Sage Frontier Fan Fiction ❯ A Tale of two Fakes! ❯ Dr. Zozma: Psychologist and Physicist Hybrid! ( Chapter 45 )

DISCLAIMER: I don't own SaGa Frontier. SquareSoft does, and they think Ciato's outfit is just fine. I think he needs to wear leather.

 

Rouge didn't know how long he stood there, eyes glassy and frozen as he looked at the spot where Ciato had been but moments before. He didn't know what he was staring at, or what he had seen, or why what happened had happened. He didn't know what he should do or feel now. And he didn't know Ildon was running to him, trying to get the broken human back inside of the tent. He said nothing, even as the Mystic grabbed his arm and dragged him inside of the tent, sealing him from the outside. The light from the single candle on the makeshift table was blinding, but Rouge barely saw it. He only saw Ciato's broken expression before the man was thrown off the cliff. As the flap of the tent closed, shutting out that horrible field, tears ran down Rouge's cheeks. And he turned and fled into one of the makeshift rooms, sealing himself inside, away from the others.

 

The morning came slowly. Ildon had wanted to minimize the damage and see how Rouge was faring, but by five in the morning, he had to give up and get some rest. Rouge would not let him in, and he doubted staying up any later would change it. So, he went to get some restless sleep, to try and figure out what to do next. But nothing came, in neither dreams nor visions of any sort. All he could do was hope Rouge wasn't too destroyed by what he'd seen. It was possible he had seen worse before, but this was personal. Because Ildon understood that somewhere, Rouge cared for Ciato.

 

By eight in the morning, there was a knock on the magically-conjured door Ildon had set up. He was still groggy - he had barely gotten two hours of true sleep - but he fumbled and managed to find the door without hurting himself too badly. Though, in the next instance, it would not have mattered if he was hurt or not. As soon as the door was open, Ildon received a punch that nearly knocked his teeth out, and before he recovered, he felt someone grab his collar and slam him into the conjured wall behind him. He saw stars.

 

“What the hell did you do!?” Blue screamed furiously, and Ildon could tell he didn't want to give a wrong answer. Blue let go, throwing the Mystic back again, and Ildon saw his face was turning red with outrage. The Mystic spat on the ground; he spat blood.

 

“What are you talking about?” Ildon asked him, trying to keep his own anger out of his voice. Blue sneered mockingly. He was pissed.

 

“I hear my brother crying, and when I go to find out why, what does he tell me?” Blue replied hotly, hatefully, “That you threw Ciato off the cliff! Why!? WHY!? You told me you would protect him, that you would be gentle!” By now, he was screaming again, and Ildon was sure his head would explode from the decibel level. Blue was normally so calm. This must have been bad if he was willing to yell at a Mystic.

 

“I tried!” Ildon yelled back, finally losing his temper, “I tried to talk sense into that lunatic, and he would have murdered us all!” Blue knew Ildon was right, and for a moment, he had to relent. But goddess be damned, his poor brother! His breathing did not steady as he glared at the green-haired Mystic. Everything to try and draw Rouge out was gone. Was done for naught. And now, his brother had seen things he shouldn't have been exposed to. The lord of Hell was one thing; Ciato as a possessed demon with no heart was another.

 

Blue couldn't just kill Ildon, so he settled with a threat. He pointed accusingly at the Mystic's chest, his eyes hard with anger.

 

“You will fix this, or I will do worse than knock your teeth out,” Blue growled, and Ildon knew the threat was true, “Help my brother, and if you have a reason to beg for my help, I'll feign hearing it!” Then, before Ildon could respond in any way, Blue stormed out the door and slammed it, nearly cracking it. Ildon collapsed on the bed. Never in his life had he seen a human so outraged before. Not only was Rouge Blue's twin, they both shared a soul as well. And they both saved each other from Hell. And they had become a family again. And both of them were the most powerful magicians in the human race. Ildon knew he was screwed.

