Guilty Gear: When the Sun Sets

Chapter 1: Return to the Vatican

Written by Spiritblade

Disclaimer:This is another one of my practice attempts at perfecting the erotic genre, and I'm venturing into Guilty Gear for this. As everyone knows, Guilty Gear belongs to Daisuke Ishiwatari. I'm only borrowing the characters of the game for my own (perverted?) ends and to improve my mastery of the more…interesting genre (which comes harder to me than most). Now, on to the story – let me see if I can surpass myself. Also, I will be taking certain liberties in writing this story, so I hope I will be excused for this. This story will have ties to my GSD project, at least in regards to what had transpired in its distant past before the Cosmic Era dawned.

Be forewarned, though, I married White Wolf's Exalted to this story, as the artefacts mentioned within the former fits the era in which the Crusades (and the decades prior) took place. Before human civilisation falls into ruin, it must have somewhere to fall from – and what better then when it ALMOST manages to recapture the glory of an era humanity knows exist, but cannot remember when and what form it took?

Also, if you can find it, elements of Tsukihime and Shin Megami Tensei II (from SNES) are found within this story.

Author's foreword (1/8/2014): I have made amendments, additions and corrections to this chapter, so that it will flow smoothly and make more sense. Also added, at the end of the story, is a glossary. This, I hope, will help any writers who wish to write a Guilty Gear story based on my world. Though it will be prideful of me to say, I hope this story – and the best of my works – will be granted a place of honour on the TV Tropes website when it stands finished.

(O)

The burden of saviours is that they cannot choose what they wish to save.

Jason A. Archibald, In the Shadow of the Imperial Aquila, Cosmic Era 113.

The winter solstice was the longest night of the year, lasting two days from the 21st of December. It was, Ky Kiske thought as he and his companions emerged from the airship, a fitting night to mourn. On the nights before Christmas Eve, families throughout Europe, America and Asia would – regardless of their faiths – light candles for the departed and speak of days when the sky rained fire and monsters went to war with men. Days that the golden-haired, former Lord Commander of the Holy Order had nightmares of and prayed he would never have to see again; days which the Post-War Administration Bureau, whom everyone thought was part of the Reconstituted United Nations, had wanted to resurrect. And they had, in their desire to lay him low, intended to use him as the instrument to reawaken that nightmare.

He would never forget the day his sword almost spilt innocent blood, never forgive himself for almost becoming a monster made in the image of those who wanted him to be no better than they. The fear and despair he had seen in the eyes a half-Gear girl who would be his saviour both sickened and shamed the former Holy Knight. He saw what he was becoming in those eyes. The Bureau's agents had made use of his hatred of the Gears and the pain he had suffered during the Crusades to manipulate him into finding that which would make them the world's masters once more. The former Holy Order commander tightened his grip around the hilt of the Thunderseal. Sol had been right: he was a fool. Right alone did not give one the strength to defeat the wicked. One could not change the world if it chose not to change, especially if its rulers were determined to repeat past mistakes.

But one could take away the choices that could make the world change for the worse. One could deprive the wicked of the sword that they would use to vanquish the just. The man looked over his shoulder at one of his companions. Standing at the entrance of the sky-ship was a young woman of perhaps twenty years of age, her ruby eyes wide and filled with awe and wonderment as she beheld the fortress-city that was the site of one of the greatest battles of the Gear-Human war and which was the heart of Christendom on Earth: the Vatican. The girl's name was Dizzy, and she was the sole heir to the mantle of the Commander Gear whose name still held the power to make the princes of the Earth tremble. She was the target of the Wyld Hunt that the Bureau had declared some three years after the end of the Crusades and who the golden-haired ex-Holy Knight had almost murdered in his hate-filled rage.

Long, dark blue hair the colour of sun-warmed oceans fluttered in the cold, night wind and the thick cloak that Ky had purchased for the girl in Romania parted briefly, revealing the lush, lithe body and the dichromatic wings that lay hidden beneath the fabric. The memory of said body straddling his own, of ruby eyes looking down at him with a mixture of love and lust, caused the golden-haired Holy Knight to redden and turn away quickly. He found himself looking into the grinning, knowing face of one of his oldest friends. Said individual was a curvaceous woman with long, brown hair tied up in a ponytail and wearing a traditional Chinese qipao and a scandalously short skirt that revealed bared her long, muscular legs. A sight that made his heart race and which brought back memories of quiet nights spent in a room overlooking Tiananmen Square.

The golden-haired man swallowed hard. He remembered what the Chaplain who had once ministered to his company during the Crusades had told him: a good life was one that was lived according to God's dictates. Dictates he had breached time and time again, with women who were all too willing to show him that to live a full life did not require his living a virtuous one. It was a contradiction that Sol, curse his name, was all too fond of pointing out to him – and one that the Almighty would use to send him straight to Purgatory. It would have been fine had he been involved with one woman. But, in the months after his decision to oppose the PWAB, he had gotten involved with several.

Each had brought with them enough pain to break a mountain. He remembered the outlaw he had been sent after in the months after he had met Dizzy. The outlaw, better known by her sobriquet as the Winter Blossom Blade Dancer, had been accused by the International Court of Justice of assassinating several important government officials. Officials, the former Holy Knight found out, who had been involved with Avernus, a criminal organization involved in the drugs, arms and slave trade. Her sister had been kidnapped and sold to one of said officials. When the vigilante managed to find her sister, the latter was beyond saving – her mind had been broken and she was a drug addict. Another had been Millia Rage, who had been a member of the feared Assassin's Guild. Code-named 'Medusa' by Interpol agents, the golden-haired assassin had been placed on Interpol's wanted list for murder and terrorism. Those who were fortunate enough to survive meeting the regal assassin described her as a cruel angel. And she had been as mighty as one, strengthened as she was by one of the Six Forbidden Rituals. Her hair had been a weapon more lethal than any blade ever crafted by the hands of Man. But her weapon bore upon its multitudinous strands memories of pain and guilt. An assassin, she had told him, was a weapon. It was an instrument. It had neither a soul nor a conscience. Should it acquire either, his or her time as one is over. And in the Assassin's Guild, there was only ever one way to leave it – dead or feet first.

The last was a fate he wished to spare the women who accompanied him. It was the reason why he had returned to the Vatican. He had hoped that what he had discovered would give the International Court of Justice and Interpol a good reason to call off their pursuers and turn their attention on the rot that lay within the system. That is, if he could meet with their representatives before the bounty hunters the PWAB sent got to him.

"Ky? Are you all right?" Jam's concerned voice broke Ky out of his thoughts.

"Huh…oh, I'm sorry, Miss Jam. I was just thinking…"

The woman tightened her grip around her lover's arm, causing the latter to wince. The female chef-cum-martial artist was strong. And having fought her once before, the former Holy Knight knew just HOW strong. He had seen his amorous companion shatter reinforced concrete and kick a tank turret over tread. It did not take much for one to come to the conclusion that angering the brown-haired woman was a bad idea.

"About…?"

Ky Kiske turned his gaze briefly to the enormous edifice of the Grand Cross Citadel. It was all the answer Jam needed.

"You know," the brown-haired woman whispered as she tightened her hold around her lover's arm, "You need not go. We can leave and…"

"If he does that, Jam-san," a third voice interrupted, "then everything we have done would have been for nothing. The risks we took and the sacrifices our allies made would be ash in the wind. We will forever be hunted. There will be nowhere in the world where we can run or hide. It is a fate that our children do not deserve."

Jam and Ky turned to look at the speaker. Emerging from the shadow of several crates was a woman with long, pink hair and carrying a Japanese sword. Her well-worn kimono clung to and emphasized a shapely body that had known hardship and which had never known the touch of a man until recently. Cerise eyes which had once held within its depths barely-contained fury softened when they alighted on the man whom her compatriots had regarded as her sheath. Jam giggled inwardly. Perhaps the right adage was that Ky was the blade that was sheathed by many scabbards.

"Miss Baiken," Ky nodded in greeting, "Are you…"

"All right?" the female ronin finished the former Holy Knight's sentence, "You worry too much, boya. I am more than capable of taking care of myself. And before you ask, yes, it is done. The Master of Legion's contact within the Vatican has managed to arrange a meeting with Cardinal Lybrand. The priest was, for lack of better description, quite shocked at your daring to come into the lion's den. Eckhart-taishou," Baiken looked past Ky and Jam to the man standing at the entrance of the cruiser, "We thank you for your assistance these past few weeks."

Eckhart Krueger, owner of the airship Swift Herald, was the head of the family-run regional White Hawk Postal Services. Like the younger man before him, the German had once been a Knight of the Holy Order and had fought in the bloodiest years of the Crusades. Though his fighting days were long over, the man was as strong as when he had crossed swords with the mightiest of the Gear hosts.

"It's nothing, Frau Dizzy. My family and I owe Commander Kiske a great deal. Getting you into the Vatican," Eckhart drew in a deep breath of cold air that was heavy with the weight of age and honor, "hardly counts as repaying the favor. But I am amazed, Herr Kiske. I heard the rumors that you had taken up with Justice's daughter…" and a cheeky grin lit up the older man's face, "But this!" he gave the women around the younger man an approving look before whistling, "My wife is going to laugh her head off when I tell her that you have a harem! And can you imagine how our brother and sister knights are going to react when they find out that the rumors are actually true?"

"Oh," Dizzy said as she materialized behind her lover, her lithe arms wrapping around the latter with inhuman strength, "I can imagine. After all, the very interesting images in your head are not far from the truth, Master Eckhart," the half-Gear's voice became husky, and the temperatures of everyone around her went up several degrees, "And believe me, when he gets in the mood, it would take all the whores in a Parisian brothel to satisfy him…"

"Dizzy!" the scandalized, golden-haired ex-Holy Knight was having a near meltdown. Eckhart exploded in raucous laughter, a display of mirth echoed by the brown-haired Chinese woman and the pink-haired Japanese swordswoman. Many within the Holy Order had long wondered what kind of woman Ky Kiske would have warming his bed. Some believed that he would prefer an elegant, refined woman, perhaps a daughter of one of the noble Houses or a high-class courtesan. Others pointed out that he was far more comfortable with women who wore the colors of the Holy Order, whose bodies were not soft and pampered but which had known hardship and whose scars lent allure to their beauty. A small number had gone as far as to postulate that Ky Kiske's sexual preferences laid in the exotic and the forbidden.

They – excluding those among their number who believed that the White Knight preferred men – were right. But these would have been shocked to learn just how far over the line their commander had crossed. He had taken a Gear as a bride. It would have been shocking enough had the revered hero of the Crusades taken a succubus or an elven Gear as a mate, but the daughter of Justice herself? The sheer treason of it paralleled Lucifer's rebellion against God, but the reasons behind the First Angel's decision to raise up the banner of revolt against God and Ky Kiske's decision to turn his back on the Church were as different as night was from day.

And the other two women who shared the White Knight's bed…? They were as exotic as they were dangerous. Eckhart had never been as far as China, but he had heard stories of the Asian woman who had managed to claim the reward for killing the daughter of Justice. That she was not someone to be trifled with was clear. The same could not be said of the pink-haired Japanese swordswoman, whose name was whispered even by the members of the feared Assassins' Guild. That one, beautiful as she was, was a predator whose thirst for blood was monstrous, and whose sole leash was the man she was laughing at.

And they were all women who were intent on ensuring that Ky Kiske's remaining years were ones that would make the most jaded libertine of the noble Houses green with envy.

It took a while before the laughter finally subsided, by which time Eckhart informed the young man before him that he and his crew would be in town for the next five days, enjoying the festivities before returning home.

"Also," the older man added, "I recommend that you keep to the side-streets and your face hidden, commander. The reasons why, I think you already know. If you need to get out of the city fast, you know where to find me and my crew."

