Chapter 10: A Life's Work

As I'm walking through the streets, I stop in front of a collapsed building, deep scorches marks scarring the rubbles that once were walls: the headquarters of Montezio's. It's already been ten years, how was I able to maintain this facade for such a long time? But it has finally come to an end, today will be the last day Montezio's provides services to all twenty-six Districts of Arkanoth. Finally I am free, but yet another burden weighs on my shoulders: Tezcatlipoca.

I walk inside the half-collapsed building, barely wide enough so that I can retrace the same path I used to tread every day with my team, trying to understand what cannot be understood. On the ground I find a tape recorder, a diary of former days, my confident. I started playing it.

A product of science.

A dream come true only for the greatness of Science's prodigy : Xochua; one of the five pillars, and, of course, their ancestor.

Their company was named in the honor of their Ancestor's master, Montezio, the one and only superior to Quetza. No worth listening to urban legends mentioning that ill-mannered Tovernus being the right-hand of Montezio. Beggars would know no bounds to their shame.

Ahem.

For what nature couldn't handle, they relied on science, the most treasured gift of their great ancestor. Thus, I was born, an adequacy of nature and Science, a perfect adequacy that is.

The goal my progenitors set me with was quite simple: to retrieve the past glory of humankind!... Not that it worked quite well this far on.

W-well, that is but a matter of time before I solve this conundrum of mine! I... hope so, or else... or else. I should not think of that. Failure is not what they designed me for.

In fact, the prominent problem with putting humankind back to its rightful place, the first place that is, should not be difficult. Indeed, humans are, from my perfectly perfect studies, the strongest and most adaptive beasts living on Earth. If humans so desire to reconquer their lost Home, however, they have to be able to come out of this damned city!!!

WHY?! I do not understand why! This is incomprehensible, that simply makes no sense at all. Any living being exiting the walls of this false paradise dies of unknown cause. ANY. DAMNED. ANIMAL.

What kind of damnable, masochistic Magic does that!?

My progenitors often point out curses is the one mistake I possess, however they should acknowledge my right to be angered when this... this.... un-science thing is happening every, dam-... every unfortunate times, yes, it is happening every time. No matter the subject's origins, the result is always the same. Be it famished humans or obese ones, be it the rich or the poor, the well-educated or the boorish, the ill or the blessed, the sinner and forgiver, even the rats and cockroaches ! Cockroaches survive everything, why not this damned wall?! At least my find allowed me to stop the experiments, contrary to my progenitors, I still have morals. On a sadder note - or scarier? a third option has been made available to us, one supposedly much more effective, but I don't trust it.

Sigh, This is entry 47-B, today no major improvement has been made, project sanguis has known no bound since entry 1-B... again. As promised, I'll officially stop searching for an alternative, contact will be made tomorrow with entity "Ilhuicahua Tlalticpaque". Gods do I hate this nickname, what does he think, that I do not know of the ancient language, he's just mocking us, I swear!

It is... a unique experience to be able to hear the past, what once was and is no more. I'm glad it survived to this day. It's almost a funny experience, were I to forget its ending, listening to my past self. I was so different... so careless, a believer, surely, of what I still am not sure.

I walk through the corridors, letting my hand caress the sooted walls. Even after all those years, I still vividly remember the inner-lying of the building. Maybe it is simply another characteristic they deemed important when designing me.

"Please, give it back!" I could portray her smirk from my complaints alone, "that is private, please!"

"Ohh, is that your personal diary?" Her voice was coy, and even with the sizzling of the low-quality tape recorder I could perceive her hiding an undercurrent of amusement at the sight of this psychological torture. I remember my old self loved this, as for I, remembering this feeling is torture.

"That's unacceptable, I'm your boss, show some respect!" From the way my voice trembled, I suppose my face must have been a bright red. It reminded me of Thomas, a coworker of mine - ex-coworker - who once called my progenitor mother, as anyone could guess, he was soon expelled. As for I, I had a different approach to work than her, I was more lenient toward my team, mostly because I considered them friends - tried to, that I'm sure of, but now I prefer forgetting the importance they held to me, I betrayed them, I could have saved them. I did not.