 

He didn't know how he could possibly fix a shattered mind, but Ildon knew hiding wouldn't help. He had to do something, to say anything, that would at least cool Blue's temper. Ten minutes later, he came out of his room. No one else was up yet, at least from what he saw, and he tiptoed to the main part of the tent. He was quickly corrected; Zozma was up and was eating a paste of mashed berries and chopped nuts. The red-head waved cheerily when he saw the grim-faced Mystic.

 

“Hey, buddy! What's up?” he asked through a mouthful of food. Ildon felt uncomfortable. How could he explain what had happened over a bowl of mush? He shrugged. Maybe speaking to someone else would help - provided that person didn't have too much of an opinion. But knowing Zozma, he'd have an opinion about the way Ildon sat down.

 

“Zozma, have you ever completely broken a person when you thought you were helping them?” Ildon asked as he slid onto a stool. Zozma chomped a few more bites of his breakfast before considering the question. To him, he did a lot of things when he thought he was helping people.

 

“You mean like break their nose when you're talking sense into them?” he rephrased, and nodded, “Yup. Ever wonder why Nusakan's nose is crooked? Blame it on a night of drinking and my fist.” Ildon just stared for a moment. Not quite the answer he wanted right then. He shouldn't have expected differently.

 

“I mean like trying to protect someone, but they end up experiencing the thing you're protecting them from,” the green-haired Mystic explained, and laid his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his upraised palm. Zozma let his spoon hang from his mouth as he pondered the question. That one, he couldn't answer. Mainly because he never truly protected anyone; the last time he tried, Asellus kicked him in the balls for it.

 

“Nah, but I definitely got broken,” the red-head mused, and swallowed his food, “Why? Did you break someone's nose or something?” Ildon's look went flat. So much for getting any actual help. He shook his head, wishing to hell Zozma would actually listen to him.

 

“Not exactly,” he replied grimly, and decided to just let the beans spill, “Remember when Rouge spoke of Ciato being possessed?” Zozma nodded. He remembered it too well. He wasn't sure he believed it, either. Nor was he overly surprised when Ildon lowered his voice and whispered, “He was right.” Zozma whistled, dropping the spoon into the makeshift bowl he carved from a rock. He studied Ildon for a moment, trying to understand where this story could go.

 

“What happened?” he asked, when Ildon didn't speak further. The younger Mystic sighed. With the lack of sleep and the punch to the face, it was hard to tell if it had just been a nightmare. Yet he knew damn well it wasn't.

 

“Officer Fuse went to find some water to help us cleanse the shard,” Ildon began, and heard a barely audible `oh god' from his companion, “He had been pursued by Ciato's shadow, and Ciato attacked us.” He stopped there, and Zozma had the sense that there was far more than a simple attack that went on. He arched a brow, silently urging his friend on. But Ildon seemed frozen.

 

“And?” Zozma asked.

 

“Ciato was demonic. He was no longer Mystic,” Ildon replied, and his voice shook, “He… the amount of evil in him… Zozma, it was too unreal. He started speaking about Rastaban… and I lost it. I told him I'd make him pay for what he'd done. And… I did.” Still, that wasn't the whole story. Zozma's lips thinned. This was painful for the other Mystic, but he had to know what happened. He couldn't help if he didn't know. He put a hand on Ildon's shoulder, and was mildly surprised when he wasn't thrown off.

 

“What happened?” Zozma asked, with such sincerity that Ildon stared. There were tears in the normally-cynical Mystic's eyes.

 

“We had gotten into a swordfight… his blood was everywhere, and his wing had been ripped off. Rouge came out of the tent when Blue didn't return,” Ildon continued after another moment, “The look on his face… he was paralyzed with terror. I told Ciato that was the pain I wanted him to feel… and I kicked him off the cliff.” Zozma's eyes widened. Even for a Mystic, that was cruel. Necessary, but still cruel. Now he understood why the poor guy needed some advice.

 

Unfortunately, Zozma had never kicked anyone clear off a cliff. He never needed to, and being able to comfort someone who did such a necessary thing was something he couldn't do. How could he explain that Ildon had been right when it obviously hurt so many people? What advice could he even offer? He certainly wasn't sure, and he didn't want to make the situation worse. But a prince coming to another one for help was something he couldn't ignore. And if it had been Orlouge, he'd have done just about anything to help his lord.

