Chapter 127. The Other Side
The situation was, all in all, not very tactically optimal. Levi would’ve preferred to do this far, far away from the potential future leader of Yukihasa. Unfortunately, beggars couldn’t be choosers; tonight’s celebration was the first time Levi had seen Terminus since the Emperor’s death a week ago. Apparently, the man had been helping the Resistance retake the remaining unsurrendered islands. Since there was a good chance that Terminus might disappear for good after tonight, Levi and the others had decided to just confront him on the rooftop.
Fortunately, Yuki wasn’t objecting. While Levi hadn’t explained the specifics to her, she seemed to have gleaned from their interactions that Levi and Terminus’s alliance had very much been an ‘enemy of an enemy is my friend’ type deal. And now that the Emperor was dead and the civil war was over…
Well. Suffice to say, all bets were off.
Although Terminus’s posture remained relaxed, his eyes flitted around rapidly as he took in their positions. They had him completely surrounded: Levi to his front, Anastasia to his left, Selene to his right, and Qorbin right behind him. The rooftop beneath them curved upward in a mild slope, ornate layered tiles that gleamed under the moonlight.
“I feel saddened,” Terminus said. “Is this really necessary after all we’ve been through? We made such a good team, taking down the Emperor together.”
“I agree,” Levi said. “That’s why I’m offering you the chance to surrender. Please, do feel inclined to not take it.”
“Now, just where is this animosity coming from…”
Levi raised an eyebrow. “The wyvern cave setup. The archdaemon ritual. Killing Duke Montague.” He ticked them off on his fingers as he listed them out. “Not to mention the goblin enclaves.”
Terminus frowned. “You knew that was us?”
“No, but thanks for confirming it,” Levi said. “I recognized the runic scripts on the cavern walls.”
“Ah…” Terminus coughed. “Well. Technically, I wasn’t directly involved in any of those – Phantasm is the one you should be mad at, really…”
“Yeah? How about starting the whole Yukihasan civil war?”
Levi thought that Terminus would claim extenuating circumstances or blame the Chorus. Instead, the man’s expression fell, a shadow of something that looked like regret, even guilt, passing over his face.
“Yeah,” he said in a quiet, somber tone. “Yeah, that was me.”
Levi stared at Terminus, and unbidden, he recalled the man’s words. This war is my sin to bear.
If nothing else, at least Terminus recognized the weight of what he’d done–
“No.”
The word sliced through the tension with a screech. They all paused, whirling around.
Yuki stood there, crimson eyes steely as she gazed at each of them in turn. Despite all five of them being significantly stronger than her, she showed no signs of uncertainty or fear. Her eyes finally fell on Terminus, who for once looked like he didn’t know what to expect.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while now,” Yuki said, “but as much as I wish to blame you for what you did ten years ago…” She sighed. “The truth of the matter was, my father was a horrible man and an even worse ruler. Perhaps he hadn’t been as brutal or inhumane before the Chorus influenced him, but… Is there truly a difference between treating the people of this land as cattle or insects? War was inevitable, necessary even. The country had already been on the verge of a meltdown for years. A boiling pot of pain and resentment. All you did was open the lid.”
Terminus visibly flinched. He didn’t even try to mask the reaction. “W-What?”
“I’m saying, Terminus, that it wasn’t your fault.”
Terminus stared at her, his eyes wide, but Yuki’s expression was clear, not a hint of judgement or condemnation in her eyes. And it was that sincerity, nothing else, that seemed to finally shake the man to his very core.
“How… How can you not blame me for everything that’s happened the past ten years?” Terminus whispered. “Everyone who died, every last man, woman, and child that was cut down by the imperial forces…” He swallowed. “I was going to let you die, Yuki. My entire plan hinged on your death.”
The man seemed to have forgotten that Levi and the others were even there. Levi would’ve taken advantage of the opening, but there was a certain rawness to Terminus’s voice, a suppressed desperation that Levi knew so very well.
The voice of a man who utterly hated and condemned himself.
And Yuki smiled a small, sad smile.
