Soul of Searing Steel

Mommy, I wanna go home!

Though he wanted to remain unsurprised and nonchalant, Creed, was ultimately an ordinary twenty-year-old.

Rebelling against Imperator Amos, the champion who had fought against Commander Radcliffe for days and nights without rest? Elma may have had a death wish, but he certainly did not! He would have ground his teeth and do it if sacrificing himself for Mycroft had been worthy of his death, but to die for an alien race’s rebellion… it was not worth it at all!

Creed remembered the distant sights of the battle in the distance when he was still with the Fleet. As the Commander, the Imperator, and the Grand Patriarch fought on, planetary systems shattered one after another while planets were reduced to dust. Even stars were simply large energy sources while the world crumbled like cookies…

Rebelling against such a champion?

Urgh…

Creed missed the minced pork needles his mother used to make back home.

Either way, realizing that the matter at hand was spiraling into an abyss entirely out of his control, Creed could no longer pretend to be calm. He turned to Elma, both hands covering his face and asked in a quivering, almost crying tone, “Can I not be a part of this? Can you just send me home? If you really want to… uh… rebel, it would be more convenient for you to join us at the Mycroft faction… What I mean to say is can I have some time to think about this?”

“Sure. It won’t be a problem to send you home.”

But unexpectedly, Elma nodded decisively. The alien who had assumed a female human appearance had responded so quickly that Creed held his breath and felt hope, although that soon vanished as a serene spiritual presence echoed, “But not now. There had been something afoot with the Court a while ago that it is now on full alert. It would be fine if it was just myself, but it would be very troublesome to bring you along. The hunters can easily detect the soul scent of any non-Amos.”

With those words, Elma studied Creed from head to toe with rather human ‘narrowed eyes’, “Of course, it’s not an absolute for me. You only need help me with one matter, and I will be willing to repay you and help you escape.”

As… I’ve thought?

Creed, who had been mourning for himself, promptly felt a lift in his spirits. He knew that the most important thing was about to come. Elma had deliberately rescued him and communicated with him pleasantly while directly declaring its intent to rebel against Imperator Amos, so it stood to reason that it would not have let him go so easily—setting aside the issue of whether it would fulfill its own promise, his only hope now was to work together.

With that thought, Creed could not help but press, “What is it, then?”

Elma could not help but glance at Creed once, noticing the commendable mental composure of the human. Not everyone could awakenen from a long period of soul hibernation and immediately accept present circumstances while trying to seize a chance in grasping their own fate. Though Creed had behaved a little dispiritingly, no creature could avoid the fluctuation of emotions. After all, it was the Imperator Amos whom they had been talking about—it would have been unusual to feel normal, and Creed was indeed behaving normally. His ability to quickly recover from his negativity was an important advantage as well. It symbolized his mental fortitude, even if it appeared rather vulnerable on the surface.

“It’s simple.”

Scanning spiritually and ascertaining that Creed possessed no other ideas, Elma raised a hand. Translucent tentacles that formed the limb began to emanate a distinct pale-blue light, and with a small teleportation, a small chest appeared in its hand. Placing it on the board that protruded slightly, Elma’s demeanor became serious again as it opened the chest and revealed the true face of its contents.

Looking inward curiously, Creed then saw a silver light. It appeared to be a beam, but was in fact a solid transparent substance, placed within a rectangular box crafted from bony matter that was fifteen centimeters long and seven centimeters wide, occupying the entire space inside the box.

Noticing the small beam in the box while an infinitely familiar presence wafted to him, Creed blinked and looked at the light in shock, looking up in astonishment at Elma and subconsciously muttered, “Do you know what this is?!”

“I do. It’s part of the Redemption System that you Mycroftians have been promoting around the Multiverse.”

Handling the chest in hand and placing it on the bone table steadily, Elma looked up at Creed and said calmly, “According to your brethren and the feedback of the races who have used this thing, the exchange terminal contains most of the knowledge and technology of the Mycroft civilization which are more advanced than ours… it took me great pains and cost to obtain a small part of this restoration terminal from a small civilization.”

“And you’re hoping to obtain the knowledge and technology to rebel against Imperator Amos?” Creed could not help but raise his voice. “Are you sure about this?”

Dear sister—or brother, since there’s no telling an alien race’s gender and it could well be genderless… Either way, doesn’t this fellow called Elma have a few screw off in its head?!

Leaving aside its unusual intention to fight against Imperator Amos, according to what Creed remembered, the Restoration Beam and the Redemption System were Legendary items created by Commander Radcliffe himself! The power and skill contained within was something not even ordinary Legends could break down!

Though Elma appeared to have mysterious ability, it was definitely no Legend and would at most be a formidable Supreme. What gave it the confidence to crack the Beam?