 

Lips thinned, Zozma asked, “So, what are you going to do now?”

 

“I don't know!” Ildon cried in exasperation, “And now… Blue attacked me because Rouge shut himself in. I have to do something, but damn it, I don't know what!” Zozma's brow arched. Blue actually attacked someone, let alone a Mystic! He always felt Blue was the most level-headed, too. He almost chuckled, except it would've pissed Ildon off further.

 

“And now you've got Blue on your ass over it, too,” he concluded, and Ildon nodded. For a few minutes, the two sat in silence, each one trying to think of what could be done. The easiest thing would be to speak with Rouge, but judging by what Ildon said, the young man wouldn't talk or even listen to them. Then, another thought came to Zozma. He looked at his friend and asked, “You want to know what I think?” Ildon stared back blankly. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. But he humored the man regardless.

 

“Gods help me, but I do,” the frustrated Mystic replied, flopping his head onto the table. Zozma grinned a bit.

 

“I think we ought to go and see if Ciato's dead,” he replied, and Ildon looked up, “If he isn't, then you technically didn't destroy Rouge's life yet.” But for Ildon, that was a stupid thing to do. Besides, Ciato had lost his wings. He couldn't have possibly survived such a drop. And if he had, it couldn't have been for long.

 

“You think he's alive?” Ildon asked him critically, and scoffed, “Zozma, he fell off a cliff.” But the look on Zozma's face told the younger Mystic that the red-head didn't buy it. Even without wings, Ciato was still a Mystic. Mystics could survive most injuries that would kill normal men. Cliffs killed normal men. Zozma's grin became more profound.

 

“What do you have to lose?” he asked cryptically. Ildon had to admit he held a good point. There was nothing to lose, except for more teeth if he failed to do anything. But then he'd have to go and look for Ciato, and he wasn't ready to face the man just yet. He never would be. Not as long as the world they knew didn't exist. He shook his head violently. He wanted to do something, but… but Rastaban's memory was too painful.

 

“No…” he whispered weakly, and Zozma was shocked to hear the pathetic tone in his friend's voice. Ildon shook visibly, and said it more forcefully, “No!” Tears stung his eyes, and Zozma knew the man was going to break. He grabbed his friend and hugged him, not knowing how else to let Ildon know he wasn't alone in this. Ildon let the tears fall. This couldn't have possibly gotten worse.

 

“I can't do it,” Ildon said, and Zozma patted his head, “I can't go out there and face him.”

 

“We don't even know if you need to,” Zozma reminded him. But that did nothing to help Ildon. Suppose Ciato didn't survive. Seeing his dead corpse was just as bad, because then Ildon would need to face the fact that he killed his former lover. No matter which way he turned, Ildon knew he was screwed.

 

But knowing that Rouge was suffering far worse, and that Blue would murder him if he didn't do something, gave Ildon the strength to try and think of something. And while he didn't want to look for Ciato, Zozma did give him an idea. Rouge only saw that Ciato fell, but Zozma had been right when he said they didn't know if the man was dead. Maybe all Rouge needed was hope. It was worth a shot; anything was better than the thought of Blue punching one's teeth out. And so, when he felt adequately depressed and slightly less likely to throw himself a pity party, Ildon trudged to where Rouge had shut himself in, with Zozma behind him.

 

Ildon had expected to hear sobbing and hysterics. He was surprised that he heard nothing. And when he knocked on the door, he was even more surprised when Rouge answered. Considering the horror he felt the previous night, and the fact that he'd been crying, Rouge looked all right. His eyes were red, no doubt, and there were creases where the tears had obviously fallen, but he wasn't shaking and he wasn't bedraggled. In fact, if it weren't for his red eyes, Ildon wouldn't have known he'd been upset at all. He regarded the two Mystics curiously.

 

“…yes?” he asked, his voice betraying the calm in his face. That sounded broken. Ildon's skin paled. Would what he say just make things worse?

