Chapter 6: 6. A Dream Within A Dream – Heresy City Arc

6. A Dream Within A Dream - Heresy City Arc

If there was a moment Serafim felt the deepest of despair, it was on that night in the Holy City of Edenia, to say it was his least favorite city would be the understatement of both Serafim’s lives.

     Serafim and Hermés burst forth with all the speed they could muster, maneuvering around the newly awakened punishment cleric in an attempt to evade her attacks but it was all in vain. Tossed back by the sheer force of her spiritual presence.

    Serafim gritted his teeth against the impact of an arrow colliding against his shoulder with the force of an out-of-control freight train. Sending him flying backward, a spray of blood escaping his mouth.

      “As I said, it’s a sad and pointless endeavor to even think of standing aga- “Agatha’s statement was silenced by a quick swipe to her throat with an iron war fan, causing her to grasp at her neck as blood sprayed like a broken sprinkler, eyes widened whilst her hands gripped at her throat.

   “My apologies, I understand you were in the middle of saying something but your neck was left so wide open I just couldn’t help myself,” Hermés said, a silver steel war fan in hand, his aristocratic fancy man voice dripped with sarcasm that matched the blood dripping from the fan. A smirk formed at the edges of Serafim’s mouth.  “I apologize for the interruption, you were saying something of it being a pointless endeavor to do what? Hmm?”

     “You unholy piece of filth.” Agatha spat and looked down at the two of them. Her gaze anchored mainly on Hermés. “I’ll kill you first, you insect!”

      Serafim dived, grabbing Hermés and throwing him out of her barrage of arrow’s path. The flesh on her left hand tore and sewed itself into different shapes until it settled on a spear-like projectile.

    Multiple spiky ridges formed on her back, she ripped them off her back and aimed them at the two exorcists.

   Serafim clenched his jaw, mouth dropping at the sheer speed of each arrow.

     One of them missed Serafim by a small margin. Serafim was rooted in place, time slowed down and the severity of his situation dawned on him.

    The single arrow split into two, the other loped off small locks of Serafim’s hair, and the other forced him back and pinned him to the wall.

      Hermés made his thumb and pointer finger touch to form a circle, his other hand was palm up and Serafim immediately recognized it as the summoning hand for one of the offensive incantations of kesem. “Lilpot.”

     Hermés struck out his open palm, and a fiery orange-hued tendril of energy burst from his hand, whipping out in an arc and entangling itself around the Lihaa.

    Hermés proceeded to whip her to the side of the hallway, the sheer force of the collision left a loud imploding sound and a massive crater in the wall.  Agatha broke free from his grip and leaned back, aiming another barrage in Hermés’ direction.

    “Do not underestimate this boy, Agatha.” The other man said, his gaze still focused on Serafim with a sneer on his face.

   “Excuse me, Captain Rolfa?”
“This exorcist, Hermés Saint-Laurent. I believe I’ve heard that name before, remember the reports from the intelligence squadron?” Rolfa said. “From their reports, it was said he dealt heavy casualties to even our most experienced Kraslucists, working in the shadows to halt our efforts to squash this rebellion. They call him Phantom Step Hermés, the fastest exorcist of his generation.”

     Serafim's eye narrowed, gaze laid still on focused on Agatha. She cocked her head back and began to let out a series of crazed giggles before exploding into laughter. “The intelligence squadron sounds even more pathetic than I thought they were. This insect was the one injuring our Kraslucists? The very idea is laughable. So tell me, what’s the name of the demon you’re contracted with?”

    “Wh-What the hell are you talking about?” Hermés said, raising a furrowed brow before he prepared a fighting stance.

     “How embarrassing an exorcist that doesn’t even know the name of the demon they’re contracted with,” Agatha replied, sneering and firing at Hermés.

   Serafim forced an extra amount of qlifot through his arms and legs whilst yanking the arrow that kept him on the wall. His feet kicked into overdrive, dashing in Hermés' direction.