At the time, I mostly thought about spending time with Emeline, I tried to convince myself I also wanted to spend time with my fellow Truth-Seekers, but that was only a half-truth. That does not mean however that I'd choose to ignore them were I to travel back to the past... although, maybe I'd try to get closer to them.

She giggled, and, from the sound, handed me my tape recorder, which, I guess, wasn't so different from a personal diary. "Very well, then, boss." I remember her accent used to make me blush and send shivers down my spine. I know mulling over the past is bad, but I want to remember all these feelings one more time, before I leave. I was and am a Seeker of Truth, it'd be hypocritical of me to ignore this reality for the mere fact it's hurtful. Sometimes, I believe that if I think about them enough they'll all come back. So far I haven't thought about them enough.

The giggling faded and the sound of a door closing brought silence, then of my old self clearing his throat. I wonder what I thought at the time; I know for a fact I was lying when I said I recorded these moments because I was afraid of forgetting them. Because I remember everything. So much so I desperatly want to forget it all, from the way she used to laugh to how she looked at me before collapsing.

It hurts too much, so I try to forget.

Today will see either the birth of an incredible revolution, or be fruitless... like all the other days, for today we will establish contact with it.

I create-discovered it, according to its words, by trying to reverse-engineer the properties of the wall and using the artefact our ancestor left us.

The result was... strange. It needed a host, so we used a corpse, after all using a still very-breathing human would have been pure sadistic torture, to have your soul broken and your body controlled by an unknown entity is something no human deserves, even scum. Also we didn't know if it would antagonize it, and we clearly did not want that.

It was very much alive, and sentient, but there was something off with it... as if it was toying with us. I always had a way to perceive people's intentions all the while learning how to hide mines from Father and Mother, yet it was as if it felt nothing, had no thoughts nor ambitions, its tone didn't even change from its monotonous pragmatism when declaring itself owner of our world. No, the only time I could perceive something was directly after it took possession of the corpse; an almost invisible trail of satisfaction, a smirk proof of its success, as if it was the one to have contacted us, not the other way around.

It hurts, to remember about the past, all that I lost. Not everything was beautiful, and I wasn't a saint, but I still cherished these moments.

If only I could forget.

I find myself in front of a burned-down door, coming off its hinges, letting me see a skeleton sitted on a chair, some of its ribs cinders. Mother always was obsessed with weight, she said it was the first impression you gave people, and if you want to take their checks, you'll need to make a superb first impression. It led to days where I was not allowed to eat, having to strain my will to be her perfect doll. I hope she has lost enough weight for her own exigences.

At that time, the door was a magnificient acajou, hiding from the unwanted a luxurious room full of intricate murals and glowing shapes. Now it is blackened, nothing has resisted to His fire. As for the chair, there still is some flesh fused to it that once belonged to Its majesty the skeleton, hiding the fading yellow glow of the chair.

"Son, I called you concerning your assignment." The woman who talked was my progenitor. She used to always sit on her chair, its armrest painted in gold, she once told me it was a very unique furniture, one of the best kind. Like when she had something to complain to me about, she eyed me as a shark would, I didn't have to see it, I just knew it. She looked at the employees who couldn't meet their quotas with the same cold fierceness. "You already know what my thoughts are on your side-project, and you've passed the deadline for it. So now I suggest you stop your play of hero, it is truly disappointing to see the son you've raised the right way so hard go and and live in his own make-believes, I'll let you know." She sighed, slumping on her chair as she massaged her front with two fingers. "When you first asked to conduct such a project, I was intrigued; had you lost your mind? Maybe you thought you could become a hero, harness the power of the world and use it to your advantage. Now, I see it was a most foolish thought that pushed you: you were against all these people dying, even when I proposed we take only convicts from El Cerro De Oro. Maybe you didn't try to be a hero, maybe you thought you were already one. I'm greatly disappointed, that is not the purpose you were assigned, don't make me regret all those years gone to acknowledge you. You already know what awaits you were you to forget your place in the grand scheme of things."

