Chapter 15: Defying God

  “If this is how you welcome your guests, could you at least show me where the complaint box is? I have a few constructive criticisms that might benefit you,” remarked Yehiel de Courtenay, delicately adjusting the golden clasp of his robe. His dark eyes discreetly scanned the surroundings at the city’s entrance.

  “Are you seriously surprised?” Dimitri scoffed at his side, never stopping with the murderous looks he kept throwing Yehiel. “You probably have no idea what kind of trouble your stupid arrival caused, you horned bastard.”

  Dimitri looked very pleased at the way Yehiel’s humor faltered after the comment. A born troublemaker, through and through.

  “There’s no need to be rude,” Irina intervened, folding her arms softly. Her tone was calm, almost maternal, though it didn’t fully hide her exhaustion. “We’re all under pressure.”

  “And some more than others, apparently,” Baek In-wook added from the back, without taking his eyes off Dinamo’s position. As always, his presence was precise—almost invisible—until he spoke.

  Caetano turned toward me, his expression carved from granite. He was looking for confirmation of our current situation.

  “Was it a good decision?”

  I couldn’t help sighing.

  I understood we were in a very delicate situation. But we couldn’t reject such good manpower. We didn’t have that luxury.

  Not with this dome’s scarce resources.

  “The more hands we have, the better,” I replied without hesitation.

  “Even if one of those hands might stab us in the back.”

  “Even after the conceptual oath, yes,” I affirmed firmly. I watched his brow furrow just a little more. “The oath doesn’t make him trustworthy. But it makes him usable. And right now, that’s enough.”

  He nodded very slowly, but said nothing else. That was his way of accepting something without agreeing: a silent sigh.

  With those children arguing in the background, my attention drifted to the mental and literal clock, marking how much time we had left before the battle.

  An eternity condensed into ninety-seven seconds.

  “We’re running out of time.” It was a bitter thought, but real. Even though this truce was a pleasant surprise, it was still limited.

  And time was running out.

  “Why couldn’t this calm last forever?” In the middle of my contemplations, a message—one that would once have been fortuitous—was now just another data point.

  “Child digitization 100%. Hanami’s assistance requested for transport. Your orders, leader.”

  “So it’s already over?” I thought with a trace of sadness, after the report from the AI I’d left in charge.

  “Could I give the order…?” For a moment I hesitated. I could order the evacuation to continue, reject Caetano’s request, and press on.

  Continue evacuating people who, without doubt, had no scruples—people not far from criminals.

  But in the end I gave up. What was the point of saving them? Cruel as it sounded, they’d earned it.

  “Hanami, you have one last batch to transport. I’m counting on you,” I ordered at last. “Rest when you’re done. I’ll let you know when I need you.”

  “Ooohhh! One last job for the fabulous Ha-Na-Min. Don’t worry, Kathe-chin—I’ll finish this side quest before you even notice.”

  And with that, she vanished.

  “Well, with that part done, all that’s left is…”

  “That goes for you too. Rest for a few seconds,” I announced, raising my voice just a little. “When it’s time to act, I’ll contact you.”

  Everyone stopped their foolishness, considering what to do with that free time.

  The first to break the silence was Yehiel:

  “Since we’re here… why don’t you show me the marvels of the city? I’m sure there are still some fantastic places left. If it isn’t too much trouble, of course.”

  As if a dam had broken, the others went along with it. Everyone except Caetano, who left the moment I finished speaking.

  “I think I could show you something. Um, if you don’t mind, I can take you to some of my favorite places.”

  Irina—soft as her personality—was the most interested in his proposal.

  “It would be a pleasure, young lady… may I know your name?”

  “Hehe, how polite. No problem. My name is Irina. Irina Lelyanova. Pleased to meet you. Uh…”

  “Oh—where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself: I am Yehiel de Courtenay. A pleasure, Miss Lelyanova. You may call me whatever you prefer.”

  “Ehe, I’m not that young,” she couldn’t help a faint blush. “Irina is fine. And it’s a pleasure, Yehiel. I hope we can get along.”

  “Without a doubt, your company is most welcome, Miss Irina. Please, lead the way. Do you have a place in mind?”