  Hermés grabbed his palm and leaned back, preparing to toss him, seeing it incoming Agatha proceeded to fire another barrage of projectiles in their direction.

    Hermès vanished with Serafim and reappeared in front of the arrows, he tried again, leaning back and attempting to toss Serafim.

      Agatha leaned back and prepared another attack, Hermés feinted a throw instead, Serafim sprinted forward and tossed Hermés with all the strength he could muster.

 Serafim winced, feeling something warm and wet trickle down his stained cloak where the arrow once was.

    Serafim swooped forward right behind Hermés’ path of trajectory and the moment he dematerialized, there was a flash of glimmering steel in the moonlight, followed by a spray of dark red liquid that followed the arc of his blade.

     Serafim looked on with a satisfied smile, her severed head rolled on the floor, face trapped in an eternally shocked expression. Both halves began to sizzle for a moment before being rendered to nothing but white ash swept away by the breeze.

    “A-Aga...tha.” Rolfa said, a palm over his forehead with narrowed eyes.  Serafim watched him come to terms with the carnage, it reminded him of when he lost his comrades in battle. The smile on his face was wiped clean and replaced with a look of remorse. “You exorcists took everything from me. My wife and child, a hundred years ago. My mentor and now you took the little family I had left. Don’t think this is over! This fight is not a battle of your God or mine, it’s a battle of conviction!”

    And with those words said, Serafim began to shiver at the slow creep in spiritual presence emanating from Rolfa.

From the looks of it, Serafim believed Hermés could feel the overwhelming, deathly cold spiritual presence that seemed to root them both in place whether from raw, indescribable fear or their bodies outright refusing to move.

    Rolfa’s flesh shifted like hot pulpy liquid bubbling over inhumanly bendy bone. His body stretched and contorted over itself like some horrific origami made of human flesh until his form had completely changed into something unrecognizable.

    The seemingly endless hordes of demonic-looking eyes had their gaze anchored on Serafim, barely blinking on the flesh of the being that was once Rolfa. Massive angelic wings unfurled from his back, firing a slew of feathers that gleamed mid-attack, something tugged at Serafim’s cloak before he vanished.

      The instant they reappeared behind Rolfa, Serafim was stunned at the speed of the counterattack. Both he and Hermés let out a spray of blood with the countless number of feathers embedded in their bodies, Serafim missed being completely blind by a second, raising his hand over his eye to take the brunt of the barrage.

     The eyes on Rolfa’s chest and wings narrowed their gaze at both exorcists, his abomination of a centaurian form swaggered forward. Hooves clacking against the floor mixing in with Serafim’s ragged breaths, his mind racing and trying to cope with the severity of their situation.

   The top half of his head where his eyes would be was covered in a black cloth, he almost resembled a skeletal, malnourished angelic being fused to the back of a horse with the only discernable facial feature being a sewed shut mouth. The clashing emotions of whether Serafim should stand in awe of such a holy creature or recoil in disgust fought inside of him. It both comforted and creeped him out at the same time.

    He looks so…beautiful, so… angelic. Serafim said with his mouth agape, Rolfa continued to make his way towards them.

    “He’s the most abhorrent creature I’ve seen in my life,” Hermés said with a curled lip, his tone indicating a significant level of disgust as he dropped to a fighting stance with his fans. “Let’s overwhelm him with kefitzat haderech. If we attack from all sides, he won’t be able to defend.”

    “That would mean unleashing more qlifot, and I for one don’t want to be on the chopping block by my comrades as a lowly beast.” Serafim countered Hermés retaliated by shooting him his famous “got any other ideas” look to which Serafim shot back with his infamous “it’s better than dying” expression.

