Cataclysm War | Chapter 86: The Breath Before the Plunge (First Draft)

Thursday, August 11, 4 S.E.

Leonidas leaned on the guardrail on his balcony, as high as his chest, of the palace under the starlight, looking out over the brightly lit expanse of Dawnhaven after sunset in pensive silence.

His blue eyes swept over the vista of his new home with quiet consideration as he wondered what the morning would bring. The past three days had been filled with preparation and planning, ranging from force allocation to cautious arming of any citizen past their first tempering. The majority of them already held Classes and weapons that were relevant to their classification, but Leonidas had poured the treasury into creating what he had dubbed the ‘Milites Civitas’.

He had been clear in his orders, and the Aegis of Avalon had carried them out methodically, holding large rallies and meeting with the city’s heralds to disseminate the information. At its core, it was the notion of self-reliance and emergency conscription. Every fighting-age citizen of the Kingdom with an appropriate Class would be—if they were not already sufficiently equipped—armed with appropriate equipment at the Crown’s expense, with a signed agreement in return to stand in protection of the City if needed.

He’d delegated the formations as specific to their main locale in the City, instead of organizing them into a more formal force. The basic idea was simple: four Quarters in the City, four Formations to defend them; Prosperity, Residential, Sunset, Moonrise. Each Formation was assigned a Command Dagger from the Royal Guard to lead them, and organized into more simplistic forces more readily understood by his own people.

Each Squad was 10 citizens, each Platoon was 40, each Company was 160, each Battalion was 640, each Regiment was 2,560, and each Division was 10,240.

With 65,000 or so people over Initiate in the City, that created a divide of around 20,480 per Formation, excluding support personnel that could be mobilized as roaming reinforcements for each group. The Formations had been dubbed ‘Shield Hosts’ and given instructions for an emergency muster.

It was a chaotic, by no means properly ordered undertaking, but it was better than leaving everything in chaos.

All manner of native Terrans had collected themselves in Dawnhaven as refugees and survivors following the System’s arrival, drawn as much by the City’s strength as they were by rumors of safety, or found by scouting forces across the intervening years. The multitudinous military veterans within the City had been called into Crown service using his name, and a shocking number had answered the call.

The Royal Guard had discovered dozens of enlisted personnel from the US Armed Forces, and far more Officers than he’d ever have expected. Many of them were already Initiates or higher, having responded to the System Integration with the raw-throated Terran vigor the US Military had been known for, and once Ceruviel had eliminated the few potentially bad eggs from the mix with exhaustive Psionic assessment, the remainder had been placed into key Command positions within the Shield Legions.

I only hope I won’t need them.

The thought was what mainly occupied him as he stared out at the City, wearing only his loose-fitting silk pajama pants—white, tonight—and nothing else. The material faintly billowed around his ankles into the altitude breeze, and he quietly watched his Thronehold with a protective gaze.

King for barely two weeks, and I’m already facing a crisis.

Elatra had prepared Leonidas for such a circumstance far better than he’d ever want to admit—he’d been the defender in more than a dozen sieges—and had hardened him against the brutality of what might come, but he never enjoyed the moment. The screams, the destruction, the blood, the death; all of it was wrapped up in memories of literal Hell he’d rather never experience again.

But it had shaped him. It had been a crucible that had nearly shattered his mind, but now that he was stronger, he could more easily draw benefits from it.

Between his heightened Intelligence and its cold logic, paired with his immense Willpower—prodigious, even, for his Rank—and innate sense of purpose, he’d crafted a mindset that better allowed him to be ready for what may come. He didn’t relish it, he didn’t look forward to it, and he’d rather be seen as paranoid and overreactive than be proven right.

Yet Primus had warned him that something was coming.

So Leonidas had prepared and accepted responsibility.

Bare footsteps joined him on the balcony, and Leonidas didn’t need his [Psionic Focus] to know that Aylar had stepped out to accompany him in the windswept night. His right arm lifted instinctively, and she stepped under it, pressing her silk-robed form to his and kissing his jaw in greeting.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked simply, turning her beautiful pale features to look out at the city.

“Afraid not,” Leonidas said quietly, working to keep his voice relaxed. “Too much on my mind.”

“You’re worried about what Primus spoke of, husband. That is a Monarch’s duty,” Aylar responded warmly, and rested her arms on the balcony’s white guardrail, held aloft on pale pillars. “If you were relaxed, you’d not be the man I married, Leonidas. I do try my best to ameliorate your worries, though…”

Leonidas smiled quietly at her words and glanced down at her blonde hair, bereft of her crown, then redirected his eyes back to the city.

“Not even your insatiable appetite for lovemaking can stop my mind racing, Aylar. I lose myself when I’m with you, which I’m thankful for, but after enough time, I can’t help but obsess again. I want to be wrong, you know? I want this to all be an overreaction, but if it isn’t—”

“Then you’ve done everything you possibly can to protect our people,” his wife replied calmly, lifting her head to kiss his lips softly, before turning back to the view. “I never imagined this would be my first two weeks as Queen. I expected stability, perhaps expansion, not a looming threat of unnamed origin.”