Hearing it again still made me feel as horrible, the tears in my eyes threatening to fall down as my throat tried to choke me. Like before, I tamed the emotions. I used to do that to not let anyone see my weaknesses, but now I'm alone. "Yes, mother." As the tape recorder rehearsed tales of the past, I tried convincing myself I couldn't have done anything, that I had already tried my best, it was simply out of my control. It is a lie.

The first experiments of project Sanguis were performed on live animals, mostly small rodents. Looking back on it, maybe that's why it went so wrong, they were too different. The first results were concluant, although little of the test subjects 'unlocked' powers, it still happened, and the side-effects seemed to be minimal. After some more tests, we decided on carrying on to human tests. It didn't take much tries to see there was too much of a difference between rats and humans. Unfortunately, Mother did not think the same as I, and decided going back to tests on live animals would be too big of a drawback, so she leaked the unfinished-product, justifying her course of actions by saying that way we'd see if the success rate was worth the risk. In truth, she did that only to make me drop the project, she was against it from the beginning, and the arrival of a new, more important factor, Tezcatlipoca, was all it needed for her to try and make me abandon.

At first, my one and only goal was to set humanity free from its cage: Arkanoth. However, throughout the years, that goal widened, englobing more subjects than my progenitors could have anticipated. This wasn't due to my quite free-spirited curiosity but more so because the more I uncovered the secrets and laws behind Netema, the more complex the task revealed to truly be.

Thus, it led to my interest in magic. An occupation my progenitors deemed childish, but understood, on their better days, the necessity of. The wall was coated in magic, at first I thought the cause of death for all of the subjects was the air outside considered to be toxic by the pillars of the city. However, it soon proved to be something else, no poison, no matter how potent they were, could possibly kill in the blink of an eye any living being, even more so when the only thing protecting the city from the outside air was a miserable wall that had its outside layers already crumbling to the hands of Time. And my suspicions were proven right, exactly two years ago, a child from the slums ventured outside for a day, then came back, the only difference in him lying in his left eye, but he hadn't died. At that point, I was sure magic existed, so I asked my progenitors the get-go for the launching of project Sanguis.

After much tinkering and failed experiments - which I do not want to talk about, just remembering the results give me chills on my back - I ended up succeeding - well, half-succeeding - the product still was unstable; a red, ominous, ever-moving, thick liquid.

Twelve months ago, when I was snooping for a better formula, that is, one that had less chance to turn your years into days and for the less fortunate into very not-mindless slimy turds of... oh God, why do I keep remembering that?! Disgusting. Anyhow, as I was saying, I was snooping around when I stumbled upon a parchment our ancestor had apparently bequeathed to us. I say apparently because there is no direct proof concerning its quite questioning origins, since apparently no one in this damned family had even once gazed at such a thing! And they call themselves the Seekers of Truth, pfft. At least my fellow workers deserve that title, not being a part of the family does not prevent them the least from letting squeals of joy escape their throats whenever we breached a bottleneck in our studies. Back to the strange find of mine; it was a recipe, one that could...cook a God? I still am not sure how it is supposed to work, but it worked, I really cooked a God to life, at which point project Sanguis became project B, a nice formulation otherwise implying it was an outdated project that was no longer wanted. However, there still were a few sentences I could not decipher, unfortunately. If only I weren't pressed by my family, never would I have made such a rash decision, these fools thought we could enclave it, a God. Well, at least it's been working thus far.

Tsk.

Family, I tell you.

The reason behind the sudden decision from my progenitors is simple; it holds knowledge, tremendous knowledge, according to the scroll. It would be capable of freeing us from our cage, I did not doubt it and still does not. However I still desire to advance on project Sang - on project B, the reason being that freak gives me the chills!