 

“Good morning, Rouge,” Ildon tried to be cheerful, but it just felt so misplaced in the circumstances, “How are you feeling?” Rouge blinked slowly, as if the question didn't make sense to him. And that was because it didn't. He was terrible. It should have been obvious.

 

“I don't want to talk,” the young mage said bluntly, and went to close his door. Zozma saw Ildon's resolve drop, and stopped the door with his fist. And that just ended up breaking the door, much to Rouge's dismay. He just wanted to crawl in bed, not deal with idiots like these two. Growling, Rouge said, “Leave me alone.”

 

“Look, we got to talk,” Zozma said seriously, and there was no mirth to gain from his voice. Rouge didn't normally take the red-headed Mystic so seriously, but he was in no joking mood. Rouge's anger fell.

 

“About what?” he asked quietly. He had a feeling he knew, but if Zozma was this mad, perhaps Ildon needed some level of compassion about what happened. He stepped aside to let the two in.

 

“About Ciato,” Zozma replied simply, walking in with Ildon and sitting at the small stump of a table. Rouge soon joined them, and for a moment, the three sat in eerie silence. Then, slowly, Zozma asked, “What did you actually see last night, Rouge?” Rouge looked at him, and then shivered. The truth was, it felt like a nightmare rather than anything real. Yet he remembered it so vividly.

 

“I came out of the tent and saw both Blue and Fuse unconscious,” Rouge said honestly, and swallowed, “I saw Ildon and Ciato by the cliff, yelling at each other. I saw the arcs and sprays of blood on the ground. And when I asked what happened, Ildon said something sternly to Ciato and kicked him off the edge.”

 

“But did you see Ciato die?” Zozma asked, “Is that what's upsetting you the most?” Rouge froze, and shivered again. He didn't want to be angry with Ildon, and he didn't want to say that it was because he wanted to help Ciato, but Zozma hit the mark. The thought of the annoying Mystic being dead was just hard to bear. Especially when that annoying Mystic might have had a way to restore space.

 

“Yes, it upsets me,” Rouge muttered, and then said, “How can't it? He wasn't evil.”

 

“He killed everything we've known for thousands upon thousands of years! He's destroyed our world, and the realms we live in, and you're saying he's good?” Ildon asked, brows knit as he argued, “He was as demonic as it gets.” Zozma gave him a warning glare, and Ildon knew he had better let his friend do the talking if this was going to work.

 

“But do you know if he's dead?” Zozma asked again, this time a bit more gently, “Did you see his body?” Rouge had to admit he hadn't. But how could Ciato have survived such a fall?

 

“No,” Rouge said, looking away. Then, he turned and said, “But he…”

 

“You didn't see the body,” Zozma repeated, cutting Rouge off, “That settles it, then. You didn't see the body, so Ciato may still be alive.” Rouge's brow furrowed. He wanted to argue that there was no way a man, Mystic or not, could have survived. He wanted to argue that Ciato's body may have simply slipped off the precipice it landed on, and shattered to a thousand pieces. He wanted to argue. But Zozma had a point. He didn't see the body, and there was always a slim chance that the man may have survived.

 

He was left with a choice. Rouge could either keep dwelling and never know, or he could move on and help them find a way to fix whatever Ciato started. And as angry as Rouge was, the only way to fully understand was to keep going. His lips thinned. Being moral was tough, but his father taught both himself and his brother too well. He looked at both Mystics. Zozma seemed to think his plan was working. Ildon simply looked too flustered for words. If anything could be gotten, it'd be from the former of the two. So be it.

 

“So, what do we do from here?” Rouge asked the red-headed Mystic, in a sternness he thought only Blue could muster. So much for being the goofball twin. Zozma regarded him carefully for a minute. As ridiculous as he could be, Zozma actually had an idea for once. He grinned.

 

“Well, we got the shard, right?” he asked, and when Rouge nodded, he said, “Seems like you're ready, and I know I'm kind of dying for some damn answers. Go get your brother and that cop, and let's see if we can get this damn shard working. It's high time we get some stuff straight.”

