80 Just Like The Old Time [Kolme]

"Good, all according to plan, isn't that right, ye little rascal?"

"Indeed, according to my plan, that is."

Within an unknown realm of hundreds of gears churning about, exist two individuals on portable chairs separated by a table. With no sense of time, it felt like the place itself isn't bound with the concept of age, but the clock is ticking, they are ticking in distress for the two individuals within.

There is no ceiling and no end to the cliff off the golden platform. It's a long tube of space stretching in a circle with two passengers with their respective story and reason.

The light in Dyaus' eyes fades away as the cockroach leans her chin on the back of her hand, looking at the table in melancholy, not the person in front of her. "How many times did we do this?"

"Around 28 times, Madam Dyaus."

Dyaus hurls a sigh. "I gave you so many chances, yet your puny brain still can't grasp an elementary aspect called the 'impossible'."

"The longer the night lasts, the more dreams we'll have."

"Only a slight chance that a burglar will try to barge in. You're just too hasty."

"My hastiness is a sign of someone who did the same thing again and again with an improvement to proof their determination."

"A determination soaked in vengeance is just a haze of delusion."

"How about you? Your children, the Assailants. The crisis has impeded them and yet you're here, playing this game with me."

"Amos will not fall that easily. Besides, you're the one who's playing, I already quit from the start. Seizequill."

The Ferrakhian only showcase her sharp smile and squints, before materializing a token on her grip and putting them onto the table one by one. "How so? in front of 45,000 Calamities?" She then put another. "Megiddo Carmlan, Mammon Greed, Terraklauses, Timoreia, Laum—" On and on until the chips stack like mountains in front of her, in the end, she accumulates around 50 tokens on the table as her arsenal.

"Bringing more than last time, huh."

"Amos will fall."

Dyaus throws another sigh. "Alright, so that is your bet." Slowly, she puts her own token onto the table. "Kryuges—" And another, "Rainbleed, Sakai, Long Leggy, Libera, Anon, Ratatoskr, and lastly, Lafayette."

The smile from the Ferrakhian fades. "Only seven? Sakai from Madruk Squad is still on 'Decade Ark', Anon is dead, and those two primordials are fake, you know that, right?"

Dyaus chuckles in response, ignoring that latest question. "Seven is more than enough for me to win the bet." Her tarsus claws the air to manifest a beating heart upon the table, with a visible string in red hue that is connecting to Dyaus' chest. "Amos will not fall. Like usual, I put my life on the line."

Seizequill smash the table with a thick tome, the tokens scatter beyond the platform and into the abyss. "50 years truce, and the tome of Solomon."

"It doesn't come with a lesser ring? Man, I feel cheated." Dyaus abruptly stands, opening her appendages as if she is welcoming. "Even if you challenge me many times and try to hurt what I deem precious, it will make me stronger. Once again, I will teach you what hopelessness is!"

Seizequill had heard this line many, many, many times. Despite all of the broken results, she still moves with perseverance, as if she wants to prove herself. "Always putting everything on the line, always mocking me in every possible ways." She clicks her tongue. "You say Humanity is dead, then I'll show you that the culmination of that very concept is present, RIGHT, IN, FRONT, OF, YOU!"

"You're not Humanity, you're what they call 'grudge', 'hatred', and 'pettiness'. Even a dank ass cockroach like me can exude that more than you pimp who tries to act like a smartass with no sense of losing."

Dyaus then continues, "You don't know anything about Humanity, brat." Rather annoyed, the cockroach sits back again with his head hanging from the edge of the chair to view the churning gears behind. "You will never feel their warmth."

The warmth that convinced Dyaus, one of their early creations back in the bunker, the warmth that made Dyaus believe in her own, and the very same warmth that heeds her to do anything to preserve the heritage of those ancient apes—the entirety of Neamh. Earth belongs to humans, and so the Neamh also belongs to their predecessor. For many thousands years, Dyaus Pita has carried the will of the ancients without rest, covering the lone fire that is humanity within a snowstorm, waiting for a summer that's not even there.

A single vengeful Ferrakhian won't make it through her even with determination.

The cockroach prods her temple as a transmitter circuit materializes around her finger. "Moose Squad's leader, Ratatoskr, I've given you an official detachment squad for you to lead."

"WHAT!?" The voice from the other side shouts. Spell castings and meat slashings can be heard, after an awkward amount of time, the moose of the moose squad begins to clarify her leader. "Ehem! Give me the name of the squad and personnel! I will surely lead them with my own life in hand!"

"You're given a squad of two C-rank operators. Here's a little hint, their vessels are small yet impregnable, their sword can split the sky, their heart remains unthawed, their mind is the ignitor of a kiln, and their adversary will kneel to pray for their sin, they are—"

"W-wait! Don't tell me!?"

"Long Leggy—"

"Aaaaaaa—"

"And Libera."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!??"

What kind of enlightenment did the cockroach feel? Why does she believe in the two fake Primordials that don't know anything? The Ferrakhian grew to spite that trait of hers.

Dyaus can sense the little moose that freezes in terror from hearing those two names. After enough time to let the rising Tactician use their brain, Dyaus smiles so jeering at the vengeful Seizequill. "As for their squad name, I'll give them—"

Ratatoskr ingrains the last bit of information into her mind, as the words echo through her ears again and again.

"Zenon Squad."