To better explain, there was, and still is, a wicked aura surrounding its crooked smile, something overall wrong about it. The true goal of the parchment still eluded me - of course, it served the purpose of invoking a God to our lands, but why? Because I'm sure of it, there is more to the parchment than it lets us know. Although my progenitors praise me for the genius I am not, because I only seek the truth, and a truth-seeker is but an ignorant, I am not stupid either. I still remember the way it smiled the day I invoked it, something almost supranatural hidden inside a mere smirk, something only a psycopath was capable of: a self-satisfaction smile capable of making murderers pee their pants in fear, and, by the same opportunity, mine too.

The creaking of a door made my old self stop talking. Soon footsteps followed and a voice gently laughed. "What, are you talking to yourself again? Are you really this afraid of getting Alzheimer?"

"Emeline! That's not what you... sigh, who am I kidding. Wait, I'm not doing anything wrong, you've got nothing against me!" The recorder let out a villainous laugh full of madness. A gentle chuckle followed.

"Hey, Leolio," the voice was suddenly more serious, and stronger, as if she was talking only a step from the recorder, "how do you feel?" Her voice was caring, with a slight note of worry.

"Me? I'm feeling spied by a certain person."

"I'm being serious. I know that project held a special place in your heart."

"You're wrong. The only reason I was so obsessed with it was because of my curiosity. You know how I am." The old me answered with a blank voice, the same as when I put on the mask. The same blank voice I have when it is too hard to be honest.

"You won't make me believe such bullshit. You weren't just curious about it, you were passionate about it, each time we made progress you relished like you were given one more day to live!"

A metallic sigh flooded the room, diluting to nothingness the melted chair and scorched wooden table. "Because it does. I... wasn't born out of love. I'm no more than a project to them, a tool created only to formulate solutions to questions they could not answer. If I fail, then it means I'm defective, and they do not need a key that cannot open a door." The voice was shaky, scared of the secrets it shared, and I am still scared, even though it doesn't have any importance now.

For a while the recorder stopped talking, letting my ears ring as the silence engulfed my thoughts, then an answer came.

"I know your parents may be strict, but you should have faith in their humanity. You're not a tool they manufactured, you're a human, the fact you feel fear, happiness, that your voice trembles when you're embarassed, that if I were to rest my head against your torso, I'd be lulled by the beat of your heart: this all makes you human. You're human, Leolio, a beautiful human no one would want to get rid of."

"What if they already did." This time the voice was devoid of tremble, only resignance left.

"What do you mean."

"I had a brother. He was older than me and smarter, but his morale didn't align with Father and Mother. So they made me. They knew going the normal route would be too risky, what if he ends up like the first one? so instead they used Science. They tinkered with the possibilities, choosing what trait would fit their agenda and which wouldn't. And when they were sure their experiment was not a failure, that I was indeed just like they wished, they threw him out. Do you understand, Emeline. I'm not real, what you love about me isn't me, all that is fake. How can I think of myself as Leolio when I'm the projection of their desire, how can I say I have a soul if I don't have the will to make my own choices, how can I say I'm human if nothing belongs to me, how can I love a doll? Do you think they could love a doll when they didn't love their son? Do you still love me, did you ever love me, or did you love the preferences of my progenitors? I hate my brother, because of him, I had to be. If only he bent to his parents' whims, if only he suffered a little more, then I would have never crossed their minds. But now I'm the one who has to bend, because if I don't, another doll will bow, until another kneels, and in the end, the last doll will crawl. I don't want any other doll to know they're not real, that they don't truly exist, that they never will, so I have to bend because of the weakness of my brother, because he wanted an happy life, because he was selfish."

There was no sound, but I still remember, from the corner of my vision, I saw tears pouring out of Emeline's eyes. Even then, she still found the strength to love me, maybe I'm the weak one.

"I still love you. I always loved you. And if you think you're not real, that you're just what your parents programed you for, then they made a poor job of it; because I see nothing like them, all I see is love, compassion, intelligence, worry: all that they never had. You're not a mistake, you're not a byproduct, you're not Miss Henria Xochua, nor are you mister Henry Xochua, you're Leolio."

