“Dimensions? Plural? Now you’re talking nonsense. There’s just us and the Lightsea. Nothing else is out there,” a general of some sort, clad in countless ribbons, rebuffed the young man who reported to him in his plain office.


    The soldier shook his head, demanding trust, and scoffed, “Really? Then how do you explain this?” and, as if to prove himself, the moment the soldier finished speaking, he wrenched his hand, and space flared in his palm like a starship’s breached hull. Obsidian light spilled from the crack, revealing a world populated only by night—and a skull that was larger than most planets.


    The general’s hand shuddered, falling to the young man’s shoulders, “Nandum. This... It could change everything. Where did you find it?”


    Nandum Omou could only shrug, and the light fizzled out from their shared candle, drowning the two and their worlds in darkness.


    <ul>


    <li>


    A recorded hologram, Year 3242.


    </li>


    </ul>


    Blood spilled freely from Dante’s chest as his back slammed against the icy wall. His brain fizzled and stuttered, overwhelmed by the sudden pain and disorientation shoved into his skull. Looking down, he saw it—a jagged length of metal protruding from his chest.


    Right where his heart was.


    No augment in the world could save me from this.


    “Indeed,” a voice murmured, cutting through the fog of agony. Dante’s focus wrenched away from the battle and the groaning of his crew. They lay scattered around him, scarcely conscious but not with fatal wounds. Not like him. His luck was always the worst. The voice pulled his attention toward a figure kneeling in front of him.


    Judas, not the real one, but the fake abscess, crouched before Dante, placing its head inches away from his.


    “Use it. Again,” Judas coaxed, its breath cold on Dante’s face. “You know you want to. It''ll heal you, strengthen you. In a place like this... with what is soon to come...” Judas stood, arms outstretched as though proclaiming to an audience. “You would snowball! Faster than you can imagine!”


    Dante’s brain stuttered along, struggling to function without blood flow. Still, the man thought rationally through the drugs affecting his mind. He knew his time was short.


    Minutes. I have so little—


    “LISTEN!” Judas yanked Dante’s skull and shoved it around, pointing the human’s wobbling eyes toward the battle before him. “Do you see this? This is power! Do you not want it?!”


    The Judge surrounded himself with swirling, almost multicolored waves of water, and fended off the Anathema, who danced and giggled in delight, reveling in the battle. Laughing at every attack the Judge made, the creature toyed with him, its power far beyond the Tianshe.


    Dante knew something in his core. That Judas, this daemon, or whatever he was, wanted him to give in, to give him more power. He wasn’t sure how it worked. Regardless, the damned thing had been appearing more and more since he used the Lightsea.


    The abilities he gained were potent, yet he sensed the danger of letting Judas take too much.


    However, he wasn’t sure where the tipping point lay.


    The Anathema evaporated the entire southern side of the bank into less than atoms, but the Judge deflected the certain doom with watery whips born of the Lightsea. The sight was more than impossible to Dante. It was far beyond his understanding.


    It was a Tide against a Stigmata, the ocean against the winds. However, the Dirge still had its own Tide to join in.


    Judas leaned closer, his voice a snake’s whisper in Dante’s ear, “What about your little brother? Would he want you to die here? Like a dog, right before the grand adventure you always dreamed of together? Remember how he longed to sail the stars? Do this for him, Dante. Not for me. Not for you. For him.”


    The plea to Dante’s conscience, the lithe piece that still existed and held onto the remnant of his brother’s wishes, bowed his head. With his surrender to the daemon, lights swam within his eyes more than before.


    Millions of tiny dots swarmed into his pupils as space didn’t change like usual. It only became more clear. He was already within the Lightsea, even if only partially.


    Dante’s legs moved beneath him, lifting him to his feet. He should have felt weak. He had been moments from death. Instead, he felt... whole. More than whole. The Lightsea itself rallied to him, bending to his will.


    Such a feat was unheard of, drawing attention from the two dangerous figures. The two, however, merely glanced at him before returning to their duel.


