CELESTIA - CHAPTER 48 : To Hate
The darkness of the lower labyrinth was denser, damper, as if the air itself had forgotten how to circulate. The torches were sparse. In places, the darkness was almost total – just enough for the eyes to adjust, never enough to feel safe.
Water Pulse advanced.
His heavy footsteps made the flagstones tremble. Each movement of his massive body was fluid despite his size, the grace of a predator that never wasted energy unnecessarily. His emerald green eyes glowed in the gloom like two cold embers, sweeping the shadows in search of his prey.
He found him.
The boy was crouched against a wall, knees drawn up to his chest. His brown hair fell in dirty strands across his forehead. He chewed vigorously, blowing a pink bubble between his lips, then releasing it. The bubble rose slowly, passed through the stone as if it didn't exist, and disappeared toward the upper levels.
Alexandro.
Zayn recognized him immediately. Scarlet Class. Explosions. A loud, unpredictable fighter, but formidable at close range.
Alexandro looked up. He saw the night-blue mass standing before him, the cyan spheres shining like secondary hearts, the white fangs protruding from its jaw.
"Good, the other sorry-ass is with my sister," he said, getting to his feet. He spat his chewing gum on the ground, pulled a new one from his pocket, and shoved it into his mouth. "And I'm going to take care of you, beast."
He drew his weapon.
A katana.
The blade was long, curved, made of a dark steel that drank the torchlight. But what struck Zayn was what was not there. No guard. No tsuba – that metal piece that protects the hand and prevents fingers from slipping onto the blade. Nothing. Just the bare hilt, and the sharp steel against his palm.
Alexandro was smiling. His hands were covered in old scars, white lines that told of hundreds of battles where his own weapon had bitten his flesh.
"You know what's funny?" he said, his voice muffled by the chewing gum. "I cut myself all the time. But I don't care. Because as long as I hit the enemy before I hit the ground, I've won."
He spat.
A pink bubble shot out, as big as a balloon, directly at Water Pulse's face.
Zayn dodged. His massive body moved sideways with surprising agility – the bubble passed centimeters from his snout and exploded behind him, scattering burning shards across the walls.
A second bubble. He dove.
A third. He rolled, got up, already moving.
Water Pulse was not a fast form. He was designed for endurance, brute force, resistance. But Alexandro was small, quick, and his explosions covered his entire field of vision.
Zayn opened his jaws.
A pressurized jet of water shot from his mouth, a liquid torrent capable of piercing steel. Alexandro leaped aside – the jet pulverized the wall behind him, carving a crater in the stone.
"Not bad," said Alexandro, landing on a rock. "But you're too slow."
He blew a new bubble – not into the air this time. Directly into his mouth. He held it between his lips, shimmering, charged with blessed energy, then advanced.
The katana. The bubble. Both together.
He attacked.
The blade sliced through the air toward Water Pulse's neck. Zayn raised a forearm protected by his carapace – the steel grated against the night-blue plate, producing a shower of sparks. Alexandro pivoted, spat the bubble at point-blank range.
The explosion threw Zayn backward. He crashed against a wall, his armor cracked at the shoulder, a dull pain radiating through his entire arm.
"You see?" Alexandro sneered. "Your carapace can take it. But I don't need to go through it. I can just…"
He blew another bubble, bigger, more unstable.
"… make it explode from the inside."
He advanced.
Water Pulse struggled to his feet. His cyan nuclei flickered – he had taken too much, too quickly. He wouldn't have time to charge another attack before Alexandro was on him.
But he didn't need to.
A whistling sound cut through the air.
A soccer ball.
It struck Alexandro square in the back of the neck, making him stagger, then crash face-first onto the flagstones. His katana clattered as it fell. The bubble he was blowing burst in his mouth, choking him with a wet sound.
Silence.
Then a click.
"Oh shit, sorry man! I was just playing, I hit him by accident…"
A silhouette approached. Young, brown-haired, wearing the Academy uniform, a soccer ball under his arm. He looked embarrassed, almost ashamed.
Rodrigue.
Zayn blinked. A green light enveloped him – Borealis was reacting, tired, exhausted from the transformation. The night-blue mass shrank, the armor plates retracted, the fangs disappeared, the nuclei went dark. A confused, staccato, almost desperate beeping echoed in his head – beep beep beeeep – and Zayn returned to his human form, on his knees, out of breath, his clothes in tatters.
"Rodrigue?" he breathed.
"Zayn?! Wow, long time no see! What are you doing here?"
Zayn remained silent for a moment, catching his breath.
"I'm… I'm crossing the labyrinth. Like everyone else."
"Ah. I was just playing ball." Rodrigue pointed to the wall where he had been bouncing before accidentally knocking out Alexandro. "There's a room a little further on, it looks like an empty field. I figured it would help me relax."
Zayn looked at Alexandro, unconscious, his face against the stone.
"You knocked him out."
"Yeah. Sorry."
"Don't be."
Zayn stood up, searched Alexandro's jacket, found a badge. Number 4. He tucked it into his own pocket, against his chest. The badges clinked softly – he now had three.
"Thanks, Rodrigue."
"No problem. Want to team up?"
"Why not."
They exchanged a knowing glance, then turned toward the depths of the labyrinth.
Behind them, Alexandro snored faintly, a pink bubble protruding from his nostril.
---
In the room with the blue torches, Yojuro had not moved.