    “May I propose an alternative?” Rolfa said, beginning to charge at the two of them. A large whoosh  almost popped Serafim’s eardrums, whipping him into the air. A stream of blood escaped his mouth, his eyes rolled back into his skull, and multiple piercing stabs of pain erupted in his chest. Only made worse the minute he slammed back to the ground. “The two of you apologize to my lieutenants on the other side.”

   Serafim’s feet trembled and shook, he tried to get up to his feet using the wall as leverage, struggling in the process.

     He tilted his head, taking sight of the blood creeping down Hermés’ forehead as he plucked out the feathers from his chest.

   “Consider this your last warning. This is as far as you’ll ever reach exorcists. Surrender with what little honor you have left, pride will do you no good.” Rolfa warned, strutting towards them with light flapping coming from his wings.

   “You’re one to talk,” Serafim said, his voice turning an octave lower as he forced more qlifot into his body, against his own will. An audible lub-dub sound of his heartbeat reverberated in his ears, an unholy amount of veins popped onto the surface of his wrist, and the twisting and contorting sensation in his face was like the flesh underneath his face shifted. “All this talk about honor makes me sick, have you stepped outside this crappy city? Men and women are being killed at the borders of the Ostokosmos Empire as we speak. Children and parents are separated the minute they die in the world of the living. There’s no honor in life, and what makes you think there’d be honor after life, don’t make me laugh.”

     “Don’t force your childish philosophies on me, you have no idea who I am and the life I’ve liv-“

   “I don’t give a damn who the hell you are or where you came from, all I know is you’re part of the group that killed my comrades, that’s more than enough of a reason to kill you.”

  “Serafim, you’re going through Klipafication, you’ve passed your limi- “

“That’s not important now!” Serafim said. Each syllable in his tone had this underlying, almost alien growl to it. Hermés’ brows bumped together in a scowl, shaking his head at the sight of Serafim, either way, it didn’t matter to Serafim. He was going to beat this Kraslucist that’s all that matters.”

  Serafim leaped back, bouncing off the walls at blinding speeds whilst dodging the masses of feathers that erupted beneath him. His hand blurring in front of him, parrying a bolt of feathers fired his way with ease.

   He landed on the ground, almost crouching on the floor, a few guttural growls escaped his mouth, his attention glued on Rolfa.

   Even though he had no discernable facial features, Serafim somehow knew he was looking down on him and it disgusted him to the core, it was a strange feeling like the creeping dread of someone following your every step.

   “Impressive speed,” Rolfa said with a hint of genuine praise behind his voice, a loud whoosh sound erupted in front of Serafim. A burst of air came from behind him accompanied by a familiar voice. “It’s still not enough to defeat a Kraslucist of my level, how unfortunate.”
   Serafim fell to the floor, tackled by a familiar figure, not Hermés but a blond-haired figure with an upside-down curved scabbard clasped around her waist.

  “Saewynn? What the hell are you doing here!”

“Look out!” Hermés yelled, vanishing for a moment. Reappeared in front of them, and disappeared again. This time Serafim noticed Saewynn was missing.

    A massive blow blindsided Serafim on the jaw, sending him hurling backward and slamming against the wall.

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    Serafim propped himself up against the wall, the crunching sounds of bones reconnecting could be heard when his jaw forced itself back into a place, the qlifot fueling both his regeneration and his demise.

   “I still can’t comprehend the idea that a soul that’s barely made a strong contract with their Klipah can even think of beating the High Kraslucist if he can’t even lay a scratch on me,” Rolfa said, his hooves plopping against the floor. “I didn’t notice it until now but that sigil on your eye, it’s a mikra isn’t it? That’s not possible! I’ve never heard of any soul that has survived a single night with the sigil of that… abominable thing, carved into their body.”

    “So you’ve heard of the Maleficent Earl huh?”

“Do not speak of that name so lightly child, I will free you of your suffering, child of the Abyss. There’s nothing mere men can do against those with the stronger will to carve the world in their image.” Rolfa said, his tone implying it wasn’t only Serafim he was talking to, proceeding to shower Serafim with more feathers that continuously sapped at his strength. “So this is what the Black Priests do to innocent children? Take them and force them into deals with monsters and stripping them of their own lives? Despicable!”

