NOVEL WEB Chapter 1: You are now a Great Rebel
The beautiful seaside cliff had now become the silent observer of a gruesome encounter. A masked man, dressed in a black suit and a hat of the same colour, had just plunged his sword into the chest of another, white haired man, who was dressed in a white blouse. Among the broken remains of glasses, scattered like fallen stars upon the grassy earth, crimson droplets slowly descended from the pierced hole.
With a trembling hand, the white haired man clutched the masked man’s shoulder as their faces were right next to each other, as if the masked man was leaning forward to whisper something to him. The white haired man, with now soulless eyes, spoke to him, mustering every ounce of strength he had left.
“…Ah… it… was you… The… church…”
After a long pause, as if confirming the white haired man was done speaking, the masked man responded with a calm tone.
“Emon, could you tell me one thing? What your children mean to you?”
Emon’s mouth trembled as it was left open, and he began to haggardly gasp for air.
“…My…! Please! Don’t… touch them…! Don’t touch… my sons!”
Tears began to roll down his face. His house was right behind the masked man, in which his wife, alongside his two sons resided. He would sell his soul just in exchange for a short amount of strength enough to ward the masked man off, but, as life slowly dissipated from his body, all he could do was tremble in fear, grimacing, resting his chin on the masked man’s shoulder, who only silently listened to his cries of despair.
And that was when he responded to him, in an even calmer tone than before.
“Your children will be safe.”
“My… my… childr…”
“Do not fret, Emon…”
The masked man’s voice suddenly turned dark and malicious, as he set his eyes forward.
“…Because now, my rebellion has become your rebellion. You are now a Great Rebel.”
As Emon tremblingly tried to turn his head towards the masked man, he almost spoke his name out.
“…M…Mich…”
And right as he did so, the masked man mercilessly hauled his sword out of Emon’s chest. With the tip of his blade dripping blood, Emon fell on his knees, and afterwards dropped onto the grass face first. The masked man stared at his corpse for a moment until his tone took a serene turn once more, as he spoke to him.
“You have become me.”
Next to the masked man, a surge of black butterflies suddenly appeared from the sky, and formed into a figure. A young adult woman, presumably in her early twenties. She was dressed in a black, Gothic dress that was engraved with intricate carvings that contrasted sharply against her long, snow-white complexion and hair.
She knelt before the masked man, who still had his eyes glued onto Emon’s body, and said with a respectful tone.
“My Lord, your orders.”
“…Kill his wife. But leave his children indoors. “
She closed her eyes, and bowed her head.
“Yes, my Lord.”
She then stood up, and spread her right palm out in the air. A group of black butterflies appeared circling around her palm, eventually forming into a large, black coloured scythe. She took measured steps towards the house, and slowly pushed the already-unlocked door further open.
***
In Emon’s bedroom, his wife, Velera, was seen laying on her bed carrying two babies. She had beautiful long black hair, and her skin was very pristine and smooth. She could already hear the approaching footsteps of the woman, which caused her lips to curl up in a closed, bittersweet smile, as if she already knew what was awaiting her.
The door then opened, and one of the babies began to cry, having felt the prevalent, demoniacal presence of the young woman entering the room. The young woman, with an emotionless expression, gazed at Velera as she stood by the now closed door. Velera slowly raised her head, and spoke to her with a bittersweet tone.
“…I believe my time has finally come, has it not?”
“Thank you for your patience, Mother,” the young woman said, closing her eyes. “Please, forgive me for my actions.”
“No, it is fine,” Velera responded calmly. “Could you at least take my children to another place? I would rather not have them witness death upon their first few breaths…”
“Of course.”
The young woman placed her scythe on the ground, and received the two baby brothers, who began to cry loudly. It was not the feeling of suddenly losing the embrace of their mother, but it was the sheer evil aura that instantly washed over them as soon as the young woman’s hands came into contact with them. This caused Velera to let a single tear stroll down her right cheek, as she silently watched the young woman opening the door, and placing her children on the floor in the hallway.
The young woman turned back to her, and asked with a respectful tone.
“Will this suffice?”
“…Yes, thank you.”
She then closed her eyes as she grasped her scythe once more that hauntingly skimmed across the wooden ground as she slowly stepped towards Velera, the heart-wrenching cries of the babies just outside the door accentuating the gruesome moment.
As she stood before her, she raised her scythe, their eyes locked in a poignant exchange. And with an expressionless face, she said with a solemn tone…
“Now, then…
…I wish you a delightful rest, Mother.”