 

“Just like that?” Ildon asked him incredulously, “We jump from one tragedy and just go on and get ourselves killed.” Zozma glanced at Ildon in mild bewilderment. Normally, the stoic man was good at leaving emotion behind and blundering through his duties at full speed. Zozma nodded.

 

“Yeah. Just like that,” he replied distantly, and then turned back to Rouge, “Well, go on, buddy. We've got work to do, and you're the one to start it.” Rouge hated orders. But he found himself out of his room and running to Blue before he knew it.

 

Zozma was a powerful prince. There was no doubt about it, and for a long time, Ildon wondered if there was a level of exaggeration to the rumors concerning Zozma de' El Anorou and his power over the Mystic realm, or the planes of magic in general. But when the group gathered outside by the old fire pit, and Zozma strode out with the shard and the pure water, Ildon saw that the rumors were just too true. There was an air of complete confidence in the man, an air of `I know what I'm doing, and I'm doing it well' that only came out in times of peril in the man's life. It radiated throughout the circle, and even Orlouge acknowledged that one of his own held the shard of time. The group waited in eerie silence.

 

Zozma walked to the center of the old pit, and with a wave of his hand, cleared it of smoldering sticks and ash. Wind howled at his call, and the earth split to create a small hole, big enough for the water and the shard to fit. Zozma placed the shard in the dirt, an odd move by Blue's standards. Then, he took the mug of water and poured it over the hole. It was, relatively speaking, a small amount of water. But it came down like a roaring waterfall, reflecting the light blindingly upon everyone gathered. And it kept running, even after the contents of the mug should have been exhausted. When the last drop was gone, Zozma stepped back. Nothing spectacular happened for several minutes, and Blue partly wondered if the spell had been altered too much.

 

Then, the shard burst with light. It made even the bright sky seem dark and ominous, and made the sun dim like a black disk in a clouding sky. The light grew, and a noise of undistinguishable pitch sounded, just high enough off of their senses to be annoying, yet low enough to not harm them. As the light grew, so did the shard, stretching onward and around, growing by the second. As it grew, it began to ascend from the ground, spinning, revolving, throwing that powerful light around the vast surroundings. The mountains were a stark black as the light slammed them, and the forest to the south seemed to quiver in horror of such brilliance. It was as though the light were trying to dominate not just their attention, but the very world itself.

 

Then, the shard stopped. The light began to fade, though there was a pulse in the crystal's core. The air grew still. And for a long while, everyone waited. But nothing else happened. Rouge glanced around. It was as if time froze; no one appeared to breathe for fear that something would befall them.

 

“Did… did it work?” he whispered, though his voice cut across the field in a sharp ring. Zozma looked at him, and then pointed to what had once been the shard. Now, it cracked, and then burst into thousands of tiny, glittering pieces. In its place was that pulsing core, dark purple now that the shining case was gone. Rouge felt the sheer power of the core, and felt himself sicken.

 

“A… a vortex!?” Blue exclaimed in exasperation, eyes widening, “It really…”

 

“This should take us to the timeline's beginning, where Kylin is,” Zozma said, and though his voice was firm, Fuse caught onto the keyword. And its meaning. He eyed the Mystic carefully.

 

“What do you mean `it should?” he asked pointedly, and his brow arched, “There a problem?”

 

“There's always a chance that the portal could loop or twist and send us somewhere completely different,” Zozma replied, eyes focused entirely on the swirling, dark mass, “Laws of physics are a constant no matter what world you're in. Same with the Esper laws and the laws of Magic. Anything that could happen, will, and there's always a random chance of error. We can't possibly predict everything, and neither came time or space.” For Fuse, that didn't make too much sense. But Blue understood it perfectly, and so did Rouge. Considering that their actions had directly involved them, that was the most important factor. Considering Aubergine's existence, it was also the most dangerous.