“Yes,” Elma then said with a forthright manner with no intention to conceal itself. “Although there is still an insurmountable gap between myself and the Imperator now, I’m convinced that my chance in mounting a successful rebellion would rise from one out of 10,000 to two out of 10,000, and I will strive for it as long as it takes for that increase.”

“That being said, your Mycroft brethren have established extremely strict clearance settings for the redemption beam, with each Restoration Beam allocated to different races useable only by either Mycroftians or the mentioned race. It has costed me dearly to obtain a part of this beam, and it no longer responds to my commands after giving me some basic information about the Mycroft common tongue and your civilization. It was incidentally then that I managed to pick you up—a pure-blooded Mycroft person.”

At those words, Elma nodded slightly and rather proudly added, “Using the sphere which preserves your soul and the records of your bloodline, I’ve successfully rebuilt your body, reviving and even improving you… in the future, I will send you away from the territories of the Court and provide you with a path to return to the reach of Mycroft’s power, but before that, you have to help me draw knowledge from the redemption beam. This is a trade and a pact.”

With that, Creed understood. Elma had intended to use him as a middleman to withdraw information. He would conduct the exchanging, and then hand Elma the goods.

If it decided it would not, the Redemption System would regrettably cease its service entirely.

If one used force, they could try and see if their fists could last longer than the seemingly soft Restoration Beam.

It was also worth mentioning that the Restoration Beam had triumphed over all present combat records.

“…I can work with that.”

Creed groaned after thinking for half a beat. “I don’t actually have any other choice even if you are lying to me… Still, may I know the reason you are fighting against Imperator Amos? I cannot believe you at all without knowing that reason, whether a lie or otherwise.”

After all, he is the greatest champion of your civilization.

With that idea in mind, Creed raised his head, the dark-haired youth from the Empire’ southern reaches wearing a serious expression. He was a citizen of Mycroft, born after Emperor Israel’s ascension to Legend. His childhood years were lived amidst waves of dark tides and the protection of countless Imperial forces—a priest of the Church had set up a temple school where he learnt to read, the Emperor’s new policy for tax deduction allowed him to live independently by joining the army, and he had the opportunity to become a Extraordinary individual because of Nostradamus’s Otherworld Exploration Project.

And he was trained beneath Count Radcliffe’s banner.

Creed had seen many champions invested in safeguarding the Mycroft civilization, including the Seven Gods, Pope Igor, Master Gaskel, Lady Vahina. Some amongst them watched over their homeland, others crossing the endless Void to a faraway place alongside their many officers and soldiers—Creed simply could not imagine why individuals of a civilization would want to rebel against their own champions, and the same applied even to an enemy’s civilization.

Therefore, the young human gazed at the alien lifeform. Creed watched Elma seriously, awaiting its answer. Noticing Creed’s face, Elma blinked—her simulated form appeared ever more human. After a moment of silence, she asked suddenly, “Little fellow of Mycroft. What is your name?”

“Creed,” the young captain answered at once. With the room containing just the two of them in the first place and because they had both been communicating spiritually, ‘you’ and ‘I’ would have sufficed. Even so, he did not deny her his name.

“Very well, Creed.” Elma crossed her legs in her seat and serenely said, “Did you know? The war between the Amos Court and the Takur Ruin Cult has lasted 14,000 years.” Noticing the astonished gaze on Creed, Elma shook her head gently before continuing calmly, “It appears that you understand the concept. For 14,000 years or what was a thousand generations, the sole purpose of our civilization has been to oppress and destroy another powerful civilization.”

“We saved on every basic need rationed, investing bone and blood while training our limbs. We set fire to worlds and stars, throwing endless limited, mortal lives into the bottomless pit—and that has already continued for 14,000 years.”

At that, Elma smiled nonchalantly. “Still, there is in fact nothing wrong with it. The Imperator is right—a civilization without a powerful opponent would swiftly wither and weaken. But that is also where the problem lies—our civilization has not improved for a very long time.”

“The Court’s technology has stagnated for many years—the last revolutionary technological advancement which saw the invention of the waveless extra-spatial warp has already been 1270 years ago.”

Elma’s tone remained ever calm, but Creed could feel that her spiritual presence was emanating with faint annoyance and melancholy even as the Amos continued, “It’s the same for any victory in the war. We’ve seen neither victory nor defeat for a long time, having remained in a stalemate with the Cult for 900 years. The struggle between us had simply evolved from direct warfare to a cold war where we expanded our military reserves, built fortresses, and built extradimensional interdictors at our borders. We may still be maintaining a standoff by the borders, but it has been ages since we have last seen an all-out war.”

Elma’s words were followed by silence, and it was a while before she slowly continued, “We have stopped developing. And given that the progress of any civilization and race’s existence in the Multiverse is an uphill one, we are falling backward if we do not move forward.”