…
Outside, the man turned towards the house as he saw his servant walking outside. Judging by the crying sounds, he assumed she already succeeded in her task. Nevertheless, he asked her just to make sure.
“Did you succeed?”
“I have,” she responded, closing her eyes. “The children have been left inside. What do we do with Emon?”
“…We will bring it to the university. We have more than enough time before it opens.”
“Understood.”
…
From the young woman’s palm emerged a swirling vortex of black butterflies that enveloped the three within its sinister embrace. Hundreds of these delicate creatures danced around them, and coalesced into a magnificent spiral. With graceful fluidity, the spiral condensed into a single, slender current, and ascended into the sky, leaving behind the cruel scene as the cries of the babies gradually faded into the distance.
***
One of the classrooms in the university was bestowed with a rain of black butterflies originating from a ventilation hole etched in the back wall. The single current of butterflies descended upon the front of the classroom, revealing the trio, with the masked man carrying Emon’s corpse.
The young woman took a few steps back, and crossed her arms behind her back, watching her Lord in silence. Slightly disturbed by her Lord’s actions.
He took Emon’s body, and positioned it at the teacher’s table, as if setting up a marionette to act as a teacher. Due to how lump the body was, the masked man let it rest against the back support, his head facing upwards with half-opened lifeless eyes. The place of Emon’s wound strangely disappeared, as if he was never struck with anything. He was also still wearing his glasses that were seen broken from when he was at the cliff, it looked as if either the masked man or the young woman reverted time, or something of the sort…
After the masked man finished positioning Emon, he signalled for their departure, and the black butterflies encapsulated them both once more, and escaped the classroom from the ventilation hole.
Hours passed, and Emon’s body suddenly awoke. However, he did not question anything. The dried up trails of the tears he shed were no more. It seemed as if he became some sort of puppet attached to a series of strings that controlled his movement.
The adjacent door was opened, and the first few number of students made their way inside, each of them enthusiastically greeting him. Emon reciprocated with a smile on his face, as if the events leading up to this moment never happened, as if he remembered a different event. One where he mundanely prepared for his day teaching his class and saying his goodbyes to his family, making his way to the classroom, and awaiting the students.
***
[Emon: Six hours later]
[1884, Deneve, Eastern Ventoria University: Class 7-A]
After the final bell tolled, my students slammed their books shut and marched into the hall. With an elbow on the table, I sank my cheek into my palm and heaved a deep sigh, scratching ‘x’ marks into the truants’ names on the paper.
I slowly muttered the names of the absent in a hushed tone, barely above a whisper. Not cognizant of my surroundings which had been left entirely empty except for one last student, who gently called out to me with a bright tone.
I lifted my head to meet her eyes, a young lady in her late teens. Her name was Elizabeth, and she bore striking long hair of blond hue that shimmered alongside her figure, bathed in the sunlight penetrating the large arched windows that towered over the entire room. Dressed in a modest brown suit, she excitedly held her suitcase with both hands in front of her.
“I know this may be our toughest subject to date,” she began. “But I am seriously looking forward to the test, Mister Emon! The church of Urdall’s greatness is surely something to be reckoned with. Have you not noticed just how many of the students have been eagerly listening to your anecdotes?
I took a deep sigh through my nose, resting my right fist under my chin.
“Its history is vast. The things I tell you and your classmates are but mere important aspects for the upcoming test. If you want to learn more about it, I’d advise you reach out to a priest.”
“Eh…” she stammered, frowning her eyebrows. “I’m kind of…ehm… Would the priest be open to people of my age?”
“Of course. The only thing about the church you should not be worrying about is the creed,” I began, sprouting my left palm wide as I continued. “Just like every other religious assembly, it consists of creeds people under the age of eighteen are not allowed to join. However, any kind soul is free to step inside to gain more knowledge.”
Her eyes lit up as soon as I finished my sentence, slowly gasping before answering.
“That’s… amazing! I guess I will have to wait for just a year, then! Since you’re so knowledgeable, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were to tell me you are in secret a member of Urdall’s creed. You are truly wasting your potential by just sticking to the teacher role, Emon!”
I closed my eyes and chuckled. “Class time is over. Go and have fun while you still can. The festival is happening in less than a week. Have you already made plans to attend it?”
“Yes! I’ll be going with my three other friends, I presume. You’ll also be there, right?”
“I will be present.”
