Chapter 223: The Army Conquering the Heavens
The false moon that had fallen was shattered completely by Rowe. Moonlight returned, spilling across the world as it always had.
Yet the weight in everyone's chest did not lift.
It only deepened.
Because of the figure that emerged from the broken moon.
Because of the beautiful silhouette framed by blood red radiance, golden hair flowing, a white gown drifting like a ceremonial shroud.
Crimson Moon.
Brunestud.
To be honest, even with Rowe's current power, even if he unsealed everything and forced the engine of his existence to its limit, he was not confident he could overwhelm Brunestud if she was being augmented by the Moon Cell.
Whether he could win at all, or even seize the slightest advantage, depended on how much Authority the Moon Cell was willing to lend her.
An ordinary person would have retreated. Or used deception, escaped, and searched for a battlefield where the opponent's advantage could be cut down to size.
Rowe did not have that option.
Not because he lacked means.
Because he refused.
He no longer pursued death as a goal.
But he did not fear it either.
Some part of him still longed for it, like an old scar that never truly stopped aching.
Before anything else, there was a question he needed answered.
"Brunestud. If my memory is correct, you and the Moon Cell should be enemies."
Rowe's voice was calm, almost conversational, but the air around him was already tightening.
"Your existence should be the Moon's strongest life form. A stabilizing device born from the Moon itself, meant to maintain its stable presence within Mystery."
He lifted his gaze, eyes fixed on her.
"But the Moon Cell can stabilize the Moon by itself. If it exists, the Moon does not need you for that function."
Rowe's lips curved.
"With it, there is no you."
His Machina God body remained manifest, enormous and metallic, wings spread, engines rumbling like a restrained storm. Around it, the chaotic nameless form also remained, ineffable, more like a pressure than a silhouette.
Then, from the core of the Machina God, from the heart where magma like light churned, the Primordial Human stepped out as well.
Three foundations.
Three primal authorities.
A Trinity specification.
The overlay of three primal powers made him transcend the category of ordinary Primal Men.
Still Primal.
Yet already approaching an extremely potent planetary scale.
Rowe met Brunestud's eyes.
"What reason do you have to help it?"
Brunestud raised her hand slowly.
"No reason."
Her voice was clear, as if she were reciting something she had decided long ago.
"It is simply what I want."
The blood red moonlight behind her thickened, and the world felt as if it had been placed beneath a glass bell.
"I want to kill you. Kill everyone who threatens the Moon Cell."
"That is all."
She spread her hands.
Golden hair unfurled in the wind.
Within her crimson eyes, seven colors interwove into a shimmering shadow.
The highest grade Rainbow Mystic Eyes.
Rowe opened his hands as well, as if welcoming the threat.
"Are you in such a hurry to act?"
He smiled.
"Or are you feeling guilty?"
Brunestud's eyes did not waver, but the temperature of her voice dropped.
"Shut up, human."
The blood moon still hung high, but to those below, it seemed to gain additional layers of terror, as if the sky had become deeper and colder all at once.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
A heartbeat like distant thunder.
Rowe's chuckle sounded sharper.
"So I was right."
This was not a guess. It was a near certainty.
The Moon Cell and the Crimson Moon could not coexist.
Brunestud was the Moon's Ultimate One, the strongest life form born from the lunar surface. Before her, the Moon had been empty, an absence that still carried will.
Celestial bodies, even without life, still seek to preserve their own stability. When threatened, they nurture something that can act as an organ of self preservation.
Normally, the Moon would have used its resources to cultivate its own Ultimate One.
But if something that powerful already existed, the Moon would have no need to create another.
If the Moon Cell appeared and took the role of stabilizing the Moon, then the Moon had no use for Brunestud.
If Brunestud existed, the Moon did not need the Moon Cell.
A mutual exclusion.
A hatred written into function.
Even if Brunestud was born from information pulled from the Moon Cell's vast database, even if she was extracted from a record of infinite evolutionary possibilities, that fundamental relationship would not change.
She had no reason to cooperate.
Unless she had been defeated and confined.
Unless the pride of the Moon Princess had been forced into a cage.
"I am the Moon Princess." Brunestud's voice grew colder, the rainbow light in her eyes sharpening into frost. "A mere human…"
"I am human," Rowe replied, unhurried, "but I have never been defeated."
He smiled.
"And you were defeated by a computer."
"I am the ultimate Moon…"
"But you were defeated by a computer, were you not?"
"I am the embodiment of the Moon, the symbol of night…"
"Indeed. Not only were you defeated by a computer, you were locked up."
Silence.
Brunestud stared at him for a long moment.
Then, with an exhale that sounded dangerously calm, she spoke.
"Damn it."
"This conversation is impossible."
She abandoned the exchange, as if cutting an unproductive thread with a blade.
Yet she was not calm inside.
Rowe's words were humiliation.
And for Brunestud, the humiliation went deeper than Rowe even realized.
"I was born twelve thousand years ago."
She lifted her hand again, slender fingers stirring the air as if caressing the moonlight falling from above. Her tone was controlled, but it carried the pressure of something vast trying not to explode.
