Cogs & Cognacs—Part One

The Burning Bird ❶

Adorned in gold—the simplest way to describe the man sitting in front of me. Head to toe, his boots glimmer in the invisible sunlight of the [Dreamscape] we lie dormant in. "Thanatos, had you not introduced me to your Blessed?" Thanatos puffs, "No, Azrael, I hadn't considered your feelings." Thanatos raises a foot, turning in an eerily slow fashion, creaking, the boards under his feet finally stop. Thanatos places his second foot down, and faces me. "You don't fear—him—do you?" I stare at the man emblazoned in a gold robe, feeling a sense similar to ninety eyes staring at me simultaneously. I shake my head, "No." Azrael—as he was called—doesn't turn immediately to face me, instead, I feel the weight of the Roman coliseum slowly being dropped from the sky onto my neck. My neck slowly slips downward. The force exerted onto me without a single stare isn't fearful—instead instilling a sense of self incompetence. Azrael finally begins to turn to me, the gradual increase in weight upon my body is becoming frightening—something I cannot let show. He finally faces me, his heterochromic eyes—one of which is a pleasant off-white, the other a violent deep crimson—stare into my soul. "Be not afraid, child. I am not here to harm you." I snicker, the overconfidence filling my voice, "As if I haven't read that one." Azrael lifts his head up, "Oh be wary that I'm the only Angel who means what he says. The others would be quick to end your life." I raise my brow, trying to think back to what I could've possibly done. "Dear child, your father, Keita, the Saint of Storms, killed many of my siblings." My eyes, of which had been relaxed, become dilated. "But, why?" Azrael grabs the small reading glasses from his robe pouch, and slides them up his nose. "Your father was wronged by the Heavens. Under the command of Xercates, your uncle, Sentarou, was killed." Looking back through my memories, I couldn't remember even a mention of my uncle. "What did my uncle do?" Azrael places his hand on his chin, seemingly thinking. "Your father and your uncle were the original 'Twin Saints,' as they were Blessed by the Shinto gods Raijin and Fujin." Something in my head clicks, "So that's where that 'Black Lightning' skill comes from…Wait. No." Azrael and Thanatos shake their heads in sync. "Your 'Black Lightning' skill comes from my past killing of the Keres." Thanatos spouts out, but Azrael shakes his head again. "No, you're both wrong. Izuya, your Black Lightning comes from you. You created that ability." Azrael continues, "Each 'Saint' has the ability to 'Create' a power unique to themselves, most Saints never unlock this ability, and if they do, the process of forging it takes years. You, however, forged your 'Create' ability in less than a week. Your 'Create' is also responsible for the summoning of your little friend, a Cú Sìth. Izuya, you're no mere 'Saint,' but I'm here to break the illusion that you're an 'Incarnation'." All the things I thought I had right, were wrong? Even Thanatos was wrong, about the Keres ability, about my powers. "So, Azrael, what you're saying is that I have been wrong all along?" Azrael nods his head, "Unfortunately. But don't let it deter you from using your abilities. You are very powerful, in fact, you have, from what I can tell, the most promising future of any Saint that has stood before me." I pick my head, the light of the [Dreamscape] blinding me. "Azrael, can you train me?"

The Burning Bird ❷

The [Dreamscape] around me morphs. Chunks of the room in the shape of cubes expand from every corner, rotating and forming into new images. The ground below me, that had previously been hard tile, sinks under my feet, turning into sand. The blinding artificial light that filled the room turns into a pleasant sunshine. Out of seemingly nowhere, a coliseum rises from the ground, surrounding us. My clothes—torn and hole ridden, stay the same, until a magic circle appears under my feet. Waving my hand in the air, I scribe a spell. Rising slowly from the ground, my battle-formed clothes turn into a sparring suit. A sword similar in size and shape to Gram, appears in my hand. Azrael, who has been floating in the air, lands smoothly on the sand, his golden robe glistening in the sun. Azrael forms a lance in his hand, and takes off his reading glasses. As if he had been standing still, he effortlessly glides down to the ground. His golden robe transforms into a golden sparring suit. The sword in my hand is light, but large—similar to a claymore. Azrael looks at me, "Izuya, I want you to try and summon your 'Black Lightning'." I look at him, and then look around. Azrael continues, "But using the incantation, not the direct summoning." I raise my brow, confused and unaware of how to do what he asked. "How exactly do I do that?" Azrael looks at me in confusion, adding to its layers, "You've never used the incantation before?" I shake my head signaling no. Azrael places his hand on his chin, Thanatos jumps in—"Kid, you've used incantations before." I look at him, my eyes open in a bewildered expression. Thanatos comes back, "Just try." Recalling all my time spent in [Wonderland], I try to forge even the slightest idea as to how I can use an incarnation. It hits me, [From the depths of the heavens, form into the abyss and carve into the Earth.] From the tips of my fingers, small bolts of iridescent black lightning surge. All of a sudden, the small bolts start to move from my fingertips to my legs. Step potential. The sand I'm standing on has high impedance—the lightning is looking for a better conductor. Azrael is standing still, waiting. Feeling the oncoming discharge of black lightning from my right foot, I drop my sword and run towards Azrael. Planting my left foot, I turn my right leg, harnessing all of the black lightning into my right foot, and kick. From the sky a cloud whirrs, and as the face of my right foot hits Azrael, a bolt of black lightning strikes. Within seconds of the strike, the cloud dissipates. Sparks fly from around the site of impact. Peering his eyes around my body, I noticed that he stopped my foot. His hand, however, was burnt to a near unrecognizable degree. As I noticed his hand's condition, it began reforming. His flesh—warping upwards from around his wrist, was slowly covering the charred muscles and veins in an almost liquid like way. On my foot, strangely, was a tree-like scar—looking more like the lightning bolt itself—a Lichtenberg figure. Landing back on my feet, I stand all the way up and stretch, my body sore from the kick. Azrael begins to clap his hands in approval, "Do you now understand? Your power is greater now, and it seems that you have unlocked a new skill." Thanatos jumps from the seats of the coliseum, his landing throwing up sand from under his feet. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he appeared next to me. "Izuya, it seems like your Create ability may have more to it than let on." I stare at him, snarling, "Well, obviously. Considering you and I both thought it was just one of your abilities, we seem to know nothing. I seem to know little about myself." Azrael seems to nod his head in agreement, "You're not the first Saint I've come into contact with who, upon learning about their Create ability, second guesses themselves. But, with you…your ability seems to be constantly evolving." Thanatos turns his head, looking at Azrael in confusion, "Azrael, do you think we might be going through another evolution of Saints? A new generation?" Azrael places his hand on his chin, "It seems that may be so."