“Okay, then! I will see you next week!”
“Take care.”
She happily strolled out of the classroom, leaving me by myself amid the spacious classroom. I let out a deep breath and plummeted against the back support. Gazing at the ceiling, the student’s words echoed through my mind. Perhaps you could call it ambition. Despite leading a sporadic life, I always wanted to further sacrifice myself to show the people of Ventoria its greatness. A teacher could only be fitting for someone like me.
After enclosing the classroom, I wrapped myself in my light brown overcoat, leaving it unbuttoned to reveal the white shirt underneath, and made my way outside the building.
***
With the aid of my car, I made my way towards the very outskirts of the city. Much a rural landscape compared to the architectural terrains that gradually grew larger the closer one would get to the heart of Ventoria.
It could be considered forlorn, since I was the only one living inside this non-existent neighborhood. My manor sat on the edge of a high cliff that overlooked the beautiful vast sea, with a parking lot next to it, allowing me to comfortably step outside my car and embellish myself in the picturesque view for several moments before stepping into the abode. As I did this, my student’s voice resounded in my head once more from when she told me that I was wasting my potential by sticking to being a teacher…
…She was wrong.
It always made me chuckle whenever someone would tell me something similar to what she said. Regardless of it being my own choice, I sometimes wonder how it must feel to be familiar with your teacher, who is secretly standing on top of the socioeconomic mountain that makes up not only Ventoria, but the entire country of Deneve, as one of the Administrators overseeing the Luria Assembly.
Some of our notable characteristics were our capability to establish social events, provide for social gatherings, our responsibility for most agendas and news flashes, as well as our superiority over charity providers for philanthropic organizations, which were, in essence, all major companies residing within the entirety of Deneve.
I, being the First Administrator, was responsible for managing the foundational bases for social constructions, such as the upcoming Ships Festival. Its influence spread far, reaching even neighbouring countries.
I stepped inside, revealing the illuminated polished wooden-walled hallway materializing before my eyes. I put my coat on its hanger, muttering to myself,
“Many would think that I would be revered like some sort of celebrity…”
I then continued as I pulled off my shoes, groaning in the struggle.
“…Not at all… Everyone who sees me in broad daylight knows me as the pessimistic, anti-social but knowledgeable teacher.”
Right afterwards, I took another deep sigh and stepped my way into the main living space. My footsteps echoed throughout the area.
Not too long after settling in, I made my way to a small chamber that comprised a small altar carrying a golden-hued humanoid statue, depicting a man whose head was entirely covered with bandages—draped in a loose, white angelic robe, lifting his right palm out to me, with both his pinker and ring finger slightly curled. An opened eye was etched inside the palm as it silently watched me kneeling in front of it. The Golden God, I Am All.
I lowered myself on both knees, my palms placed on my folded laps, closing my eyes in contemplation. I realized it had been over ten years since I discovered the sheer loneliness that now described my life. Ever since I would pray to The Golden God on a daily basis in secret—hoping that, at some point, there would be a change in this materialistic but void-filled life.
I grew tired of living within this grandiose manor by myself. So much so that I began perceiving the abode as something entirely unnecessary for someone like me. I am no peasant, nor had I ever experienced a beggared life. I was met with success ever since I was born; My parents, when they were still alive, were both already high-ranking members of the Luria Assembly.
My father, on top of that, was close to reaching Demi-Godhood after sacrificing most of his years to the church of Urdall, which further accentuated the devotion I had towards the church and its members… They were, in a way, a sort of legacy my father left behind.
This was due to my father’s passion for teaching the young. He became a well-revered figure, especially within the creed circle. And yet, even after being the sole inheritor of such an esteemed family, none of these things held a candle against the emptiness in my heart.
I always had a thirst for someone. I needed company, and as years went on, I started to believe that, perhaps nobody sought to be with me for a reason. Perhaps, I may have become The Perished One.
…There can never be a change to All’s word. His words are truth and eternal. My existence is a silent testament to that…
The Golden church, the highest governmental force in the entire world of Livayae, as well as the centrepiece of all existing temples and churches, had risen to even greater prominence after one fateful night, when its former leader Jahaziel, experienced an apocalyptic dream. It was said a messenger of ‘All’ apprehended him, and he was told that, in just one generation, the Perished One would be born.
