[On the hill-top. . .]
Emory had finally heard it, his very own Specter.
What are you? he asked in thought. He knew that it was his Specter, but deep within his mind, there was a nagging feeling to find out more. Was this a specifically designed specimen? A normal human? Someone beyond?
His Specter's voice was snappy and stout. 'Ah, ah, ah. Don't pry too deep, Emory. I'm only here to help you as you journey the Hierarchy World.'
This guy's strange. . . Emory's lips twitched. Why is he speaking so informally?
'I heard that! I hear all your thoughts,' his Specter cried. 'I'll be in your head until death, so get used to it, and be nice! Plus, we're technically friends. Why can't I speak informally?'
Do you have a name?
'Just call me Specter.'
Specter. . . What did you mean when you said you'll help me? Emory asked.
'I'm your assistant. I'll be explaining every power you get as you recite more Abolition Chronicle verses.' The voice paused.
'Like, at your current rank, Hierarch I, or as I like to call it, Ruin's Servile, your powers are Mist Illusions, where you can create illusions of anything from thin air and use it to disguise yourself. . .'
Mist Illusions. That's probably the power the lady used when she kidnapped me.
'You also gain Intangibility, Invisibility, and enhancements to your speed and strength.'
Interesting. . . Are there any downsides?
'Not necessarily. Your powers have no caveats, but they are easily negated by those with Bersebus Descent.'
Emory staggered at the name. He's heard it before. Fifth Mourner Elocien questioned him about it during the interrogation. Julius Bersebus, a man that the Mourners and the Phantom detested.
Bersebus Descent?
'This is where your quests come in,' Specter chuckled.
'I won't go too deep into it, but long ago, your rulers, the Tyrants, lived in peace and tranquility. They sovereigned over their rightful land, the Latent World, and had no issues nor disruptions in their lives.
'However, that all ended when one singular man was born, and he changed the balance of the world with just his birth. Every human, animal, object, landscape, body of water, and whatever else, all bowed down to him. Including residents in the Latent World.
'They all swore submission to the one named Julius Bersebus.
'This made the Tyrants furious! How dare a baby come into this world and render them, great rulers bearing mighty crowns, worthless! Crownless–even!
'They swore to end him. They swore to kill off Julius Bersebus.'
The man who made the world crownless was Julius Bersebus. . . That's why the Tyrants and Contrivance hate him?
'But they were much too weak against Julius. Too weak. One single slash from his sword could eradicate them all. Because of this, the Tyrants had to think of another plan.
'In came their savior, the All-King, Contrivance. With his help, the Tyrants were able to derive their Chronicles and spread them throughout the Cradles.
'Julius was an abhorrently unjust man. Vile and un-loyal, a vermin of the Almighty title. The fraud forcefully had children with over 300,000 women all to spread his Authority throughout the lands.
'Then, he disappeared, his Authority engrained within millions of children. He did that not only to show power, but to make sure the Authority never returned to the Tyrants. Without it, the Tyrants can't assume power over the Latent World like they used to. And regrettably, most if not all the Authority in his children once belonged to them.
'This is where you come in, Emory. Find his descendants, regain the Authority, use it to power-up, and finally, return it to its rightful owners, the Tyrants.
'Currently, they're shackled far within the Latent World, and the only way they can be free is to regain their Authority that was taken forcefully by Julius.'
It took Emory a while to digest the history of this land. His opinion on Julius tainted—what an evil man. Stealing the Tyrants rightful Authority and also wedding 300,000 women?
He nodded. I understand. I'll help the Tyrants. I'll make sure no child of Julius remains.
His adamancy toward the task also stemmed from Sylphossia's order of destroying the remnant Bersebus Empire. Either way, he knew who his enemy was. It was only a matter of time before they would fall, and Emory Vaughan would be the man standing before them.
'I'll also help you identify those with Bersebus Descent, as they blend in perfectly within the nations.
'At your current rank, the only status of Bersebus Descent you can hunt are called the Circlet. Any other level, your death will be certain.'
Circlet. . .?
'The ranks go as follows: Circlet, Arch, Mound, Jewel, Lining, Crest, Pavilion, Filigree, Garniture, and finally, the strongest of them all, Pendilia.
'No one knows why they are named the way they are.
'By the way, Emory, those at status Pendilia have abilities capable of destroying cities. You very well need to know what faction you're going against. Tread lightly.'
Destroying cities?!
Obviously, he was afraid of the potency that came with those carrying Bersebus Descent. Specter would prove to be a tremendous help.
What's my first task? How do I advance to Hierarch II?