Leonidas nodded after she spoke, idly enjoying the taste of her on his lips as he ruminated.

“I had the same thought,” he confessed. “It feels like the hits don’t stop coming. Bam! Rite of Ascension. Bam! Royal Challenge. Bam! Monarch. Bam! Baron Cartellis—”

“Bam! City-threatening event,” Aylar concluded with an audible smile. “I know, my heart. That is something we Alterans grew accustomed to over the millennia.”

“I thought your homeworld was relatively tame?” Leonidas questioned.

“It’s not tame,” Aylar said with a faint shake of her head, “just adapted. The Integration has cycles, Leonidas, as you know. We’re in the fourth wave right now. Each wave corresponds to increasingly stronger manabeast Integration, among other things. By the tenth wave, we’ll have Saint-level calamities unleashed on the world. Altera has been a System World for tens of thousands of years.”

“So, lots of bad things,” Leonidas surmised wryly.

“Many of them,” Aylar agreed with faint mirth. “That also leads to people like Alurien Starsword existing. There were eight Saint-level Cultivators on Altera when I left, and five of them were sworn to my family. Eldormer rules Altera, but there are always rebellions, schisms, the odd secession crisis, or an attempt at dynastic supplantation. It’s been far less common in the last four millennia, but it still happens.”

Leonidas nodded at her words and shifted so that she was more securely between his arms, bending to rest his chin on his Queen’s left shoulder and enjoy the scent of her presence.

“So basically, things are going to keep getting worse before they get better.”

“Yes,” Aylar confirmed, tilting her head to rest against his own affectionately. “We’ll see Calamity Beasts sooner rather than later. They’re probably already stirring, if historical recollection from Altera is any guide. They may not attack for a while until they gather the required strength, but they’ll be a threat we’ll need to face.”

“You don’t think that’s what Primus was warning about?”

Aylar went silent for a moment at his words, and then quietly hummed before faintly shaking her head.

“No, I do not. It’s too early. What knowledge we retain from Altera’s Integration alludes to a more expansive timescale. They’ll be out there, but they’ll need more time to restore their strength. The System wants us to thrive, beloved. It just wants us to grow stronger as we do. There are rules it follows, enigmatic and incomprehensible as it seems, at times.”

Leonidas nodded faintly at her words and kissed her cheek.

“Primus said the same,” he murmured, his voice quiet. “Apparently, the System’s already directly interfered with my growth, and the Administrators don’t know why. Something about being a Cataclysm.”

“A daunting and awesome burden, both, Leonidas. The System’s direct attention is no small thing,” she said with acknowledgement. “We all felt it when you recited your [Knight Oath].”

“I’d rather just be someone unimportant,” he muttered. “If not for the fact I’d have never been able to marry you, I’d choose that in a heartbeat.”

Aylar laughed softly at his words and shifted, reaching up with her left hand to drag her nails lovingly along his cheek.

“Some people are born to their fate, my heart. I have no doubt you are one of them. Even if you weren’t the Cataclysm, an unimportant life would never suit you. Look at your sister, parents, and grandparents. They aren’t Cataclysms either, but their legends are already known.”

Leonidas sighed quietly at her words, even though she had a point.

“Not all legends are for the better,” he murmured.

“I know,” Aylar said empathetically, her nails pleasantly scratching at his stubble, “but they remain legends. Even if you weren’t a Cataclysm, I doubt we would have never met. Married? Who knows, but we’d definitely know of one another.”

“I suppose,” he conceded, before smiling quietly. “Though the marriage part is definitely something I’d rather not trade.”

“Yes, well, judging by your vigor lately, I am not surprised,” she admitted in a shy voice.

“My Queen, that is positively sordid,” Leonidas said in mock recrimination. “How undignified of you, Missus Pendragon.”

“I only follow my King’s example, Mister Pendragon,” Aylar replied with a quiet laugh, and pressed her cheek to his. “In all seriousness, though, Leonidas, you have done more than enough to prepare. There is always more, I know that, but at this stage it’s a waiting game. We can only continue preparation and hope for the best outcome, while planning for the worst.”

Leonidas paused at her words and exhaled quietly.

“The Second Trial is on your mind, too?” he guessed gently.

“It is,” his wife admitted honestly. “The City burning, our friends sacrificing themselves, the Thronehold lost…”

“It won’t come to that,” Leonidas said with quiet resolve. “I won’t allow it.”

“For all your power, husband, you are still an Adept,” Aylar said without insult, and gently stroked his jaw in a way Leonidas could tell was intended to be reassuring. “We have the two most powerful Cultivators on the known Continent at our side. We are ready for what may come.”

“I also have [Cataclysm Overdrive],” Leonidas said after a moment, “but I want to avoid using it if I can. I’ve got a feeling it’ll lead to trouble if I rely on it too much.”