Creed furrowed his brow and watched the alien lifeform before him, just as Elma ‘looked up’ towards the Mycroftian and said softly, “I can’t accept that our civilization is slowly becoming weak. We have to be strong and eternally so, or we would not be able to face the bones and corpses we’ve buried—whether of the enemy or our own brethren.”

That is why I want to reverse all of this.

“Therefore, after I had set my beliefs, I chose to becoming a ‘Research Individual’ and set my mind to repay the Court with my intelligence and commence a technological revolution with the prelude of brand-new tools. However, there was no battle waged and the drive for research eventually withered. My funding was often redirected, and with myself not being a generational prodigy that came once every 10,000 years, I had no progress save for certain aspects in the biotechnological field, hence bearing the lingering feeling that I was of no use at all and virtually a piece of scrap.”

“Later, after agonizing over it, I then understood that authority only came with ability. That was why I changed my class to ‘Combat Individual’, setting my ambition on banishing alien races with the martial power I possessed to shatter the balance and level the Takur Ruin Cult, reinvigorate my civilization’s vigor, and usher an era of national stability. Even so, one was either a General (Amos’s title for Legends) or a minion, and though I had reached the threshold of that level, my heart could never calm enough, leaving me wandering around the edge… I simply had no way to change the state of my civilization by my own strength, and it felt like everything has been destined.”

“In the end, I remained struggling even as I become a ‘General Use Individual’ who roamed within the borders of the Court and solved all problems that I could. I saw the hardship our civilization was enduring from within—the ever more demanding policy for newborns, civilian facilities never maintained for a thousand years and spirit utterly dilapidated constructs…and so I set my will to help every Amos I see, to reduce the hardship one by one—but while the mind is willing, the body is weak, not to mention the vastness of the Court. Even if I could help in one place, how could I help all?”

“If anyone could, it would be the Imperator.”

The lengthy spiritual wave concluded, and Elma lifted her head again to mutter with a troubled tone, “In the past 300 years, I began to think about my civilization.”

“And what is your conclusion?” Creed could not resist asking. Linked to Elma in spirit, he could experience her bewilderment and melancholy directly. It was genuine and without any hint of falsehood, nor the smallest iota of a deception.

“We weren’t mistaken.”

***

“Not mistaken?!” The young Mycroft captain’s eyes bulged, bewildered. “Something like that does not count as being mistaken?!”

From his point of view, the social composition of the Amos Court was very much out of the ordinary—a civilization which categorized its people into Research Individuals, Combat Individuals, and General Use Individuals, setting all its policies in the name of war and molded in the shape of their Imperator’s personal motivations… that was still not being mistaken?

“That’s right,” Elma lowered her head and glanced dispassionately at Creed once. “We are the ones mistaken, and the Imperator himself.”

“The civilization of the Amos Court is built around the single entity, our Imperator. He shoulders us, and we advance if he drags us forward, and pause if he stops. We are the weak who are being carried, and we have no way of changing the powerful who has stopped.”

With that, Creed could generally guess Elma’s genuine opinion. He gulped, and quietly said, “That is why you’ve decided to…”

“Yes. That is why I’ve decided to rebel.” Elma crossed her fingers over her lap, now appearing to be a Mycroft woman with an entirely translucent skin. “I am on the lookout for a chance to escape the Amos Court. We must leave at once to become an independent civilization, not one carried upon the shoulders of the Imperator, not eternal weaklings that only advances when dragged forth.”

“Though the Imperator stopped all calamities for us, we have to offer our lives in return—it is simply an unfair trade, for we should die and sacrifice ourselves only for our resolves and beliefs! I can accept putting my life on the line for my own civilization, but I would never accept acting as a tool, a pawn, and a chess piece in the Imperator’s game of civilizations, and to die as if it is only natural!”

As she continued, Elma’s tone slowly became emotional. Her human joints were whitening as mana signatures encircled and manifested around her body, while she enunciated every word, “We can fight and be sacrificed, but that should be in the name of civilization’s progress and not at the whim of the Imperator!”

“We are all people of Amos—we may not be as powerful as the Imperator now, but who could tell in the future? We can offer our fealty and declare the Imperator our king, but it does not mean that he can treat us as chess pieces and slaves!”

***

At that very moment, Creed, linked to Elma’s spirit, seemed to hear a voice.

We are the strong! Not playthings, not objects of pity! We are not the Low Amos of the past who would rather choose death than having a future!

The strong would never have allowed themselves to be led because they held great confidence and self-esteem. They would perhaps respect another superior champion and chase after them, but would never be willing to set themselves beneath others.

“I can’t do it alone… I may not be stupid and could even be a talent, but I’m not that talented. That is why I need outside help—in this case, the Mycroftian technology that is your Redemption System.” Elma slowly stood up and moved before Creed to stand peacefully before him.”Creed. I need you to help me.”