'To advance, you'll need to exterminate four at the rank Circlet or two at the rank Arch. It'll be impossible for you to battle an Arch one-one, so your best bet is to find a Circlet and go from there. Don't worry, just walk through the city, I'll find them and notify you.'
Specter. . . You're really helpful. Thanks. But there's something I have to do before I hunt them.
. . . .
[Silvester School. . .]
Ring! Ring! Ring!
As the children ran off to the playground to start their game of Grounders, Simonis Rebane stayed back and sighed. Her soul hurt. She curled her fingers into a fist, swaying them around her body.
Emory was still missing.
She clutched at her heart and stared into the sky. "When are you going to come back?"
". . ."
"Simonis, why don't you go and play with the other children?" a voice called out to her.
It was an adult, a teacher she had no familiarity with. Simonis twitched at the fact the teacher knew her name, but she knew nothing about them. "I don't think I'll play today, sorry."
The teacher exhaled. "I understand. Is there anything bothering you?"
Simonis didn't want to reveal anything about her missing friend, so all she did was shake her head. The teacher smiled and bent down.
"Alright. Remember, Simonis, you're stronger than you think. You have great power within you, don't let anyone chain you down."
". .Huh?"
"You're a capable girl who'll achieve whatever her mind wills. I believe in you, Simonis, and he does too."
". . ."
The teacher patted her head and walked away.
. . . .
[North Precinct, 34 Hind Street. . .]
Charles Vaughan ran a hand along his forearm, sighing at the quietness outside. He waited for his beloved son to come home. To burst through the door and exclaim how much he's missed his father.
The military instructed Charles not to leave his house; they would be the ones to search for Emory.
It's been so long. . . Come back to me, Emory. Please. Your father misses you.
He thought back to his deceased wife, Isabelle. Emory was the only factor that kept him going day by day. So now that he was gone, Charles's motivation vanished.
He coughed and rubbed the eyebags darkening his face. "Bring him back. . ."
Woop! Woop! Woop!
It was the siren indicating that the sky cracked. A monster appeared! Hundreds of doors slammed across the streets.
Charles did not move. He did not jolt, nor did he sweat.
From afar, he could hear multiple limbs hurtling against the ground. The monster was approaching his house, bloodlust radiating off of it. Charles stayed outside and took in the wind's harsh breeze. He closed his eyes and said to the monster coming for him,
"You can kill me."
Pow!
Thrown off balance, the Iton rolled on the ground and crashed into a nearby lamp. It twisted its head and roared.
Charles, realizing he wasn't dead yet, opened his eyes. There was a figure in front of him. A woman.
She wore a light-blue sundress, modest and beautiful. Her black hair flowed like the tides. Dozens of freckles uniquified her chubby face.
It was none other than his wife.
"Isabelle. . .?" Charles managed, mouth gaped.
Why was she here?
Isabelle took one step forward and dashed to the Iton. She sidestepped and round-house kicked it in the abdomen. The Iton flailed and reached to stab her.
She dodged magnificently and hurled to the sky. From there, the lady rained down a powerful axe-kick to the Iton's head and finished the beast off.
After the fiend perished, Isabelle turned around and faced Charles. Her gorgeous eyes locked on to his dark and tired ones.
She smiled.
Charles slowly staggered to his wife, each step he walked felt like a pain leaving his body. No way. No way in hell.
"I–Isabelle? Isabelle! Isabelle!" Charles cried, tears falling from his face. "You're here? You're alive?"
Isabelle did not say a word. She embraced her husband and then rubbed his cheek. Charles bawled into her shoulder.
"Isabelle! You've missed so much! Emory's born, and he's the best child I could've asked for! He's kind, loving, and he looks just like you. Oh Isabelle! Why were you gone? Why did you leave me?"
Isabelle stayed silent, only patting his shoulders as Charles rambled about his life.
Once finished, he pulled back and asked, "Am I. . . in a dream?"
His wife smiled again.
"Yes."
. . . .
Multiple blocks away from Hind Street, Isabelle Vaughan stepped into an abandoned alleyway. Her face was stone-cold, but her eyes had hints of redness at the edges.
She had been crying.
She took from her pocket a photo of Charles. Isabelle softly touched it and trembled.
Then, she ran a hand along her body.
Poof!
Gone was the sundress, long hair, and womanly, freckled face.
Isabelle's body grew larger, reaching six feet tall. An all-black suit and turtle-neck appeared.
She swiped at her face.
What revealed was the cold, narrow eyed, emotionless depiction of Emory Vaughan.
. . . .
[End of Volume 1 - Abolition.]
[Author Note: Will take a week break to prepare for Volume 2 - Her Credence.]