    Saewynn stood in between the two of them, two knives in hand, her attention on Rolfa. She pulled out the scabbard tied around her and tossed it at Serafim, a smile forming on his face at the sight of an old friend.

    “Step aside child,” Rolfa said, not even giving Saewynn a chance to respond, whipping his centaurian tail in an arc that grazed the side of her face. She used her tiny frame and size to her advantage, evading his attack. “I’m curious, do you believe that you’re going to defeat the High Kraslucist? To do so would beat all twelve Kraslucists and their twenty men squadrons to even have a glimmer of hope of laying a scratch on him.”

     Hermés materialized in front of Rolfa, slashing his fans at him at unparalleled speeds.

    Rolfa brought his wings together to block each attack with minimal effort, sparks flying from each strike, the clang of metal reverberating around the place.

   “I never took you for a chatterbox really,” Hermés said before he jumped back the moment Rolfa brought down his hoof where Hermés once stood. An implosion erupted around the surrounding area leaving a crater and a dust cloud in its wake. “We’ll beat them all, every last Kraslucist and their subordinates. We’ll defeat everyone who stands in our duty of protecting the innocents from Klipah, the people that didn’t deserve to die or turned into monsters.”

      “Protect people? That’s ridiculous! It’s your fault Ailena’s dead!”

Serafim froze at the revelation, noticing Saewynn’s drooping eyelids and her avoiding gaze only confirming that this man spoke the truth. Sayanim Ailena, dead? How does this man even know her? Just who the hell is he?

“Serafim,” Saewynn said, her gaze now facing the approaching Rolfa, whose attention was focused on Hermés. The two engaged in a one-sided exchange of blows. “I remember something about horses from my mom, she told me the loin of a horse is a weak point, why don’t you try cutting his legs off.”

    “That’s if I can even land a hit,” Serafim said, pulling his scythe sideways, unsheathing it with an audible schwing sound. A half-formed idea began to take root in his mind. “Unless…Hermés! Saewynn has a plan, distract him will ya?”
    “That sounds lovely, I’m doing a great job of getting my arse hand-“

“Can it with the sarcasm for once,” Serafim said, and with a few skillful movements, he made his way towards them. He parried multiple bolts of feathers sent his path in tornado-like motions, grunting from the effort. “C’mon Phantom Step, now!”
    Serafim felt a minor shift in the spiritual presence right before he materialized behind Rolfa, the rear eyes on Rolfa’s wings widened at the realization of what was going to do.

    Serafim used his scythe to sweep both his legs in a wide arc, a fountain spray of blood rose into the air while blood and horse legs rained down from the sky. Rolfa’s upper half crumbled in a bloody heap, slowly returning to its human form.

     Serafim stumbled to the floor, his legs gave out the minute the adrenaline began to wear off, turning his scythe upside down and using the handle to prop himself up.

     The sound of sobbing permeated the surroundings followed by the sound of something wet and heavy being dragged on the floor.

    Serafim gasped before letting out more erratic, ragged breaths, the sound of thunderous battle underneath the castle floor was now audible. His attention focused on Rolfa, who dragged his now human body towards Serafim. “Damn you bastards don’t know when to quit huh? Go ahead and die for your faith like the idiot you are. You choose to stand against me so don’t fault me for being the one to kill you. Crying now won’t do anything to save you.”

      Rolfa’s severed top half reached Serafim’s feet. His arm reached out and grasped at Serafim’s tattered uniform, even though he was losing blood he had this unnatural strength that surprised Serafim.

   “All this time… I-I always wanted a world without conflict,” Rolfa said with a ragged voice of a man who had completely given up on life. “I wanted a place where children could smile and truly call paradise. Isn’t that what this place is supposed to be? His Righteousness promised me this dream… In a world where my son could grow up without knowing the words ‘war’ or ‘conflict’, what kind of father would I be if I denied him the possibility of seeing such a dream come true?”