Ky nodded; he knew the place that Eckhart spoke of. The Kashmir nightclub was the favorite haunt of the Knights of the Holy Order and the soldiers of the United Nations Combined Armed Forces during the Crusades. When it ended, it became a place where the scarred, broken veterans of humanity's armies gathered to drown their sorrows, toast lost comrades and speak of battles won and lost. Trophies won during the war hung from the club's rafters, and shrines to the fallen lined the wall, under the watchful gazes of saints and angels. It was there that, during the days prior to his elevation to Lord Commander, that he had met I-no. The insane and seductive guitarist had been there to do more than entertain its patrons; she had been there to lead him into sin's waiting arms.

The White Knight of the Holy Order shivered both in fear and in desire. The sex appeal of the dark-haired, scantily-clad musician was a potent thing, a physical force that forbade defiance. Ky Kiske remembered how aroused he had been when she had leaned over, the hungry gleam in her eyes and the way she had shamelessly bared her body an invitation to take what she offered. He had refused her once, but not the second time. And the second time…Ky Kiske closed his eyes, trying to forget the look of approval in I-No's eyes. The former Holy Knight had known that the Crusades was a brutal war, one that could turn decent men and women into monsters far worse than the ones they took up arms against. Those whose transgressions went beyond the pale soon found themselves either incarcerated or executed. Sol had told him, in the aftermath of one such trial, that the battlefield was a place where ideals and virtues could not endure. It was a hard world filled with harder people.

'You're a dreamer, kid. You think that all that crap you believe in will save the world? Make us better than the monsters we're fightin' against? This is for real. God is not here. He is not going to send down all the Heavenly Army to beat the shit out of Justice and her monsters. And don't you look at me that way, boy. I can kick your ass from here till the Pearly-Shit Gates, and you know it.

'Let me tell you one thing, Kiske: this war was not because we 'sinned' big-time against God like those pricks in the Church said. It happened because, a long ago, there were people like those pencil-pushers in the UN and the noble Houses who were more interested in screwing each other over than working together. When humanity discovered the power of the atom, it took less than a generation for the nuclear bomb to be created. When Principia Magicus was discovered, it took less than a decade before its original use was perverted.

'Believe me when I tell you this, Kiske: humanity will make the same mistakes all over again. You are the Lord Commander of the Order now. You can make the difference as to whether this nightmare will repeat itself. And doing that, kid, takes more guts than you have now.'

"There's one more thing I almost forgot to mention, boya," Baiken said, breaking Ky out of his train of thought, "The Cardinal will only be able to see you tomorrow. He will send his contact to meet you at the Grand Cross Citadel. Until then, as Eckhart-san had advised, we will have to keep our heads low. You may have saved the human race, but the memory of a select – and powerful – few are short. And these will want our youngest sister in their clutches so as to be made this world's masters once more. "

Ky nodded his agreement, "Have you secured our accommodations, Baiken?"

The swordswoman pulled a pipe from her sash, "Fear not, boya. I've made sure that our accommodations are up to standard," and she licked her lips in a manner that made the golden-haired ex-Holy Knight swallow hard and his other two companions to grin, "And more importantly, private. I have no wish to be interrupted while I'm in the middle of entertaining a very important guest."

It took Eckhart all of his willpower to not erupt in laughter a second time.

(O)

The Broken Sword Inn, Rome

Three hours later…

The accommodations that Baiken had secured were located within Trajan's Market, where the Romans had once, centuries ago, conducted affairs of trade and commerce. Revived in the decades preceding the Crusades, the Market was a melting pot of ethnicities and cultures. But the Market had two faces. During the day, its stalls would sell goods from across the world, delivered to them by truck, train and airship. When night fell, Trajan's Market became a den of vice and carnality where the virtuous dared not tread. And he was most certainly no longer that. Ky Kiske looked into the fire-lit and warmed interiors of the room. Resting contentedly on the bed were his three companions, all in various degrees of nudity. His mind replayed a conversation that had taken place during the Crusades, when the more sexually-active members of his company (back when he had been an Acolyte of the Order) bragged about their conquests to their peers. Lovable rogues, one and all, whose passion matched only their devotion to the cause they chose to champion. They lived as fiercely as the fought, taking great delight in trying to out-drink, out-fight and out-fuck the other. He had lost count of the number of times they had tried to drag him out on one of their outings.

But the golden-haired former Holy Knight had always refused. Not for him was the sweet lull of liquor or the company of women whose morals would have driven the saints themselves up the wall. But the Battle of Florence and the Siege of San Marino had been the straw – or rather, straws – that broke the camel's back. The Gears had launched a massive assault on both cities, hell-bent on razing the two fortress-cities to the ground so that their primary target, the Vatican, would be unable to repel the inevitable assault that the Order's leaders knew would come within days of either city falling. Ky had been at Florence. He had been there when the city died. Over a hundred thousand souls were ushered into God's presence, and the formidable defenses that had once guarded the northern overland approaches to the Holy See were devastated.

The Holy Order and UN forces stationed at San Marino had managed to break the assault, but were unable to send reinforcements to their beleaguered peers to the west or to stop Justice's advance on the Vatican days later. On the sixth day of the retreat, Ky had found the broken body of his mentor, Kliff Undersen, at the feet of the Commander Gear Justice. The latter had died as he had lived, in battle and without fear. He remembered the grief and the rage that had blinded him as he attacked Justice, who had defeated him with contemptuous ease and pinned him to the ground. He remembered the way the Gear Commander had looked down at him, her inhuman eyes filled with as much scorn as her voice.

"You…? You are Kliff's heir? No. No, you are unworthy. You are weak. Deluded. Blind. You believe the lies that have led your race to this pathetic finale. I am sorely tempted to end your life here and now, boy, so as to spare you the agony of watching the last of your race being consigned to oblivion. But your predecessor has asked me to give you a chance to prove yourself, and so I shall. It will amuse me to see how you and your species will try to avert the inevitable…"

Ky closed his eyes. The days leading up to the Siege of Rome had been dark ones. The news that Florence had fallen to the Gears and that the Supreme Commander of the Holy Order had been slain by his archenemy had sent shockwaves throughout those cities and countries still under human control. Morale within the Order and the UN Army plummeted. Crime rates soared. Everywhere the golden-haired Knight had turned, he saw nothing but despair and division. And for the first time since he had known Sol, the uncouth brown-haired swordsman had led him out of the Grand Cross Citadel and told him in no uncertain terms to leave matters to him. He would, he had said, set the Chapter Masters of the Order straight. And when the Immoral Flame made such promises, there was no doubt in the minds of those who heard it that said individuals who had gotten into his bad books were in for a beating. His last words to Sol before he left for the Kashmir nightclub had been for the latter to leave as many of the dissenting Chapter Masters alive, if possible. When Justice came, they just might be able to convince her to accept an armistice or risk death by boredom. Sol had laughed at that, one of the rare times that he had done so.

"Ky…?" a familiar, musical voice broke the White Knight out of his memories. The latter turned to see the winged form of Dizzy, her voluptuous form warmed and illuminated by the firelight. Ky could not help but stare at the Gear Commander. Like her mother, Dizzy was the incarnation of physical perfection. Dark blue hair cascaded like a waterfall over her shoulders and her large, firm breasts to her ankles. Her shapely hips and tail swayed as she walked towards him, lending the Gear Commander the appearance of an elegant predator that would toy with its prey before devouring it whole. Try as he might not to do so, Ky found his eyes drawn towards the juncture of Dizzy's thighs. Her nether regions were hairless, and her inner thighs glistened in the firelight, slick with the fluids from their lovemaking. Arousal coursed through the man's body, and he felt his phallus swell and harden at the thought of sheathing himself in her body once more.

The girl smiled, her ruby eyes burning like coals in the darkness. She could sense her mate's lust. It burned like bright in her soul-sight. That was good. She wanted more. Her body thirsted for her lover's seed, and wanted it to flood her womb once more. Her mother's voice, rich with amusement and approval, echoed in her mind: 'We were made, daughter of mine, not only as weapons by which the human race wielded in their endless wars, but also as lovers, teachers and companions. It should not surprise you that there are many in the world that there are those who have our blood running in their veins. Nor should it surprise you that – then as now – that there are those who would take one of us as a mate, an act which would earn them no small amount of condemnation.'

Indeed, Dizzy had seen the loathing society had for those who would love that which had nearly destroyed humanity. She had seen its venom directed against the man whose lap she now straddled. She had seen its malice directed towards a wandering doctor who had once served alongside Ky during the bleakest days of the Crusades, as he tried to heal the wounds of a bitter war. She had heard of what happened to those who had chosen to transgress laws written in the blood of millions and the death of nations. The hardliners within the Church and the IPF mandated execution (should the individual have the misfortune of being be caught by the first) and/or a lengthy prison stay (as is normally the case should the IPF get to said individual first).

"What are you thinking about, Ky?" Dizzy asked as she put her hands on her lover's thighs, the posture accentuating her large, firm breasts and further raising the temperature of the latter. It did not help matters that she had cut off any avenue of egress; that her lover could feel how wet she was and that she could see his enormous erection. The gentle smile the Gear Commander had on her lips became playful. It would no doubt surprise the White Knight's peers at how easily he had taken to intercourse, and how much he enjoyed it. The first time he had made love, it had taken Dizzy all of her considerable will to not bring the castle they had taken refuge in crashing down on their heads. After that first time, both Undine and Necro had made it a point to temporarily sever her link to the Heart of Creation prior to her and Ky making love.

It had amused Dizzy to see Necro, the Principle of Death and Ruin, actually complain that her orgasms were capable of splitting the planet in half. Undine, for her part, had giggled at her counterpart's discomfort and promised her that the next time she and Ky made love, it would be an unforgettable experience. It was only after the second time the Gear Commander had had intercourse with her mate did she realize just what the Principle of Ice and Thunder had done. The latter had increased the sensitivity of the erogenous zones on her body and saw to it that whenever she engaged in physical intimacy, she would secrete a hormone that would turn everyone within three meters of her into a sex fiend. It had mortified the Gear Commander at first, but she soon began to see the advantages of the changes Undine had made. It had been an easy matter to make – after some alterations – said changes permanent, much to the chagrin of the Angel (and the horror of Necro, who had proceeded to rain curses and threats on his counterpart for practically signing their death warrants).

But her desires could wait. For now, the Gear Commander wanted to know what troubled her human lover. The latter, knowing that it was useless to lie to the former, simply told her the truth. He was worried about the meeting tomorrow. Ky Kiske had heard many good things about Cardinal Lybrand, but bitter experience had taught him that the vilest of men were often those who stood in the light. Ky counted himself among their number. He had lost count of the number of times he had had to sign arrest warrants to bring one of his former subordinates in for heresy and treason. The irony that he now stood amongst their number was not lost on him.

Would Cardinal Lybrand inform the Inquisition about the meeting? Or would one of his aides, hearing that their superior was going to meet an excommunicated heretic and criminal, do so? Would the IPF's formidable intelligence network finally see through his deception? Would the assassins and bounty hunters be the ones that finally lay him low? Anything could go wrong. And when it did…

"You worry too much, dearest," Dizzy said as she leaned forward and kissed him, "Yes, I do not deny that there is a chance of what you fear happening. As such, I will give you one of my feathers before you leave for your meeting. Should Cardinal Lybrand decide to play us false, you and I will show him the error of his ways. Should those who hunt us find you, I will be by your side. Do not forget, my love, that this city is full of people who owe you your lives. Should your comrades in the Kashmir hear that you have returned to the city and that your enemies have managed to capture you…" the smile on the Gear Commander's face was arctic, "I will daresay that the riot will become a war within seconds. But enough talk and worrying…" Dizzy undid the belt that kept Ky's night-robe closed, willing her pheromones to flood the room, "I want continue where we left off…"

The heady, musky smell that filled the former paladin's nostrils was overpowering. It was the same smell that had filled the room when he and his companions had engaged in intercourse earlier. Flowery and musky, sweet and bitter all at the same time, it filled his head with electric warmth that dripped down to the rest of his body. Ky slipped the robe he had been wearing off his shoulders and down his arms before pulling Dizzy into his arms, relishing the feel of the latter's lush body against his own and the feel of his erection pressed hard against her pubic mound.

