Serial
46: Gaschamber gunstar
January
16th, 33 S.D. 20:15 Valia, Sventa
Liveta had never once set foot in Sventa until recently. For that matter, she had never before left Henron at all. Hers was not an uncommon situation among Astens. Countries like Henron were bordered by other major clans in any direction; there wasn’t exactly any territory she could safely travel to. She couldn’t even go to Gandia or the Vestels if she wanted, not that she had ever desired to do so. As she sat behind a desk, an office of some sort in the town, she wondered what it was that made Sventa so different. The buildings weren’t so strange, excluding the traditional dome-like structures that were unique to the Sventa. But not all of them were like that, such as the place she and her soldiers had repurposed into their command center; it could easily have been a scene from home. The foods they’d confiscated were identical to many Henron staples. Of course the languages matched perfectly; there were no illegible signs of gibberish posted anywhere in town.
If anything, Liveta felt it was comparable to entering a neighbors house, albeit a house her forces had violently stolen. The people they’d driven out of Valia hadn’t looked any different from the kinds of folks she remembered in Badal, her birthplace. With a few minor alterations in clothing, those who had once lived in this Sventa community could have readily been Henron themselves. So, what was it really that separated Sventa and Henron? A few etched lines on a map? She only pondered on this matter because she was now one of the few Henron who had made it this far into Sventa. Had she expected them to be so wildly foreign from herself? At any rate, a sharp series of knocks came at her door.
“Come in,” she called, putting several papers together in a pile. Core Lead Ano Taksat appeared from the threshold as the door swung away. “Ver Ano, how good of you to join me,” she nodded, setting down her pencil. Though they were both technically of equal rank, Liveta always respectably referred to him given his age and experience as an officer.
“Liveta,” he said, nodding briefly in acknowledgment.
“What brings you here at this hour?” she asked. “It will be terribly late once you return to Totul.”
“Unfortunately, I highly doubt I shall see much rest regardless.”
“Hmm? Has something occurred?” she questioned, clasping her hands together on the desktop.
“That is speaking lightly, sa.” Liveta frowned a bit as Ano took his seat. “A report came in earlier during the day. It took a bit to verify, but there is no doubt in my mind of the situation.”
“Which would be?”
“The Wolf of Sventa,” Ano said.
Liveta pursed her lips as she turned to the side for a moment. “A regrettable development...”
“A damned regrettable development,” Ano corrected.
“What are the specifics? Have we engaged her yet?”
“Just a small skirmish in Leitis. Most of the unit there returned to Totul in more or less sound condition, no deaths. However, the Wolf seems to have come up with a new, rather devious technique.”
Liveta shook her head as her gaze returned to Ano. “She certainly has no end to them. What is it this time? Can she summon a blizzard on a whim now?”
“I would not give her any ideas,” Ano sighed. “Whatever she has done, it cuts through anyone, but physically it does not harm them. From the medical accounts, it seems as if something else were drained, their spirits or energy or some such. The victims become greatly fatigued as a result. Furthermore, after the attack, their bodies become ensnared in what looks like electricity. However, it is not electrical at all. Apparently it is just a phenomenon of light.”
Liveta raised her eyebrows as she registered all of it. “Hmm... very curious. How are the affected soldiers?”
“They have been relieved of combat duties presently; they are in no position to battle the enemy.”
“So, they were left incapacitated... Shrieks. Surely you realize what her presence means?”
“Sa,” Ano said firmly. “Suvla of the TRIBLADE unit has failed. She is missing-in-action as far as I know, but her true status is unknown. We expected the Wolf to have been dealt with by now, and we definitely did not anticipate that she - or anyone - would come so quickly north.”
“Let us not forget, however, that she must contend with your order and mine. She may have powers that elude us, however, is it reasonable to expect a single human being to withstand so many thousands?”
“Consider that we do not precisely know the extent of her abilities,” Ano countered. “She could well outdo us yet again, perhaps even because we did not properly estimate her. Even if she could not match the strength of our combined orders, all she has to do is damage us enough until the Sventa army arrives.”
Liveta drummed a single finger atop the desk as she gave pause. “Sa, even if we did manage to stop her, the cost may well be too great for us. We would still become vulnerable in the end.”
“The Wolf may indeed be the most formidable threat to us, but I believe there is still a way to handle her.”
