194. The Flame Withered

Beneath the smouldering wreckage of debris, exposed wires, composite shards, and the buckled structures of what was once a symbol of grandeur, a sullen flame roared with twirling smoke. The sharp mountain where the vessel had crash-landed was torn bare, exposing the black dirt and rocks beneath the forest bed.

A shriek of churning metal echoed as the ground trembled. A few moments later, an ablaze figure emerged from the destruction, his metal boots stomping on the ash.

Celestius Ignius Lux Draconus stepped out, his posture ever regal. He was clad in furious, amber-red armour, his sharp, jagged helmet fully obscuring his face. His golden eyes glowed, the light seeping out from the multiple slits in the protruding visor. An aura of bursting flame, akin to a mystical cloak, engulfed him. The man had become a walking herald, perhaps the very embodiment of Aries’ inferno.

“This is the true extent of D’Arcane,” he murmured, flexing his gloved hands experimentally and feeling the surge of explosive power within. Satisfied with his new armour, Ignius turned his attention and scanned the destroyed mountain. “It could have turned out terribly if I hadn’t activated it in time.”

“Heheh…” A dry, wheezing laugh reverberated from the side.

Ignius spun to see Lunarius Willhelm propped against a shattered stone, his legs spread outward. His hands were limp at his sides, the Arc Sceptre still emitting a faint light in his grasp.

Mournful and helpless.

“Willhelm…” Ignius stood over the dying man, studying him with a look of pity. Willhelm's angelic face was tainted by blood and lacerations, his once-beautiful emerald eye barely open.

As the Celestius of Aries, Ignius had known the elven mage for decades and had even mentored him on multiple occasions. “Always too righteous to see the grand scheme of the world, and the will of the divinity,” he scoffed softly. The surrounding fire settled into a soft, crumbling sigh as the last log collapsed into glowing embers.

“It should have…” Willhelm whimpered, his gaze falling to his most prized artefact. “It should have… killed you…” A cough of blood poured from his mouth. He forced his jaw shut, ignoring the pain. "I shall show no weakness in the eyes of evil," he believed.

“It should have,” Ignius murmured, his voice a calm river flowing through the carnage. He gestured toward the dead-silent battlecruiser. “If I hadn’t mustered D’Arcane.”

Not a single soul survived. Their withered corpses, shells of men still at their posts, told a story of a death that had nothing to do with gravity.

“Mustered?!” Willhelm’s laugh was a wet, ragged bark, torn from his lungs by a fit of coughing. “You drained them to death, you vile monster.”

A grimace of pure contempt tightened his face, his eyes stretched wide. That stare was more than hatred; it was the consecration of a man who would see justice done, even if it cost him everything.

“Stubborn, like the rest of them.” Ignius crouched, taking the sceptre from his hand. Willhelm’s eyes lingered on it until Ignius dismissed it in a spark of light.

“I’m not here to kill you. I’m merely here to stop you, Lunarius Willhelm Mae Arden,” Ignius announced, the ebb and flow of dark flame coiling around his arms.

"You made me realise one thing. Strength. I recognised your strength," Ignius articulated with a sense of fulfilment.

"What... are... you... talking about?" Willhelm asked and coughed, blood dripping from his lips.

“Perhaps there is a spot for you in the new world after all.” Ignius continued, extending a hand to the heavens above.

Even in his numbing state, Willhelm could smell the rotten magic in the air. His eyes widened in realisation. “NOOOO!!!” Willhelm screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice strained.

“Iasis!” a voice chimed.

***

On the commanding bridge of the Santose V battlecruiser, Rhok Wagner inspected the battle formation. “That Armatus model is a real piece of work,” he mumbled to himself, rubbing his gloved hands together. Armatus Celer was slowly gaining ground. Meanwhile, his own fleet of Armatus made a strategic retreat. The ultra-high-speed Armatus took out his knights one squadron after another. Zetius's offensive assault was lethal and relentless.

Heavy footsteps stopped behind Rhok, and he spun around instinctively. His eyes met with a fully-armoured figure wreathed in a roaring flame cape. He blinked twice, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Almost.

“Celestius Ignius, is that you?” Rhok withdrew slightly, his voice uncertain.

“Who else could it be?” Ignius replied in a slightly muffled tone. “It seems like Zetius is giving you some trouble.” He spoke up, inspecting the screen. His words stirred the tension in the room.

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“I’ll finish him myself,” Rhok proposed outright.

Ignius didn’t utter a word. Instead, he stepped to the side and gestured for Rhok to pass.

Before Rhok responded, he turned toward his second-in-command, “Admiral Quin, you take the helm,” He commanded, his voice certain.

“Acknowledged.” Quin saluted and stepped towards the main command chair.

“But, you might need a bit of help,” Ignius muttered, weaving his fingers through the air. A dark vortex slithered from his arms into his palms. The stench of brimstone and ash, like that of a burning corpse, almost caused Rhok to gag. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, forcing his saliva down his throat.

Eventually, Ignius chanted softly, like a whisper, before extending his palm outward. A golden scarab and red beetles flew into the air. Rhok finched, taking a short step back in bafflement.

