Chapter Text
The power to make miracles happen... it’s a deal too good to be true, isn’t it?
That’s the tricky part with such powers.
The more they can grant, the more they can take from you.
And what’s the price of a miracle like bringing someone back to life?
Of recklessly using an object beyond your understanding and capabilities?
— 1st October 2007—
“AL! ALPHONSE!” the boy screamed his brother’s name in vain “Damn it! I won’t let it end like this!” There was no one next to him anymore.
“This… this isn’t what we wanted…” his weak voice cracked under the weight of fury and despair.
His hands trembled still on the ground, lit only by the red sparks of their sinful deed.
The oval stone in front of him had crumbled into ashes, revealing its incomplete nature.
“DARN IT!” The boy’s golden eye flashed to the source of a pain only now noticed.
“IT TOOK THEM AWAY...” he was referring to his left leg, now replaced by a pool of blood coming out from the severed limb and perpetually increasing in size, and to his little brother, nowhere to be seen... vanished.
“Mom…”
His gaze froze in utter horror as he looked at what they had created. What it had all been for.
In the middle of the dark room lay a human body — no, no man or woman would have defined that thing as such, it was monstrous, it was wrong.
Its breast was torn open, the organs exposed and yet helplessly pumping.
It was unfinished.
Its figure being barely discernible under the grotesque and misplaced structure of flesh and bones.
Its head, with long dark locks and eerie purple eyes, stretched across the bloody floor, a single breath escaped its agonizing mouth, and what should have been an arm tried to reach out toward the tiny figure next to it.
Before finally collapsing on the ground lifeless.
“No… this wasn’t supposed to happen…” The boy flinched away from his moth—no, the monster “It’s all my fault!”
But he couldn’t lose himself to the desperation and agony that were choking him.
Using all his strength, he crawled toward the nearest armor.
He had to save him, at least.
When the experiment went wrong, he saw the stone shatter, but its universal power was still there he could feel it… in him. And he would follow even delusion for a chance.
He reached out for that source, “Give me back my brother!” and with blood-stained hands, he pressed against the cold metal of the armor.
Another wave of red light erupted again in the room, the boy, blinded by its intensity, inevitably shuttered his eyes.
When he opened them, he found himself in a cave. Not in the dark room of their experiment.
Before the kid stood a dark cloaked figure imponent, yet esoteric. Its silhouette was sharply outlined by the only source of light: an opening behind the stranger, where an endless staircase was carved into the stone.
The boy’s vision was hazy. It felt like he was having a hallucination or a dream.
But he knew this wasn’t the case.
“Welcome, Edward Elric, son of Hohenheim Elric.” A composed voice echoed from the mysterious figure cloaked in shadow. It didn’t quiver at the scene of the mutilated kid in front of him, nor did he move in any perceptible way.
The boy could have asked a million different questions, but only one truly mattered to him in that moment.
“You can give me back Alphonse, right?” His voice came out weaker than he had intended, but the figure heard it, nonetheless.
“I cannot.”
The last spark of hope in the kid’s heart shattered, but before he could voice any other question or attempt a protest, the stranger continued:
“I’m only the guide to the Stone, Soul holds a special place among the Infinity Stones, you might say it has a certain wisdom, for obtaining the stone, it demands a sacrifice.”
The calm tone, the cryptic language… it was too much. Too many words, not enough answers. And the space next to him too cold with absence.
“A sacrifice? Another one?! Of what?” His voice now raised, fuelled by frustration at the cruel joke.
“In order to take the Stone, you must lose that which you love.”
As the last word left the figure’s shadowed mouth, the world around the boy shifted.
Edward now found himself at the top of the once barely visible staircase, despite never having taken a single step on them. In front of him lay a precipice, as deep and unfathomable as the void itself.
“But what I love is what I want back.” The boy felt tears forcing their way out again, but a new, stronger emotion quickly pushed them aside.
Rage.