 

“So even if physics dictates that we should be safe, something could go wrong no matter the success rate,” Rouge said, and Zozma understood it wasn't a question, “Is it safe to use?” Zozma could have laughed. Nothing was safe with magic: your best chance was always surviving with minimal injury. But in terms of physical safety, the only chance of danger would be if they warped into a fire pit. Or a pit of metal spikes. Or even boric acid. But that was unlikely, even for Zozma.

 

“Safe? No. But it's the only option we have right now,” the sly Mystic reminded them all, “Come on. We've worked this hard for the shard. We've just unlocked its power. Are we really going to just wait around until Ciato, or something worse, comes back and destroys it?” No one wanted a repeat of space collapsing on itself. Especially if Kylin was still trapped within it. Blue took a deep breath. To no one's surprise, he was the first to express his desire to continue.

 

“I'm in,” he said firmly, “I'm a master on the scientific aspect of magic, and I'd see this through to the end.” Rouge's answer was similar, and the other Mystics didn't need to speak for Zozma to know they were in agreement. The only one whose answer was iffy was Fuse. And that was only because he didn't entirely believe in magic. Everyone turned to him, and the cop arched a brow, leaning on a tree.

 

“What!?” he snapped, and smirked, “You think I'm giving this shit up? Unless we do something, there's no home for me to go to. And I liked my damn coffee maker too much to give it up. I'm in.” The reason wasn't overly noble, but the fact that he was willing was enough. They all nodded, and then they turned to the portal.

 

It was like falling through a tunnel of absolutely nothing but cold air. When it was agreed that they were in for the long haul, they simply jumped straight into the swirling, purple mass. At first, it wasn't a problem. Space was literally nothing, so nothing could hurt them. Then, human nerves kicked in, and it was apparent that space was filled with nothing but cold air, as nothing would heat it up. Rouge's initial resolve dissolved in two seconds. He did not like the cold.

 

Yet he still saw that Blue was enduring it with all the strength in his body, and that gave the younger twin a level of comfort. Blue was always the one who hung on, even if it meant serious injury. And if he could, he hid the pain he did feel. Rouge could see in his clenched jaw that the cold wasn't pleasant for him, either, and so Rouge held on just as hard. It felt like the fall took an eternity - and considering that time did not exist, it very well may have! Yet eventually, Rouge felt himself slow, and then he felt himself land on something very gently, too gently considering how fast he'd been falling before. He blinked for several seconds; space had a tendency to disorient him, even if he simply read about it. Then, he looked around.

 

Nothing but darkness, stars, and the shattered remains of far-distant worlds, floating along on the scant winds that blew. From where he stood, those fragments looked like dust scattered in the air. A sickening feeling came over Rouge. One of those fragments could have been their world. Or the Mystics' world, or even the Time Lord's world. He swallowed hard. They were nothing but particles, shells of what once was. Ciato had caused this level of destruction? Rouge could barely believe it. What had caused his mind to snap so violently? That was the only question that couldn't be answered.

 

“Everything's… it's really gone,” he whispered in awe, and felt Blue's presence close to him. He looked over at his brother as Ildon and Zozma landed, with Fuse, Orlouge, and the Time Lord close behind. He said, “It's… unbelievable!”

 

“It's horrifying,” Blue replied grimly, shaking his head, “Can we even try to fix this?”

 

“Sounds like we don't have a choice on trying or not,” Zozma reminded him, and Blue turned, “Either we do it, or we wander through space forever. I choose doing something.” So did Blue, and so did the others. But what that entailed, no one could actually say. Space was, well, space. It was very vast - infinite, in fact - and Kylin, and the destroyed terminal, could be anywhere. Just knowing where to start was a pain in the ass.

 

Surprisingly, it was Fuse who pushed them along. His intelligence was questionable, but as Kylin's adopted `nephew,' he knew some things about the time-space continuum that even the Time Lord didn't know. For instance, he knew that black holes, if any existed, would take them immediately to the very beginning of the beginning - the exact place they had been before Ciato had destroyed the terminal. Black holes, he explained, were just portals that revolved too quickly for mortal bodies to handle, and they could warp you from one place to another. With no true world to get to, there was only one way to go: the beginning. And when Blue presented the problem of the portal's speed, Fuse said the Time Lord would be the one to slow down the portal.