The stone statue advanced, heavy, unstoppable. Its millennial sword whistled as it cut through the air, tracing slow but devastating arcs. Yojuro dodged the first attack with a quarter-turn – the blade grazed his cheek, carrying away a few strands of black hair.
He dodged the second by spinning on himself, like a dancer rather than a warrior.
The third, he parried.
His Void sword – black blade, silver guard – rose to meet the stone steel. The shock made his arms tremble, but he held firm.
"You're going to tire yourself out," said Alexandra, arms crossed, smiling.
"A statue doesn't get tired."
"Exactly."
Yojuro stepped back. He looked at his sword. The black blade, faithful, silent. It could take the form of any legendary blade – that was its power, its mark, its reason for being.
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, the sword changed.
The black blade twisted. Contracted. Lit up. The dark steel transformed into an incandescent material, as if heated in the heart of a star.
The Blazing Inferno Blade.
The blade was long, slender, symmetrical. Its silhouette evoked a living flame, a vertical eye, a crack open in reality. It had no traditional point – both sides flared outward before meeting at the top, creating an organic and threatening shape.
The outer part was a brilliant golden yellow, almost solar. The interior, by contrast, consisted of an absolute black void, as if the blade contained a miniature black hole. Lower down, the color gradually shifted to an incandescent orange, then to a volcanic red near the guard. The overall impression was that of a legendary demonic weapon, a relic capable of tearing space, forged in the heart of a dying star.
The guard was minimalist – two long red protrusions descended on each side of the hilt like claws or fangs, giving the weapon an aggressive and almost living appearance. The hilt, thin and entirely red, seemed made of white-hot metal.
Yojuro gripped it with both hands.
The heat rose along his arms but did not burn him. The blade accepted him. It recognized him.
"Pretty," said Alexandra, not losing her smile. "But a pretty sword isn't enough against a statue."
"I'm not going to cut it."
"What, then?"
Yojuro raised the Blazing Inferno Blade.
The Kairos Eyes turned in their socket. The violet symbol glowed. Stardust floated around his face.
"Invert it."
He struck.
The incandescent blade did not touch the stone. It cut through the air, stopped a few centimeters from the colossus's chest – and the symbol of the Kairos Eyes appeared in the void, a violet circle turning slowly, its hands moving backward.
The inversion.
The statue, which had been advancing toward him, began to move backward. Not fleeing – a forced reverse movement, against its nature. Its feet slid backward across the flagstones. Its sword, raised to strike, lowered. Its helm, lifted, dropped back down.
It retreated all the way to its pedestal. Its joints stiffened. Its stone became inert once more.
Neutralized.
Alexandra's mouth fell open. Her smile vanished.
"What…"
"I reversed its order," said Yojuro, lowering his sword. "Forward → backward. Strike → lower sword. Living → inert."
"That's not possible."
"The Kairos Eyes doesn't respect the rules of reality. It rewrites them."
He lowered the Blazing Inferno Blade, which returned to its usual black form.
Alexandra stared at him, eyes wide. Then she let out a dry, almost nervous laugh.
"Wow. I underestimated you a little."
She raised her white staff.
Yojuro felt a presence behind him. Not a person. A force.
The air.
The air itself contracted around his neck, his arms, his ankles. Invisible. Unstoppable.
"I gave life to the air," Alexandra breathed. "You think you can invert something you can't see?"
She clenched her fist.
The force exploded.
Yojuro was thrown backward, his limbs twisted by an invisible pressure. He embedded himself in the wall, stone cracking around his body, fragments flying in all directions. Blood ran from his lip. His ribs cracked.
He looked up.
The Kairos Eyes still glowed. The symbol turned – faster, more desperately.
"Inversion doesn't work on what you can't perceive," said Alexandra, approaching. "And air, my dear Yojuro, you only perceive it when it hits you. Too late."
Yojuro smiled.
His teeth were red.
"Who said I had to invert the air?"
Alexandra frowned.
"What…"
"I'm going to invert your will."
The symbol turned.
A violet circle appeared before Alexandra. She raised her staff to protect herself – but the inversion was not an attack. It was a reversal.
Alexandra's will turned against her.
The air that was compressing Yojuro suddenly relaxed. And began to compress again – but around Alexandra. Her own arms pressed against her ribs. Her own legs sank into the ground. Her staff slipped from her fingers, rolled across the flagstone, and stopped near the inert statue.
"No… no!"
She tried to release her blessed energy. The luminous lines on her body began to flicker – unstable, contradictory, as if her power was fighting itself.
Yojuro stood. The cracked stone fell from his shoulders.
He walked toward her, slowly, the Kairos Eyes glowing in the blue darkness.
"Your miracle is powerful. But it depends on your will. And your will…"
He placed a hand on the white staff.
"… doesn't know what it wants. You hate the UAP, but you obey. You want freedom, but you stay. You are strong, but you think you're weak."
He picked up the artifact.
"As long as you doubt, the Kairos Eyes will win."
Alexandra fell to her knees. The air relaxed. Her blessed energy went out, the luminous lines fading from her skin like scars healing too quickly.
"You… you're not going to kill me?"
"No. I'm going to take your badge."
He searched her jacket, found a number 2 badge, tucked it away.
"Next time, we'll really fight."
He turned on his heel.
Behind him, Alexandra remained on her knees, short of breath, her hands empty.
The statue, motionless, a silent witness to a defeat that stone could not mourn.
Yojuro disappeared into the corridor.
The blue torches flickered one last time, then went out.
---