He wouldn’t have allowed it to end like this. It was all his fault. He had sinned. Played with the unknown. But he would not have given up, not until his brother was back and safe near him.
And if this damned Stone wouldn’t give him back willingly, then he would make it do so. Even if it was the last thing he ever did.
He needed him back.
He reached again toward that strange power he had felt before. If it was even a fraction of the Red Stone’s one, then he would be able to reshape reality itself, maybe even its universal laws.
The young alchemist clapped his hands on the ground, receiving an interrogatory gaze from the figure next him.
“Let’s flip the rules and make a deal! Take my leg! Take my arm! Take my heart! Anything you can have it! Just give me back my brother, it’s the only thing I have left!”
The tears now flowed freely on his cheeks, but his voice rang out with unshakable determination as his request.
The usual red light slowly turned orange this time, and a powerful shockwave erupted from the abyss. For the first time, the cloaked figu showed a flicker of surprise. His hood fell back, revealing a crimson skull in place of a face.
Not that Edward could have noticed it, as he was blinded once again by the burning brilliance of his own wish.
Xing was an odd country.
First of all, it was hidden from the world by a powerful spell. Even though it was located near China, no one knew of its existence anymore.
Second, it had an unusual system for deciding the royal dynasty: not solely based on heredity, but also on a challenge determined by the reigning Emperor himself, and his successor had to win it in order to claim the throne.
Finally, the number of princes and princesses matched the number of clans: one for each, totalling forty-three descendants, each of whom, naturally, wished to rule.
But even a country where clan wars, attempted assassinations, and spies were the norm wasn’t prepared for the events that were about to unfold.
—30th March 2012—
Ling was indulging in his favourite hobby, besides eating, which was too important to even be ranked on the scale.
No, that hobby was escaping his bodyguards, and he had become quite skilled at it.
The Emperor had just announced his challenge after doctors diagnosed him with a terminal illness:
To find the source of Immortality.
And Ling, as the twelfth prince of Xing, would begin his search the next day, like many of his siblings. But unlike most of them, he intended to venture outside the country for this task.
And even though he was grateful to Fu and Lan Fan for their meticulous work and unwavering loyalty, he still wanted to enjoy his last day in Xing before embarking on a journey that could last who knew how long.
It was his duty. He would find the source of immortality, and he would become Emperor, just as he had always dreamed, and as his clan had always expected. He wanted to protect them.
But that could wait until tomorrow.
Today, he would parkour across the city rooftops, leap between them as if it was his second nature and feel the wind twisting his long black ponytail, while momentarily stopping only for a snack or two.
Or at least, that was the plan, but it all went downhill when, yet another assassination attempt ruined the day.
While he was standing on a tower rooftop, watching his future reign from above, Ling sensed a presence behind him. It was trying to hide its chi, but it wasn’t even close to Lan Fan’s level, and so he easily spotted it.
Unaware that someone had already blown its cover, the figure lunged at Ling, aiming a strike directly at his chest. A kunai sliced through the air, but hit nothing, as the prince effortlessly dodged without even turning to face the blow.
“You Yao clan’s are such a nuisance, with your damned Dragon Pulse sense,” the assassin complained loudly, stepping into full view, he was imponent, a giant, but probably also slowed down by his corporature.
This was unusual, an experienced killer, for how big he could be, would have never exposed themselves so openly, even after being discovered.
Nonetheless, Ling unsheathed his dao sword and took a fighting stance.
Mere moments passed before the large assailant charged again, this time wielding two meteor hammers with both hands. The chain clanged as the heavy iron balls swung wildly.
Ling dashed forward, vibrating his blade as he attempted a strike.
His opponent blocked it with one of the spheres and then pulled the chain, spinning the other ball toward the prince’s head.
He easily ducked the blow and rolled onto his side to create an opening for the assassin's blind spot. He slashed his sword in a quick move…but another kunai from a different direction deflected the gash, which only graced his target.
