, but it was tactless of me to ask.” Yuan was staring at him now, his gaze as intense as his voice. “But it hurts to see you like this, in so much pain. I’ve been where you are. I want to help if I can.”
No, he hadn’t, Kratos thought bitterly. Yuan hadn’t been responsible for Martel’s death, hadn’t lost a child. But arguing the particulars would be petty. Besides, he was still livid at Yuan for invoking Anna’s name that way, and for daring to claim he was helping by jerking Kratos around at his whims.
“You’ll have to forgive me if I have trouble believing you,” Kratos said in a near whisper, refusing to meet Yuan’s eye.
Yuan glared at him for a moment more before breaking his gaze. “Fine, then. Wallow in your own self-pity.” He gave the book a careless toss as he stormed from the room, and it landed on the floor again in tatters. “I have better things to do than try and help a lost cause.”
The door slammed shut behind him, but Kratos didn’t bother to move from where he sat, even long after he no longer heard the echo of Yuan’s footsteps through the halls.
When he finally emerged from Yuan’s study, he was alone in the hallway - or so he thought, until moments later two angels turned a corner and spotted him closing the door. Kratos kept his eyes pointed forward as he made his way down the hall, and they gaped at him, expressionless and silent, until he was about to pass them.
“What were you doing in Lord Ka-Fei’s private study?” one of them asked. As accusatory as the question was, his tone was so mild he could have been asking Kratos what he’d had for dinner.
Kratos stopped, mildly startled by the question but unwilling to engage further. At his rank, he owed no one any explanations for anything, but he was in no mood to give the man a dressing-down. “It’s none of your concern,” he said, continuing past them down the hall.
“Rifling through Lord Ka-Fei’s private affairs, no doubt,” replied the second angel, making no attempt to lower her voice. “But what else could you expect of someone born a human?”
It occurred to Kratos that he’d heard similar insults hurled his way before, though it had been thousands of years. Perhaps this was just another example of how little had changed since then. But compared to everything else he’d heard of late, it hardly bothered him.
“Humans have always been crude, immoral creatures,” continued the first angel, and though he was some distance away now, the narrow hallway’s acoustics carried his voice to Kratos’s ears without the need for his advanced hearing. “Did you know, they say he slaughtered that host body he was with because she failed to produce the human-angel hybrid child he wanted? Barbaric, even for a human.”
Kratos stopped again, this time as sudden as if he’d been stabbed in the gut. The world seemed to swirl before his eyes, and he threw out a hand to catch himself against the wall to keep his knees from buckling. Mercifully, his ears were ringing too loudly to hear anything else the angels might have said. He gave himself just enough time to steady his legs before rushing back to his own private chambers, ignoring the strange looks and murmurs that followed behind him.
Upon entering he locked the door tight, turned his back to it, and slid down to the floor as the tremble returned to his knees. He felt for the outline of his locket beneath his shirt, the metal resting warm and reassuring against his skin. These days, he often used it as a way of grounding himself when he felt overwhelmed. It was the only thing he had left in the world of Anna and Lloyd, the only reminder he had some days that he’d had a family, that their time together hadn’t been some wonderful, terrible dream.
***
The rumors continued, unabated. Every time he stepped out into the city, he heard them, wilder and more cruel with each iteration, smattered with accusations it would be pointless to try and deny.
“He was trying to free humans from the ranches so they would rise up against Cruxis. That host body was only the start.”
“He never cared about the mana shortage or the plight of half-elves in the first place, did he? He only wants power over us, like every other human.”
“Without Lord Yggdrasill’s favor, he would just be another pathetic human.”
He’d barely spoken with Yuan in weeks, their professional interactions brief and strained. It was plain enough that Yuan really had given up on him. Not that Yuan’s help had been much help to begin with, but now Kratos felt truly alone. He removed himself from contact with the world outside however he could, limiting the time he spent beyond his private chambers, steeling himself each and every time he was forced by circumstance to leave.
He was entirely unprepared for the shock of seeing Kvar exit Castle Vinheim one day.
The man exchanged some brief words with the angel escorting him, and as he turned his head, his eyes locked onto Kratos, a thin smile creeping over his face.