“Seven years ago, I witnessed a man abandon his mission to save a lost girl’s life, the very daughter of the tyrant he was sent to kill. And seven years since, I saw that man do everything in his power to help save this country – even if he had to sacrifice the life of that same girl he grew to care for as his own.”
“I – what are you talking about?” Terminus said. “You were just an ally of convenience.”
“Really?” Yuki narrowed her eyes. “So all those times you tried to figure out another method to negate [Bloodline Rebirth], all those favors you called in and ancient scrolls you searched for… You did all that just for an ally of convenience? I’m not stupid. Or did you really think I was so blind as to not see the relief in your eyes when Levi’s soul magick worked?”
Yuki glared at him, as if daring him to deny it. Terminus didn’t respond. But then again, he didn’t need to.
Everyone present already knew the answer.
Yuki nodded, satisfied. “How can I not blame you, you ask? It’s very simple. How can I blame you, Terminus?”
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And Terminus sagged, as if her words had just lifted the very weight of the world from his back.
“I see,” he said softly. “I… I’m glad.”
There was a long moment of silence.
Naturally, Qorbin Ravenbane broke it.
“This is heartwarming and all,” he said. “But even if the whole clusterfuck of a civil war wasn’t Terminus’s fault, he’s still a part of the Crucible, an organization that I’ve spent an egregious amount of time and effort hunting down. So do forgive me if I cut in here, but I’m gonna have to–”
Terminus tapped his foot on the rooftop tiles, and without warning, the world around Levi shifted. Space distorted, stretching out and compressing, before it restabilized around him.
Levi tensed up, glancing around. He was no longer on the rooftop; in fact, judging by the fluctuations in the local spacetime, Levi doubted whether he was still in the physical realm. The world around him appeared muffled, blurry, as if he were underwater. All the others had disappeared, with only Terminus left standing across from him.
The rules of the space had somehow been rewritten to only allow ‘Levi Ironwood’ and ‘Terminus’ inside. A subliminal layer beneath the normal level of reality, though not a natural one; an entirely artificial realm that had been created, or rather induced, by some external foreign power that Levi identified with his True Sight–
“This is your Conceptual Skill?” Levi asked.
Terminus nodded distractedly. “The god of Limits granted me the skill [Domain Creation]; with it, I can rewrite the rules of space to create a personal realm.” Terminus still seemed to be affected by what Yuki had just said. He frowned, looking down at the ground, before glancing back up to stare at Levi for a long time, as though he were trying to decide something.
Finally, his expression set.
“How much did Phantasm tell you about the Crucible?”
“Not much, only that its purpose is to ‘save the world,’” Levi said. “We were planning to interrogate you after we captured you.”
Terminus snorted. “Not a hint of doubt in your voice… Before, I would’ve thought you to be arrogant, but now… I suppose there was a reason why Phantasm didn’t want to be present for this.”
“Present for what?”
Terminus didn’t answer. “You can skip the interrogation. I’ll explain the Crucible’s purpose to you.”
Levi frowned. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Terminus said. “Allow me to start from the beginning. I do not know how familiar you are with the greater geopolitical situation of Koxus, but… This world is rotten, Levi Ironwood. Yukihasa had its Emperor, but even before then, the country was controlled by an elite class of power-hungry adventurer-warriors. Valaria runs on the principle of might makes right, where any atrocity is forgiven and even supported so long as it’s performed by someone strong enough. Alass’s government is too concerned with building up its wealth to feed its own citizens. And Luminarche – well, I’m sure I don’t need to explain to you the blatant corruption of your own country.”
Slowly, Levi inclined his head. He was very familiar with that: the adventurers that abandoned Canum, how the Adventurer’s Guild by default redistributed Andevar’s payment because he was a commoner, Liliya’s kangaroo trial with the Council, the whole situation with Mythmaker Hawke… It wasn’t a very good look.