"I live but to serve, my lady," the White Knight said as he pulled the buxom, winged Gear into a kiss that left the latter dazed when he released her, "You need not employ any tricks to have me do what you wish. What is it you wish?"

"Need you ask, my love?" Dizzy said as she positioned herself over her lover's engorged member, the playful grin on her lips becoming a devilish one, "I want you inside me…"

And then, the lovely Gear Commander lowered herself onto her lover's engorged phallus, savoring the sensation of being impaled. A strange, eerie wail left Dizzy's lips, one redolent with pain and pleasure as her body shook with orgasms that would have registered on the Richter scale. The winged temptress sheathed her lover completely, her internal muscles gripping him tightly and playing along its length like a flute. The Gear Commander could feel her lover's phallus pushing at the entrance to her womb, could feel him touch parts of her that sent lightning and lava through her body and veins.

"Dizzy…" Ky's tormented voice sent a shiver up Dizzy's spine, and the latter looked down at her lover with a lustful leer, her dichromatic wings spread wide. The blue-haired Gear Commander placed her arms around her mate's shoulders and pulled him into her embrace, savoring the feeling of his body against hers. Had there been an observer to the lovemaking taking place in the room, they would have believed that a man was fornicating with a female devil. Scripture and dogma had reclaimed its preeminent position during the dark days of the Crusades, and the word of a high-ranking religious official had as much weight, if not more, than that of a head of state. To love a Gear was heresy, a sin punishable only by death.

Death was not something Ky Kiske of the Holy Order feared. What he feared was that those he loved – especially the women who had chosen to risk life and limb so that they could remain by his side – would be made to pay for his sins. He had lost count of the number of times those he had wronged had tried to avenge themselves by striking at those he held dear. Every blow they struck, he parried. And he ensured none would survive to make the second attempt. Johnny, leader of the Jellyfish Pirates, had told him in the aftermath of one such attempt that the man he knew and respected was replaced by someone he knew and feared. Ky Kiske of the Holy Order would never stoop to murder and calculated brutality. Ky Kiske the Heretic would sow terror in the hearts of his enemies and become a living nightmare.

But if that was what it took to keep the women he loved safe, then so be it.

"Speak my name, dearest," Dizzy whispered, "Worship me as you would God herself…"

Ky had always wondered why Dizzy had always regarded God as female, when scripture had depicted the Almighty as a masculine force. But seeing her back when she had protected him, Jam and Baiken from the full might of a UN artillery battalion, wings spread and her blue-hair a molten silver, her reptilian eyes gazing down fondly at him, made him realize just how much closer Dizzy was to God than all of humanity could ever hope to be. Devilish yet kind, innocent yet knowledgeable, weak yet wielding unimaginable power, Dizzy was a dichotomy that

"Dizzy…" his voice was rough with desire and filled with awe

The Gear Commander licked her lips slowly, her eyes becoming a shade of gold on black sclera, her voice holding within it the melodious echo of the Divine Symphony, "You belong to us, dearest. And for every moment till the day you die, you will know that one and only truth."

Pleasure the likes of which men could only dream of flooded him. He felt his seed erupt in an unending torrent, filling the Gear Commander's thirsting uterus and soiling the sinful angel in his arms further. The pheromones the latter had unleashed and the vigor she poured back into him as they made love served to redefine the very meaning of the act. The primal side of him wanted nothing more than to ravish the goddess in his arms and impregnate her repeatedly until she conceived. The latter wanted nothing more than to be sullied repeatedly by the man she loved and give birth to their children. The dazed, hungry look in Dizzy's eyes and the rapturous expression on her lovely face was breathtaking in a way that only the imagination of sensualists across the centuries could capture only in song and poetry.

In a brief moment of lucidity, he remembered what an old woman had told him as she pressed a book into his hand prior to his leaving with his company on his first campaign years ago. She told him that faith was a cathedral destined to crumble should the pillars of compassion, humility, wisdom and fortitude be absent. It would be a dark and cold place without love to illuminate its interiors, dreams to capture the splendor of Heaven and passion to warm those who would pray within it. The book the old woman had gifted him with rested in his bags, a constant companion in times good and bad. Said book was a collection of poems and parables from the holy books of the three monotheistic faiths which had emerged from the Middle East, a labor of love by her late husband who sought to change the world by bridging the deep rifts that had led humanity to ruin.

'One day,' the old woman had said with a gentle smile, 'You will fall in love. And you will understand then that there are many things man cannot ordain or demand from God.'

"More…" the blue-haired Gear Commander whispered.

Ky Kiske gave it all that he had, knowing that when the sun next rose, he would be lucky if he had the strength to get himself out of bed.

(O)

The Broken Sword Inn

The next day…

By the time Jam and Baiken had joined Dizzy for breakfast, Ky Kiske had already left the inn to meet with the Cardinal's emissary. The two women were in high spirits and were, for once, not shooting barbs at each other over breakfast. Dizzy smiled as she drank her tea; her decision to put them deep into slumber prior to her 'stealing' a private moment with her mate had been a good one. Putting down her cup, the Gear Commander studied her surroundings. The Broken Sword Inn was, despite its disreputable name and the district it was located in, well-run and staffed. Its owner – and more than half the inn's employees – had been former Holy Order and UN soldiers, all of whom had fought under Ky's command during the bloodiest days of the Crusades and who had been outraged when they heard of the bounty being placed on their former commander's head for crimes they knew he could not have committed.

Of the many charges levied against Ky Kiske, only three were true. The first was murder: Ky Kiske had killed many – and would do so again and without remorse – of the UN and PWAB agents sent his way. The second was treason: he had harbored under his wing the enemy that had nearly destroyed the human race. Worse, said enemy was the daughter of the monster that had led the inhumanly beautiful and deadly Gears to exterminate humanity. The third was for committing acts of terrorism: Ky Kiske had worked alongside the Jellyfish Pirates as well as many other anti-government groups and individuals to attack government installations that strove to rebuild that which had been lost in the Crusades.

It was in one such installation that Dizzy and her companions found something that humanity was better off without: a Soul Forge. Powered by the very energy source that would end decades of strife and give rise to the Age of Myth, a Soul Forge could create weapons and armor the likes of which Dizzy had been used by the Celestial and Terrestrial Exalted of the First Age. The Gear Commander's eyes fell to the Japanese swordswoman's katana and the ornate flintlock fire-wand pistol that her mate had given to the second during her 28th birthday. The ancient sword that Baiken had wielded in her vengeful quest to punish the creator of the Gears had vorpal qualities welded into the blade, echoing the terrible powers of a clan that made her mother tremble. The fire-wand pistol, despite its archaic design and short range, was capable of inflicting horrific injuries that made a mockery of her race's regenerative abilities and which could tear through the reinforced battle-plate that the UN had seen fit to equip its agents with.

But there were crueler weapons born from the Soul Forges and the twisted intellect of the tech-priests who violated willingly the dictates of their order. What historical and holographic records that had survived the Crusades told her of a time before the Gears rose in rebellion of when the world's superpowers sought to create weapons that would allow them to bring their enemies to heel and impose their will on those that sought to remain neutral in a cruel arena that did not allow such. Those same records described weapons such as the vicious Hell-Blades which turned its wielders into murderous berserkers and the dreaded Oblivion War-Scythes, which drained the vitality of those it wounded. They bespoke of fundamental alterations to the city-destroying Thousand-Forged Dragons and the creation of the hated and feared Jormungandr Talons, which brought plague and disease on an apocalyptic scale and which had reduced many of the world's greatest cities into ghost-haunted mausoleums. These weapons could only be created in the inferno of a corrupted Soul Forge – which was what Dizzy and her companions found in the depths of the heavily-guarded installation

And that was not all. They found a man who had once been once the Chapter Master of one of the Church's most revered Knightly Orders. He was a man whose tally of victories against the Gears was second to none and whom many had believed would be the next Supreme Commander of the Holy Order when his – and Ky's – predecessor, Kliff Undersen, stepped down. That man, who had traded his humanity in exchange for power equal to that of Justice's, had been none other than Chapter Master Lucius Valeren of the Order of the Golden Lion. A man whose thwarted ambition and affronted pride saw to him making a deal with the devil – and becoming one.

The ensuing battle had been one of the hardest the Gear Commander and her companions had ever fought in, if not the most vicious. The corrupted Chapter Master was one of a handful who could fight an Archangel Gear – and in Lucius's case, as well as its honor guard – and win. That near-peerless strength, when married to the Ritual of Black Exaltation which was once used by the American Army's Occult Warfare Division to combat the Dragon Warriors of China, as well as the Grand Daiklave that had been gifted to him upon his ascension to Chapter Master of the Celestial Lions, had made the fallen Templar Lord near-unstoppable.

She remembered how her mate and Baiken had been thrown down into the bowels of the Earth when Lucius executed a technique she had once seen Kliff Undersen use during the Crusades. Alone, the two had fought against Lucius, their every technique threatening to bring the roof of the chasm they had been cast into crashing down onto their heads. It had taken the Gear Commander more than an hour to get to her mate and the former PWAB assassin. When she found them, the antagonism between them had disappeared, replaced by something more…intimate. It had filled her with no small amount of wicked glee; she could smell the scent and seed of her mate on and within Baiken's body. And Dizzy knew that the latter hungered for more.

When Dizzy asked how her mate had defeated Lucius, the Japanese swordswoman had told her that Ky had unleashed his Limit Break. That had shocked the Gear Commander. Doing so was risky, for the Outrage Weapons would, if the bond between wielder and weapon was not strong enough, visit the same punishment on their masters as on their adversaries. The long annals of the Crusades were replete with such incidents, and death was more often than not the end result. Even those chosen by the weapon were not spared, though their chances of surviving were higher. But the Thunderseal, Dizzy had long ago learnt, had been Ky's weapon. It had waited for him across the long, cold decades in the Holy Order's Vaults, calling out to him and singing to him in his sleep. Its power was his to use. When awakened and unleashed, the White Knight of the Holy Order could cut mountains in two and defeat thousands of Gears in a single stroke. That same power was turned on Lucius, giving Baiken the chance she needed to deliver the killing blow to the corrupted Chapter Master.

A great blow had been dealt to the PWAB and its allies in that battle, but the Gear Commander knew that more needed to be done to bring the colossal edifice of an organization whose reach and schemes spanned the entire globe crashing down. And that battle was one that could be fought by those who had the resources to do so. Even demigods had their limits, after all.

X X X

Baiken pulled her pipe from under her kimono and a small box from her sash. It had been a while since her…itch was scratched, and the lovemaking she had engaged in the night before had sated her, at least for now. Her decision to go to the Vatican ahead of Ky Kiske was motivated by caution as much as desire to settle accounts with those whose transgressions had long ago earned her ire. It would amuse her to see the local constabulary and the PWAB agents run around in circles trying to find out just who had murdered such high-ranking officials and their families without being seen by their guards.

The swordswoman blew out a stream of fragrant smoke. It had been utterly satisfying to have ended the life of one Marcus Lucas Aurelius. A son of a powerful Italian family whose roots reached back to the early days of the Roman Empire, the merchant prince was one of the many highly-placed servants of the PWAB in the region. He was also the organization's voice within the Chambers of the Camarilla, and his patronage was one highly sought by many both within and outside it. By killing him and allowing the authorities to find evidence of both the transgressions of the Royalist faction and the PWAB, Baiken had put both parties in the spotlight.