   Serafim inhaled a sharp breath, his lungs burning.  His eyes were beginning to well up. “I…I.”

   “But it took countless people dying for me to see that sometimes some dreams lie far beyond our reach for a reason,” Rolfa said, his monologue mixed in with sobs. “I do not ask for your sympathies exorcist, I just ask for understanding. The only thing I had left was my faith, I guess it was better than facing the cruel reality of the world we live in.”

   “She must have been proud,” Serafim said, with a faint smile. “She trained a powerful flesh crafter, hold your head high and pass on in peace Captain Rolfa don’t let your guilt overwhelm you.”

   Serafim looked down as Rolfa raised his quivering head to look him in the eye. “Serafim, was it? In all my years I haven’t even come close to rivaling the High Kraslucist, so with my last breath, I wish to impart to you my dream. That you kill the His Righteousness and avenge my master.”

     Serafim gave him a faint smile and placed his hand over Rolfa’s, feeling his grip on his uniform weaken by the second. “You have my word. O’God, can I not grasp? Them with a tighter clasp, O’God can I not save one from the pitiless wave. Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?”

    Rolfa returned a faint smile to Serafim, his grip on Serafim’s shirt released. His hand fell to the ground, his body slowly fading into white ash. “But a dream within a dream, I never Death would read me poetry on my deathbed.”

     Serafim wiped a few tears that streamed down his face. He gritted his teeth the moment the thought came to mind. Why am I crying for someone who almost killed me? I-I….can’t understand why. Is it because I also wanted a place where we could be happy again Morgen? Or is it because this Lihaa and I both tried to build our dreams of mountains of corpses?

     “Where exactly did those words come from?” Hermés asked, one of his hands slung over Saewynn’s shoulder, his exhausted breaths were so ragged that Serafim winced just hearing t. “I’ve never heard of it, is it from the world of the living?”

     “Yeah, it was one of my favorite lines that I read from my mom’s collection when I was younger. She used to work all day so the only way I got to know her was through the books she read.” Serafim said, the thought of whether Rolfa had a similar maternal relationship with Ailena made a pang of guilt hit his body even though it was a small one. “Among all the hundreds of books I read, it was the only one that she had highlighted so I guessed it must’ve been her favorite. I never got the author’s name but whoever it was his words stuck with me and I think that’s all that matters.”

   Serafim looked down at Rolfa’s severed top half. He pressed both his palms together, bowed his head, and closed his eyes. God-Queen Odelia. All-Mother Yhan.If any of you exist, this man lived not for himself but to fulfill a dream so others can live in peace. Please let him find the very thing he fought for others and carry the flame in his heart as he moves into the next life.

     Serafim flinched, the veins beneath the surface of his face, arms and legs exploded to the surface with an explosive, pulsating pain beating under his skin. He shook his head, denying the reality in front of him, qlifot swelled within him. “H-He…rmés. I-It’s happening, you have to do it.  You’ll have to kill me while I’m still human.”

    “Damnit Serafim I told you not to tap into more qlifot! You have to fight it! Turn back!”

“Well if it was as easy as just saying turn back dontcha think I would’ve turned back by now damnit!”

“Hermés! What’s happening to him?” Saewynn asked, her brows knitted into a frown, kneeling next to Serafim.

    Serafim growled at her. Her expression turned into one of genuine, unbridled fear. Her fingers pressed against her gaping mouth, recoiling at the sight of him. “I told you to stay away from me. Do you see this? This is what I dedicated my life to, the path of the exorcist, you didn’t choose to walk this path you were forced into it. There’s no reason for you to join me on my trip to hell.”