    The multicolored waves swirled across his hands before they shifted to a dark film of water. For the first time, Dante could see it—like opaque glass. He had always known the Lightsea was there, but now it was real, tangible, dancing across his skin like a living thing.


    A crash drew his attention back to the battle. His crew still lay on the floor, unable to do much more than crawl. But Dante was no longer one of them. None were as unlucky as him to be impaled, thankfully.


    He’d already come this far. What’s a little more?


    Dante, with the look of an almost certain death in his eyes, walked forward and successfully breached the thin veil that kept him safe. The two figures faced him warily as the human entered their sights. Without his mask.


    “Get out of here!” the Judge shouted, then his face contorted with desperation and glanced at Dante. “A human? With—Motherfucker. This is the worst first day on the job ever. Hey! Help me, and I won’t report you!”


    Meanwhile, the Anathema continued to chortle like a young child, tapping its claws together at the comedy before it. Dante glimpsed back and forth, confident in who he wanted to help, but unsure how.


    His tranquil tone cloaked the anticipation in his heart as he asked, “What should I do?””


    The Judge grunted while deflecting another deadly blow from the Anathema and said, “There is an incomplete Domain Collapse. Covers the nearest hundred kilos and ruins most technology, so don’t try anything with electricity in it,” after retreating a moment, the Tianshe breathed out a few more words. “He’s above my ordinance to deal with on my own, and the only help in the city is the Baron, blocks away. Name’s Claudius. Just do what you can.”


    Before Dante could process it, Claudius surged forward, riding the currents of the Lightsea like a wave. Yet, to Dante, the oceans of the bizarre ‘Domain’ didn’t move like they did for the Judge. The waters welcomed him and Judas. But...


    “You heard him,” Judas whispered. “Get in there. Die later, or maybe live now.”


    Dante didn’t hesitate whatsoever. Without the Nullify in his system to dull his emotions, everything felt raw, real. This empowered version of his Stigmata had ripped the drug from him entirely somehow. The fact that his new crew was behind him pushed him onward. If they were his old crew... with how he had been betrayed... he might have just left.


    But... things were different now. They weren’t just hired for one job. Rejo shook his hand to follow him into the center of the galaxy. Sonna was tied to him, whether or not she wanted to be. As for Joan... that mad scientist wanted to ride his coattails and get her own Qualae for experimentation and renown.


    Different reasons. Different codes. Different ethics. But he respected them. He... He liked them, as much as it felt weird for him to realize. It had only been a few days. Even so, he liked the group he had built. The potential egged him on.


    They already worked well together, with his oversight, that is. And they would only grow more. But right here, right now, he had to step up, even if it meant almost certain death.


    Space warped before Claudius, and somehow, his own waves protected him. The attack from the Anathema scratching at its own face was utterly diverted, but the Judge still didn’t make any progress. He leaped back away from a following strike, sweat dripping down his face and onto the scorched floor below.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Here, Dante strode forward. He walked right for the Anathema. He didn’t know what he would do. Not truly. It was stupid. He knew that. But he also knew that he had to try. Anything.


    “Anathema. What is your name?” a confused whine met his inquiry, and that caused a temporary pause in the bloodlust.


    Dante sidestepped carefully, listening to the harrowing noises from the creature. Then, it actually answered him.


    “Astraeus. It is a pleasure to meet you, Dante Penance. Master likes you. A lot…” chittering laughter echoed afterward. Claudius’ eyes met Dante’s, and the human could only shrug. He didn’t know what that meant either, not truly. He could only guess that Astraeus had been watching him through Rejo.


    Another question came. Since he had bought a few moments of peace, Dante thought he had perhaps gained that exact thing. With the brief lull, he asked, “Why are you here? Are you alone? Must we fight?”


    Still, Dante neared the Anathema, step by step. He was careful not to raise its concern, but he drew closer to it with caution. Astraeus, however, did not enjoy the secondary questions proposed.


    It roared at Dante, opening its terrifying claws to threaten the human, “Quiet! You are too weak to have a say! You are not to question my motives! Now, help me kill this heathen. We must help my Master.”