The former assassin chuckled; every watering hole, restaurant, store and street corner in the Vatican had, in the aftermath of her hunt, become a place of congregation as the city's inhabitants gathered to discuss the sudden spate of murders and the skeletons that have fallen out of the closets of the rich and powerful. The sheer number of conspiracy theories, which ranged from the logical to the absurd, made for good conversation.

All in all, it had been a good week. The only thing that would make it better was if the meeting with Cardinal Lybrand went as planned and they leave before the authorities realized that four of the world's most sought after criminals had been hiding right under their very noses. Baiken paused briefly to study a small group of monster hunters who entered the inn. There were six of them in all, four men and two women. All of them were well-built and clad in rugged, durable clothing and wearing armor normally worn by the Holy Order's heavy infantry. More than half were armed with vicious chain-swords, repeater crossbows and powerful hunting rifles. The remainder carried ornate staves and heavy auto-pistols, indicating that these were rear-line fighters. Baiken's cerise eyes changed color briefly, and she could see the flow of mystical energies surrounding the latter. One, the quieter member of the group, radiated hoarfrost, indicating that he was an ice-mage. The woman, in contrast, was an extroverted braggart whose radiant aura indicated her preference for fire magic.

Baiken frowned, as memories of Japan's devastation by the Gears led by their creator arose from the shallow grave from which they were buried. She remembered the fires that consumed old Tokyo and the monsters that tore through it, slaughtering soldier and civilian in an orgy of destruction. She remembered dragons swooping down from above, their fiery breath and shrieks drowning out the sounds of a country in its death throes. For many years, the swordswoman did not understand how the powerful mystical wards that protected her homeland could have been circumvented. She believed that it had been the doing of her country's enemies, until a Chinese Dragon Warrior Exalt told her that the Gears had cast a powerful counter-spell, one that had crippled the protective enchantments of every major city in the region (which they then attacked). There was no doubt in anybody's mind that Japan had been the Destroyer of Heaven's main target; that the regional mystic defense grid had been taken down as well had been a bonus Justice's lieutenants had been swift to exploit.

Baiken blew out another stream of smoke; her clan had emerged from the Devastation relatively unscathed. Their unique abilities and gifts had been the bane of the Gears, all of whom soon regarded Japan as a death-trap which devoured their race and spat out their broken, bloodied remains. The Devastation had been the one and only time the Gears had ever attacked Japan; they refused to do so a second time. They knew that Death waited for them there, and all their vaunted strength and power could not parry the Ashen King's cold justice.

In the years after the Devastation, Japan committed as many of its soldiers and warrior-priests to the ranks of the UN Army as it could spare, taking the war to the bakemono who had despoiled their lands. In return, the UN and the Holy Order would provide the necessary technology that would allow the country to rebuild. Given time, it would return to the one Baiken remembered in her memories. The sakura trees in her hometown would once again bloom in autumn and the snows would fall in winter, bringing with it snow and silence. And of long hours spent before the fireplace, nude and sated from hours of lovemaking, her more mischievous side added as an afterthought.

Baiken scowled inwardly. Had she been able to come face-to-face with her more devilish side, she would have beaten and strangled it within an inch of its miserable life. It did not help matters that said side was her ancestors' 'gift' to all their descendants. A sinful gift was a gift all the same, but it was plain…annoying when it made its demands.

"…and I heard back from when my team and I were hunting in the Empire that Lord Kiske had done quite a number on some of the boyars there. The freaking Suzerain was pissed when she found out that some of them were trying to overthrow her. I don't know the whole story, but I heard rumors that the PWAB had had a hand in the whole affair."

Baiken immediately turned her attention to the conversation the hunters were having with a group of RUN soldiers who had most likely been deployed to the Vatican to bolster its security for the coming Christmas and New Year celebrations. Both Dizzy and Jam were likewise listening in.

"That wouldn't surprise me," one of the RUN soldiers said, "Way I see it, I think the PWAB wants to replace the UN. Hell, I can bet every dollar in my book that more than half the member states of the UN are in one way or another in the Bureau's pocket. Ever since Commander Kiske was put on the Red List, things have been getting from bad to worse. And if no one steps up to do something about it, I can promise you that we will be having a war with the Methuselah Empire three years from now."

"So it's true that the UN sent an Army Group to Illyria?"

"It is. And there are signs that the Illyrians are not going to take our annexation of their country lying down. There have already been several cases of our people getting killed in the line of duty. Illyria is full of men and women who are loyal to Commander Kiske. There were very badly offended when they heard that the UN and the Church put him on the Red List for fucking a Gear. And between you and me, I don't care if he did. The kid gave us everything," the soldier said, bitterness in his voice, "Everything. If this is how we reward our heroes, I think it would be better if I deserted. I signed up to defend humanity, not to die at the hands of its assholes."

"Hear, hear…" the soldier's compatriots echoed.

"There is also no doubt in my mind that we may be facing a full-fledged insurgency before long," the man continued, "Illyria's leaders want us gone, but the RUN Senate and the Vatican want a buffer state that will give the countries in Europe time to mobilize their armies should the Empire invade."

"That's bullshit," a female huntress said, "The Empire doesn't want a war."

"It don't matter what they want. What matter are what those war-mongering mad fucks in power want," the oldest soldier in the group, a man in his late forties replied. The scar on his faces writhing as he sneered, "The bureaucrats don't care about what happens to the Jacks and Janes on the ground. Whether we get shot, cut or torn to pieces or raped to death, they don't care. Commander Kiske is on the run, and the people who supported him are two steps away from joining him on the List. Had he been around, all this shit wouldn't have happened. Oh, bloody balls of Christ, is that Jeff…?" the bitter expression on the man's face faded as he raised a hand and called to the inn's newest customer, a much younger man in his mid-thirties wearing a coat with the emblem of the City Council on his breast pocket. Despite his profession, the Beast within Baiken saw the manner in which he moved – and the way the scarred soldier had spoken – was that of a predator. The man was a killer, and the fangs and claws that made him one had not been dulled despite the fact he had put aside his sword.

"Brother Johnson…?" the other man's eyes widened as he saw the one calling out to him. The grin that split his face washed away the frown on his face, before he walked over and gripped the other man's forearm.

"Damn it, to think you of all people would start wearing a suit. I expect to see a pig fly by anytime now."

"You missed it, brother," the soldier-turned-administrator laughed, "It flew past the Church when I got married."

Baiken saw the amused looks on the faces of both Dizzy and Jam. She raised a censorious eyebrow, only to be ignored. Dizzy stuck out her tongue.

"You, married? Damn! What's the lucky girl like? Spill, you idiot," the veteran grinned, "I want to know."

"Only if you buy me a drink at the Kashmir tonight," the ex-soldier replied, "You promised me a round from back when I pulled your sorry ass from the rubble the Blood-Edge made of your bunker. And another from when I beat you in the Circle…"

"You drive a hard bargain, Jeff. Deal!" the soldier, Johnson, said, as he invited his friend to sit down, "By the way, I saw the look on your face when you stepped in. What gives? The last time you had that look, the Vatican was on the verge of being fucked by Justice."

"Fucked is the right word for what is going to happen in the next few days," the soldier-turned-city administrator replied as he ordered breakfast from one of the waiters, "You might want to steel yourselves before I tell you what I just learned. Old Malt, who now works in Foreign Services, told me that one of the PWAB's top negotiators is in town, and she wants to petition the Legion Master of the Black Templars to send his troops both to the Crimea and Illyria. If that happens, I promise you that things will get seriously bad."

"Will that negotiator succeed?" one of the hunters asked.

"This negotiator was the same one who managed to get Zepp's Parliament to overrule President Gabriel and Prime Minister Potemkin in the putting the White Knight on the Red List, and persuaded Britain's isolationist Parliament to join the RUN. I will daresay that the chances of Archduke Lannister telling the PWAB to jump off the cliff – which I dearly hope he does – is fifty-fifty. Those damn PWAB Legates can convince God himself that Satan's rebellion was just."

Baiken closed her eyes. The former soldier's words struck closer to home than she liked. The PWAB's Legates were renowned not only for their charisma, but also for their ability to convince even their organization's most bitter enemy that aligning themselves with them was not only in their best interests, but in the best interests of those they protected. Ky Kiske had fallen prey to their manipulations when he set out to hunt down the Gear Commander who sat across the swordswoman.

And he was not the only one…

'Our goals are the same, Miss Baiken. We want the world to be a better place than the one we lived in and left behind. To make such a world possible, we ask that you be our sword. Yes, we have many such individuals in our service. But you, Miss Baiken – you may well stand amongst the ranks of our elite. You may be able to do that which our finest cannot. I will not lie to you – the duty we ask you to perform is neither pleasant nor honorable. But in exchange, we will share with you information regarding the creator of the Gears – and grant your country the boon of our considerable knowledge to do with it as they will…"

Baiken lowered her head, allowing her dark pink bangs to cover her face. For a full year, the Japanese swordswoman had served the Bureau as their assassin, her blade ending the lives of those whose continued defiance threatened to return the world to that dark, bloody age when humanity stood on the brink of annihilation. Like the Nemean wolves that Justice had used during the Crusades to harry the armies of the UN and the Holy Order, Baiken had delighted in the hunt. Many of those she had murdered were men and women of power, knowledge and influence – all of whom had the common sense to hire bodyguards and to arm themselves with the best weapons that money could buy. But it availed them not; all that did was postpone the inevitable.

She remembered with shame the excitement she had felt when her masters within the Bureau had given her and a select group of its finest bounty hunters orders to kill Ky Kiske and to deliver his charge – who she later learnt was none other than Dizzy – into the hands of the PWAB's researchers. Here, the wrathful beast within her had whispered, was a man finally worth killing. Ky Kiske had few equals in combat. Alone and armed with the Outrage Weapon that had ended the lives of Gears whose might was second only to Justice's, he was more than capable of crushing a force many times that which the PWAB was sending against him. It was an irresistible challenge.

But Ky Kiske had comrades who refused to let him fight alone. The men and women who had stood beside him gave the White Knight of the Holy Order the power to crush armies and reduce mountains to ruin. It was an awesome sight to see the former Lord Commander of the Holy Order, clad in his blue and white robes and clutching his crackling sword, standing before them, flanked on either side by a voluptuous, blue-haired angel with dichromatic wings and a brown-haired Chinese woman who radiated power that made the earth and air roar. Four White Lion Knights, all veterans, all clad in the familiar white and crimson robes beneath glowing orichalum armor and hefting their halberds over their furred Nemean lion mantles and pointing machine pistols at them, shook their heads in amusement. Last, but not least, was the feared Master of Legions, who was on the UN's Top Thirty Most Wanted and on the PWAB's Red List. The wandering doctor, a former Knightly Order apothecary who was born in the Southeast Asian region, was accompanied by no less than five female Gears of the feared Blade Princess genus.

A hundred elite killers – all armed to the teeth and capable of leveling a UN military base with gun, blade and magic – had entered the Kiske manse. Only one would emerge alive, and that one would stand at death's door and be judged by the kami and her ancestors for all the evil she had done. The last thing Baiken saw before darkness took her was Ky Kiske standing over her, blood staining his white and blue robes crimson, his crackling sword inches from her throat. When she came to, she had found herself on the Scherazade, the flagship of the Jellyfish Pirate fleet and watched over by Ky Kiske himself.

"The one reason you and I are having this conversation, Miss Baiken, was because your friends in Japan interceded on your behalf. How on earth they managed to find out that you were part of the group that came to kill me, I do not know and, frankly, do not care. I am glad that I managed to end our battle without my taking your life. And believe me, that was no easy task. You are a monster, Miss Baiken, and the accounts of those who were fortunate to survive your hunting them lend credence to my calling you that. My duty demands that I turn you over to the IPF so that you will pay for your crimes. The likelihood that they will sentence you to death is high. But death will neither absolve you of your sins nor allow you to reach for that which you have almost sacrificed your humanity for.

