By The Blood

Aurelian often wondered why the Ministry would allow the use of the waygate. Even if it was safer than traveling through the Astra itself, it was still within the Astra—a place of damnation and corruption. He sighed, stretching out his hands before placing them over his eyes.

Just then, he noticed a man accompanied by two guardsmen walking toward the train. Unlike the others, this man’s attire was distinct—white, of course, but with a V-shaped neckline and slightly baggy trousers. He wore a stern expression, but instead of heading for the train’s door like everyone else, he passed by them all, heading to the pointed tip of the train. He touched something, and a hidden door slid open.

He stepped inside.

The Navigator? Aurelian thought. This was one of the reasons he still considered the waygate a risk. Even now, they required a Navigator from one of the Navigator Houses to shield the train with their mana, protecting the passengers while bearing the full brunt of whatever dangers lurked inside the Astra. He shook his head.

Suddenly, Aurelian noticed something unusual about one of the thugs standing nearby. The man pulled something from his ragged clothing—round, netted, and the size of a human head.

Soul Bomb!

Before Aurelian could react, a blinding light engulfed the entire station.

Boom!

Everything became a blur—hazy and disorienting. The world seemed to spin, and faint voices faded in and out of his hearing. After an unknown amount of time, Aurelian sluggishly opened his eyes. He saw men dressed in unique outfits, helmets on their heads, their hands outstretched as streams of water poured from them.

Flame Drowners!

Groaning, Aurelian staggered to his feet, grabbing something nearby for support. His vision slowly cleared, and the first thing he saw was a man dressed in clergy robes, with a green cloth draped over his shoulders and down the front of his chest. The man carried a case and was accompanied by guardsmen.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, leaning toward Aurelian with an amiable smile.

A doctor from the Sanitarium? Aurelian recognized the silver emblem on the man’s chest—the image of a snake coiled around a staff.

Realizing he hadn’t yet responded, Aurelian bowed slightly. "I’m fine, just a bit disoriented."

"That’s normal, given the circumstances." The doctor smiled, his gaze appraising. "A sanguine?"

Aurelian tensed. He glanced down at his clothes—though slightly tattered, they still had enough details to be recognized as kefna. Looking back at the doctor, he responded, "Seeking the ultimate."

The doctor nodded approvingly. "As it should be," he said, opening the case.

Inside were rows of potions, neatly arranged in specially shaped vials. Aurelian recognized the familiar red healing potion, along with others. From what he could see, there were no offensive potions, but he couldn’t be certain without the ability to appraise them—a skill left to the notaries.

"Drink this," the doctor said, handing him a potion. It was red, like the healing ones, but the color seemed more faded, perhaps indicating a lower quality.

Aurelian accepted it without question, raising the vial to his lips and downing the liquid. Normally, he would hesitate before drinking something without knowing its exact contents, but this was the Sanitarium—often called the Life Ministry. Although they didn’t adhere to any specific religion, all eleven gods acknowledged their authority, allowing them to operate in their territories.

If the Pure acknowledges them, who am I to refuse?

As the potion took effect, Aurelian immediately felt the changes. He didn’t need to summon his face of the soul to sense the new component added to his being. Unlike abilities that required his will to activate, this potion was an active component—similar to the perks granted to special classes, it activated on its own.

The faint blur over his vision cleared, strength surged through him, and the soreness in his joints from sleeping on a pew faded away. He exhaled deeply, lowered his head, and said, "The Pure be with you."

The doctor simply nodded, not reciprocating the greeting.

The Sanitarium of Canen doesn’t even worship the Pure White? Aurelian thought, feeling a twinge of bitterness. Why not honor the god who grants you access to his domain? He quickly dismissed the thought.

The doctor glanced toward a sub-human in the corner. The thug was badly injured, with parts of his leg blown off, and thick, dark blood oozing from the wound. He groaned in pain, clearly suffering. Wasn’t it his kind that used the Soul Bomb in the first place? Aurelian tensed once again. He had been exposed to a heretical construct, a Soul Bomb. He would need purification. I’ll visit the Cathedral after this.

As for the situation around him, Aurelian wasn’t particularly surprised. These were terrorist attacks—usually carried out by sub-humans or heretical factions. Though less frequent in Canen, they were far more devastating in the hive or forge cities, where protection was less reliable. Even during his time as a guardsman, Aurelian had witnessed a few such attacks.

Sub-humans, often feeling oppressed, would find ways to acquire weapons—cannons, chain-swords, and in one instance, shard armor. These creatures would then wreak havoc before eventually being subdued by the Guardsmen, Swordsmen, Freeblades, or even a sanguine looking to gain favor from the Ministry or the Empire as a whole.

Aurelian often wondered how these supposedly low-intelligence beings managed to organize such meticulous attacks. But then, he remembered—he had once stormed a regiment’s fortress, killed numerous guardsmen, a legionnaire, and had come close to killing an archon. When you put it in perspective, simply buying and using a weapon wasn’t such a lofty task for these mindless brutes.

The doctor’s gaze lingered on the injured thug for a moment, but he did nothing. He simply nodded to Aurelian before moving on to another human. The thug would likely die.

Aurelian gave the pale-faced, bald-headed thug one final glance before turning to survey the aftermath of the blast.

Originating from near the train door, a vine-like or thorny pattern had scorched the ground, leaving a charred span that stretched five men across. It wasn’t a powerful bomb—thank the Pure. The overall damage was minimal, save for the bleeding and wailing humans—some of whom were missing limbs. But at least they were being tended to by the doctors.