Aylar nodded in agreement and turned to kiss his cheek again in reward for his words. “It is a double-edged blade, beloved. It worries me how you were when you used it. Euphoric, yes, but your eyes were edged with mania.”

“Mania is a good word for it,” Leonidas concurred after consideration. “I felt immortal, invincible, and addicted all in one breath. The world was so vivid, Aylar. It felt like I’d woken up fully after being half-asleep—like I had a taste of my power from Elatra once more.”

The Swordmaiden hummed at his words and finally nodded.

“I remember. You were equivalent to a Transcendant, you said?”

“Thereabouts,” Leonidas confirmed. “I could split mountains in one stroke.”

“The Seven Sword Arts?”

“Yeah,” Leonidas confirmed again as the wind rustled their hair. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to use them with Cataclysm Mana, honestly. It’s not quite clicking yet, but I’m getting there.”

“Is that why you didn’t use them against Valerian or Braedon?” Aylar asked while brushing some golden strands from her eyes.

“Partially,” Leonidas answered honestly. “Part of it was just a subconscious desire not to rely on my Elatran tricks, I think. The Sword Arts were made for a [Radiance Core]. I’m a little worried they may change in unexpected ways if I harness them with Cataclysm Mana.”

The Queen made a thoughtful sound and shifted her head to look at him.

“You used them in the Arena, as I recall. Could you not wield them with Psi?”

“It’s not the same thing,” Leonidas replied with a faint shake of his head. “I was a lot weaker when I used them in the Arena. If I used them as I am now, I worry about losing control.”

His posture alternated, and he slid his arms around her, clasping them over her defined abdominal muscles to offer her more warmth from the chill breeze as he continued.

“The Sword Arts use Intent and Ideation more than anything else. I visualize the result and actualize it through each Art,” he explained while sweeping his eyes over the City’s arcane lighting thoughtfully. “Each form activates a different Intent, and I partially use Ideation to bring them to life. Sunder the Heavens, for example, could accidentally rip a tear in reality as I am now.”

“Are you certain you aren’t overestimating yourself?” she asked with faint amusement.

“Not entirely,” he admitted, “but it still worries me. I know I could be immensely destructive with them, but until I can guide that power safely, it worries me. The Sword Arts draw deeply on emotion to function, which ties into the Intent and Ideation. If my emotions are violent enough, which my [Cataclysm Core] only works to enhance, it could prove disastrous for my allies as much as my enemies.”

“You were worried about the civilians,” Aylar surmised immediately thereafter, her robe stirred by the wind. “They were everywhere in both your most recent duels.”

“Yeah,” Leonidas agreed quietly. “I want to teach them to you, honestly, but there’s already so much else to cover. Lumenkill Skills are number one on my list. I wish I could have taught you [Lumenkill Swordforce] already.”

“You’ve been trying, my heart,” Aylar said soothingly. “I still remember the feel of the Skills as they were in the Rite, but harnessing them from that alone is difficult. The concepts you’ve given me help, but I can’t quite get the [Light] Affinity to resonate with them.”

Leonidas nodded slightly at her words, sighing to himself.

“I was the equivalent of an Elite rank when I fully actualized the Lumenkill Skills,” he said with an internal flicker of frustration. “I translated that to [Psionic Swordforce] as easily as I did because of extensive practice in Elatra. I wish I could just give you that understanding, but my [Psionic Communication] hasn’t unlocked yet.”

“It is not your fault,” Aylar reassured him, and leaned back into his embrace. “What did Ceruviel say about it?”

“She thinks I have a subconscious block because of my traumas,” Leonidas said with a grimace. “She may not be entirely wrong, but it’s still frustrating.”

“You’ll find the path,” his wife assured him confidently. “I know you will.”

Leonidas smiled despite himself and moved his head to kiss her cheek.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, and wrapped her more tightly in his embrace.

Aylar hummed in pleasure in response and faintly tilted her head.

“It’s so quiet,” the Queen murmured as she snuggled into him more comfortably. “It feels like the world is taking a breath.”

“It is,” Leonidas said, his eyes searching the horizon. “It was like this on Elatra, too. It’s the deep breath before the plunge. Just like when you take in air before leaping into water.”

Aylar glanced up at him when he spoke, and her hands moved to fold over his affectionately, while the wind tossed her golden hair in a delightfully feminine way.

“I forget, sometimes, how much you’ve experienced,” the Queen said with loving empathy. “You’ve seen a war on a scale that even shocks Ceruviel and Uriel. While I would never wish those nightmares on you, husband, I feel relieved that we have you leading us.”

Leonidas narrowed his eyes at her words and pressed his lips against her hair.

“Pray it will not be relevant, my heart,” he said to her softly, “because if what is coming is anything like Elatra, that bodes ill for all of us.”

Aylar fell silent at his words, and Leonidas stood with her in matched quiet, watching over the city as it lived and prospered beneath their joint gazes.

Whatever comes, I’m ready, he promised to the silence of his own mind when his eyes raked the dark horizon searchingly. Just try and take my peace from me. I’ll show you all why Demons learned fear at my hand.