"As such, I will sentence you in their place, Miss Baiken. Your punishment will be to live and to right every wrong you have done. You will make real the world you have bloodied your hands and your honor for. You will turn your blade against your former masters, for I shall reveal to you that which they have hidden from you…"

Would Cardinal Lybrand betray Ky Kiske to his enemies? Despite assurances by their contact that the priest was not in the pocket of the latter's enemies, the Japanese swordswoman could not help but worry. The PWAB was a greater threat that that Creator of the Gears had ever been. The unfathomable goals of the latter were achieved with means that were at least tempered with a sense of restraint and mercy. The PWAB went about achieving theirs with methods that were sorely lacking in either. Defeating them would be no easy task, as the Master of Legions had pointed out, but the information that Ky Kiske would surrender to the Cardinal would be the first step in turning the tide of the shadow war in the favor of those who opposed them.

Baiken's thoughts were derailed when lithe arms wrapped around her affectionately; impossibly strong arms that she knew belonged to a young, blue-haired half-Gear whose power equaled that of the Kami themselves and whose life was the cross which Ky Kiske had taken up willingly. The swordswoman turned and smiled at her youngest sister, "Dizzy…?

"What is wrong, Baiken?" the female half-Gear replied, "You look troubled."

"I was just thinking about Kiske's meeting with the Cardinal."

"You fear treachery."

"Yes."

"Do not. I have taken precautions," Dizzy said, her eyes becoming that fearsome gold on blood-red sclera that reminded Baiken all too much of her clan's ancestor, "If there is even a chance that Cardinal Lybrand has betrayed him to our enemies, all three of us will be there by his side to teach him the error of his ways. Their God detests traitors. I do not forgive them. This city will not forgive them. Their resentment was stoked when those in power betrayed him. All that is needed is a spark, and vengeance shall come screaming for the mighty…"

The Gear Commander's eyes returned to its normal hue as her fury receded, "But let us not hide here. I want a chance to walk this city for one last time and buy as many souvenirs and clothes as I can."

"I second that," Jam raised her hand with a grin, before running her eyes over the robes the Gear Commander wore. Customized Holy Order robes, fit for a Canoness in both weave and design, but cut in a way that would scandalize even the most liberal in their number. The girls who had made the costume for Dizzy, both of whom were part of the Jellyfish Pirates, had found a legal (and extremely lucrative) avenue in which to make money for the group. No few women within the fleet had found themselves taking to the design, much to Johnny's chagrin. Jam chuckled; Johnny was a good-looking Casanova with an eye for the ladies and a tongue that could melt the heart of the hardest of them, but the snake pit he was in was one he desperately wanted to get out of.

Ky Kiske, Jam chuckled inwardly, was pulled into the pit; the snakes inside wanted their way with him and would be not letting their prey out of aforementioned pit anytime soon. Jam's eyes drifted to the sword that was belted around the Gear Commander's waist. The force sword had been the Master of Legion's gift to the Gear Commander, master-crafted so as to allow the latter to direct and control the immense power that was her birthright. The force sword was made in the image of the Thunderseal, but the blade was several inches wider, and the color of its blade, hilt and cross-guard was not white and blue, but black and crimson.

"And I know a place in the Vatican where we can find what we are all looking for…" the Chinese martial artist added.

The Japanese swordswoman closed her eyes and hummed in agreement. Today was too good a day to remain indoors. She had long wanted a chance to see the city that had managed to break the mightiest Gear host to ever be assembled in the history of the Crusades. And it would be her last chance to do so. For when the sun sets, she and her companions would all be on the Swift Herald, bound for Japan, never to return. She would not have Ky Kiske spend the last years of his life on the run. None of them wanted that for a man who gave so much and was given so little in return.

Baiken's eyes snapped open when she felt the Gear Commander's hand trace a path from her clavicle, between her breasts and down to her lower belly, the gesture as arousing as it was affectionate. The latter had a happy smile on her face when she spoke, her voice not the musical one that Baiken had always known, but that of a woman fully grown, "I can feel them, Baiken…"

It took the better part of five minutes for the pink-haired swordswoman to digest what she had been told. She knew it would happen sooner rather than later. She had lain with the golden-haired ex-Holy Knight numerous times over the past year and a half. She knew that, sooner or later, that she would conceive. The Beast within her, the murderous legacy of a clan whom the Seishino family was part of, purred in joy as it turned its gaze at the sleeping soul in its embrace. White-hot pleasure that blazed through her veins told her of its intent: it wanted more.

The pink-haired swordswoman chuckled, and as she placed one callused hand over the Gear Commander's, "I know, Dizzy-chan. And thank you for telling me. It had been perplexing as to why…I have not bled for some time – and why I have felt so dizzy as of late. And before you ask, you minx," she fired an annoyed look at the smirking Chinese chef sitting across the table, "my home will be large enough to accommodate our brood."

The thought of the silent, dusty halls of the Seishino mansion being silent and empty no more made the swordswoman smile. No doubt, when she returned, her sensei and kinswoman (and one of her homeland's most beloved authors – especially where erotica was concerned) would be eager to hear everything that had transpired in the months after Baiken had left Japan. Baiken shuddered as the mental image of her plum-haired teacher and aunt, a playful leer on her lips, took shape in her mind. It was enough for Baiken to seriously consider asking her companions if they were amenable to spending some time in northern Japan before they headed to her family's estates in Fuyuki Shinto City. She really had no wish to be locked in a room with her teacher and be subjected to an interrogation that would give hardened Inquisitors nightmares.

X X X

The Grand Cross Citadel

At that very moment

The Grand Cross Citadel was a massive fortress built in the decades before the Fourth World War and had served as the nerve center of Holy Order-UN operations in the European theatre during the Crusades. Designed by the renowned magician-engineer Gerard van Housen, the Citadel was a masterpiece second only to the devastated strongholds that had once guarded Jerusalem and the Muslim holy land of Mecca. The walls of the Citadel were made of reinforced concrete and engraved with runes that could repel all but the most powerful mystical attack. Its battlements boasted, now as then, the same defenses that had bled the army that Justice had brought to destroy the Vatican white.

Ky Kiske, the former Lord Commander of the Holy Order and the revered hero of the Crusades, remembered a time when the Citadel's guns had rained death upon an enemy that knew neither fear nor surrender and whose might had broken the superpowers of a bygone era. It had been a sound that shook the earth, a declaration to a merciless adversary that those it sought to exterminate would not go quietly into the night.

The golden-haired ex-Holy Knight studied his surroundings. So much had changed. Back when he served as a senior inspector in the IPF, much of the neighborhood he stood in was still undergoing reconstruction. He ran one gloved hand on the wall of one of the buildings that had been restored, its original function of training and housing soldiers of the Order now dedicated to remembering them. Tourists milled around its entrance, listening to their guide tell them of what had taken place before, during and after the Siege of Rome. Said guide, the White Knight saw, was a veteran of the army he once led. The man, in his late forties and missing an arm and an eye, was clad in the white and crimson-lined robes of the Holy Order's Pistoliers regiment. His uniform, like the ornate fire-wand pistols in his holsters, the rank markings on his robe's mantle and the lovingly-restored regimental standard he held in his one strong arm, gleamed with pride. The last fluttered and whipped in the wind, carrying with it the faint scent of gun-smoke, blood and ruin.

Unable to stop himself, Ky Kiske pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and mingled with the crowd. He wanted to hear the man speak. It soon became clear to him that the older man was lost in his past. The voice that had shouted orders amidst the screams of dying men and earthshaking explosions held within them the weight of the bloodiest era in human history and of the lives that had been spent to bring it to an end.

The veteran told them of the campaigns he had fought in. He told them of the devastation he had seen in countries beyond counting and of cities being reduced to ghost- and corpse-haunted graveyards by the fury of the Gears. He painted a bleak picture of defeat and despair, of death and deprivation. He told them of fear and desperation, of the death of heroes and the triumphant shriek of a demigoddess whose dream was slowly coming to fruition. He told them of division within the halls of power, of men and women who clung to power and feasted while the world burned. He told them of a young man of twenty who was given the heavy mantle of leading the world's armies to victory, to do what his mighty predecessor could not. He told them the manner in which the embers of courage were fanned into an inferno, of faith renewed and of a thousand flags raised under the Treaty of the Blood Pact and of a billion swords and guns raised to the sky to honor that treaty.

Each story the man told dredged up memories veterans of the Crusade – himself included – would rather forget. But to do so was to betray those who had fought and died in the War, and such a thing could never be countenanced by those who lost kin and comrade in the War. And so he listened to the voices of the past and waited for the one who would give him and his companions a chance to live in the future.

It wasn't long before the Cardinal's messenger found him, and his eyes widened as he found himself looking into the face of a man he knew all too well. A man who was supposed to be in the Methuselah Empire helping the Suzerain root out the last members of the rebel faction that had plotted to overthrow her and start a new war with humanity. It was only when he saw the color of the man's eyes and the Daiklave that lay sheathed at his belt did he realize who the young man really was. The man before him was not Ibrahim Nanaya, the Master of Legions.

No, this young man was his son with the Gear Methuselah Scherazade (who Johnny had named his ship after, much to Ibrahim's annoyance). The latter had been the Master of Legion's greatest enemy during the Crusades. As such, the notion that the latter had lain with the former was ridiculous. Both would have taken poison rather than admit that they loved the other. It was ironic that the Messiah Project had done what Fate could not. It had married the flesh and blood of two bitter enemies who would have been more had the Crusades never been fought.

"Aleph," the White Knight nodded in greeting towards the younger man, "you look well."

"Master Kiske," the dark-haired young man bowed his head in return, "I am here by Cardinal Lybrand's command. Please come with me."

X X X

In a back alley, five minutes later…

Aleph had not come alone. There were six others with him, all armed. Four were women and two were men. Four of Aleph's companions wore the full-length robes, hoods and habits of the Holy Order's scholars and lore-keepers, and it was these that the Thunderseal turned its master's attentions to. The four were clearly Gears, none of whom were bound or commanded by the maiden whom the sword's master had made his mate. As such, they were a potential threat.

"I see you have made some interesting friends, Aleph," Ky asked as he rested one hand on his weapon, so as to calm the spirit that rested therein, "May I know their names?"

"Certainly, Master Kiske," the young man replied, and turned towards the curvaceous, dark-haired young woman who wore the uniform and cloak of the Holy Order's Outriders and carried its signature weapons: the HF saber, the Storm Eagle combat shotgun and the Defender heavy auto-pistol. The girl bowed to the White Knight in greeting before moving to Aleph's side.

"This," Aleph put a hand on the girl's shoulder, an intimate gesture of affection that was returned by the latter, "is Beth Amberlyn-Reindhart. She used to be part of Commander Lucia Boreas's North American Templar division until Lady Eliza reassigned her to..."

"Watch your back," the female Templar dug an elbow into Aleph's ribs, "It is an honor to meet you in person, Lord Kiske. I've heard a lot about you. My comrades in America asked me to send you their regards and salutations. Should you need us, give the word. We will return to fight by your side as we did all those years ago."

"I am honored that you and yours still consider me your commander after all that that has transpired, Dame Beth," Ky said, "But any war I will have you and yours persecute will be against an enemy neither blade nor gun can cut or kill."

"Nonetheless, our swords are yours should you need it."

"Thank you, Dame Beth."

Aleph turned towards a blonde-haired Eurasian woman who was leaning against a nearby wall. The latter was clad in the gleaming battle-plate of the White Panthers Knightly Order, whose chapter fortress – or rather, fortress-city – of Deus Incarnadine stood guard over the Spanish city of Cordoba. The markings on her armor and fur-lined cloak told Ky Kiske that the older woman was the commander of one the Knightly Order's Assault Companies. She was armed with an Enforcer heavy auto-pistol and a master-crafted power axe.