“Of course, the nonhuman countries aren’t much better,” Terminus said. “They refuse to cooperate with us because they fear us, distrust us, or otherwise view us as inferior specimens – as if Aldric Heimler and Qorbin Ravenbane didn’t run circles around Arcedia during the Third Blood War…” He shook his head. “But I’m getting off track. The point is, adventurers all around the world, most often from an upper class or noble lineage, care only for their personal power, prestige, progression, or wealth. They are disgusting, foul creatures who freely trample on and exploit those beneath them without regret or remorse.”
Terminus’s dark eyes pierced into Levi’s. “This is the world we live in today. The Age of Adventurers.” He sneered. “A contemptible age nothing like the Age of Heroes that came before it. Adventurers have been steadily declining for centuries, growing more pathetic with every generation, and at this current rate, mankind will surely fall. The adventurers of today are too petty, too selfish, too craven to stand up to any real threats.”
“Not all,” Levi pointed out. “The Three Pillars–”
“Hah!” Terminus laughed. “It’s funny you mention them. The civil war started ten years ago, yet the Chorus only took control of them seven years ago. Do you know what the Three Pillars did during those three years?”
“What?”
“Nothing!” Terminus spat. “I was waiting for them to act, to do anything. Yet, they never did. They were content to sit by and watch their country rip itself apart while justifying themselves by saying that they were Ascendants, that they didn’t interfere with mundane affairs, that such a war was beneath them–” He slashed his hand across the air. “People were dying! Innocents were dying! And the Ascendants just watched! They may be strong in a fight, but their hearts?” His eyes blazed. “Their hearts are worthless.”
Levi stared at him. That… That made a surprising amount of sense. Qorbin had once said something similar about the Ascendants in Luminarche, hadn’t he? During the Third Blood War, only one out of the three Ascendants in Luminarche had been willing to help. That was partly why Luminarche had struggled so much.
“So worthless, in fact,” Terminus continued, vitriol in his voice, “that they allowed themselves to get controlled by the Chorus like barking dogs for seven years – seven fucking years!” He scoffed. “Tell me, Levi Ironwood. How long did the Chorus manage to possess Phantasm? A minute? Less? It’s disgraceful!”
He drew in a deep breath, calming himself. “Forgive me, I lost myself for a moment there. Getting back to the matter at hand… To accomplish our goal of saving the world, the Crucible’s plan is rather simple. We intend to–”
“I understand now,” Levi said, cutting him off. “You intend to plunge the world into war and impose overwhelming adversity to create a new generation of heroes, don’t you? That’s the Crucible’s plan.”
Terminus looked momentarily taken aback before laughing. “You put it together?”
“I had my suspicions, but I didn’t fully realize until now.”
Terminus chuckled. “I see. You’re right, of course. The Age of Heroes was a glorious age, where brave men and women rose up to fight terrible monsters for no reason other than because it was what they had to do. They expected no reward, they coveted no glory. All they cared about was saving as many people as possible for the sake of humanity’s future. Unfortunately, they succeeded. In the past thousands of years, humanity constructed great cities, built grand walls, created incredible barriers – and in doing so, they became depraved, sinful degenerates. The Heroes of old would weep if they saw the adventurers of today.”
Levi examined Terminus with an unreadable gaze. “So to rectify that, the Crucible is going to tear down those great cities and grand walls and incredible barriers?”
Terminus nodded. “We will cast humanity into darkness. The world will become a raging inferno, and those very flames will forge and temper men into heroes.” He smiled. “It will be–”
“A crucible,” Levi said in realization. The answer had been in the name all along.
A crucible was a container within which metal was superheated and melted into something stronger.
“Precisely,” Terminus said, sounding pleased.
Levi was silent for a moment.
“I see,” he finally murmured. “So, what now? Will you try and kill me to stop me from foiling your plans?” His magic swirled around him, a wind picking up despite the still air. “Is that why you pulled me into your domain?”
Terminus blinked. “What? Kill you?” He chortled. “Heavens, no. I pulled you in here for privacy.”
Levi furrowed his brow. “Privacy?”
“Well, yeah,” Terminus said. He smiled. “Can’t exactly make you a job offer while a High Priestess and Grand Assassin are watching, now can I?”