“How so?” Liveta asked, cocking her head. “Do you intend to pit Avil, the last deployable member of TRIBLADE against her?”
“About that man, he is another matter altogether,” Ano said, waving his hand dismissively through the air. “He has already left to fight the Wolf. No plan. No tactics. Everyone in that unit is so brash. It was not as if I could stop him. He reports directly to Govan, the same as you and me. His actions and movements are not mine to dictate.”
“So then, what is your course?”
“I am afraid you yourself would find it very disagreeable, however, it cannot be helped in our case. I need not remind you that we are under strict orders by Ver Heigon Henron, our lord, to win this war, by any measure. The penalties for our own failure would be grave.”
Liveta closed her eyes briefly as she breathed deeply. “Shrieks, Ver Ano, just what on the Continent do you propose to do? If you are this serious, you must have little faith in Avil.”
“Liveta,” Ano began. “It would be a happy accident if Avil managed to do anything to stop the Wolf. Unfortunately, I place the greatest of my doubts on him.”
She frowned in the corner of her mouth. “That sounds rather harsh given his skill as a fighter... but given his opponent... Now, about your methodology.”
Ano leaned in closer as he spoke. “I am going to defang the Wolf. If it works as I predict, not a single speck of Henron blood will be shed.”
Losha sat in Jun’s living room, idly staring out the window. There truly was no one else in Leitis but the two of them that night. She kept a close watch on any approaching seras frequencies, but none ever appeared. She wondered what the Henron were doing. Would they arrive in droves to attack her? When would the Sventa army come? It would not be long before the Henron formed a response; she was just concerned what it might look like. As she heard shuffling coming from Jun’s room, Losha turned her head back and looked.
“Are you awake now?” she asked before he stumbled around the corner.
“I suppose,” he answered slowly, rubbing his eyes. The kid had slept through the entire afternoon, having been so exhausted from his ordeal. She was actually surprised to see him moving around at this time; she somewhat expected him to rest much longer. Perhaps he still feared the Henron would return. A subtle apprehension like that surely would have disturbed her, though with her ever expanding powers, in reality she had few enemies to worry about.
“Were you looking out at town?” he questioned.
“Sa. There is nothing to see, however. Everything is empty and quiet.” While Losha had meant to say there was no danger afoot, her words only reminded Jun of how alone he’d suddenly become. His eyes shot to the floor as his face seemed to drop.
“Sa,” Losha quickly said. “We should probably eat something. What would you like for dinner? I will make it for you.”
“Se?” Jun mumbled as he yawned. “You have not eaten yet?”
“Of course not,” she grinned. “I am the guest technically. It would not do to freely avail myself to your food, not without you anyway. That, Jun, would be rude.”
Jun laughed a bit as he scratched his back. “Ha ha! You are pretty funny, Ver Losha. You beat up Henron left and right and enter my home like a thief, then you talk about how one should behave.”
“You know those two examples are extraordinary conditions. Outside of that, we all have to act appropriately. And please, do not call me ‘Ver’. That makes me sound old.”
“Well, you sound like a mom...”
Losha sighed as she stood up. “I will take that as a compliment. But that is beside the point. What are we going to eat?”
“Hmm...” Jun thought for a moment. “Sa! How about glazed Alda rolls?”
“Glazed Alda rolls?” Losha repeated. “Jun, that kind of food is for breakfast. And all that butter and sugar is not healthy.”
“Mmgha... hmmga...” Jun muttered, annoyed. “What about some fried folosa?”
Losha shook her head at the suggestion. “You should not be eating so many fats. You can have it unfried if you-”
“Agh! Bleh! Terrible! Who eats it like that? Sa, sa. You have to let me have cooked hamlet soup!”
“Well...” Losha began, slightly shifting her eyes away. “It may be best to stay with items that I can actually cook...”
“Ksh. Adults are supposed to know everything!”
“Come on now, think of something else, please,” she urged him.
“Sa, chicklet sandwiches I guess.”
“Wonderful,” Losha said as she stood and turned around to the kitchen. Immediately she started searched through all the various cabinets and drawers for the necessary tools and utensils. As she moved to get the ingredients, however, she ran into a rather large obstacle.
“Jun...” she said, holding up the lid of an ice-box, leaning into the container. “I do not think you have any chicken.”
“Sa...”