"This is Hiroko Tohno of the White Panthers Knightly Order," Aleph said, "Lady Eliza had her re-assigned to my team some weeks back."

"It is an honor to meet you, Miss Hiroko. I've heard a lot about you from your cousin," the White Knight said, even as details pertaining to Project Messiah rose to the forefront of his mind. The golden-haired female Templar, the cousin of the Master of Legions and the daughter of one of the Project's chief researchers, had been the cornerstone of Project Messiah. Her father had deliberately sabotaged the Project by choosing to implant the unborn son of his nephew and his archenemy within his daughter for reasons that would never be known.

Hiroko chuckled, the salacious gleam in her azure eyes giving the question she asked an underlying meaning, "How is my cousin?"

"He is well, Dame Hiroko," the golden-haired ex-Holy Knight replied, "He sends his regards and his apologies for being unable to meet you. He is helping me clean up a mess I made in the Empire. Do forgive him if he cannot make it back to Japan for the yearly family gathering."

"If he brings me," Hiroko coughed, "I mean, the family, gifts from the Empire, I would be inclined to overlook his trespass. And yes, I promise not to leave him unable to…perform. His Gear concubines would most likely not take kindly to my doing so."

The White Knight chuckled at that, before turning to look at the four robed figures, "And speaking of concubines, I see that you have inherited your father's taste in…exotic women, Aleph."

"The apple does not fall far from the tree, Master Kiske," Aleph replied gamely, "Like my father it took me no small amount of effort to persuade the Gears I have met on my travels to join me. Many were…" he cast a particularly dirty look at two of the robed Gears, who flinched under his scrutiny, "more interested in killing me than hearing what I had to say. The fact that I am a Holy Order agent does not endear me with those who remember our 'crimes' in the Crusades. I will not repeat what they called me so as not to offend your sensibilities."

"That bad…?"

The young paladin grimaced, "I'd daresay that some of them can swear better than sailors, and give voice to threats that would impress Satan himself."

"And I take it that the two you are glaring at are not the first to threaten you in such a fashion, Aleph?"

"God, no," Aleph replied, "There are a dozen others on my airship, all of whom are threatening that they will take it and put it square in St. Peter's Cathedral if I do not return to them by the appointed hour. I can ask for no better friends, but I am this," the paladin raised one hand and indicated the narrow space between his forefinger and thumb, "close to asking God to deliver unto me an enemy that will not give me as bad a headache as my companions are prone to giving me."

Ky Kiske laughed then, a merry sound that made everyone in the alley smile despite themselves, "Do not ask for more woe than you can stomach, Sir Aleph. God is known to grant THAT particular wish with a generous heart."

"Noted," the paladin replied, "Now, let us make haste, Master Kiske. Cardinal Lybrand awaits you at Via Fortis."

X X X

The Central Market,

Across the Ponte St. Angelo, 20 minutes later

The Central Market was located across the Castel St. Angelo, the latter's towering edifice visible no matter where one stood in Rome. Built a hundred and thirty years after the birth of Christ, the Castle of Angels had originally served as the majestic tomb of a Roman Emperor until another had, in 271 A.D., converted it into a stronghold. The castle had served in the Middle Ages as the papal prison-stronghold where the enemies of the Church were imprisoned and where its leaders could find refuge in times of crisis. During the Renaissance, the Church authorities had ended the Castle of Angel's use as a prison and converted it fully into a papal domicile and refuge. In the chaotic years of the Third and Fourth World Wars, the Castle of Angels was one of the few places in the world where the leaders of the world could meet to resolve their differences. By that time, the ancient castle had been outfitted with some of the most advanced weapon and defensive systems that the world had to offer.

But even that had not been enough to turn back the Gears when they assailed its walls and tore down the Aegis Barriers that had protected the citadel. History – and the men and women who had been there – would remember the clash at the Castle of Angels as one of the most vicious melees to be fought in the 17-day long Siege of Rome. In one night alone, over two thousand UN and Holy Order soldiers had died trying to defeat eight hundred of her mother's elite guard. It had been a masterstroke that had nearly broken the back of her enemies and delivered the caput mundi into the hands of its enemies. But it had been a masterstroke broken by the will of the city's defenders.

To honor that impossible victory, the Church had had commissioned the construction of the Fountain of Nike. Crafted by the hands and magic of master artisans and sculptors in etherite marble, the recently-completed fountain was a masterpiece of architecture and artistry. Symbols of courage and victory adorn it: eagles clutching thunderbolts and snarling serpents in their claws adorn the four cardinal corners of the fountain; lions standing atop the broken corpses of Gear hellhounds; heroes of the War, both living and dead, locked forever in battle against beautiful, mythical monsters whose sultry temptations saints and scripture have warned their flock to be wary of; and above them all were the men and women who had led humanity's armies in the century-long Crusades. Dizzy knew each and every one of the Thirteen Heavenly Generals by name and deed, but had ever only met two – and these stood near the top of the ten-meter high rocky outcropping where water flowed and created miniature waterfalls in the vast pool beneath.

These two – or rather, three, as it was fair to include Kliff Undersen among them – were the men who wrote the final chapters of a vicious hundred-year war. Her lover's predecessor had been resurrected in his prime and immortalized in stone, clad in ornate Order battle plate and clutching the fearsome Outrage Weapon her mother had called (rather aptly) the Dragonslayer. The weapon now rested deep within the Sacred Armory deep beneath the Grand Cross Citadel, waiting for a time when its power would be needed once more. A replica of the Dragonslayer was displayed within the Chambers Eternal, its presence a tribute to the mightiest hero of the Crusades. Next, with his back to Kliff Undersen, was her father, his powerful frame swathed in the robes of the Order. Sol Badguy, the Immoral Flame, the First Gear, one of the seven who had created a race whom they had hoped would be lover, companion and guide to an imperfect humanity, looked out at the world he loathed and loved in equal measure with a smirk that seemingly mocked the powers that be for their arrogance and hubris. Instead of the Grand Daiklave her father had wielded in the war, the sculptor had instead chiseled out the Outrage Weapon he had 'stolen' from the Order and which had had seen to Dizzy's lover pursuing him. She chuckled inwardly; there was no doubt in her mind that her father enjoyed making life difficult for his younger rival.

And last, standing at the top of the fountain, under the shadow of the massive, ornate cross that adorned the Cathedral of the Sanctified, was Ky Kiske. Dizzy shivered. The sculptor who had immortalized her beloved in stone had captured an expression the lovely Gear Commander had seen many times before. It bespoke of pain that would not dim and wounds that would never heal. In the lowered head and sword, in the unshed tears and a fist placed over a heart that knew the cost of victory, was a tribute paid to the countless thousands who have died in a long and bloody war and to the millions who were tasked with rebuilding a world ruined by the arrogance of their forebears. Dizzy raised one gloved hand to her lover's stone incarnation, so that she could see the latter between her fingers.

She closed her eyes, remembering a time when she had done so, when her mate had stood alone against his enemies, when his blood stained his robes crimson and when Death came for him, its pale shadow hovering over a soul promised to the Lords of the Underworld. It was in that one instant she understood why her mother had hated humanity so much and why her father had loathed the polity of the race he defended. Johnny had asked her, in the aftermath of the slaughter, what was it about humanity that Dizzy had hated, and she had told him. The pirate captain had been unable to refute that which she had accused humanity of. He had, instead, told her that the world did not matter. Only the people she loved did.

"Those who know, know they cannot write or speak of love or justice.

One cannot know of God's will by tract and verse.

It is felt in the soul, that which is sought by many and found by few.

Wisdom is gained by experience; Love learned by pain;

Justice seen only in action and the future, yours to regain…"

Dizzy opened her eyes, the voice of the old couple who had raised her echoing in her ears. Inspiration struck her then, as she turned her attention back to the Fountain of Nike. She would have to speak to Captain Eckhart before they left the city. She wanted to make some…changes to the Fountain. The Gear Commander did not want her beloved to be remembered as a solitary individual, standing at its pinnacle, mourning those who waited for him in Valhalla. He deserved better than that. Those, the Gear Commander thought as she looked at the flowers, candles and tokens left around the Fountain, who loved him deserved better than that.

"Dizzy…?" Jam's voice broke the Gear Commander out of her thoughts, "Are you all right?"

"I'm all right, Jam," Dizzy replied, "It's just that…this is the first time I've been to the Vatican. I've heard about how beautiful it is, but seeing it firsthand is better than hearing about it from another…"

"That it is. Ky had brought me here once, when the Argent Crusaders Knightly Order challenged the edict of the Conclave some years back," the brown-haired Chinese chef replied, handing the half-Gear a large packet consisting of a large piece of sliced bread, lamb and vegetables, "Here, have one. It's kebab. I bought it from the Egyptian store. You'll need it. Especially since you are eating for two…"

"Three actually," the blue-haired half-Gear corrected her companion with a playful leer, "With more in mind…"

It took Jam some time to recover her jaw from where it had been, and even more for her to process what she had just heard. Two children…? Twins…?! And she was planning to have more? Gods, she hoped that Baiken's mansion was large and sturdy enough to accommodate the children of a demigoddess. There was no doubt in her mind that their horseplay would result in buildings being demolished, mountains being reduced to rubble and tidal waves being created. The Chinese martial artist shook her head to dispel the image, before scowling at the smirking, winged hussy before her. It would be a cold day in hell before she let Dizzy have her way.

Jam turned to look at Baiken. The pink-haired swordswoman had one eyebrow raised and an amused smile on her lips, but the fierce, predatory gleam in her cerise eyes face told Jam that the swordswoman shared her sentiments.

"Oh me oh my," a familiar voice caused the thought processes of all three women to come to a screeching halt and they turned as one to face the speaker, "What do we have here? A lost angel, an assassin and an orphan…? And they all look so delicious. My darling little Knight certainly knows where to pick up the best streetwalkers to warm his bed."

Standing with her back against one of the Fountain's pillars, clad in crimson and sin, was the woman whose machinations had cut the life of the revered Ky Kiske short: I-No of the Scarlet Ruin. A sensuous, predatory smile curved the witch's lips as she took in the horror and fury on the faces of the three women. She strummed her ever-present guitar, and licked her lips.

"But even so, I must say that I am by far the better choice…"

X X X

Grand Chapel, Via Fortis

Legion Fortress of the Howling Griffons

At that very moment

Cardinal Stephen Lybrand stood before the pulpit in the Grand Chapel of Via Fortis, the Legion fortress of the Howling Griffons Knightly Order, awaited the arrival of Ky Kiske. The man looked up at the painted glass frieze behind, honoring an impossible victory. Amidst the depictions of angels and a thunderbolt sundering a stairway, was the image of a young man with golden hair and a white-and-blue armored giant with a red mane. The Battle of the Stairway to Heaven was an apocalyptic confrontation which left thousands dead and the very ground torn asunder. Stephen had, during his time in the seminary, wondered if the authors of the Bible had imagined such a scene of devastation when they wrote Revelations. He had been there when the Stairway of Heaven collapsed, when the shockwave of its destruction was felt for miles around. Human or Gear, airship and tank, all were but chaff by the thunderous blast that shook the earth.

But that victory was made bitter by the knowledge that the Holy Order and the Combined Armed Forces of the United Nations had lost the best of their number trying to seal Justice. The Gear Commander had not gone quietly into her prison. She had smote her archenemy and his servants with everything she before the dimensional gates slammed shut. The Patriarch of the Bright Order, one of the eight Masters of the Schools of Sorcery, teleported the badly-wounded Ky Kiske from the crumbling Stairway with the last of his strength.