Nothing significant had been damaged, except for the stone pillar closest to the door, which now lay broken, causing the tarp roof to sag on one side. Aurelian watched the scene, stretched out his hand, and placed it over his chest.

"Aurelian?" A familiar voice called out to him. It was a voice he knew well—once loved, but also one that now stirred a sense of dread deep within him. He turned, already knowing who it was.

Aletha, with her pitch-black hair that seemed to create a void around her, walked under the tarp canopies. She wore the standard guardsmen's uniform with an added jacket and a silver emblem on the side—the eagle of the Empire.

Her clothes... That's the uniform of a garrison captain! Aurelian thought, fighting to suppress the unease she always made him feel. Congratulations, he added silently.

Despite the smile on her narrow-jawed face, her black eyes, which seemed to shift into reptilian slits, gave off an aura of nightmares—his greatest nightmare, now approaching him in human form, moving with gentle but deliberate steps.

She opened her arms for a hug, but Aurelian tensed momentarily. Because of the way she dressed, so often like a man, Aurelian had subconsciously attributed certain customs to her. After all, men weren't supposed to hug other men. Why even do it? They weren’t... What did Raoul call it? He struggled to remember.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Aurelian parted his arms, allowing their bodies to come together in an embrace. She was warm. He recalled her scent—so pure. When he wasn't looking directly at her, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. But that all vanished the moment he saw her face. Ironic? Yes.

"You're back?" Aletha asked as they pulled away from the embrace. The dread returned instantly.

Aurelian hesitated, then said, "Yes." Did she know about him? Did she know what he had done?

Aletha studied him for a moment and then said, "I'll give you a chance to explain yourself. Let's find somewhere you can escape from if you can't."

Aurelian’s body tensed.

They found a small shop, its white walls accented with faint traces of blue along the edges. There were only a few round tables and a counter off to the side. They hadn’t ordered anything and simply stared at each other in silence. Protocol dictated that a man and a woman should not dine together in public.

"About what?" Aurelian asked, pretending not to know.

"What do you mean, 'about what'? About you!" Aletha’s voice had a sharp edge. "I’ve been hearing rumors... with proof that you tried to assassinate an Archon."

"I failed," Aurelian added, almost instinctively.

Aletha’s brow arched. "You failed? You committed treason, and all you have to say is that you failed?"

She wouldn't understand, no matter what I say... Aletha has always been a stone for rules. Aurelian lowered his gaze.

Aletha gripped the table tightly, nearly rising from her seat before stopping herself. Always impulsive, yet never fully acting on it—that was Aletha.

"Did you really do it?" she asked, her voice now softer, almost pleading for him to lie. But he wouldn’t.

"I did," Aurelian admitted.

Aletha groaned in frustration, leaning back in her chair. A long sigh escaped her lips. "Why in the Ruler’s name would you—"

"Aletha," Aurelian interrupted. "Do you trust me?" As the words left his mouth, he couldn’t help but feel the irony. She was usually the one asking for his trust, the more impulsive of the two.

Aletha stared at him, considering. Then she leaned forward, the dread she exuded intensifying. Even the people around them showed signs of unease—shaking, sweating—but even in the open ways of Canen, no one dared to speak up. Fear was a powerful force.

"I want to," Aletha said, her voice trembling. "Black! I’m usually the one asking for your trust."

"Then know this: I did what I did for a good reason." Aurelian didn’t want to tell her the full truth. If he was captured, he didn’t want her to be implicated. Yes, he wanted a happy life—with her, maybe... But her safety came first. Perhaps if he ever reached the Ultimate, he could finally have her by his side.

To Aurelian, the Ultimate symbolized power, happiness, and peace. But more than anything, it meant happiness and peace.

Aletha clasped her hands, her fingernails black like the darkest moonless night. She leaned in, her sweet scent filling the air between them. "What if you’re just delusional?"

"I didn’t do all this out of madness!" Aurelian snapped, surprising himself. Why would she say that? Yes, there was a time when he had suffered from madness, but that was so long ago—a consequence of being locked away by the priest. He had forgotten about it, and he had hoped she had too.

Aletha recoiled slightly—perhaps startled. He had never spoken to her that way before. Why had he now?

Sighing, she said, "I’m not calling you mad. It’s just... perhaps you need a soother to help you. I can’t understand why you would attack your Archon. You? The same man always ready to die for the Empire and the Ministry."

"And I still am... for the Ministry and the Empire," Aurelian said quietly, lowering his head. "All I’m asking is for you to trust me. The same trust you’ve asked of me countless times."

Aletha fell silent. She knew he was right. After a few long breaths, she sighed and tapped her finger against the table. "Back then, I was impulsive. But now I have a reputation to uphold—I’m a captain, for the Sovereign’s sake!"

"So, you don’t trust me?" Aurelian asked, feeling a bitter sting inside.

"No..." Aletha exhaled sharply. "I do trust you. I trust that you believe what you did was right. So, it’s not you I trust, but your judgment... I just hope I won’t have to hunt you down someday."

"I hope so too," Aurelian said, then added silently, If that ever happens, I’ll end my life before an you can take me... but after I kill Putray.

Aletha studied him for a while longer, then smiled slightly. "You’re not even going to congratulate me on my promotion to captain?"

"I already have," Aurelian said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"When?" Aletha asked, surprised.

"The moment I saw you," Aurelian said softly.

"Through the fear?" She seemed genuinely taken aback.

"Always."

For a moment, the silence between them was profound. Even the murmurs of the surrounding patrons seemed to fade into nothingness. There was only her... Her face, which terrified him, and her smile, which warmed him. I could settle for her as my Ultimate.