    Heathen? What is he talking about? Master? Is he doing this for someone?


    Dante’s mind spun in circles as he struggled to comprehend what the monster meant. It referred to Claudius as a heathen, but not him. Yet, the man didn’t get an answer to his question as the Judge struck at Astraeus, a flash of light-fueled currents heading right for the Anathema.


    Claudius fought fiercely, his movements fluid, but the Anathema barely seemed to care. It toyed with him, swatting away his attacks with its gangly limbs. Sweat dripped from the Tianshe''s brow, mixing with the blood splattered across the floor.


    Dante kept moving, drawing closer to the Anathema with each careful step. His fingers curled around the bomb strapped to his side, a weapon designed to blow through reinforced concrete. It was their only chance.


    The Judge had mentioned technology wouldn’t work. Things with electricity, however, were his specific words. This bomb, like most of Dante’s bombs he made, was untraceable. As such...


    Not a mote of lightning coursed within the device.


    The human spread his limb outward, pressing the detonation button on the device, but it wasn’t devised to blow immediately. The countdown began inside the explosive charge.


    Before he could get close enough, a blistering backhand from the Anathema struck him like a freight train. Dante’s vision exploded in pain as he crashed to the floor, his body convulsing from the impact.


    On the scorched bank floor, Dante’s eyes stared up at the Judge, who struck with unwavering fervor. Through blurred vision, Dante saw Claudius still resisting, desperately trying to survive. And amid it all, Judas appeared beside him.


    “I said you’d die here,” Judas scoffed and spoke in his natural enigmatic tone. “But I’m not strong enough to survive yet with her descending so soon. I thought they’d wait longer for the MD. Impatient children… Get up. The bomb might do something. Astraeus’ Tide is Frigo, snow. He’s weak to fire. Though… if you see floating blood… there is nothing I can do.”


    Dante felt himself being dragged to his feet, confusion clouding his mind. He glanced at the bomb in his hands—seconds were ticking away. Without thinking, he hurled the explosive toward the Anathema, the device hurtling through the air.


    The internal clock of the bomb reached the critical point inches from the Anathema’s body, and Dante could only raise his arms to protect himself from the coming detonation. As it sailed through the air, time did more than slow as space crackled dangerously, but Astraeus wasn’t prepared for the weakling’s cunning in time. Why would he be? Technology had never worked under this circumstance in the past.


    Nevertheless, the bomb detonated in a blinding flash, releasing waves of intense heat that washed over Dante, scorching his flesh. He cried out in agony that was soon ripped from him as all the air nearby was lit aflame, but before the flames could consume him, a set of arms wrapped around him, shielding him from the worst of the blast.


    Dante could feel something bizarre in the brief second as the flames dissipated. He felt the Lightsea reach out on its own and protect him, and he saw the same thing occur to the Anathema, only in its own way.


    After the head died, Dante found himself miraculously unscathed. Meanwhile, Astraeus was now stumbling and had a gaping crater in its chest. Space was warped around the injury, but Astraeus’ powers obviously worked too differently from Dante’s Stigmata. He couldn’t replicate the removal of an injury.


    Astraeus had only ever been taught to destroy, not create or restore.


    Claudius, who had wrapped his arms around the human, dashed away, hauling all the waters with him that protected the two. Still, without missing his chance, he mustered all his strength to strike out at the wounded monster.


    The Lightsea finally seemed to give in to Claudius’ demands as the waves bent around him. The Judge’s secondary pistol, newly drawn and bathed in otherworldly light, exuded sparks of crackling water.


    Most Judges only had one firearm. This one, however, had quite the sponsor because of his talent. Few Praetors blessed Judges with their wealth and splendor. Fewer did it out of anything other than self-interest.


    Dante didn’t catch Claudius’ aim, let alone prepare the shot. It simply happened. The Astraeus contorted its grotesque body, shrieking as space itself seemed to shrivel around it in response to the nearby danger. A blast tore through the air, striking the Anathema’s arm with devastating force.