  “I have many places you’ll surely love. The Fairy Park, the Museum of the Ancient Lands… even this new ice cream shop. I hardly know where to begin.”

  Irina shifted gears and guided our guest. It looked like they’d have a pleasant walk.

  “It will be a pleasure to accompany you, Miss Irina.”

  And with that, both of them left.

  “Hng. Disgusting. Is that bitch so scared she has to buddy up with the enemy?” Dimitri, in his own way, tossed out that nasty comment. Tact clearly wasn’t his strong suit.

  “Are you scared too?” Baek brought him back to earth with a single remark.

  “Drop dead, idiot! I’m going to drink. Don’t bother me. See you soon, Commander.”

  After my nod, Dimitri left. Steam was practically coming out of his ears, and he stomped hard as he went, leaving a trail of footprints behind him.

  “I’ll take advantage of these moments as well, if you’ll excuse me, Lady Katherine.”

  With that said, Baek left.

  “I think a rest would do me good. Until later, Your Highness.”

  And with Rajiv’s departure, I was left alone at the entrance.

  I sighed.

  I decided to take a short walk through the “ghost” city I was in.

  “Though it isn’t very different from its usual self.” The cities—excluding the central dome—rarely had such a welcoming atmosphere.

  One of the curses innovation dragged along, I suppose.

  That, and the constant fear that Dinamo would destroy everything.

  One step. Then another. And another.

  I slipped into a small trance, admiring every detail of the ghost city.

  Even after abandonment and chaos, it still displayed its splendor.

  “A shame that in a few seconds there’ll be nothing left.”

  It was a fleeting thought, but also a certainty.

  When Rank 10s collide, nothing remains in their wake.

  That’s why I chose to look at the city with my own eyes.

  I didn’t want to miss even the smallest detail.

  Walking also helped distract me from what was coming.

  The city unfolded before me like a perfect fracture.

  An urban fractal repeating with an almost thunderous coherence.

  The nearest buildings imitated the structure of the farthest ones. The lines of the sidewalks, the gutters for purified water, the decorations embedded into every surface—everything followed a pattern that expanded and folded back onto itself.

  To my left, a streetlamp lit up as it detected my proximity, beginning a dance of soft lights.

  The others, “motivated” by its initiative, imitated it.

  Its structure was a spiral of liquid crystal. In each smaller ring, the design of the larger ring was reproduced.

  Mathematical beauty.

  Soulless, but very pretty.

  The streets had no potholes.

  Not so much because the materials were unbreakable, but because they weren’t used.

  They were designed for the mobility of any mode of transport—airborne or terrestrial.

  Routes built for efficiency. For comfort.

  The kind of city an obsessive-compulsive god would have raised with a calculator in one hand and a scalpel in the other.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I passed a central monument.

  A rotating glass prism suspended inside a hollow sphere. Around it, other geometric figures orbited like sacred satellites.

  It had no name.

  It didn’t need one.

  Contemporary conceptual art explained nothing. And, it seemed, we didn’t need it to.

  I stopped.

  I breathed.

  Filtered, treated air—humidified and perfumed with neutral essences.

  Not one molecule too many, not one too few.

  An environment designed for the common well-being.

  In the distance, I spotted a park, full of metallic structures that imitated tree branches—fractals again.

  “Seems someone had a particular taste for fractals. It must’ve been the preference of one of the leaders before Caetano.”

  I kept walking with that thought drifting in the wind.

  I passed a commemorative wall.

  Names, dates, phrases engraved in steel that no longer meant anything.

  Heroes who gave their lives for the cause. For humanity.

  I stopped.

  One name stood out above the others.

  “Cursed…”

  I couldn’t stop a hint of sadness from seeping into my expression.

  I quickly moved away from the mural.

  I had no time to waste on the past.

  The absurdly beautiful city kept showing me its glory with every step.

  Even if it was only fractals.

  My mind wandered—lost between memories and planning. A sea of thoughts adrift.

  “One minute and thirty-seven seconds… I hope it’s enough time for them.”

  I hoped they could enjoy their last moments of peace.