Even so, the excommunicated – and revered – Hero of the Crusades did not emerge from the confrontation unscathed. Power that could rend asunder Earth's greatest mountain had been used to smite the Destroyer of Heaven, and the instrument that had delivered the final blow had demanded a heavy price of its wielder. The healers of the Holy Order believed the injury the last blow of a spiteful enemy, but Stephen knew better. As he was a member of the Vatican's College of Cardinals, he was privy to knowledge that only a handful in the world knew about. His close ties with the Keeper of the Holy Forge saw to it that Stephen knew things about the Outrage Weapons that his peers did not. Chief among them was the fact that the Outrage Weapons were never meant to be wielded by normal humans. There was a price for power, and the spirits within the weapons ever thirsted for the life force of its wielders.

Thunderseal, the Sacred Sword of Ky Kiske, was one of the rare exceptions to the rule. The entity within the blade was selective of whom it allowed to wield it. In all the decades since its creation, only four had been granted that honor. Two were Christians, one was a Jew and the last was a Muslim. All had been members of the Holy Order. Its last wielder had carried it into battle for the better part of two decades before returning it to the Vatican upon his retirement. His warning was that no one else save the one the blade called for be allowed to wield it. The High Lords of the Holy Order and the College of Cardinals did not heed the man's warning. Thunderseal took the life of a Chapter Master in recompense and reduced those nearby to ash in a storm of lightning that blew a hole in the roof of the Sistine Chapel.

No one had dared to wield the Thunderseal after that. The Outrage Weapon would be sealed in the Vaults of the Grand Cross Citadel for the next twenty years. It was only when Ky Kiske took his oaths to the Holy Order did the sword wake from its long slumber. Cardinal Stephen would never forget the day when the Immoral Flame stormed into the Grand Sistine Chapel, the thunderous expression on his face causing even the Templars on duty to step aside, and tossed the Thunderseal into the arms of a startled Ky Kiske. The looks on the faces of everyone within the Chapel, especially after Sol Badguy told the younger man that the Outrage Weapon was his by right, was one Stephen would remember for the rest of his life. The Black Templars, in particular, had been infuriated. It went against the grain that a newly-initiated knight would receive an Outrage Weapon when decorated heroes older than he went into battle with inferior weapons.

The Cardinal sniffed in contempt. Had they known what he did, they would have had second thoughts at being granted the 'honor' of bearing an Outrage Weapon into battle. But even these were unaware that the deaths of many of their peers within the Legion came about because of another secret that Stephen's friend had shared with him. The secret, more damning than any the latter had told, was known only to a select few within the Church and the UN Senate. Many of the Outrage Weapons used in the Crusades were fakes. It had been the Immoral Flame who, with no small amount of disdain, had given the fake Outrage weapons the name they were now known by: Rusted Metallica – the Armaments of the Pretender. Though capable of inflicting horrific injuries on the Gears, the danger that came with wielding the Armaments of the Pretender was greater than if said individual was using a genuine Outrage Weapon. Madness and death awaited all those who could not bend the spirits within the Rusted Metallica to their will.

And death was what awaited Ky Kiske, his great reward for delivering humanity and Gear-kind from extinction.

Stephen closed his eyes. His father had told him many years ago, when the inferno of the Crusades devoured and spat out the broken remains of a hundred nations, that the war between humanity and the Gears was a blessing in disguise. Stephen, being young and heeding the words of those who sought to use all of humanity as a shield, had not understood the underlying meaning in his father's words. It was only now, decades later, having seen the depths humanity could sink to and the heights it could rise to, that Stephen finally understood. The letter his father had left him while

"When the Serpent led the First Ones into eating of the Tree of Knowledge,

Her malicious intent to lay humanity low granted it the knowledge of evil.

Some believed that the Serpent wanted nothing more than to free humanity;

Though we are God's most beloved creation, we are little more than His slaves in the Serpent's eyes.

We will never know.

What we do know, is that the gift given by the Serpent, was poisoned.

Humanity, the object of envy of God's immortal sons and daughters, was cast out.

Paradise was forever barred to them.

Bitter is the toll paid to all who partook in treachery for reasons base or noble."

The Gears were no longer the threat they once were. Many within the Church and the UN regarded them as a defeated enemy who would never again pose a threat. The new Gear Commander, unlike her predecessor, was a gentle soul who wanted nothing more than to live in peace with her mate. But that wish mattered little to those who desired her power. Among them was Cardinal Alessandro, a high-ranking member of the Purist faction. The eldest son of a powerful Italian merchant prince, the younger man had ambitions that were as daring as they were dangerous. Determined to ensure that the Church would never again be relegated to a position of impotence in worldly affairs, Alessandro wanted to create a theocratic supra-state that would encompass all of Europe, Russia and the Middle East. The vision appealed to both the hawks in the RUN, who saw it as a chance to unite the fractured world under a single banner once and for all, as well as the powerful hardliners within Rome, who saw it as a chance to create the Millennial Kingdom that was spoken of in the Bible.

And the key to his dream – no, to the dreams of petty kings and would-be tyrants the world over – was the daughter of Justice, the Gear Commander known as Dizzy. Stephen turned to look at the magnificent fountain that dominated the transept of the church, the marble likenesses of the Howling Griffons' founders gleaming in the light of the midday sun, their swords raised in salute to the ghosts of thousands who now rested in Paradise. They had to be stopped. Should the aspiring dictators within humanity and Gear-kind succeed in their endeavor to capture and enslave the young Gear Commander, one could count the years before the Apocalypse that Ky Kiske had barely averted cast its bloody shadow once more over the world.

'You will not succeed, Alessandro,' the old Cardinal swore, 'I will do whatever it takes to stop you. You and those like you. For all your strengths, you do not comprehend the one truth of the world: there are monsters in this world whose wrath would make our Lord's fury pale in comparison. You have set hounds on their master's heels, brother, but unleashed wolves on yours.'

"Captain Duran," the Cardinal turned to face his bodyguard, an agent of Vigilance who had been assigned to him by Cardinal Eliza Beowulf, whom many within the Vatican had called the Left Hand of God, "has Aleph arrived yet?"

"Not yet, Holiness," the blonde-haired man replied, "Please be patient. If word gets out that Lord Kiske is within the Vatican, there is no telling what might happen. I would like to avoid having to fight those we consider our brothers and sisters if we can. "

"That might be unavoidable if what Aleph told us was true, Brother Duran," Stephen replied, "I still cannot believe that Alessandro would go as far as he had. I know he desired power, but this…? Just what madness has taken hold of him that he would conduct those experiments? If the RUN Security Council or the IPF find out, there would be hell to pay…!"

The Paladin of Vigilance agreed with his superior's assessment. The RUN Senate viewed the Church with no small amount of suspicion. Many in the former knew that the hardliners in the latter wanted them gone. The Messiah, Ascendancy and Argent King Projects were a step in that direction. The first was to create a leader – one that was subservient to the wishes of the religious elite – that would rally the faithful behind the Church. The second was to create a bio-weapon that would purge humanity of all who bore within their veins the unclean heritage of the Gear race. Last, but not least, the Argent King project was to create an invincible army that would allow the Church to impose its will upon the nations under its rule. These would serve as the Honor Guard of the Son of God when He arrived on Earth. The bloody confrontation written in the Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls would never come to pass, for God's servants on Earth had crushed the infidel and the servants of Satan before their corruption could fully flower.

Duran drew in a deep breath to calm himself. Rash actions made for failed plans. And neither Vigilance nor its allies could afford a single misstep, not when their enemies were as formidable as the ones arrayed against them.

"Is war unavoidable then, Lord Stephen?" the paladin asked.

"It is," the older man replied, "Many are those entranced with the glory of Babylon, and all seek to drink from the poisoned cup the Whore proffers. But her duty is to seek out the weak and the wicked, and lead them down damnation's road so that the Adversary may have his due."

"And Lord Kiske…?"

Stephen smiled, a rare twinkle coming to his eyes, "For him, the reward God grants unto the worthiest of souls. I pray that he has the strength to endure the test to come. The temptations of Babylon itself might not be enough to quiet his libido, if the stories I hear from Sir Johnny are true."

Duran tried to keep a straight face. His subordinates did not do so well.

X X X

The Grand Market…

The reaction of all three women to the appearance of I-No was both instantaneous and hostile. Both Baiken and Dizzy reached for their respective blades, the latter fortunately having the presence of mind to not call upon her powers and sending the scantily-clad witch across the Styx. Jam had taken a fighting stance, her brown eyes all cold and hard. The Chinese martial artist had lost count of the number of times the musician had manipulated her lover into carrying out missions that put him in danger or saw to him almost killing those he care about.

The scream Jam heard that day in the ruins of the Chinese trade-city of Yong-Shen was one burnt into her memory, one that captured in its entirety the torment and anguish that the Fates could visit upon those who least deserved it. If she could inflict but a fraction of the pain that her lover had suffered then on the sultry witch before her, the Chinese martial artist would gladly give her life to see it done.

As if aware of her intent, I-No turned to look at Jam, her lips curved in a smirk that dared the latter to try and kill her. It would displease her master considerably to learn that his designs had been thwarted, but his wrath was something the red-clad musician was all too willing to risk if it would allow her to make the White Knight her plaything once more. Or, was it the other way round…? She did not mind, really. I-No remembered how the golden-haired paladin had forced himself on her all those years ago. She remembered the mad fury and the lust in his eyes as he violated her. She remembered the earthshaking orgasms as her body, upon finding out that Ky Kiske's genes were compatible with her own, turned on her. It had taken the witch all of her willpower to prevent herself from getting pregnant, but the sheer rapture that had nearly driven her mad was motivation enough for the musician to want to tempt the Fates once more.

"What are you doing here, slut?" Baiken's voice was cold with the promise of a bloody death, "Are you here to finish what you started?"

"Lose it, bitch," I-No's green eyes moved from Jam to the pink-haired swordswoman, "And I promise you that no one in this plaza walks away without losing an arm, a leg or a life. He…" the witch gave Baiken a knowing look, "made it perfectly clear that I was not to give this sanctified shit-hole a facelift or to turn you, the chipmunk or the bird into corpses I can fist-fuck. I am, if you can believe it, here as insurance should Holy Boy's meeting with the Cardinal go sideways. As to how I know, that's none of your business. Also…" I-No raised one hand and her hat spat out a small bottle into it, which she promptly tossed to Baiken, "my master asks that you give this to the idiot. It will…help delay the end."

Baiken recognized what she held in her hand immediately. She had been given a similar bottle once before by her handler within the PWAB as a reward for her killing a prominent RUN Senator whose policies had given the organization no small amount of grief. The red pills within the bottle were ones that only the very rich could afford: crystallized Dragon's Blood. Each tablet was capable of curing any disease or injury, no matter how fatal either may be.

"Why would your master want to help one who has long been a thorn in his side?" Baiken asked the red-clad witch.

"Because my master sees himself in Little Ky," I-No replied, "The two of them have a lot in common, you know. My master has no wish to see the world returned to the days before the Crusades. Little Ky does not want the world to become the personal fuck-toy of the pigs in power. The fact that he is here, in the lion's den, shows that he is serious about crashing their party."

"And you?"

"Me? My reasons are simple. I like Little Ky. He excites me. Everything he does, everywhere he goes, the kind of people he fucks up and with," I-No grinned, "It can make a girl wet. He's the kind of man who can take a throne and keep it. Had he taken up the mission to investigate what was going on in Ireland instead of going to Egypt, he would have become a King. Had he been so, they," the scantily-clad witch jerked her head in the direction of the Grand Cross Citadel, where the rich and powerful would gather to celebrate the New Year in a week's time, "would never have dared raise a hand against him without risking the wrath of both the Kingdom and the Empire. But Little Ky has made his choice. He chose to be free."

To be continued…

Afterword:

I had originally planned for this story to be completed in one chapter, but see that that is no longer possible. Had I continued, the flow of the story would suffer and I would have found myself lacking a foot and a head. And quite possibly, the rest of me as my readers and reviewers would have broken out the shotguns and chain-blades. And so, I will follow what my Creative Writing teacher had taught me: if you cannot kill the story in one chapter, kill it in two.