    In an instant, the Anathema lost its entire limb and cut open the earth beneath them, falling into a deep hole. Claudius dropped to climb through, but another slash shattered the floor, causing the rubble to fill in the emptiness. Like that, the Anathema was gone.


    Yet, it left a mark. The wail drenched Dante’s ears in blood, while Claudius suddenly fell to his knees.


    The Tianshe gasped for breath, blood streaming from his human-like eyes and ears. The toll of bending reality and channeling the Lightsea’s power had ravaged his body, far worse than the injuries that the Anathema had given him while playing with his life as the Judge pushed himself far beyond his limits.


    Dante considered helping the man, but he didn’t know the situation. So, instead, he walked to his crew. The human wanted to escape whatever madness he had fallen into.


    But as he stepped away, the once-lit bank turned desolate. The lights flickered out, and the shadows lengthened and clutched for Dante as if drawn to him. An oppressive darkness closed in, suffocating and relentless.


    Claudius had lost his ability to counter Astraeus’ incomplete Domain, even if only on a small scale.


    It was called the Lightsea, and most of the creatures that wielded its power used only the light hidden within it, but it possessed all light, even the lack of it. Darkness was only a collapsing of light. A Domain was taking such a negative into a technique. And without the Judge’s interference, Astraeus regained all the benefits of his incomplete Domain. While distant, the Anathema lost much of his trembles, recovering much faster.


    On the other hand, those within the bank now felt the true brunt of the incomplete Domain. Their visions darkened, backs bent, and thoughts slowed. All these effects were minor, but once they were all added up, they would make a difference.


    Dante’s eyes flickered across the forum toward the open street as he exhaled the newfound weight, swamped in the same peril as the outside world. The human desired nothing more than to escape this nightmare.


    “Wait,” Claudius spoke, his voice weak but determined. “You... you can’t leave.”


    The Judge pleaded for Dante to stop his departure, regardless of his post. He struggled to stand from his knees, legs wobbling and orifices bleeding. A syringe emerged from his back pocket, and he gazed at it with a forlorn sense of loss. Without pause, he stabbed it into his chest. The maroon liquid vanished from the container, reappearing amongst Claudius’ flesh, re-knitting it to the naked eye.


    Dante raised an eyebrow, the darkness not quite hiding his disdain for such people. Nor did his voice, “What? Want me to stay so you can crucify me? Parade me for all your Centurions and Citizens?”


    Claudius shook his head and waved his hands, no lethality hidden in his gaze. He stared at Dante with the same hatred the human had for him, but there was no malice in his voice, “No. You don’t understand. The danger isn’t over, and it’s bigger than you can imagine. The Anathema will return. And if you leave now... you will die.”


    The human’s eyes narrowed, considering the Judge’s words. They were the opposite of Judas''.


    “We have to stop it,” Claudius continued, managing to stand. “You brought this here. You will help fix it. Or none of us will leave this planet alive. We have to stop Astraeus before he brings his Master here. Or whatever else he may be planning. A Caesar this far from the front lines... Even if its just a stronger Anathema...”


    Holstering his weapon, Claudius’ gaze finally settled on the human formally. He looked him up and down before finishing, “Most of the Dirge are toward the galaxy’s center, where the Lightsea has more presence. If they get landfall here... it’ll be a backdoor, and who knows for what? We have to stop them.”


    The weight of the words pressed down on Dante. He didn’t trust Claudius—Roman Judges trained to kill people like him—but even he could see the truth in the man’s eyes. The Judge was right: Astraeus wouldn’t let any of them leave. The Anathema would toy with them until the very last drop of life had emptied.


    “You want to die, do you?” Claudius asked softly, yet the vexed question hit Dante like a punch. The tone was oddly casual, almost as if the thought had just crossed his mind.


    The human shook his head at the question, finding it stupid to even consider, but the voice in his head pounced on it. His actions, to all others, spoke opposite to his refusal.