  After all, most of them wouldn’t see tomorrow.

  …

  Without realizing it, I had reached the place where everything began.

  A gigantic crater and rubble were all that remained of the entrance to an open-air shopping center.

  And there he was.

  Still in the same place.

  Focused on his book, as far as I could tell.

  “Good evening, Katherine,” Dinamo said without turning around. He remained focused on his book, the pages sliding at a moderate speed from our point of view. “Out for a stroll through this beautiful lifeless city?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Why did I end up next to this monster?”

  I knew the answer. And it didn’t make it any more pleasant.

  “Should I try to stab him now that I’m here?” I also knew the answer to that question. And frankly, it would be a waste of time.

  “Oh… did the cat get your tongue? You should be more careful where you walk. Who knows what dangers lurk out there.”

  I stayed silent even after his mockery. I was more interested in finding Jiang.

  He was nowhere to be seen. And I knew he wasn’t hiding—he’d be incapable of it with me this close.

  “Did Dinamo get bored of him and kick him out?”

  There was also no sign of the commentator robot. Who knew what it was doing.

  “You know,” he began, pretending to ponder, “I find it curious how you call this ‘the end.’ As if there were some line that, once crossed, would say ‘it’s over.’”

  “But you should know better: long stories don’t end. They only transform. The apocalypse is just a special edition. Your species has had its hours numbered since the day I was born.”

  “Though I’ll admit it would be great to see a new Cursed rise before then.”

  Dinamo finished speaking by closing the book and turning toward me. His curious eyes settled on me, as if he expected a reaction. He seemed to be searching for something—something he hoped would have disappeared.

  The mention of that name froze me for a moment.

  Silence settled over us. Neither awkward nor comfortable. Simply… silence.

  “Where is Jiang?” I asked.

  “Hehe. Thinking about another man? How heartless of you,” he pretended to clutch his chest, offended.

  “You were thinking about another man too, you know.”

  That threw him off for a moment before he burst into louder laughter.

  “Aah, Kathy—you really do know how to entertain me. Are you sure you’re not interested in being my pet? Jane would love you to be. We’d take good care of you. In fact, she’s been practicing making some delicious kibble.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m still human. What about your idea of exterminating humans? Are you going to break your word?”

  “Oh, technically you stopped being human a long time ago. I wouldn’t be breaking any rules. Besides, I don’t necessarily seek to exterminate humanity. So, what do you say?”

  “Like last time, the answer is still a resounding no.”

  I hated the way he steered a conversation—always searching for weaknesses and gaps to exploit. It was so unpleasant.

  “What a shame. Jane will be sad. She sees you as an older sister. It’ll be hard to console her.”

  “Speaking of her—send her my regards. And remind her my offer still stands.”

  “Of course! She’ll love getting your message. It would be interesting if she accepted your offer. Just think of the possibilities.”

  He seemed genuinely excited at the slightest chance.

  “And… where is he?”

  “The bookworm? Apparently, he was smart enough to know where not to stick his nose. He’ll be lucky if he manages to escape the radius of our dance.”

  Without any further interest, I sat down on some rubble to wait. I didn’t feel like talking anymore. I’d already gotten what I needed; the rest didn’t matter.

  “How boringggg. We could’ve had a tea party,” Dinamo sighed, discouraged, as he pulled out another book and went back to reading.

  And so, time passed in a strange calm.

  In a few moments, we were already in the last seconds of the waiting time.

  Five seconds.

  A fleeting span for some, eternal for others. And yet, still far too little for us.

  “How did they take this break?”

  In those instants, I didn’t have the courage to look at how they were facing it. I knew how hard it was, even without seeing them.

  I stood up, moving away from the rubble and from my thoughts.

  I made no gesture. I said nothing. I simply began to walk away from him.

  Dinamo didn’t look at me at first. Or maybe he did, and only pretended not to. The pages kept turning, indifferent. But just before my step carried me out of reach of his shadow, he spoke:

  “Out of words?”

  I didn’t answer.

  There was no point in telling him anything else.

  My place was a few steps beyond.

  An acceptable distance for the beginning of this battle.