“Take them. Have a taste of divine power,” Ignius commanded, flicking his hand.

Rhok cleared his throat, steeling himself as the mythical insects landed on his armour and merged into him.

“Rhok Wagner. It appears the god of war has called for you and Zetius, but only one with the will of fire shall rise above,” Ignius quoted, his tone solemn.

Suddenly, Rhok’s legs gave out, and he collapsed, his armour clanking loudly on the metal ground. A soft, collective gasp came from the bridge crew.

His fingers gripped the metal floor. A thumping heartbeat echoed in his ears as a surge of energy compelled him. His muscles felt vigorous, born anew. His pupils dilated, and he felt so alert it was as though he could see things more clearly, able to detect the slightest movement in the dimly lit chamber.

“Whoa! What is this?!” Rhok muttered, amazed by such profound power.

“Strength and endurance enhanced by the Divine Arcane,” Ignius replied sharply, satisfied with the result. “Now, I must prepare the ritual. Do not disappoint me, Platinum Knight Rhok Wagner.”

“Yes, sir,” Rhok replied, tilting his head upward to meet Ignius's gaze.

Without further delay, Ignius took his leave, the inferno cloak flicking and causing others to scramble out of his way.

Rhok rose to his feet, a surge of energy compelling him. He slowly clenched his gloved hands into fists, feeling an immense, unfamiliar power coiling in his muscles. "This is truly something else," he breathed in awe.

Rhok’s eyes swept the room and locked onto the nearest Gold Knight. “Prepare the Archangel,” Rhok commanded with a grin. “It’s time to finish this.”

***

The Armatus Celer zipped through the battlefield.

“Mmmmmm!” Frain sucked in her lips as the X-wing Armatus performed another aggressive manoeuvre. The sense of vertigo started to upset her stomach, and a small burp shot out of her nose.

Zetius side-eyed her with concern.

“Sorry!” she exclaimed sheepishly.

“Let it flow through you. Don’t fight it, Frain,” Zetius said, motioning his Armatus to pursue the enemy.

The lock-on indicator chimed, and his fingers hovered over the triggers. He waited patiently, his eyes narrowed, until the moment of alignment.

“There!” Cubie snapped.

A cannon blast pierced through them all, causing the enemy units to explode.

“Zetius! Another signature detected! It’s coming from your nine o’clock,” Cubie warned, showing the ping on his minimap.

“That’s from Santose V!” Zetius mumbled to himself, turning the Armatus in the direction of interest.

Instantly, the enemy forces circled him as though he were the eye of the storm. Then, they rounded out and headed south, toward the Zeigerlich battlecruiser.

With haste, he called Sandria. “Oh, Gaia! They’re after your battlecruiser! Recall all your fleets now!” Zetius bellowed, his voice strained.

“But what about you?” Sandria replied, her tone trembling with genuine worry.

“It’s fine! We can make it on our own!” Astrid’s voice crackled over the comms, supporting Zetius.

“Damn it!” Sandria groaned before issuing the command to her operators. “Alright, we’ll commence defensive protocols,” she said. But before she cut off the comm, she locked eyes with Zetius and Astrid, "Stay alive!" She repeated, her tone more rigid than usual.

“Of course! Will do,” Zetius reassured firmly, his expression remaining unfazed. Then her call disconnected.

“How’s your side?” Zetius asked, his eyes darting to Astrid’s X-12 vessel.

“We’ll do just fine, right, Friederich?” she bellowed to the back. In the background, Friederich gave a thumbs-up, a gesture that he was doing fine.

“Good luck, you two,” Zetius said, before motioning his Armatus toward Santose V.

In the distance, a white object was ejected from the Santose V battlecruiser. Zetius’s brows knitted as he tried to make out what it was.

“Optical zoom!” he ordered. The image became enlarged.

Frain poked her head from the side, sharing his confused look. “It looks like a chrysalis of sorts,” she wondered, tilting her head.

The massive outer shells gradually unfolded, transforming into two pairs of white, metallic wings that spread far and wide beyond its frame. Their surface had divine glossy finishes, exuding both elegance and intimidation.

“Wait… Look at its face… that’s an Armatus, right?” Zetius asked, pointing a finger at his screen.

Frain's lips parted in disbelief. She had never seen such a machine before. It resembled a flying sculpture more than an actual Armatus.

“That looks like a marble sculpture…” she mumbled, flabbergasted. It was clearly an Armatus with wings. The mechanical joints, thrusters, and weaponry were similar. That was the only giveaway. But the Armatus head had a white, marble-like mask. Instead of a standard visor and Armatus head, it had a classical, statuesque visage. Noble and timeless.

“It’s indeed an Armatus. Be careful, Zetius. This is far superior to anything I’ve ever witnessed,” Cubie warned, her tone mechanical.

“Got it,” Zetius replied, double-checking his fuel gauge. Only twenty-five per cent remaining offered no comfort to calm his nerves. "We only need to dance better."

Cold air crept through the cockpit as they tried to make sense of what they were up against.

[Incoming call!] Cubie blared abruptly.

“Zetius… It’s Rhok,” Cubie announced with uneasiness in her voice.