Chapter Seven: Entangled History (II)

“Damn it, damn it, damn it.” Ghoulia drew a breath like smoke from a dying kiln, eyes flicking over wounds that mapped his body like cracked bark.

“Stop running. You won’t get away.” Edward stood upon a blooming nebula like a jade dais, a swarm of Fiends behind him like locusts under starlight.

He loomed as large as a morning star, divine might rising off him like mountain mist, his presence heavy as an iron bell in the void.

“Cowardly bastard.” Ghoulia carved down lesser Fiends like reeds in a river, anger flaring at Edward hanging in the sky like a cold moon.

“If it wins, it’s enough.” Edward smiled and stroked his chin like a fox grooming whiskers. “War’s the art of deception. Dead-on truth. I should talk with Eli.”

It was a crushing of minds, then the cruelest taunt, like a knife pressed with a laugh.

Edward’s excitement sparked like flint in dry grass.

“Ahem. Shameless mutt.” Ghoulia coughed, then bolted like a startled deer into a different strip of night.

“Give up the struggle.” Edward’s voice rolled like thunder across a plain. “Bow to me. Stamp your remaining wraiths with my name, and I’ll spare you.”

He flicked his hand like a fan scattering dust. The Fiend legions swept forward like locust storms, skimming starlight into black fumes as they arrowed for Ghoulia.

“Dream on.” Ghoulia parried blows like rain on a tiled roof, then barked back, “Why not say I’ll carve my name on your backside and make you my slave?”

“Heh.” Edward’s smile was a thin blade in moonlight. “Then no more surrender. You die.”

He snapped his left fingers—snap—and vast crimson dragon wings unfurled behind him like sunrise over a blood sea.

“Die for me.” He beat his wings like a storm breaking. He streaked forward like a rainbow spearing the sun, straight at Ghoulia.

“Damn!” Ghoulia dragged power up like water from a deep well, but it was too late.

A pair of colossal dragon claws punched through his chest like iron through silk.

Ghoulia spat blood like splattered wine, gripping those claws with hands that trembled like wind-tossed leaves.

He raised his head to Edward’s serpent-pupiled eyes, then laughed like gravel in the throat. “So that’s it.”

“No wonder your power jumped past me and Yulia.” His voice was a snow-crunch. “You birthed an epic-rank species and got the cosmos to bless you.”

“Heh. And I’m there drilling soldiers like a fool,” he added, like a man chuckling at his own funeral pyre.

“Ghoulia, your thinking’s skewed.” Edward’s words were knives arranged neatly. “You want every soldier a mountain, unshakable.”

“True. Your elites shame mine like river jade beside rough stone.” His tone was a winter bell. “But I have time to strengthen my offspring. You don’t.”

“Tch.” Ghoulia’s smile was frost on iron. “Wait and see. I won’t lose so easy.”

Edward frowned like a crease in parchment. “My Claw of Oblivion is inside you. Dragonflame will eat you like wildfire. What can you still do?”

“You underestimate me.” Ghoulia let one hand slip free like a fish in rain, wiped blood from his lips like ink, then sketched runes in space with those crimson strokes.

Edward paused like a hunter listening. Then he raised his other hand like a falling hammer, aiming for Ghoulia’s skull.

“Too late.” Ghoulia’s voice was a flint-spark. “Thanks for the dragon blood.”

He pressed his palms together like a temple bell. “Endless Ordeal. Open.”

Under his feet, flames like the Cosmic Heart clawed open space like a furnace door, swallowing him whole with a roar like sea-fire.

Edward’s hand, buried in Ghoulia’s chest, went into the blaze too, devoured like driftwood in a wave.

But Edward took no wound, no scorch, no pain, like granite in rain.

He studied the scraps of flesh on his claw like ash on a sleeve, then loosed his spirit like a hawk across the cosmos.

He searched through star-snow and void mist for a long breath, and found no trail, like footprints wiped by tide.

“Generous, indeed.” His head shook like bamboo in wind. “He shed so much power to break a doomed fate.”

A Fiend who looked near his mirror approached like a shadow. “My Lord. We found no sign of Ghoulia within one star system.”

“Mm.” Edward waved dismissively, a willow cutting ripples. “Stop searching. Let him scuttle.”

“For a while, we’ll be stable as a mountain.” His smile was paper-thin. “Even if he comes back, I have ways.”

“Yes, My Lord.” The Fiend’s face shone like bronze polished, confidence ringing like a gong.

“Mm.” Edward nodded, a lantern sway, though the words were wind for the ranks.

That man at the end gave him a feeling like frost under the mat—bad and creeping.

Now, not even his shadow could be found, like a snake coiled in reeds, waiting for a bare ankle to strike.

Edward frowned, a cloud drawn tight, and let out a sigh like rain at dusk.

Forget it. No other path. Let the river run until a ford appears.

He turned and looked over the high-ranking Fiend beside him like a craftsman checking a blade. “Number One, how’s your body?”

“Mm… Reporting, My Lord.” Number One bowed like a reed. “No discomfort. No odd tides.”

“I used the best materials the cosmos could yield, shaped to my template like a mold in jade.” Edward’s tone was a steady drum.

“You’re the heart of my experiment. Any change, tell me at once,” he said, voice like a seal stamping wax.

“Of course, My Lord.” Number One’s words were rain on stone.