 

“But magic no longer exists,” the Time Lord reminded him quietly, gently, and Fuse looked at him squarely, “We can't tap into the planes that govern it. They don't exist yet.”

 

“Don't they?” Fuse asked him, in a tone that Blue had never heard, “Or do you just think they don't?

 

“Blue, you were taught about the properties of magic for years,” Fuse continued, and Blue nodded when he saw the knowing gleam in the older cop's eyes, “Didn't those bastards tell you that magic was like energy; couldn't be created artificially, or destroyed?” Blue blinked quickly. How the hell did Fuse know that!?

 

Not knowing just what to say, Blue nodded and replied with, “It's one of the laws of physics, and the same basic principles apply.” The mere thought that Fuse managed to know that blew everyone's minds away. Likewise, he just grinned. He had a plan.

 

“Right. One of them laws,” he repeated quietly, and then spoke up, “Okay, so assuming we can't create magic, where the hell does it come from if your little `planes' don't exist?” At this, Blue went silent. Mainly because he didn't have an answer. No one did. It was never explained anywhere just how magic came to be, and they doubted even the old Espers would remember. Not like they could ask, anyway.

 

For once, Fuse's logic got the better of all of them. They weren't quite sure how, but it finally happened. And without any way to disprove or dissolve his questions and observations, they had no choice but to go along with whatever crazy idea the cop had in his head. And they found that, if given the choice, they'd have refused to continue. His plan, or what he had of it, consisted of not only talking about black holes, but actually finding one. Blue was all for physics and fun. But when it came to actually having to enter one of those vacuous, whirling death traps from hell, even he had a limit to how far he was willing to go for knowledge and magic.

 

“How does he even think we'd find one, anyway?” Rouge asked, as they `walked' along the invisible ground they seemed to land on, “If nothing exists yet, then there's literally no reason a black hole should.” Blue wanted to answer. But he was at a loss. Somehow, through some cruel twist that made the gods laugh, he had no idea what to do, and Fuse now had all of the answers. Fuse, who normally bumbled his way through everything he did with a grin, somehow understood how to travel through space, and how to do it moderately well. And it was Fuse who answered again.

 

“Wrong,” Fuse said, glancing back as they continued in a completely random direction, “Black holes are formed when space collapses in on itself. Normally there has to be a huge amount of force to do this, like a planet blowing up, but it could happen spontaneously. Physically speaking, there's probably a .492 percent chance it could happen.”

 

“So basically you're saying it's about as likely to happen as gold falling out of my ass,” Zozma stated, and Fuse's grin widened. Blue should have known there was a catch to the cop's sudden seemingly endless knowledge on the concepts of physics.

 

“I never said we'd actually find one,” the cop reminded them slyly, “I simply said `we should go find one.' You all agreed.” That even managed to annoy Zozma, despite him being the one who brought them to this place at all. His eyes narrowed.

 

“Not like we had a choice, now, did we?” he asked sarcastically. Fuse wisely chose not to respond. Besides, he had to focus on the road. Or rather, the lack of it. If they were going to find one of those black holes, he had to figure out where in the universe they were, and how to get to a place where a whirling mass of nothing was the most likely place to happen. And despite the vastness of space, it was actually quite hard to get anywhere at all. One wrong turn and they'd literally wind up anywhere in Oblivion. Fuse had heard too many stories to want to go that route.