It was neither a plea nor a command, but absolute equality and mutual respect.

It was a trade, a pact.

One room, two individuals linked by spirit, honesty without deception. It was a place that simply had no need for lies, a place where none would lie.

I have helped you, resurrected you and will return you to your home, even enhancing you. You will therefore help me obtain information and knowledge, so that I can venture further along the path of rebellion.

Creed took a deep breath in return and lowered his head.

In a single instant, the young captain thought about a great many things—he remembered Commander Radcliffe, as well as the many other Legendary champions. He recalled a moment a long time ago, and the great inferno that consumed the Dark Forests of his homeland. He remembered gazing upon Joshua worshipfully as the warrior overturned heaven and earth afar, recalling what he had experienced then.

It was radical worship and reverence of Joshua van Radcliffe, Legendary champion.

But he was mistaken.

We can respect, pursue and dream to become the champions.

However, we cannot worship them.

For worshipping was the furthest gap away from understanding. If one ever hoped to become an independent champion and individual in the future, they must never worship the champions—instead, they should trust in them, pursue and become them.

“Yes,” Creed whispered. “I can become a Legend, just as you plot for an uprising—it may be impossible and perhaps a one-in-a-billion chance, but it is only by acting that zero would become one, and that is boundless progress… that is a form of defiance too.”

A defiance against low self-esteem, impossibility, self-styled wisdom and a denial of one’s own future!

Creed looked up and rose up as well. Severe pain struck him once again due to the disharmony between body and soul, but Creed took no notice of it this time. Instead, he looked straight into Elma’s eyes and said seriously, “There is a bottomless abyss ahead of you.”

“What other way is there?” the Amos said reasonably and extended her hand. “Even if it’s a bottomless abyss, I refuse to bend.”

“Imperator Amos has made our civilization and race the way we are now. Each individual is a champion selected from the corpses of countless brethren, which is why our inborn nature is as such.”

“This is our civilization and our nature—we pursue the great and victorious, and can only ever improve and triumph. It’s in our nature to grow ever more expectant the harder, more challenging, and more powerful our obstacles would be.”

Even if I would be crushed by the Imperator and thrown into his nebula reactor core, even if I would be meat on the chopping board, it would remain better than to give up or to kneel and beg before the impossible. We, the Amos are a stone with a pounding heart, cold and callous, vicious and fearsome, unyielding even with the blade on our necks!

“And are we Mycroftians naturally weak?” Creed sneered. Even if his mentality had not always been stalwart, even often disheartened and recalling the dishes his mother made back home, his honest pride for his own civilization and race would not allow him to lower his head now. “Then I shall help you. It’s just one in a billion, but it’s enough—as long as we make it multiply hundreds and dozens of times, the day would come when it would become one out of none!”

“If that’s so, the pact is made!”

With a bonding in spirit, the pair made a definitive soul pact.

Since they had already decided to work together, there was naturally no time to waste on hesitating. Elma immediately took out a large stock of lifeforce crystals she had prepared, while Creed threw them inside the Restoration Beam before reaching into the silver flash placed inside the chest.

“Acknowledged. Exchange points available is 301314… switching to technological and tools section… switch successful, commencing tabulation.”

Though small, the Restoration Beam was fully equipped, and while it might have had trouble accomplishing exchanges for something like a warship, it was no different from one in perfect condition when simple technological data was requested. Hence, Creed followed Elma’s request to exchange for various information she needed.

While the Amos might not have necessarily lacked that technology, Elma could not touch it with her clearance, much less use, adjust or attempt to improve it. Nonetheless, the Redemption System that essentially publicized knowledge of all Multiverse would effectively help Elma bypass obstacles of clearance and qualifications, even enriching her knowledge.

The skills Elma needed were not actually kept confidential either, since they were mostly correlated to teleportation and basic civilian amenities. It appeared that she was earnest in leading a group of Amos to escape their Imperator’s rule and live independently away from the court.

Time flew as redemption points were used like gushing water. Elma had continuously moved several batches of lifeforce crystals that she eventually displayed signs of muscles ache—even so, since she could accomplish the task at one go and because she lacked opportunities, she insisted on finishing everything then, passing Creed crystal after crystal to be exchanged.

Nevertheless, Creed suddenly paused the exchange and froze, remaining motionless.

“What is it, Creed? Didn’t you find it in the Redemption Beam? Or is your body having problems?”

Surprised, Elma reached out with a dozen tentacles that stroked Creed all around, probing for some sudden symptom—but she soon froze as well.

“Huh…”

Creed’s face was pale and his sweat virtually raining, for the young captain had felt a familiar presence from the Restoration Beam, as well as some instructions worth pondering about. Gulping, he then laughed softly. “I’m probably… not going back for a while…”

“Sorry, Elma. I’m afraid your plan would have to be delayed as well.”