    “But-“

“Saewynn, mon ami.” Hermés said, his glazed eyes dipped downwards, from the looks of it, he had come to terms with the situation or at least that’s what Serafim thought, trying to read Hermés was rather difficult.”It’s for the best, while Serafim still has a semblance of humanity left, I’ll have to end his life. I don’t know if I could live with the guilt of letting Serafim kill people as a monster. I’m sure he would’ve done the same if our roles were reversed.”

    Serafim gulped at the mere sight of Hermés drawing his war fan and stumbled towards him. The cold, unrecognizable glare sent chills down his spine. It was almost as if they’d never been friends.

  ”I guess this is goodbye Saewynn. If there’s one wish I have left is that you live a life worth remembering. Something I couldn’t do in both my lives. I honestly enjoyed the time we spent together, it was like having a sibling again.”

   “Hermés! You can’t be serious, don’t do it!”
 “My apologies Saewynn, he’s turning into a  Klipah,” Hermés said, now towering over Serafim who lowered his head, waiting for his execution. “Due to our connection with the Klipah, the more we use the abyssal energy or qlifot, the closer we end up being overcome by the very Klipah we made a contract with. That means it’ll find its way into this world with the body of an exorcist, you must understand it’s for the best.”

     “No way!” Saewynn cried out,  raising her hands and standing in Hermés’ path. Hermés’ narrowed gaze zeroed in on her, devoid of any semblance of mercy just focused on completing the task at hand. “There’s no way I’m letting you die. You have to fight it!”

    “Don’t you understand that we're not only trying to protect you but countless innocent people that could end up dead because of what he could become?”

“People who’re willing to throw away their own lives shouldn’t jump head first to protect people. That’s selfish of you! Don’t you know some people need you, it may not seem that way but it’s true!” Saewynn yelled as a river of tears flowed down from her cheeks, kneeling to hug Serafim. “I’m grateful for everything Serafim, for saving my life, for giving me someone to travel with, and most importantly for a big brother I never had.”

    Serafim smiled. That’s right, I have something to live for. For Saewynn, Captain Rolfa’s promise and most importantly….

   A vision of a white-haired boy flashed in his mind, he wore no shirt and had only a pair of black trousers on. His skin etched in multiple Enochian letters, strange hieroglyphs, and other horrifying angelic imagery.”Serafim, this flame within your heart wasn’t meant to only keep you warm on your coldest and darkest of days. It was meant to be shared with others, to keep them warm and light the path so you can walk together and fear not the night.”

   “Who… Who are you?”

 “That is of no importance at the moment, what is important is no matter the moment, keep your flame burning. Not for yourself but for someone else. A man without purpose is a dead man correct?”

    Serafim dropped to the ground, hyperventilating, his muscles relaxed from the strenuous pressure of qlifot in his body. “The qlifot… it stopped somehow.”

“Serafim!” Saewynn yelled, throwing herself at him and wrapping her arms around him.

    “Damnit, it’s hard to watch this moment with my body feeling like it’ll fall apart any minute,” Hermés said with a faint smile. His face was covered in a half mask of blood as if one of those old Greek masks Serafim remembered when he was still alive, representing two sides be it happiness or grief, beauty or tragedy,  comrades or enemies. “C’mon let’s find the High Kraslucist while the revolutionaries continue the takeover.”

    “You’re a hypocrite you know that?” Hermés said. “You tell me using kefitzat haderech is dangerous yet you proceed to tap into more qlifot. What’s with you.”

     Serafim sighed, avoiding Hermés’ gaze. Better me than you.
  Serafim gripped the handle of his scythe, his mind thinking on Rolfa's words, whether or not they’d be able to defeat the High Kraslucist or not. The weight of his promise only made him doubt himself

   He took a deep breath, trying not to wince from the pain in his lungs. The grip on his scythe’s handle had increased, steeling his resolve. We will kill the High Kraslucist, not as an exorcist but for the people that died for our goal and the ones whose dreams I bear on my shoulder.

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