“We will have to stick to meals we can actually prepare. Unless, of course, you want me to look around town. There is bound to be something the Henron did not take.”
“No, you do not have to go,” Jun said.
“Well, we have to eat something. How about this?” She closed the ice-box and pivoted toward the boy. Losha held up one finger close to her head, as if pointing to some idea of hers. “We will make something new, something different. Something we can make with what we have.”
“Alright,” Jun repled. “As long as it tastes good.”
“It will,” she assured him. With this new aim in mind, Losha began her work, gathering the food and organizing everything else.
“I can set the stove. I will get the wood; the logs are just outside,” he offered.
“Oh, there is no need for that. I will not be using it.”
“What?” Jun exclaimed confusedly. “But you took out frozen beef. You expect us to eat it cold and raw?”
Losha shook her head and laughed. “No, I intend to cook it, just without a fire.” Jun simply looked at her as if she had suddenly turned into a raving idiot. However, Losha just hummed to herself as she focused on the task. “Se-ri-al-ai-ze-shon,” she said in a sing-song fashion. “You know, I do not think I even need half of these utensils either.”
With a wave of her hand, she cast a multitude of kinetic series all at once. Instantly, bowls, cutlery, and food levitated off the counter. They danced and swam through the air as she moved her arms and fingers about as if conducting their actions. A trio of knives sliced up vegetables while flour, wheat, and yeast on the other end began to mix together. A blue light soon enveloped the beef; the ice around it gradually melted as its form became tender.
“Sa, of course! Magic!”
“I already told you,” Losha said, turning around, hands on her hips. The cooking went on however, even without her direct attention. “This is not magic. It is called serialization.”
“You keep saying that,” Jun pointed out. “But I still have no idea what that really means. You said some stuff about soulful artwork too, but it looks like magic still.”
Losha sighed as she offered him a seat. “Come now, time for a little lesson.” Jun sat down, placing his hands on his knees, gazing up at her attentively.
“Everyone has a soul. To describe what a soul is, think of it as your core essence. If we could strip you of mind and body, you would still exist as a soul. This irreducible state of being is the focal point of serialization. The soul is not merely some ethereal spirit within you. It is you. Furthermore, the soul possesses a type of energy within it. This energy is called seras. Ordinarily, seras goes unused. You and everyone else you have ever known have never taken advantage of this energy. That is the result of never having learned the principles of serialization. Serialization itself is the process of turning the seras inside of us into actions. It involves gathering seras from the soul, then manipulating it to perform a task. It may seem rather mystical, but it is something that requires years of study and practice to gain proficiency.”
“So, how did you learn it?”
“Me? Well, my master took me away from the Central Plains as a child, and I have been learning it ever since. Though I have assumed the title of ‘master’ myself, one really does not stop gaining new knowledge.”
Jun began kicking his legs back and forth as they dangled shortly over the floor. “How come I never heard of this?” he asked. “Was it some big secret? Were you like a monk or something?”
“N-no, not at all. Monks are male anyway. But, sa... To some extent, serialization was a closely guarded secret, at least it was not exposed to the world at large. However, I am now in a position to freely spread the art.”
“Wow! So you could teach me everything you know?”
“Not everything. That would take a long time.”
“But still, I could be a serializator.”
“We just call ourselves serialists.”
“Sa, sa, but you could teach me stuff, sa?”
“Sa. I... After this war is over, I am going to start a school, for teaching serialization.” Losha turned around, walking over to a cabinet to get some plates. “My master, he is no longer with us; the school he founded, the place where we all originally became serialists is gone. I want to do as he did, to give others the chance to realize the power of their souls.”
Already, she had completed the dish without ever actively using her own hands to tend to it. She’d even managed to perfectly heat the food without bringing it near a flame. “I believe serialization can change the way we live,” she said as she arranged the meal onto the plates. “It can help us achieve all sorts of things. It is not simply about doing fantastic things, but also the ordinary as well. If we can all harness this ability, we could make our lives that much better. We could even change the culture of our land into something peaceful.
Losha turned away from the counter, then carried their dinner over to the table. “However,” she continued as they both scooted forward in their chairs. “Serialization is also a very dangerous art. It could easily turn into something frightening and terrible. That will be my duty as well, to see that people learn to use it properly. But first, I must use my skills to stop this conflict. But before even that, we must eat.”