"As the manifestation of the Moon, I was born powerful. I dominated the Moon's Authority."
Her gaze lowered slightly, as if looking through Rowe and seeing something far older.
"Even other Star Hunters of other celestial bodies would not have been my match."
The Moon's mass was not special.
But the Moon was close to Earth.
And Earth possessed the Sea of Stars.
Earth's special nature bled outward.
Infinite Earths implied infinite Moons, and faint connections formed between the Moons of different worlds. In the realm of Mystery, the lunar surface gained a status that surpassed ordinary celestial bodies.
Thus, the Crimson Moon born upon it was naturally powerful.
So powerful that, besides Earth itself, she surpassed the Star Hunters of other planets within the vast Sea of Stars.
Power breeds certainty.
And certainty becomes arrogance.
But on that day, her certainty shattered.
"A starship from beyond the universe brought a pale giant."
Brunestud's voice remained even, but the air around her sharpened.
"He defeated me easily. He absorbed and devoured all my attacks."
Her fingers curled slightly.
"And then a cube rose from beneath the lunar surface and blocked him."
Her lips pressed together, a rare sign of tension on a face that otherwise looked carved.
"In that moment, I understood the vastness of the universe."
"That pale giant was merely one in ten thousand of that starship."
"And the crystal that appeared, though it lay beneath my feet, was something I knew nothing about."
Her body was defeated.
Then her spirit was crushed as well.
After the Moon Cell defeated the Star Hunter, the crystal computer could not return to dormancy. It had been activated too completely, awakened too deeply.
It usurped Brunestud's position.
It devoured her.
It imprisoned her.
Only now had she seen the light of day again.
"As long as I defeat you, I will regain my freedom."
Brunestud's eyes narrowed.
"This is the contract I made with the Moon Cell."
The wind howled harder.
The blood moon became more sinister, as if reacting to her confession.
Brunestud spoke of her past without care, because from her perspective, everyone here would die.
Rowe.
The soldiers below.
The fairies.
Not one would leave.
"You are strong."
She acknowledged it with the same tone one might use for a tool that performed well.
"But you are not stronger than me with the Moon Cell's assistance."
"Human. God. Alien God."
Her gaze flicked over the Trinity she perceived.
"Even with the power brought by these three identities, you have not exceeded the limits of your world."
Her voice dropped into something final.
"And I stand at the pinnacle of the world."
As her words fell, a hum far heavier than the previous descent sounded behind her.
The sky seemed to cave in.
A corner of the night began to sink, slowly, inexorably, like a curtain pressed down by an unseen weight. The center of gravity was a single point, but the effect spread outward.
The stars tilted.
The night itself tilted.
Everyone stared upward and understood.
Brunestud was the embodiment of the Moon's will.
And the Moon, to humans, was also the name of night.
In the past, even at her peak, she could not manifest the night sky itself. The sky covered the whole planet. That was a scale that approached planet level specification, a step toward something closer to a Star Creating God.
But now, supported by the Moon Cell's computing power, a system whose output could rival the Solar System, and fed by the immense energy contained within it, Brunestud was doing what she could never do alone.
"To actualize the void," Rowe murmured, understanding immediately, "and pull the entire sky down."
He felt pressure.
Unparalleled, incomparable pressure.
If that corner of night fully descended, it would tear the land apart and shake the world.
Everyone from Rowe downward would die.
Everything would break.
Brunestud spread her arms, golden hair flying.
Her eyes shone with iridescent light and absolute frost.
Kill them.
Leave nothing.
"Heh."
Rowe's laugh rose, not with fear, but with exhilaration.
"Hahahaha."
It was not the laugh of a man cornered.
It was the laugh of a man who had finally found something worth meeting head on.
"Interesting," he said, voice bright with almost childlike delight. "So this is the power you possess."
Brunestud did not answer.
For a moment, she genuinely wondered why this human looked more excited than she did.
But silence was not hesitation.
The sky continued to descend.
The tilted moon.
The tilted night.
The tilted stars.
Brilliant. Vast. Crushing.
Rowe raised his hand.
The colossal Machina God spread its iron wings wider.
The chaotic Old God form extended countless tentacles, each tightening around a Noble Phantasm as if preparing to stab into the concept of night itself.
The Primordial Human stepped forward, eyes steady.
Three foundations.
Three powers.
Acting at once.
"If you want to kill me," Rowe said, voice sharpening into a challenge, "then come and try."
If he died here, then let it be an ending worthy of his name.
Let his death be carved into history without regret.
"Life or death," he said, "let me see what you truly are, Brunestud."
He laughed again, and the sound rang against the sinking night.
Brunestud tilted her head, faintly confused.
Why did it feel like she was the one about to be beaten to death?
No.
An illusion.
It had to be.
She drew in a breath. The rise and fall of her exposed chest was controlled, but it carried heat beneath the calm.
"A mere human," she said, "capable only of grandstanding."
Her crimson eyes blazed brighter, the rainbow light intensifying until it looked like an oncoming dawn twisted into a weapon.
Rowe grinned, fully prepared.
But before the true collision began, he did something else.