Kratos felt his entire body turn to stone. He couldn’t seem to move or react as Kvar strode right towards him, couldn’t even imagine what he should do. Just the sight of Kvar flooded his mind’s eye with horrid memories from the worst day of his life. He forced back down the bile that was threatening to bubble up his throat.
“Why, if it isn’t Lord Kratos Aurion,” said Kvar, with a small, perfunctory bow. “Such an honor to meet you within Cruxis’s halls.”
Kratos offered him none of the same courtesy. “Why are you here?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Kvar casually clasped his hands behind him. “Well, why else but to respond to some rather serious accusations of reckless insubordination? You should know, after all. You are the one who accused me. But I’ve every right to defend myself against such baseless claims.”
“Everything I accused you of is true,” Kratos hissed. “You knew exactly what would happen if you removed her Exsphere, and you did it anyway. You sabotaged your own project to spite me.”
“Please,” Kvar said with a scoff. “You and I both know this is a farce. You don’t care about the project, you never did. This is nothing but a pathetic attempt at revenge. I’m not even the one who took her life.” The smile slid back onto his face, eyes narrowing. “Remind me, just who was responsible for that?”
The air itself seemed to disappear from Kratos’s lungs. He stared at Kvar in hateful silence, almost physically unable to speak, though he knew nothing he could say would change a single thing.
“Lost for words, I see.” Kvar’s countenance was increasingly smug. “I suppose it isn’t easy to admit one’s own failures, especially when you have so many. Abandoning your work with Cruxis to go off and play house with a host body and bring another of you inferior creatures into the world, only for you to lose your so-called family because you couldn’t protect them…I can scarcely imagine what need Lord Yggdrasill has for someone so incompetent, and a human at that.”
A small number of angels had begun to gather near the scene, each floating at the edge of Kratos’s vision. It felt like the walls were closing in on him, like the air still wouldn’t reach his lungs, each breath more of a struggle than the last.
Finally, he drew enough of a ragged breath to speak. “If you’ve finished your business here, then leave.”
Kvar’s eyes darted off to the side, where one angel appeared to be whispering to another. “I daresay I have,” he said. He gave Kratos another small bow, his smile widening ever so slightly.
Kratos pushed past him without another word, making his way towards the castle. The whispers began to thread themselves through his ears and into his mind, and in a desperate bid to escape them more quickly, he broke into a run - right before slamming into Yuan.
“Kratos?” He felt Yuan grab him gently by the shoulder. “You don’t look well. What’s going on?”
Still a little dazed from the impact, he shrugged off Yuan’s hand. “Out of my way.”
He tried to stagger around Yuan, but the man grabbed him again. “Just hold on. Is that Kvar?”
The whispers reached him at last, loud as ever, despite the distance.
“He is nothing without Cruxis. He must have murdered that human woman and her child so that he could crawl back here and beg Lord Yggdrasill for mercy.”
“What sort of person kills their own kind?”
“Move,” Kratos’s voice croaked out. He shoved Yuan aside and ran, giving up on his last attempts to disguise his torment.
***
Hours had gone by since Kratos confined himself to his chambers after his encounter with Kvar, or maybe days—it was impossible to tell. With no semblance of normal, daily life on Derris-Kharlan, it was as if time barely passed at all. Now Kratos felt trapped in that eternal moment: the day he’d returned after losing his family, nearly catatonic with grief; the moment he’d heard the first rumor and realized his problems had followed him here; every single instance where he was reminded of his ultimate failure, day after day after day…all of them wrapped up together in that single point in time, never ending. Cursed with eternity by his Cruxis Crystal and his duty as Origin’s seal, there was no way out.
And then, the moment was interrupted by a pounding on his door.
“Kratos?” called a voice from the other side, Yuan’s voice. Kratos ignored it for as long as he possibly could.
The pounding continued. “I know you’re in there,” Yuan’s voice said, annoyed. “I’m trying to help you, here. Let me in.”
Kratos spoke, finally, though it was an effort. “I thought you had better things to do than help the likes of me.”
“Not right now, I don’t. I found out who’s been spreading the rumors.”
Kratos expected that statement to spur something within him, to light some fire that had long since gone out…but there was nothing.
“...What difference does it make?” he murmured.
“Because Mithos is going to want to hear this,” Yuan’s voice replied. “And so will you. Now that we know, maybe he can put an end to all this nonsense. Or at least I hope so, because I’m sick of hearing all this gossip, too.”