Humanity, within this world, had been forsaken by All as a result of the culminating sins that tainted the world He created. However, he did not depart without a promise, and His promise was that soon, a child would be born who would represent all sins. This child would be destined to be slain with the so-called ‘Word of Yius’. Yius represented His spirit that still resides within Livayae. His word took the form of a holy sword, which is currently being kept safe far within the depths of the Golden church.
Regarding Jahaziel’s dream, it happened just a little over fifty years ago, just seven years before I was born. While I know seven years is far too little to be considered a whole ‘generation’, given the drastic change the society of Ventoria has experienced, I can not help but think that perhaps, amid all the changes that have happened, the child may already have been born…
***
[The next day: The Cyclone Cellar: Outskirts of Ventoria]
The early morning breeze felt refreshing, stifled by the beautiful sea that surrounded the island. I parked my car alongside the handful of others right in front of the building before making my way inside, the large metal gates slowly pushing open, causing the ground to tremble under my feet. The first interior slowly revealed itself before my eyes; it seemed like a large industrial hallway that only comprised horizontally placed light bulbs connected to the surrounding walls that endlessly stretched forward, illuminating the entire place.
It was a structure situated far from the normal view. Standing atop a large island disconnected from the mainland, the menacing-looking building was able to reach the very heavens above. It had a sharp and sophisticated facade; the majority of its surface was dressed in a dark grey colour.
As soon as I stepped in, my eyes locked with a silhouette of a person who seemed to have been present for a fair time already. She was dressed in a long white coat that billowed around her with each step she took.
She wore a black turtleneck underneath that blended seamlessly with her black jeans that tightly clung onto her slender legs, as well as her dark brown hair that was accentuated by her bright brown eyes.
She smiled brightly at me as I stepped towards her, my hands perched in my light brown jacket pockets.
“Morning, Emon!”
“Good day, Aurora,” I responded. “The holiday has gone by rather quickly, has it not?”
“You bet it did,” she nodded. “We’re right back on the program today. Though, it will be an exciting day!”
“Why?”
“You forgot?” she retorted, tilting her head to the left. “We’ll be inspecting some of the airships today!”
She was right, today marked the time when the inspections were required. Aurora was my closest right hand who aided my administrative work for the sake of the Luria Assembly. As mentioned earlier, I, as the First Administrator, was responsible for overseeing the aspect that was widely considered Luria’s trademark purpose, that being primarily revolving around serving as the foundational base for social constructions.
This week was bound to get busy. Our schedule was expected to be filled given the festival was happening in less than a week. Aurora was surely feeling the anticipation.
“Ah, right,” I stammered, my memory regarding our task dawning in my mind. “How many ships have been sent to the Cellar?”
“Just three today. The other four are being transported here by Terra Firma in a day or two, I assume.”
“Wait,” I frowned. “Did you just permit them to enter?”
“I didn’t!” she jolted, her voice raising higher. “Dark did!”
“Where is he?” I demanded, my voice tinged with anger. We both stood frozen in transfixed, momentarily stunned, as a loud voice from afar slowly faded closer and more prominent.
Peering beyond Aurora’s silhouette, I caught sight of Dark hurtling towards us. A man who bore long, cascading black locks that fiercely swayed around his head with every stride. He was donned in a long white coat that partly covered the grey shirt underneath that strongly contrasted with his light brown, loose jeans; his singular aspect that truly represented his dishevelled nature, unlike his striking blue eyes which seemed to be the only delicate feature he possessed.
“Heeeellooooo!!!” he shouted, taking a stop next to Aurora, breathing profusely as he hunched over to rest his hands on his knees. “It… has been quite a while… sir!”
“Dark…” I began, pinching the bridge of my nose. “…who told you to allow Terra Firma to enter the Cellar without my permission?”
“Oh!” Dark jumped back to his normal posture. “Well, you weren’t around! And they already came here without any recent foreword. Would be a waste to just deny them at the front doors, right?”
“But we always make sure to take matters into our own hands,” I said, as Aurora silently shook her head with a closed smile, her pupils turned towards Dark. “What if something happened?”
“Do not fret!” he smiled, pridefully placing his fist on his protruded chest. “I made sure to oversee everything up to the absolute minute detail! Nothing has passed my gaze! Besides, this should not be our greatest worry. Have you made plans on visiting Urdall’s church already?”
I wordlessly lowered my head in defeat, my gaze turning contemplative. I began to remember the names of a few young victims whose faces would never be seen again. It was quite a merciless, and strange occurrence. Many people assumed that whenever a victim wouldn’t rise from the sea after a certain amount of time, they would have been dead.