    Judas licked his lips, his voice inaudible to all but Dante as he agreed, “You do. You most certainly do. Why else would you do such things? You lucked out that this Judge was so strong. A complete rarity to nearly reach the qualifications for a Centurion, I must say. Hey... have you thought to ask him what he was doing out here? Perhaps... he was looking for something... related to that missing star? Maybe he’ll know something about it.“


    Ignoring Judas suspiciously phishing for information, Dante didn’t refuse Claudius’ proposition this time, listening cautiously as Rejo stumbled behind him. The Araki was helping the other two walk; their injuries were bitter but not life-threatening. Most of the damage was disorientation.


    So, while the shadows grew, they paid attention to the Judge’s words, “An Anathema can draw in lower echelons. Many of them. This... fuck. Can’t believe I’m saying this. If you help me, you won’t lose out. Capturing an Anaphage or two isn’t impossible. You could give your crew abilities like your own.”


    “What about him being human? Is that not a problem for you?” Sonna spoke up, delivering a crucial piece while her skull throbbed and dribbled blood.


    Claudius laughed—a short, humorless bark. He reached into his belt, pulling out a sleek device that looked like a phone, though evidently by its beeping tones, from further central in the galaxy. After tossing it toward Dante’s feet, he shrugged, “I’m more concerned with stopping that thing from tearing through this planet than I am about if you’re human. One lone human, despite what Congress might say, won’t amount too much. An Anathema or beyond? They can always bring more.”


    Dante glanced at the phone on the ground, then back at Claudius. The Judge wasn’t lying. He didn’t care about the typical Roman prejudice. There was a much more significant threat on the horizon.


    “As I was saying,” Claudius continued, “Flights are grounded. Anathemas like Astraeus shut off technology with their Domains, even if incomplete. More Dirge will come from his link to the Lightsea as he holds it open and calls for them. Hundreds—maybe thousands—will die as the lesser Dirge crawl out from the shadows. Every passing minute countless fall to them.”


    Dante stared at the phone for a moment before bending down and picking it up. It was a simple gesture, but it signified his acceptance of the situation. He wasn’t getting out of this so quickly.


    Claudius, seeing Dante’s decision, gave a slow nod, “Good. When you’re healed, call me. We’ll need every hand we can get,” then, the Judge left through a sliced-open portion of the wall, a limping gait that gradually grew more steady.


    The human read the name aloud for his crew with a shrug toward the exit, “Claudius Vermillion. That last name sounds familiar, right?” Dante''s eyes flickered to Sonna with the name.


    Rejo and Joan returned the bob of shoulders, knowing nothing, but Sonna spoke up after a second of stuttering, “Yeah. It’s the name of a political family in the Heart, I think. Roman, too, I think. He’s... probably some bigshot. Or on his way to be one.”


    Dante nodded sagely, computing the facts as the Lightsea bent in front of him. Some creatures stepped through another wall of the bank without Claudius’ protection in place. The appearance was slow, likely to take another few minutes before it came through all the way.


    I guess the entire city is going to hell. Maybe... I found a better opportunity to get my genius here. And more.


    The human’s ambition only rose further alongside his ascending greed, all while the insanity of the world escalated. While strolling ahead, he stared directly at the spawning Anaphage, tearing itself into his reality.


    After a moment of observation, he hurried his crew to follow him before the Anaphage crawled all the way through. Dante considered asking for help or knowledge from Judas, but he wouldn’t.


    He wasn’t suicidal. Dante just had to figure out how to use the Lightsea without Judas. With that thought, his eyes sank to the phone now littered in his pocket.


    Claudius would know. But why would he help me? He’s only letting me live because he needs my help. Though, I’m not sure how much I can really do for him. A trick like that won’t work again. Astraeus thought I was harmless. Now that he knows of such powerful conventional weapons… Heh. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure Judas did something to that bomb. It shouldn’t have hurt such a… creature. Or maybe... defenses like that are more active than I thought.


    After turning a corner, Dante found more scrawling shadows and shifted rearward, rushing in another direction. The three behind him followed, slower but with even more panic.


    Quickly, the human realized there was nowhere safe to go to recover. Everywhere light can be, a Dirge could form. So, his eyes turn toward a new destination instead of somewhere to rest.