His power still amazes me. To think this once was one of the greatest towers of this city, be it in terms of space or technology. In one day he managed to bring down everything to cinder, except me.

I try to close my eyes to remember how everything used to be, but the death-coated air brings me back to the present.

The dictaphone spouts protocols for the interactions with Tezca, every then and now a worry made known by my old self finds its way between the hypothesises of possible consequences over this and that decision, but no one pays attention to it.

At first, the experiments went on smoothly, although certain topics were off-limits for the God (in which case he would simply go mute for hours), he still offered us diverse knowledge that accorded us boons in different researches. But it never was anything meaningful. He also helped us develop our artifacts technology, as a matter of fact, he was very adamant on the matter. Even the Warden, which was the best artifact Montezio's had made, fell short to his expectations. He had many proposals but in the end, only two were retained, a broken mirror and a machine supposedly capable of bringing back magic, or Will, like he used to say. Although we only had time to manufacture the mirror, plans for the other artifact had had time to be written down.

It happened on an ordinary day, it wasn't sunny, but it didn't rain either, and the cold of Automn just started to make itself felt. How can I remember such meaningless facts when it is so hard to remember her face... Maybe it is because this doesn't hurt as much as remembering her.

A cold laughter emerged from the dictaphone without prior notice. It was the day. Soon after the laugh, rattling of glass slowly breaking away made itself heard. It was Tezca escaping his cage. It was at that moment I realized all we had made was only part of his plan; the artifacts, the test subjects, everything. We were but mere puppets playing his game.

"Is this the end - I don't want to die. I don't want them to die, they're my friends, they taught me to laugh, to love... I can't lose them - I can't." Now the tape was sobbing as small speckles tinkled against the ground.

In a trice the sobbing stops and rushed steps resonate inside the room I sit in. I remember no one reacting; they were subjugated by the terrible sight. They knew what was about to happen.

"I can fix it. Yes, I can fix everything! I just have to get that, then I'll be able to save them! It's all my fault anyways, so I have to be the one fixing it!" The sound of steps stop and a beep follows along with the shuffling of the wind characteristic of depressurisation. At the same time a loud shattering was heard: the reinforced glass did not resist the onslaught of the God. I still remember seeing his smile. It was so disturbing... did I really create such a monstrosity? His smile extended till his ears, revealing teeth a terrible yellow, rot his escaping his throat and rust on his tongue visible.

The dictaphone played out an object falling, then the voice of my old self subsided: the object that fell was the dictaphone. A little while after, sizzling defeaned all else that had happened. But I still remember. It hurts, but I want to remember all that happened, one last time.

I was searching for a case. Inside it was an untested version of Sanguis; one I had designed after seeing the flaws of the old model. When I first began project Sanguis, I thought magic was something alien to human nature, a concept that could only be artificially induced in humans. Seeing the sharp difference between the rats' reactions and humans's, I recalled the roots of this project: Jacques Austin. He had been able to cross Netema without anyone's help. The only possible way this feat could be achieved would be with the aid of magic. The reason why the first prototypes worked so well with rats was because it gifted them something they didn't possess; as for humans, it'd be like trying to erase a core fundamentality of their nature only to give them back a fake one. The answer to magic was to help humans untangle their magic. At least I hoped so.

I opened the box and took the syringe inside it; a red liquid with twinkles of stars could be seen inside the medical tool, it was the newest product of the company - one birthed by my hands - the tool that would help me bring down that unhinged monster. It was none other than the unachieved product of project Sanguis.

"I'll show him, he thinks he can do whatever he wants to do, huh? This damned bastard, I won't let him hurt anyone!" I was muttering to myself, more so to convince me than due to my being confident in victory.

I returned to the test room. I could see him calmly take a foot after the other out of his cage, lowering himself to pass through the gap. His smile was still hideous.