However, there had been instances when there would be victims who were gone for more than three weeks suddenly re-appearing as if nothing ever happened. This was the only reason why I naively hoped that at least some of the younger victims could be saved. Not to disregard people of other ages, but… considering how much land the younger people still had to discover… I couldn’t help but slightly grind my teeth, just enough for the other two not to notice it.
“Don’t look so crestfallen, Emon,” he responded, patting my shoulder. “It will be of great importance given the victims are Urdall’s students. They are not mere citizens. Given Luria’s strong association with the church, the chances of you becoming the head of the assembly will definitely reach greater heights, especially given you have both Anary, the second administrator, as well as Garold, the third administrator, on your side.”
“Let us not get ahead of ourselves,” I closed my eyes. “Even if things seem to be going in our favour, we should never take it for granted.”
“Granted?” Dark pondered. “Well, quite challenging given you do the majority of the work for Luria. We all know how level-headed Garold is. He never enjoys acknowledging another person’s greatness, yet you’re one of the few who he does acknowledge.”
“He’s not entirely wrong, Emon,” Aurora began, smiling towards me. “It won’t be long before you get chosen as the new head.”
I took another deep sigh and turned my attention to Aurora in an attempt to shift the conversation.
“Anyway, how have you been?”
“Well, I’ve been fine.”
“And your daughter? Isn’t she present here today?”
“She is, but she’ll only be starting at around ten. I was planning on dropping her at the library since she needed to pick something up there.”
“I remember when you told me how dearly she wished to run as an intern here,” I chuckled. “Compared to where most students go, she has practically been given a tremendous head start in terms of experience alone.”
“I will have to thank the library for that,” she retorted, lifting her head to meet the ceiling. “I genuinely believe that place to be the mother of the most accomplished individuals. Yet it still remains a grandiose, but solemn building. Especially nowadays.”
“It is of no concern,” I reassured. “The history class I am teaching at the university consists of well-hearted students who visit the library on a seldom basis. However, if we consider people like your daughter, Helvega, and compare the two, there will always be a clear distinction.”
“Hmmm,” she sounded, squinting her mouth into a small circle. “A clear distinction as in what?”
“See it as the difference in potential. The Luria Assembly has a complex hierarchy of roles that only allows diplomats hailing from either Ventoria or any other city in Deneve to be a part of. We only seek the best of the best. However, even among the ones at the top, there will always be someone, or several individuals, who possess an ambition, an intelligence, or even capability that the others can only dream of.”
“Interesting…” she muttered, as suddenly, behind Dark, a fourth figure appeared. A man who looked similar to me: Short white hair, a pale complexion, dressed in a white coat over his black shirt. The only notable difference was how much more… disheveled his face seemed.
His name was Zaccheus. He served as the head of Luria’s bureaucracy. He was essentially someone whose influence and power far reached beyond ours, as the head of the assembly would be chosen by the bureaucracy.
Nevertheless, I, alongside Aurora and Dark, could tell that he didn’t approach us without serious reason. As he arrived, he spoke with a determined tone.
“Excuse me, Emon.”
“What is it, Zaccheus?”
He then pulled out a brown letter from his coat, and handed it to me.
“I’ve received a letter from the Zephyr Assembly. They are requesting your presence in relation to the current case regarding the abducted church members.
“Oh?” I stammered. “Did something new happen?”
“I don’t know…” Zaccheus muttered, slowly shaking his head. “All the letter contains is their request for your arrival. I understood that you wanted to take over the tasks of today, no?”
“True, but, I guess I’ll have to hand it to someone else.”
Dark then smiled as he chimed in.
“I can take it! I didn’t have much to do today anyway.”
“Are you sure…?” I said, squinting my eyes. As Dark protested against my suspicions, Aurora chimed in, too.
“I think it’d be best if you summoned a high staff member to your aid.”
She then turned back to me.
“Emon, I’ll accompany you to the assembly.”
As Dark nervously chuckled whilst scratching his scalp, I responded to her.
“I’m fine with that. But what about your daughter?”
“We can drop her off at the library, so let’s head there with my car.”
“Sounds good,” I nodded, turning my attention to Zaccheus. “Thank you for notifying us.”
“Anytime,” he sighed. “Do tell me about it when you return.”
With parting words, Aurora made her way into the hallway to pick up her daughter as Dark and Zaccheus followed her trail, leaving me behind the threshold of the Cellar.