“What is it?” Jun asked, rotating his head over the meal. Before him sat a large, semi-circle of thickened, crisp bread. The edges were crimped shut, apparently to hold the contents in place. The middle budged and by touch gave off considerable warmth.
“Sa... Since I just made it spontaneously, it really does not have a name. However, all I did was wrap beef, potatoes, carrots, celery, and green onions in bread and cooked it. I did add some water and salt for juiciness and flavor respectively. It may taste very soup-like and very sandwich-like at the same time. All you have to do is use a knife to cut it down the middle and-”
“Thit isp delicioup!” Jun said, his mouth full of food as he held up the bread.
“... Or you could just use your hands,” she laughed.
Now that she thought upon the matter, there was probably a whole world of serialization waiting to be discovered as it related to cooking. The same applied to other fields as well. Medicine, agriculture, transportation, engineering: everything could be revolutionized with serialization. The course of the entire Continent was her to shape. She didn’t like to see this as a position of power though; rather it was one of tremendous responsibility. Losha quickly glanced out the window as she took a drink from her cup. The streets of Leitis were cold and barren. Serialization could bring the world to new heights, yet it could also leave it in ruin.
The following morning, barely a klick east of Leitis, a single man marched across the snow. An Henron of dark skin, Avil the Noven Hawk stood out in his environment, but if things went according to his plan, no one would ever see him. He wore semi-transparent shades, an import from some Gandian country he couldn’t remember. They’d been cheap, but he’d liked the look. Gandian goods didn’t come by all that often either. The only other remarkable item he carried was a massive, thin object approximately two and a half meters long. One side wiggled up and down with every step he took. From end-to-end, it remained covered in a tan cloth secured by a dozen interlocking straps. Though the thing was unwieldy in appearance, he balanced it across his shoulders. He held it closely against his neck, as if ready to heave it up into the air like a barbell. Avil walked slowly, whistling a catchy tune to himself.
“Mmm, mmm!” he smiled, glancing up at the bright sun. Not a cloud touched the sky. “Whatta day for the masta’ blasta’,” he said, speaking smoothly in his own style of corrupted Asten. Avil came up a hill where he then halted. Ahead and below, the empty town of Leitis stood.
“Neva’ been to this place, but even I know when it just time to bust out.” For a moment, he glanced around the area, examining all as if he were appraising it.
“Shrieks,” he chuckled to himself. “This spot is pretty bad. Angles are goofy, lighting is off, and the wind is plenty unpredictable. Even so...” Avil tapped the edgeof his sunglasses. “Heh heh! I kinda likes it!”
With the flick of his thumb, he released the single latch on his load. The straps fell limply off as a breeze tore the cloth away. At last, the thing revealed itself. It was an incredibly long gun, however, one of Avil’s own design, a weapon unlike any other across the entire Continent. Swinging it around and over his head, Avil whipped it to the ground. Before it slammed into the snow, a series of bipods unfolded automatically underneath barrel. The gun wobbled slightly as its curved form straightened out.
“Hell yeah!” he said in Gandian, a little something he’d also picked up with the shades. He threw himself down as well, plopping right beside his enormous rifle. Resuming whistling, Avil grabbed the stock and trigger as he peered down the gun’s scope. Leitis came into view, blurred at first, but with some adjustments, he could see almost anything, from the fine print of local advertisements, the individual bits of debris scattered about the street, to the addresses of building. He was interested in something more human though.
“Mighty fine luck ‘o’ mine!” He exclaimed pleasantly. As it turned out, an advance unit of some sort from the Sventa army had arrived to rendezvous with Losha no less. And there they were, standing out in the open, talking as if they were safe. Simply because an enemy was unseen didn’t mean they weren’t a threat. It wasn’t as if they could hide anyway...”
“Awright!” Avil smiled as he carefully centered the crosshairs on them. “‘Bout time for showtime.” He steadied the barrel as he reached out and jerked a heavy lever on the side of the gun. All along the weapon’s length, a bunch of rectangular slots popped, suddenly pushing away their metallic covers in a steaming hiss. White gas ejected as a fair amount of heat poured from these opening. He put his sights on Losha and her comrades, gently correcting the targeting until everything was perfect. When at last aligned, he gave a long, provocative whistle, the kind he’d heard Gandians use as cat-calls. Then he pulled the trigger.
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