Without hesitating I used the syringe on me, only thinking of saving my friends, of saving her, no, them. "I'll save everyone." But I guess it wasn't enough. At the same time I injected the beta product on me, a blinding light erupted from his mouth wide open, vaporizing the head of Jon. Screams erupted, I could see Alfred trying to flee, only to have his heart vaporized; others were crouched, praying, and Emmeline was just looking at me. It hurts, it hurts so much. Hate began to gutter. I felt so alive. Only one thought ran in my mind: kill him. I let out a wail escape my throat and jumped at him; instead of making him bow before my blows, I just passed through him, he didn't even so much as glanced at me, only smiling even more. Why?! Why isn't it working, my powers, why aren't they awakening?! I tried to punch him, to cut him, even hold him, I tried everything, but everything wasn't enough. I was powerless, trying to stop a God, what could I possibly do but watch. I collapsed on my knees, tears falling down my cheeks as I watched the slaughter go on.

After that he stopped using his light, simply slowly killing off victim after victim; first came Veronica, he pulled her tongue out and somehow used it as a knife, gutting her to death; I didn't see how Marc died, tears and pain blinded me; at last there were no more cries, only three people still alive.

"I suppose she holds a special place in your heart, am I right, little man?" He did not hide his amusement, this son of a bitch, he purposely let her live till the end to play with me. "You know, something about humans always amazed me. It is their capacity to create wonders of technology only for them to end up destroying their creator, funnily enough, humanity has never learned this one particular lesson throughout all of history. Aren't you curious, Leo, what she fears most, does she truly love you, or is she just playing with your feelings." He took a long pause, savoring the instant. "Tell. Does she truly love you?" And it dawned on me, the artifact I manufactured for him, this tool of torture... there was no need asking what he meant, anyone would have been able to guess.

Why? Why me? Is it justice for what my parents have done? For ignoring my brother even so much as existed? Because I disobeyed my parents and loved her? WHY! I want an answer, anything, a reason, something to stop all that, a way to go back in time, anything, please, anyone, just this one time, please just this one time save them, save them... anyone.

But nobody came.

His left hand reached for Emeline's head, almost touching her by a few centimeters. As he withdrew his arm, she collapsed on the floor. "I will give you a little insight. I changed some features of this replica for my own pleasure, a year in this is the equivalent of a second here. Of course, it will still show the deepest fears of the victim, but it will be slightly changed as to follow the worst path, as to say, the most painful one."

I cried all the while he delivered his self-satisfactory speech. Blood flowed down my ears, red remplaced the white of my tears, and a metallic-tasting liquid resurfaced up my mouth.

He looked strangely at me, not quite understanding the process I was going through. As for me, I wasn't even aware of that process, too focused I was on everything that happened.

Without knowing how, I managed to regain composure - enough to talk.

"Why? I know you're not going to kill me. Why won't you kill me?" Was it to use me to eradicate the remainder of Humanity? He did proclaim himself master of our world, even if I did not take his words seriously at the time, it had now changed, if he escaped, it would soon be our end.

"Such a trifling question, I suppose it corresponds well to an existence as insignificant as yours." He licked his lips, taking pleasure in my suffering. "I will answer by a question of mine. What do you do when you encounter a fly on your path? The first solution is to ignore it, for it won't ever be able to harm one as yourself. But there is a second solution to it, if that fly bothers you, then it shall die."

I looked at him, disbelief in my eyes. Was it all there was to it, we encountered his path, and thus we should die?

"See, in the past, the likes of you, humans, bothered me, contesting my conquering this planet. You even went as far as to ally to renegade Gods. Renegade Gods and humans alike ready to bow their heads to a mere human girl. Although I won in the end, because I am above all else, you hurt my pride, and now you're paying the price for your recklessness. One does not simply defy a Deity."

He raised his arm back towards Emeline once again, looking me in the eyes. "Don't you dare ever forget the Sun." A flashing light erased what once was love.

I escaped the ruins of my old home, muttering to myself the same sentence again and again, death in my eyes. "I did not forget the Sun."