“Too bad the Origin Tree can’t be found.” Edward muttered like waves to himself. “With it, I might fashion an ancestor not beneath me.”

“Mm? My Lord, did you say something?” Number One tilted his head like a curious bird.

“No.” Edward smoothed his mood like silk and smiled. “Under heaven, all lands belong to the king.”

“At the shores, all subjects belong to the king.” His voice boomed like a temple horn. “From today, in the name of the Abyss, we’ll campaign across the cosmos.”

“We’ll cleanse all chaos like fire through brush. We’ll end this millennia-long holy war.”

“Uh… My Lord, where’d those lines come from?” Number One scratched his cheek like a sparrow. “Doesn’t sound like our tongue.”

“Ahem.” Edward’s grin was crooked as a crescent. “Miss Yulia taught me. Sounded badass, so I tried it.”

“…Oh. Alright.” Number One nodded like a bobbing buoy. “Then, My Lord, Ghoulia’s men? How do we handle those wraiths?”

“Those who bow, subjugate.” Edward’s hand cut air like a blade. “Brand them with a slave mark.”

“Those who refuse, kill without mercy,” he said, voice like steel in frost.

His mood was bright as a clear sky. Pacify the disputes among natural species, and his title—Edward, Lord of the Cosmos—would set like a seal in stone.

Soon, he could lay down everything like armor on a rack and live with Yulia like spring in a courtyard.

“Right. Send Two, Five, and Nine to me.” Edward’s words were a bell-call.

“As you command.” Number One bowed and left like a drifting cloud.

Soon, three cloaked figures stepped into the command tent like shadows entering lamplight.

They looked at Edward and smiled like foxes. “My Lord, you’ve grown tall as a pine.”

“You won’t be needing the three of us, right?”

“No. Why would I?” Edward’s laugh was a warm brazier. “My logistics corps still needs you three. Thoughts?”

“Heh.” Their reply was wind through grass. “We’ll do all we can.”

“Good. Settled.” Edward’s joy rang like a chime. “I’ll found the Abyss Cosmos soon. I’ll trouble you three to keep watch.”

“Naturally.” Their smiles were moonlight on water.

“Hah.” Edward exhaled like a long tide. “It’s finally ending.”

A rare ease glowed on his face like sun on frost.

…

“Your body’s worsening day by day.” Edward drew Yulia into his arms, worry pooling like night rain.

“Mm… Remember how we pitied One through Nine?” Yulia peered at her soul-flame like a candle in wind.

“Turns out I’m the tragic one,” she said with a wry curve, like frost at dawn. “My lifespan’s only a thousand years.”

“Don’t.” Edward’s words rushed like a river breaking a dam. “No. You’ll break that shackle and become an Authority holder.”

“Don’t lie.” Yulia’s smile was soft as rice paper. “You haven’t claimed Authority yourself. You’ve only brushed that thin veil.”

“Don’t fuss over me, dummy.” Her tone fluttered like a sparrow.

Edward hugged her tight, trembling like a bowstring drawn too far.

Decades ago, Two through Nine vanished like starlight swallowed by fog. Only a weary One came to say goodbye like a dusk bell.

He said he’d overused power, cut his lifespan short like a rope frayed, and was about to die, so he came to bid farewell.

Edward had been reluctant like a child at a gate, but Father’s design was iron. He watched the nine fall like leaves.

Soon after, Yulia stopped seeing him, slipping away like mist at noon.

He forced the truth and found her soul-flame thinning like a wick in rain.

As primordial beings, they felt such tides keenly, like fishermen reading currents. He knew at once something was wrong.

In Zero’s notes, he found it quickly, a line like a blade: fail to claim a portion of his Authority, and you’ll be culled.

You’ll fuse into another life like rivers joining, to inherit Zero’s strength.

After that, they studied power day and night like monks under lanterns.

Edward took her small hand like porcelain, kissed it lightly like falling petals. “Don’t. Don’t say that.”

“Trust me.” His voice was a steady drum. “I’ll find a way. I will.”

Yulia smiled like a crescent moon and said nothing. She rose on tiptoe like a swan and pecked his lips like a silver fish.

“Hey, forget me, okay?” Her whisper was a willow’s rustle. “If you forget, the ache will ease.”

“Is that possible?” Edward barked, a spark in dry grass. “You foolish woman!”

He tightened his hold like ivy around stone.

Yulia rested her chin on his shoulder like a dove’s perch, tears sliding like a cold drizzle. “I’m sorry. I’m too useless.”

They didn’t notice a man in a butterfly mask watching from not far away, silent as moonlight under bamboo.

He turned and left like a leaf on wind, flying toward the first continent founded by Edward and Yulia.

He sighed like a mountain stream. “So the Abyss ruled the cosmos only a hundred years?”

“Soon, everything will change,” he murmured, voice like a lantern’s last breath. He took off his mask.

Eli sighed and sat on the ground like a stone at river’s edge.

A gust tore through like a wild stallion and flipped his hood like a sail. Fine wrinkles lined his face like dry riverbeds.

His hair, worn by sleepless pain, looked dry as straw. Black locks were threaded with silver like frost on night.

It showed Eli’s haggard state like smoke clinging to clothes.

He stretched like a cat and let out a breath like steam. “We’re about to enter recorded history.”

“I need to prepare,” he said, eyes like cold stars. “The war between the Abyss and the Celestial God isn’t far.”