  And when I reached that invisible line, I turned around.

  Face to face with Dinamo.

  Then they appeared.

  One after another. No order, no warning, no need for a summons.

  As if they’d been waiting for this moment to gather behind me.

  Caetano. Yehiel. Dimitri. Baek. Hanami. Freya. Irina. Rajiv. Ramiro. Eoin. Hassan. Seo Min.

  All of them had come.

  A force rarely seen in human history.

  You’d think an army of twelve conceptual beings would announce itself with an explosion of light or a tremor in the ground.

  But no.

  Only a subtle pressure could be felt.

  As if reality folded in on itself a little, to make room for them.

  We didn’t need to speak. Not at this point.

  Each of them watched him in their own way:

  Caetano stared, like someone contemplating his own epitaph.

  Yehiel smiled, as if he were about to give a lecture instead of facing a monster.

  Dimitri didn’t pretend: his eyes spat rage.

  Baek looked like a statue, but his thumb stroked the hilt of his sword in a disturbing rhythm.

  Hanami swayed slightly, humming a song only she could hear.

  Freya… well, Freya looked like she was evaluating the state of her makeup, polish, and nails.

  Irina didn’t take her eyes off Dinamo—she wanted to prove to the world she could stand too.

  Rajiv swallowed, but kept a solemn posture.

  Ramiro closed his eyes for an instant. Maybe he was praying. Maybe he was already saying goodbye.

  Hassan watched in silence, with a cryptic expression, as if he’d already seen this scene in a dream.

  Eoin kept a hand over his chest, holding something back. Maybe power. Maybe fear.

  And Seo Min… Seo Min looked at him the way a child looks at a dragon: awed, curious, and terrified.

  All different.

  But they shared something.

  Fear.

  A deep, tangible fear that made them equal.

  Even Caetano.

  Even the strongest.

  We were facing death.

  And death had the shape of a man.

  Of a monster.

  Of a god.

  There was a pause.

  A pause so dense I almost felt I could split it with a badly given order.

  And in that pause, I reflected.

  Not on strategy.

  Not on his weaknesses.

  I’d done that a long time ago—longer than most people live.

  Instead, I thought.

  I thought about how much I had to invest in what was coming.

  How much to give in this exchange.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d considered it.

  I’d been weighing it since I arrived here.

  Since I saw him for the first time: calm, surrounded by rubble from what had once been a beautiful place.

  I’d been considering it since his arrival.

  I always did.

  In my original plan, I meant to use barely enough energy to go unnoticed.

  Nothing more than an observer, with minimal participation in the conflict.

  After all, this body wasn’t made to endure too much.

  There was no sense in risking it more than necessary.

  But now—after everything they’d done to get here…

  After the sacrifice they’d made, and Dinamo’s strange goodwill…

  I hesitated.

  I looked around.

  I saw their aligned stances.

  Their held breaths.

  Their trembling strength.

  Their sharpened resolve.

  I saw their humanity.

  And I saw mine.

  I sighed.

  A small gesture. Personal. Silent.

  And then, I made a decision.

  To draw 99% of my consciousness into the android.

  Power didn’t arrive.

  Not yet.

  Presence did.

  A presence so overwhelming, so vast, that for an instant even the air seemed to ask permission to keep existing.

  I felt my senses expand, every internal microprocessor adjusting to receive more of myself.

  More than I should.

  More than was safe.

  And in that exact moment, all the Rank 10s trembled.

  It wasn’t a jolt.

  It was an involuntary reflex.

  A deep shiver, as if every cell in their bodies remembered that, beyond talent—beyond rank—

  What they had in front of them wasn’t a person.

  It was a millennia-old beast.

  As ancient as humanity.

  And it woke.

  Something that, until now, had only been watching with one eye.

  Even Caetano—the impassive one, the veteran. The leader.

  His jaw tightened.

  His pupils constricted.

  They couldn’t help it.

  Talent is fleeting.

  But time—

  Time makes it eternal.

  And I had a lot of the latter.

  In front of us, the book reader finally looked up.

  He closed his volume with a brilliant smile.

  “Ah, there you are.”