Kratos didn’t dare to let himself hope that this nightmare might finally be at its end…but some small part of him still wanted to know.
He opened the door, and Yuan gestured with a nod of his head.
“Let’s go.”
***
Once again, the three of them stood face-to-face, an eerie tension encircling the room. Yuan’s face was set in determination, standing straight and rigid; Kratos stood mute at his side, his presence almost inconspicuous were it not for the fact that these events centered around him. Yggdrasill’s expression, however, was unnervingly blank.
“A matter of great urgence, was it? Well, then…” Yggdrasill rose from his chair and rounded the desk, one hand lazily tracing its wooden surface as he came to a stop before them both. “Let’s have it.”
“I’ll get straight to the point,” Yuan said. “Kvar has been leaking classified information about the Angelus Project incident and spreading malicious rumors about Kratos.”
Kratos’s heart leapt into his throat.
“How did you learn of this?” asked Yggdrasill. “And do you have any proof?”
“The last time he was here, I saw him speaking with an angel other than his assigned escort. I pressed the angel for details and he recounted what Kvar had told him, which was a lot more than just harmless small talk. I followed a trail of other leads I had, and since then several other angels have admitted to having similar encounters with Kvar.” Yuan dug a small disc out of his pocket and brandished it in the air. “And if you need proof, I traced some of those encounters back to security footage in Welgaia. This isn’t everything, but I’m willing to bet Kvar leaked some information during one of the post-incident briefings, and it spun out into gossip from there. And every time he comes back here, he keeps fanning the flames.”
It all led back to Kvar in the end. Kratos felt an awful numbness within him. Everything he’d tried to do to protect his family, and then to try and get some form of justice for them…every single time, Kvar had been one step ahead of him.
For a moment, Yggdrasill said nothing, his eyes examining the disc in Yuan’s hand before shifting to glance at Kratos. “The timing of these allegations is awfully convenient, don’t you think?”
Something inside Kratos broke.
“Mithos, please…” There was a tremor in his voice, but he hardly cared. “I cannot bear this any longer. Every new rumor I hear is like a knife to my heart. The way they twist the things I held most precious, until…” He choked on the agony in his voice. “I can’t go on like this. Please, make it stop…”
Yggdrasill’s gaze lingered on him for another long, uncomfortable moment. “Yes…it is obvious that you have been deeply wounded by this whole incident.” Slowly, he approached Kratos and Yuan until he stood directly before them, the brilliance of his unfurled wings shining like a sun behind him, casting his profile into shadow. He plucked the disc from Yuan’s hand and turned it over lazily in his fingers. “But the longer you keep this wound open, the slower it will be to heal. With Kvar wrapped up in all these scandals, I will be forced to continue summoning him to Derris-Kharlan for further inquiries…”
“Are you implying Kratos should just drop this?” Yuan cut in. “After everything Kvar has done?”
“What I am offering,” Yggdrasill said, looking pointedly at Kratos, “is a compromise. If you agree to abandon these investigations, I will ensure that no one speaks of any of this ever again.”
“I…” Kratos hung his head, one hand gripping his chest where his locket rested unseen. “All I want…is to mourn my family in peace…”
Silently, Yggdrasill approached Kratos and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Then I will issue the gag order immediately.” Kratos glanced up to see a placid smile on Yggdrasill’s face. “Fear not. This will trouble you no longer. Let us put all this behind us at last.”
A short time later, Kratos and Yuan stood in Vinheim’s entrance hall, both of them perfectly silent throughout the walk there until now. Yuan stopped suddenly, breaking Kratos out of the stupor he’d been in, and turned to him.
“Kratos. Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Yuan asked, trying to meet his eyes.
Kratos hated the way Yuan looked at him now, some mixture of pity and unease. He turned away. “What else can I do?” he said, more of a statement of fact than a question.
He caught Yuan’s frown in the little huff of a sigh as he turned away, too. “Very well. I hope it brings you some peace.”
Yuan straightened his cloak and walked ahead of him, leaving the castle without looking back.
When Kratos finally dared to pass through Welgaia again some days later, he steeled himself automatically for the looks and the whispers…but they never came. No accusations, no unwanted attention; save the flapping of wings and the whirr of machinery, all was silent—almost as though he were the only living soul, alone at last in this empty, silent world.