A completely black dressed figure appeared on the scene, Ling could easily identify him as the kunai’s owner since he had more on himself, the blades were noticeable only thanks to their glimmer at the sunset.
Great, now the number of assassins has grown to two.
The big guy was probably a distraction for the quieter killer, but they had underestimated Ling’s abilities without his guards since they were still no match for him.
The fight dragged on, with the two attackers clearly running out of options, yet still determined to finish their job by pushing the battle into the less frequented parts of the city.
Even though taking more time would have allowed his bodyguards to find and help him, Ling didn’t want his last day in the country to go to waste.
He would end things quickly.
He launched for his final blow towards the stealthy assassin, his sword stopping just a few inches from the man’s upper chest, when a high-pitched whistle startled him.
Yet again his slash wasn’t as deep as he had intended, making the wound dangerous but not fatal.
The two assassins, probably recognizing the sound, changed their tactics. Their attacks became more synchronized, and their movements and pace became completely different from mere minutes ago, catching Ling off guard and destabilizing him.
Noticing that, the big assailant took advantage of one attack directed at the second assassin, he grappled Ling’s sword with his chain and a grace he had never shown before.
Ling didn’t have time to react before an elbow struck his stomach.
It came from a third figure he hadn’t detected in time, distracted as he was by the now fierce fight.
He cursed himself while thinking about how Lan Fan would be disappointed by such a rookie mistake.
The silent assassin swept Ling’s legs from behind, making him fall to the ground gasping. He tried to use the momentum and his arm as a pivot to jump toward his fallen weapon, but the giant, showing again an unprecedented agility, restrained him, making him slip with his chain and blocking his arms with it.
This wasn’t the best situation... maybe he should have waited for his allies.
The third newcomer approached him. A tall woman, not dressed in black or as an assassin like the other two, instead she wore a lavender robe with golden characters emblemed on it. And Ling unfortunately recognized them…
“Ling Yao, prince of the Yao clan. The Zhou clan will now end your search for immortality and take revenge for your irreverent deeds, thanks to our strongest weapon.”
Only then Ling noticed the glass jar in her hands, filled with a dense, ever-moving silver liquid. He had never seen such a thing.
But luckily, he also noticed the approaching presence of his angry bodyguards; they were so familiar with their chi that he could recognize them without a doubt, even from afar.
He needed to buy time.
“What’s that?” he asked, faking concern in his voice.
“A newfound venom. It kills its target within seconds in a painful way but leaves no trace. A truly lethal substance, though we still need to experiment,” the woman answered with a sadistic and proud smile.
Good. She seemed the type who liked to talk.
“And what deed are you accusing me of?” he cockily asked again. He already knew the answer or at least knew that the Zhou clan was so picky he could get a million different ones.
“You are seriously—” the other angrily squeaked, losing her posture. Oh, this seemed like it was going to be quite a monologue.
“Chief, we should end him now. There’s no need to talk,” the silent assassin said, stepping beside the blabbermouth woman.
“You’re right,” the chief acknowledged, only slightly annoyed that she couldn’t proceed with her rant.
Ling knew the others were still too far away to help him. He tried to scramble away, but it was no use.
The jar opened, and the strange substance seemingly projected itself onto his face.
It entered his bloodstream through the only superficial cut the assassin had managed to make on his right cheek.
Ling thought he had felt pain before and was prepared for poisons, but nothing he had ever endured was like this. It was tearing him apart, only to reassemble him a second later. The pain came from both inside and outside his body yet still felt like a phantom sensation. Probably, no, certainly, he screamed.
Would Lan Fan and Fu have heard him?
He could feel his body twitching into unnatural positions, revolting against that agony. Something moving in his veins, coding them in cold. He couldn’t breathe, something was in between.
Then he sensed another presence, like none he had ever felt before, one that could only be described as: a monster.
A metallic and boisterous laugh echoed.