The Primordial Human reached to his waist.
With a clear metallic sound, he drew the sword of a Roman Adjutant, the sword of the commander of this expedition.
He looked down.
Gold and red eyes reflected the countless faces staring upward at him, faces lit by blood moonlight and fear and faith and stubbornness.
He spoke, and his voice rolled across the camp like an order that no one could pretend they did not hear.
"Soldiers."
"You crossed a thousand mountains. You conquered countless enemies. You followed the will and glory of Rome."
"In this campaign, which was never merely conquest, you have done well."
He lifted the sword slightly.
"But this is enough."
"Along the way, your blades carried glory. You made Rome proud, and Rome shines because of you."
His gaze steadied, and the tone of command returned, cold and absolute.
"What comes next is my battlefield, not yours."
"Your duty is finished."
He raised the sword toward the sky.
"Leave it to me."
Light bloomed between heaven and earth.
It was the sword named Rome.
It was the will named Rome.
With it, he issued his last command as a Roman.
"I command you. After this, break camp and go home."
A clamor surged.
Banners snapped and surged at once, as if the army itself were responding. Countless standards whipped toward the west, toward home.
Rowe's voice did not soften.
"This is my last order as your commander."
No matter whether he won or died here, he did not intend to return.
He did not intend to bring triumph back with him.
Then his awareness flickered inward, toward the central tent, toward the one person he trusted to carry the army away.
"Next," Rowe said quietly, "I leave it to you, Einzbern."
Inside the command tent, the scribe who carried the book opened her crimson eyes.
She brushed a strand of silver white hair back and sighed.
"What a troublesome person."
Her lips curved.
"But who taught you to be my beloved?"
She rose.
Her skirt swayed as she stepped toward the entrance.
This had been agreed upon.
If Rowe remained, the army would be entrusted to Einzbern, and she would lead them home.
As a goddess of wisdom and war, commanding a hundred thousand troops was a trivial matter.
However.
"I am afraid it will not be as you wish."
Einzbern pushed aside the curtain and stepped out.
On the tent roof, Melusine slowly stood.
"Lord Rowe…"
On the watchtower, Boudica's hand tightened around the pouch at her waist, then loosened. She drew a slow breath and looked up.
The man in the sky had once saved Britannia.
She had once been furious at him for not letting her return.
Now, she was only grateful.
This journey had shown her the true splendor of the world. It had widened her idea of what glory could be.
And she had wanted it to continue.
Now he had issued his final command.
Abandoning return.
Abandoning triumph.
Boudica's eyes hardened.
"This is an act against the honor of a Roman soldier."
She drew her sword.
Beside her, Barghest watched the blade slide free and smiled, sharp and feral.
"That is right."
"And it is also against the pleasure of fairies, my Lord, Your Eminence."
Baobhan Sith lifted her hands.
A dark sun manifested in the sky, a warped shadow of brightness that felt like a curse and a prayer at once.
"Returning," she murmured, almost mocking the word, "in triumph?"
A Roman warrior staggered forward and tightened his grip on his sword.
A barbarian youth who had joined the army midway whispered, voice raw.
"I once hated you."
"I hated the one who led an army to conquer my homeland."
"I hated the one who killed our gods."
His jaw clenched.
"Then I saw what my homeland became because of you."
"I saw what civilization looks like."
His eyes lifted.
"I do not resent you anymore."
"This path," he said, "I also want to keep walking it."
An old veteran raised his spear, arm trembling not from fear but from age.
"Your orders," he said, "we have always obeyed."
He swallowed, and the next words came like a blade pushed out of the throat.
"But this time is different."
"I."
"We."
"We are Rome's sword. Your soldiers."
"But we are also human."
He raised the spear higher.
"So this time," he said, voice cracking into a roar, "we will not obey."
Thousands of blades lifted at once.
Thousands of spears rose like a forest.
Thousands of shields locked into place, angled toward the sky.
Javelins lifted, hands braced, bodies aligned.
Roars of dragons and the grinding hum of machinery surged upward together.
The night continued to sink.
Rowe had meant to hold it alone.
To resist the falling sky with his own existence, and spare the rest.
But he paused.
He looked down.
Sparks.
People.
Wills.
Thousands of them.
All at once, they chose to disobey him.
It was the first time his soldiers defied his order.
The first time the sword called Rome revealed a will of its own.
Life born on the blade.
Einzbern stood before the camp, watching the army rise as a single organism.
A smile touched her lips.
"I cannot do it," she said softly. "I cannot bring this sword home for you."
"Because this sword, named Rome, has gained its own will."
"To protect glory."
Her eyes lifted to Rowe.
"To protect your glory."
Above, Albion circled, a pale dragon traced in light like an aurora.
Barghest's vanguard Machina God bodies gathered and took on a stance that looked like a challenge thrown at the heavens.
Baobhan Sith spread her signal wider, linking minds, binding fear into resolve.
And the soldiers.
The soldiers raised their weapons.
It looked like breaking camp.
Like setting out again.
But they did not point their blades at humanity.
They raised them at the sky.
They launched a crusade against the heavens.
.....
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