 

Though it seemed contradicting to the normal mind, Fuse also knew that it was space's vast properties that made it easy to figure out where a black hole was likely to form. What he said was true - black holes occurred when space collapsed. And though the planets were broken apart, there were other sources that could collapse and give off the energy needed to sustain a black hole: the stars. Thankfully, whatever Ciato had done hadn't destroyed everything. And, if he could guess, Fuse had to say the first black holes were made with stars before anything else. And what he saw currently made him grin further. There were lots of stars around; millions upon billions of the little light-givers. He just had to figure out which one was the trigger…

 

Fuse's blaster had little power left. That's why he hadn't wanted to use it, even though he understood Ciato's shadow wouldn't have survived a shot from a plasma blaster. But now it was time to use up whatever Ol' Reliable had left in him. To Fuse, it was worth it, and not just because he'd be able to personally create a solar flare. Not just because he was the son of an arsonist, and not just because he was a cop. It was because he'd be saving the worlds, their world. To a not-so-law-abiding preserver of justice like himself, that was the one thing he could only dream of doing. And, if he hit just the right star, that dream would finally be a reality. So, with the courage of a crusader and the grin of a complete moron, Fuse took aim at the closest star.

 

Ol' Reliable pulled through. From some act of the gods, the laser reached much farther than it physically should have, and was shot with far more force than should've been possible. The star crumbled instantly. And for a long moment, silence reigned as they all watched the agonizing death of the little light. The remains blew away, as if they had been magically slowed. Fuse blinked, lowering his weapon. He chose wrong; if there was going to be a chain reaction, it should have happened as soon as that blast hit the star. But nothing happened. And even worse, he had used the last of his weapon's power. He had chosen wrong. He had failed.

 

Then, all at once, the explosion occurred. It was so rapid, so powerful, so blindingly bright that it hurt all of them to see just a fraction of it. As soon as they heard the first boom, they all shut their eyes, trying pitifully to block out the frighteningly bright flames that soon erupted. It was like looking right at the sun; there was no way to stop it, and it burned like the fires of hell itself. But it did the trick. Damn it all, it actually worked. The flames widened and caught another star, and then another, and the explosions grew constantly. Tremors threatened to shatter what fragile frames still held the plane of mortality together. Then, as quickly as it began, it ended, too. It was one long moment of blinding judgment. One long moment where Fuse held his breath and crossed his fingers.

 

What was left was exactly what the cop was hoping for. The collapse had been enough, more than enough. A swirling vortex was left, created when the planes had been ripped open from Fuse's assault. All they could do was stare. Just like that, with one guess and one shot, Fuse actually managed to do the one thing that they thought he couldn't do. He actually managed to do the impossible. He created a black hole. He created the first black hole. Blue couldn't believe it. Neither could Rouge. Just what did that mean for science and physics? And what would happen if knowledge of a man-made black hole ever was discovered? Blue and Rouge would never speak of it, once they returned home, and they knew Orlouge and the Time Lord would keep it silent, too. But what about Ildon and Zozma?

 

“He… he did it,” Blue whispered to his brother, eyes glassy with wonder, “He actually created the black hole.”

 

“This changes history, bro,” Rouge reminded him grimly, and the twins looked at each other gravely, “What does it mean?” Blue couldn't be sure. Technically, it had never been said just how black holes began. Maybe Fuse really was the one who started them. But then that meant that this was supposed to happen, and would continue happening even after they returned to their world. Blue shook his head. No! That couldn't be right!

 

The Time Lord dissolved whatever worry Blue had when he said, “It means we will need to fix this when Kylin gets the terminal up and running again.” Blue looked up to see the older Mystic smiling. That settled it, then. The Time Lord would pretty much ensure that whatever mess Fuse made would be fixed. With one less worry, Blue looked back at the vortex.

 

All that was left was to just jump right in. Either they'd live to tell the tale, and save the universe from Ciato's madness, or their vital organs would be ripped to shreds and split all across the abyss. Blue just didn't know which scenario was more painful to think about. And maybe it was best to just not think. With his brother by his side, he jumped straight in. He knew the others were right behind him.

 

-----------------------------(End Chapter)

 

Fuse managed to do the impossible, and just created the first black hole ever. With the old cop's plan fully intact, and with Zozma no doubt regretting ever suggesting using the shard while Fuse was conscious, our heroes are one step closer to saving the world once and for all. But can they survive the whirling deathtrap that is the black hole? Is there anything to even return to, or was Fuse guessing just for the sake of adventure? And what was the fate of Ciato? Is the mad Mystic still out there? Find out next chapter, so click that Review button!