  His voice was soft. Almost excited.

  As if he had just found what he’d always been looking for.

  As if, finally, the story was about to begin.

  …

  I was here.

  There was no turning back.

  And if I was going to be here, then I was going to do it right.

  I could try to stay on the sidelines.

  I could remain a directive figure, offering tactical orders and global surveillance.

  But no.

  That moment had passed.

  I’d already brought 99% of my consciousness into this body.

  I’d already chosen.

  So I would take it seriously.

  “Time to bring out the heavy toys.”

  I slowly extended my right arm, palm open and facing up.

  I activated the protocol.

  “Initiating combat protocol: Reverberation, Phase 1.”

  At first, nothing happened.

  Only a subtle distortion in the air.

  Like a poorly rendered optical illusion.

  But then the illusion took shape.

  A bracelet began to materialize around my wrist.

  Slow. Precise.

  As if reality itself needed time to accept what was about to happen.

  First came a blurred outline.

  Then a smooth black texture, like liquid obsidian.

  Finally, a strange engraving—impossible to read—rose across its surface.

  And then the aura appeared.

  A purple glow, deep and undulating.

  Like liquid smoke trapped between planes.

  Like a cursed secret trying to escape.

  The air changed.

  There was no explosion.

  There was no sound.

  Only weight.

  A new weight in the environment.

  Invisible, but oppressive.

  Just by existing, that thing generated discomfort.

  I felt it in their breathing.

  I saw it in their eyes.

  Even the calmest blinked.

  Only once.

  Only a reaction.

  But they had it.

  “Ooooh…” Dinamo murmured, his voice almost childlike. “Fascinating.”

  The book in his hands was put away carefully.

  “And what is that? A new toy? A divine artifact? Or just an old piece that still holds a grudge?”

  I didn’t answer.

  I didn’t have to.

  He watched me with unrestrained curiosity, and then, with a playful spark in his eyes, added:

  “How much power do you think you’ll be able to use with that hunk of junk?”

  Again, I didn’t answer.

  The activation didn’t need words.

  I gently touched the center of the bracelet.

  And that was enough.

  The purple aura expanded in all directions.

  Not like an explosion, but like an intelligent fog.

  It enveloped me completely.

  Climbing up my arms, my neck, my torso.

  My legs. My back.

  My consciousness.

  An instant later, I was no longer me.

  Or rather—I became my true self again.

  A new body was revealed, almost identical to the previous one.

  Same outfit: a dark gray tactical jacket, fitted to the torso; the same reinforced pants, with integrated pockets and a modular structure.

  Same brown skin.

  Same hair pulled back with millimetric neatness.

  Same glasses.

  But it wasn’t the same.

  A translucent membrane, a dark purple tone, covered my body like a second skin: a continuous coating—without friction, without seams, without any noticeable weight.

  Even so, it felt inviolable.

  Two black wings—large, symmetrical, slightly curved—emerged from my back. Membranous appendages, with the same purple tone concentrated in the folds.

  They didn’t answer to an aerodynamic function.

  They answered to a deterrent function.

  And in my hands: two pistols.

  Identical. Twin.

  Black as night, with thin veins of purple energy running along the sides.

  There were no comments.

  Until Dinamo, of course, laughed.

  A cheerful, sincere laugh.

  As if someone had told him the best joke in the universe.

  “Wonderful! Simply wonderful!”

  He clapped once, slowly, while his gaze traced every detail of my new form.

  “You know,” he said, still laughing, “there are many things I can do. Many.”

  “I can create life. I can break physics.”

  “I can rewrite concepts.”

  “But this…”

  He pointed at me.

  Like someone pointing at an impossible work of art.

  “This is one of the few things I can’t reproduce.”

  His voice dropped in volume, but rose in intensity.

  “I can’t create that.”

  “I can’t fake it.”

  “I can’t even steal it.”

  I remained silent.

  There was no need to verbalize it: the information was shared. Everyone knew. Everyone registered it.

  The air held a sustained vibration, charged with expectation.

  The city—mute and dying—seemed to operate under restraint.

  The field was defined.

  The pieces, positioned.

  The battle, imminent.