Regardless, I will ask you, my readers, how my current attempt at erotica has gone. Is the flow of the story good? Did I set the temperature right? Did I do better than my previous attempts? I have noticed that in my attempts to write erotica (or any other story, for that matter), I tend to focus more on the story than the sex.

Glossary (A-Z):

Aegis Barriers: Aegis Barriers are protective energy or magical shields that protect military or governmental installations. These are powered either by fusion generators or mystic engines.

Airships: Airships replaced aeroplanes and ships in the decades after the Third World War. Originally, they were powered by light fusion reactors, but these were soon replaced by mana furnaces – which is far safer and whose power output exceeds the fusion reactor at maximum power by about three times. Airships come in a variety of designs and are used both for commerce and war. The most formidable of these are the Unconquered Rising Sun -class battleship, which combines the power of a flying battleship and the capability to teleport troops and heavy armour straight into a battlefield.

Argent King Project, The: The Argent King Project is a top-secret joint-project of the Vatican hardliner faction and the nobles of the Royalist House. Its main purpose was to create a powerful army for the Glorious King to lead, one that would be loyal to him (and through him, the Church and the nobles of the Royalists faction). It was carried out at the same time as Project Messiah and Project Ascendancy.

Assassins' Guild: Led by the powerful Gear-Methuselah known as Slayer, the Assassins' Guild is one of the most powerful organizations in the underworld. Its members wield advanced weaponry and have access to technology and mystic rituals that enhance their already considerable skills. Slayer, for all his criminal leanings, is loyal to the Methuselah Empire and will take independent action against those whom he deems a threat to its ruler and the Empire.

Black Templars, The: The Black Templars Knightly Order is easily the largest of the Vatican's Templar Army, boasting well over a million soldiers. Its emblem is the Black Maltese Cross over a white background. The Knightly Order (though many regard it as a Legion, considering the numbers), divided into Chapters, are led by Legion Master Frederick Lannister.

Crusades, The: The Crusades is a century-long (though some say it is longer) war between the humans and their creations, the Gears. On one side are the Holy Order and the United Nations, on the other, the Gear Legions (which can resemble a vast horde that would make the Mongols have nightmares, or disciplined ranks that would make the Greeks and Romans weep).

Chambers of the Camarilla: The Chambers of the Camarilla are where the nobles of the Royalist faction gather to do business and seal alliances. Duels of honour between its members are fought within its halls, as the highborn do not wish to air their dirty laundry to their inferiors. Imagine a gathering of the ruling elite and the rich in the most exclusive location in the world, add a (big) dash of decadence and oldworld splendour, and you will see in your mind the Chambers of the Camarilla. Do you wish to join?

Daiklaves: Powerful weapons created in the Soul Forges and during a time when the stars are right. Doing so grants them more power than normal (such as being able to affect the elements or negating the powerful regenerative abilities of certain Gear types); otherwise, they will grants enhanced strength, speed, fortitude and magical resistance. Most Daiklaves take the shape of swords. (Author's Note: Here is where I will point you in the direction of White Wolf's Exalted and the myriad Charms and weaponry used by demigod-heroes worthy of the name – use it to the fullest extent of thy wicked glee.)

Gears: The Gears are the crowning jewel of a 15-year long endeavour in which a group of seven scientists, magi, geneticists and tech-priests which changes forever the face of the world. Inspired by stories, myths and games created by their forebears, the Seven Makers – as the Gears would call their human creators – breathe life and soul into mythical races and creatures beyond counting. The original intent of the Seven was to craft for humanity lovers, teachers and companions to steer it from the ruinous road it had trod for centuries. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and the works of the Seven are soon twisted beyond all recognition…

Heart of Creation, The: The Heart of Creation is the vast reservoir of energy that underlies all of Creation. It is from this place that magic – the unlimited energy resource that had brought the world into a golden age that will never be seen again – flows.

Holy Order, The: The Holy Order describes the military arm of the Vatican. It comprises of three branches: the Knightly Orders, the Inquisition and the White Fleet (which are the Church's Navy). As the Crusades ground on, the Holy Order came to encompass the followers of both Islam and Judaism, both of were very sore at losing the Holy Land and who had suffered staggering losses to the Gears.

International Police Force (IPF) & Interpol: The International Police Force is the armoured fist of Interpol. Where the rank-and-file agents of Interpol are tasked with investigation and the capture of criminals, the IPF is tasked with taking down those whose crimes are particularly severe. It is said by many in the underworld that being caught by Interpol is better than being in the gun-sights of the IPF. The former will take you alive; the latter is sent when the authorities have declared you a threat.

Justice, Gear Commander: Justice – known better by her sobriquets the Alabaster Serpent of Judgment and the Destroyer of Heaven (in the Asian region) – is the first Gear Commander to be created. The original intent had been to create a failsafe to ensure that the Gears will never rise up against humanity. The project was a great success. For many years, Justice carried out the task she was made for, until one of the Seven Makers – the last of two surviving – broke the wards and seals that kept the Commander Gear pacified. Justice's wrath as she learns about how the humans have treated the Gears would put God's to shame. She launches the Gear Uprising and utterly decimates the Asian region and plunges much of Europe, America and Africa into a bloody war.

Jellyfish Pirates, The: One of the many pirate groups in the world. The Jellyfish Pirates are led by Johnny Sfondi. Its flagship is the Scherazade, a heavy airship armed with military-grade weapons and pre-Crusade technology.

Methuselah Empire, The: Based off the Trinity Blood anime and manga. Its capital state is Turkey, and the Empire encompasses the entire Middle East (which was once Gear territory) as well as northern India and Afghanistan. The Empire is the homeland of the Gears, a dream that the best of humanity and Gear-kind have longed for and have laboured hard to make into reality. Ruled by the Suzerain, a Methuselah Shinso of immense power, the Empire is a prosperous and technologically-advanced country. The UN and the PWAB view the Empire with no small amount of suspicion. The powerful hard-line faction in the Vatican, on the other hand, wants to destroy it.

Office of Internal Security (OIS), United Nations: The feared Office of Internal Security is responsible for tracking down and eliminating any threats to humanity. Agents of the OIS often work with the IPF and the Inquisition to check the growing power of the underworld. It is a truism that when the OIS come into the picture, one can be guaranteed a place in a place in one of its impregnable gulags or a grave (which many say IS the better option).

Outrage Weapons, The: The Outrage Weapons are the pinnacle of anti-Gear weaponry. Capable of dealing horrific wounds and crushing even the strongest of the Gears in a single blow, these mystical weapons are the most powerful creations of the Soul Forges. Sol Badguy and his compatriots created a thousand such weapons. More than half were given to the Church and their allies. The rest were divided amongst the various countries of the UN. In the decades after the Gear Uprising, the RUN and the Church attempted to create false Outrage Weapons (which Sol calls Rusted Metallica). Though powerful, wielding them was a risky endeavour. You could die, go mad or turn to dust the minute the battle ends. But it is a sacrifice and the risk soldiers and their superiors were willing to take, especially in a war where defeat means the human race gets blasted into extinction.

Principia Magicus: Latin, Principles of Magic. Theories and treatises regarding magic and how to harness it (safely) are compiled into numerous books that allow individuals, countries and companies the world over to exploit a potent and inexhaustible resource. Said theories also led to the creation of powerful mystical weapons and the creation of the Gears.

Post-War Administration Bureau (PWAB): A powerful international organization aligned with Reconstituted United Nations (RUN) dedicated, at least outwardly, to restoring the world in the aftermath of the Crusades. In truth, its members wish to be the world's new masters. By means both fair and foul, the PWAB secures and cements its grip on power. Its ranks are replete with the rich and powerful, all of whom wish to remake the world into something more pleasing to their eyes.

Project Ascendancy: Project Ascendancy was the Vatican hardliner faction's top-secret bio-weapons project, meant to purge humanity of those who had Gear blood within them (which was essentially more than 40% of the world's surviving population). Project Ascendancy, like Project Messiah and the Argent King Project, was headed by Cardinal Alessandro Clemente.

Project Messiah: Project Messiah was to create a leader behind whom humanity could rally behind. Having finally returned to a position of power and influence, many within the Church had no wish to be relegated back to its pre-Crusade status. The efforts of the Holy Order scientists and tech-priests bore fruit: they managed to create the Glorious King spoken of in the Bible, and companions to guard and guide him. But three amongst them betrayed their peers, and sabotaged the Project to a degree that (if discovered) would sow the seeds of a Second Hierophant War. These men saw to it that the King and his companions would be born free and not a servant of his creators. The name of that Glorious King is Aleph, and the one who held him within her body was Hiroko Tohno of the White Panthers Knightly Order. It was a decision with far-reaching ramifications, as the surrogate mother of the Glorious King has ties to the Hundred Clans….

Reconstituted United Nations (RUN): The Reconstituted United Nations are formed of member states which have survived the Fourth World War and the Gear Uprising. They are the successor organisation of the United Nations. Though powerful, its influence is severely undermined by the PWAB, due to the fact that the latter has access to technology and resources that the RUN does not have.

Rusted Metallica: as known asThe Armaments of the Pretender. See the Outrage Weapons, above.

Seven Makers, The: The Seven Makers are the creators of the Gear race. All are immensely powerful individuals capable of destroying cities and defeating entire armies. Five of the seven have either disappeared or been assassinated by parties unknown. The only two known Makers are Sol Badguy and the Man, who conspiracy theorists believe is the ancestor of Ky Kiske.

Soul Forge: The Soul Forge is – was – the source of many mystical weapons and armour worn by humans and Gears before, during and after the Crusades. Each Soul Forge is guarded by an Order of Tech-priests, who guard the rituals and incantations which allow them to create their signature weapons. For example, the Soul Forge of the Eagle in America and the Eternal Queen Soul Forge in Britain were known to craft fire-wand pistols, but the manner in which the incantations and rites were applied to create said weapon are different (and to alter the fundamental blueprints of said rites requires YEARS of study and experimentation before the High Priest or Priestess of the Order considered it safe enough for regular use; a failure means the Soul Forge and everything within forty miles goes up in smoke). Specialized Soul Forges also create WMDs such as the Thousand-Forged Dragons and the Tidal Rising Dragons.

Soul Forge, Corrupted: The Corrupted Soul Forges are the unholy counterparts of the Soul Forge. Where the latter draws its power from the Heart of Creation, the former draws it from the depths of the underworld, lending whatever weapons that are created powers which are forbidden by international treaty. But when such power is there for the taking, there are those who will desire to harness it for reasons both base and noble. The Corrupted Soul Forges are top-secret facilities, the knowledge of which will most assuredly see to an individual or organization imprisoned or executed.

United Nations Combined Armed Forces (UN-CAF): This is the rank and file for the armies of humanity during the Crusades. Their way of warfare is – unlike the Holy Order which makes extensive use of magic in battle – conventional. They make use of tried and tested military hardware. The medical branch of the UN-CAF, however, takes full advantage of the unmatched healing Charms created decades prior; restoring a man who can return to battle in 14 days is better than seeing him downed for over three months. And during the Crusades, you need every soldier you can get.

Vigilance: Vigilance is an organization within the Church whose original mandate was to police its ranks and root out corruption. Lady Cardinal Eliza Beowulf, known by many in the Vatican as the Left Hand of God, created the organization some twelve years before the end of the Crusades. In the aftermath of the Crusades, Vigilance was granted broader powers and made a part of Interpol.

Wyld Hunt: The term was coined by the Holy Order when its kill-teams set out to hunt down and kill powerful Gears during the bloody years of the Crusades. For someone to be chosen as a member of a Wyld Hunt kill-team is a great honour in the ranks of the both the UN and Holy Order armies. It was adopted by the Post-War Administration Bureau as a means by which they would hunt down those whose continued existence posed a threat to the PWAB.