CHAPTER 32: AUDIENCE WITH SHADOWS

With a moment taken to compose himself, he swam up, kicking his feet and spreading his arms as he ascended. As he broke through the surface, he found himself staring towards the rocky cliffs at the coastline, greeted by the sight of a knelt colossus, extending its giant hand.

"Erebus?" He quietly said, staring at the palm large enough to carry a home.

In his ear, the communicator that had gone silent finally buzzed in–

"//Seven...! You’re alive—?! Thank god!//" May’s voice desperately greeted him, sharply meeting his ear.

"//Back from the dead, are you, Seven?//" The obsidian tongue of Haoyu greeted him.

"//You made it back, buddy!//" Alexander’s voice came through.

"//Well done. You kicked some ass.//" There was tangible pride in the monotone greeting given by Shin.

"//Seriously awesome! You totally went...boom! With that Fulminare!//" Lily hyped up.

He was a bit overwhelmed by the various words given by his comrades, though he couldn’t help but smile.

As he climbed onto the hand, it brought him to the abdomen of the steel colossus. It opened like a drawbridge, unraveling itself to give way to the young man.

"I’ve got a lot to tell you guys...a lot," he mumbled, looking up at the skyscraper-sized weapon before entering.

Within the bounds of Erebus, it felt like he was in a building built of sable steel. The interior was pristine, outfitted with machinery that empowered the humanoid weapon. It was as if stepping a decade into the future of human achievement, not unlike that of an alien chamber.

"Woah," he exhaled, looking around.

As he took in the sight of the base interior of the Erebus, the entrance retracted itself behind him. Just as he let himself ease up, like the cap of a bottle popping, pain suddenly emerged.

"Nngh...!" He gasped, keeling over.

Every muscle seemed to cramp at once, like iron coiling around his limbs. All at the same time, the wounds he accrued through battle reminded him of their existence.

[Adrenaline negated. Body entering shock...Wounds intensifying—attempting to stabilize.]

As he laid there on the metal ground, everything began to blur as he struggled just to breathe. With his consciousness flickering, the echoing of footsteps came from the stairwell at the end of the room.

"Seven!" May’s voice echoed with concern."—Get him up! There’s a recovery pod upstairs!" The usual cold voice of the engineer carried haste.

There was no chance to say anything in return, only reaching his hand out in a vague attempt to communicate.

’I’m...fine,’ he thought.

Clutching the device imparted to him by the helpful alien, all senses turned to nothing—complete darkness. In the depths of slumber, his consciousness drifted.

["I’m...aware? Is this a dream?"]

[—A concept neighboring dreaming, yes. This is the core of the Origin; the convergence of it and your mindscape.—]

The answer came from an indiscernible silhouette drifting in the fogged sea of chalky liquid with him. It was hard to place his thoughts together, though it’s not as if he wanted to.

There was no pain there; in fact, he felt total bliss, floating there.

["The Origin...Why am I experiencing this? It’s...amazing. My body feels...perfect."]

[—You received critical damage in your battle with the Fulminare. You were in no shape to continue moving after the confrontation, but you continued onwards with the help of adrenaline.—]

It took him a moment to recall what happened before he passed out, recovering the fresh memories.

"Alta"—that was the first name on his mind; each second of their life-and-death clash was burned into his memory.

[---You’re here for repairs to both your physical and mental stability. When you wake up, you will forget your time here. That is–]

–

[100 meters below Bastian Academy]

Through corridors built of steel thick enough to halt the rage of atomic bombs, the Director navigated with his eyes forward and stern. Every few feet, he touched a digital pad attached to a bunker door, authorizing his presence as each one would retract, giving him passage through.

["The Theater of Shadows. Only a select few have the ability to access this place, secluded from the rest of the world. It is the den of humanity’s safest secrets, and where those who ruled the world before the war operate in the dark, far from the gaze of the light of day."]

Through five doors, the Director ventured into the chamber locked behind all of the obstacles. A simple room, devoid of any light but the bare minimum, just enough to make out the silhouettes behind a curtain.

It veiled a desk spanning the length of the blackened room, presenting five figures that sat there behind the cover.

"Director Ren—punctual as always," the silhouette seated in the center spoke with a deep, raspy voice.

"We understand you are a busy man, so we’ll keep this brief," another silhouette, with a somewhat softer voice. "The chosen of the Origin–Seven."

The Director stood there silently, not uttering a word until prompted otherwise while in the presence of the men that orchestrated what was left of mankind. Even as he squinted, he could make nothing out more than the rough shape of each of the authoritative figures.

"From the report written by Haoyu, the recovery of the super-weapon "Erebus" and the defeat of a Fulminare was led by the efforts of Seven," one of the obscured old men said as if reading off a document.

"That is correct, yes," Director Ren confirmed, nodding his head.

The rightmost elder spoke with a sharp voice, seeming to lean on the table, "The boy has grown into a weapon surpassing our greatest. It is a considerable boon, however–it could also be our downfall."

"Sir?" Director Ren raised an eyebrow.

"We believe that leaving Seven unchecked might be too dangerous for mankind," one of the members spoke from beyond the curtain.

"That’s completely unfounded–" The Director rejected, taking a step forward.

No closer was he able to approach, as the man responsible for the academy found himself staring down the barrels of rifles. In each corner of the room, agents dressed from head-to-toe in black stood like silent statues, ready to dispatch any threat.

"Do not approach with malice, Director," one elder reprimanded.

"--" The Director stood silently.

The centermost member of the theater continued, "We do not believe Seven himself bears ill-intentions, of course. The problem lies with the Voyagers."

"Voyagers..." The Director repeated the name with disgust at the very word.

"Do not forget the Fulminare are not our only enemy. The Voyagers and their illegitimate country–"Second Moon", declared war on the U.N.," the raspy-voiced councilmen reminded.

"They believe in the supremacy of the otherworldly forces–we are sure that may extend into the existence of Seven," an elder added.

The Director quietly shook his head, caressing his temple with a disgruntled breath as if having trouble understanding the suggestion, "None of that means we need to treat Seven as a potential enemy of mankind. He’s the sole reason we’ve claimed our first, real victory over the Fulminare."

"We understand what he’s done, and are not dismissing that–however, we must consider the best course of action in safeguarding mankind," an elder spoke from the rightmost seat.

In the mind of the man responsible for the students, he chose his words carefully. While the man found himself at odds with the suggestions of the elders, he held his tongue, for not to stir their ire.

"The safety net devised is a bomb that will be placed in the boy’s neck," the leftmost elder informed.

"What?—" Director Ren hissed.

With a lack of emotion, the centermost figure spoke, "It is a microscopic contraption. No surgery will be required."

"As the boy trusts you, it will be left to you to implant," an elder deemed.

The Director stood there wordlessly for a moment, parting his lips as if ready to reject it, though withheld.

["This is the way they operate. Heartless—for the sake of humanity."]