[399] 5.23 The Unforgivable

It takes less than five minutes before I’m suited up.  On my chest and back, affixed to my exoskeleton, I wear a pair of lead plates to shield my chest from the radiation I’ll be subjected to.  I’m not sure if I’ll need it, but I also carry on my back a breathing apparatus to provide supplemental oxygen in the upper stratosphere.

General Souire had also recommended I wear some sort of fire-suppressant suit as well, but I turned that down.  With the pulsing [Crimson Heart] still beating in the center of my chest, I practically welcome the fire and the flames upon my skin as I head out to nip this nascent annihilation in the bud.

I take one last deep breath to prepare myself, before I’m slammed into from behind by Chloe.  Her arms tighten around my chest as she nuzzles up against my back.

“Sera, you better not go get yourself killed.  Because we are not done with our earlier conversation.”

“I didn’t expect as much.  I’ll see you as soon as I’m done.”  Then, with another exercise of will, I’m back outside, past the barrier.

I fly high.  Higher than the clouds, higher than the weather itself, high enough that the blue of the atmosphere begins to darken when I look further up into the stratosphere and out toward space.  The air grows cold enough that I feel less than comfortable even within my metallic shell, though at least I do not suffer more than minor damage either from solar radiation or the cold itself that is starting to frost up on carapace.

I suppress the feeling and look out toward the east for signs of the weapons.  It does not take long to find the long plumes of smoke and ash and contrails which signify their flight path to this point.  They are flying high and far faster than I can keep up with, even in the third ascension and even without being slowed by air resistance.  I’m going to have just one chance at this.  I won’t fail here.

I shoot higher up into the sky and slightly to the west as I prepare to intercept the first of the missiles.  The air grows even thinner and at this height, the sky is now black and stars above become visible even in full daylight.  I close my visor nearly all the way, maintaining only two tiny slits to make sure I’m not going radically off-pace.

A minute later, the first missile is within range.  It takes only another few seconds and a quick teleport before I grab hold of the central shaft of the ballistic projectile.

I don’t know the exact specifications of these rockets, but I understand that the warheads are typically located in the very tips of the missile.  After weighing the options, I decide to focus on destroying the warheads and letting the missiles deal whatever damage they’ll do with conventional impact and munitions.

Even with hardly any atmosphere at this height, the combination of the acrid fumes seeping in through the gap between my breathing tube and my armor, the rifling rotation of the missile itself, and the large absolute shifts in momentum as the rockets engage in course-correcting maneuvers all add up to trouble as I claw my way up the side of the leading projectile.

It takes nearly five minutes before I reach the tip.  I heave from the strain as I draw Filia back from my [Inventory] and thrust it into the heart of the warhead’s core.  Then I stab the secondary fuel supply as well, letting the radioactive tritium boosters leak out into the upper atmosphere before finally slicing the entire warhead in two lengthwise.  The pieces of the now-scrapped WMD fall back to the Earth.  It will be an unpleasant day for whomever has to deal with the literal fallout.  But it won’t be apocalyptic.  Good enough for now.

I leap over to the next missile.  Already my legs are growing numb from the combination of shear forces and the vibrations of the rockets, but I power through the unfeeling and latch on for dear life.

By now I’ve already left the western edge of Europe behind and am now flying over the eastern Atlantic.  The empathic connection I have with Chloe is starting to frazzle as I leave the thousand mile radius of effect.  None of the disappointment remains.  Instead, it’s just concern and worry.  Somewhere deep down, for a brief moment, I vaguely sense an element of resolve and focus mixed within.  Then everything cuts out completely.

I will not let you die, Chloe.  I will not let myself die here.  And I will not let the people of Earth succumb!

With this fire reigniting my body, I tear my way up the side.  Use of a new glyph called [Connection] allows me to anchor my feet to the side of the missile even as it spins and centrifugal force attempts to rip me off.  Using Filia once again, this time as a walking stick, I pierce holes into the metallic hull to propel myself forward.

By now, the sky is completely black to my sides and above.  Any traces of wind are gone, and below, I have a good view of Europe behind, Africa to my left, and the eastern coasts of Canada and the United States rapidly approaching from the western horizon.  The sun burns above, its scorching rays starting to melt right through my exoskeleton and eviscerate my skin with the concentrated doses of ultraviolet radiation.  I suppress that pain as well and force my way to the second warhead.

My [Veilsight] lapses for a moment from the mental and physical strain.  I power through the brief dizziness that follows before repeating the same disarming procedure that took care of the first warhead.

I fight my body’s urge to vomit.  I don’t know if this is some sort of acute radiation sickness or if it’s purely psychogenic.  Through heavy breathing, I detach myself from the now-falling rocket and fling myself over to the next nearest rocket.

My entire body is growing hot.  Sweat does little without air to convect away the heat, but the process of it spontaneously boiling in the near-vacuum provides a modicum of relief.  I pull out a bottle of water from my [Inventory] and splash my shell with it.  The worst of the delirium subsides, though my muscles are fighting against everything I try to do as I grab hold of one of the small fins and pull like my life depends on it.

It’s so easy to just submit as I’m torn apart from within and without all at once.  But thinking about the inevitable result of my failure, about the lives which will be lost.  I can’t fall here.  I can’t allow myself to perish!

I lean on my [Humanity’s Protector] and let it guide me forward.  With the Earth down below me and the American coast now fully in view, I start thinking about how these bombs could wipe out millions just in the blasts and maybe billions when the fallout is taken into consideration.  Clawing my way forward, inch by perilous inch, I focus on the people I’ve met, the students I’ve mentored, the friends and the acquaintances I’ve made along the way.  I fight for them, so that they don’t have to face these challenges on their own.  I fight for this world, because someone has to stand up to those who cannot stand on their own.

It takes everything I have, but I’m able to make it all the way up the ninety-foot long shaft to the me-sized warhead now sparking as we start our descent back into the lower portions of the atmosphere.  My supplemental oxygen tanks are starting to run low, yet compounding the bodily strain that’s pushed me well past my breaking point.

With a scream that does not echo in the airless infinity, I channel everything I have and manage to disarm the third warhead.  Another wave of fatigue hits my body and scrambles my vision and [Veilsight] alike.  Then my memories follow, and everything goes black.

What am I doing?  Where…  What and who?  Am I?

“You’re not going to give up that easily, are you, Seraphina?”

Seraphina?  Is that me?  Am I Seraphina?  The name feels familiar, but I just can’t…

The voice hums contentedly.  It’s warm and familiar.  As I am, I can’t put a name to it.  It doesn’t sound like my mother’s.  But it carries with it the same warmth and comfort all the same.

“You are strong, Seraphina.  Stronger than you know.  I know that we have placed a heavy burden upon you.  A burden perhaps too great for any one person to bear.  But I believe that you can rise to any challenge which befalls you.”

A challenge?  Is this just some challenge?  No, I…  There are too many people counting on me.  I can’t die.  I can’t give up.  I know that I can’t stop now, even if it’s cold and it’s hot and it hurts even to move or think.

I twitch my fingers, still clinging to something.  

“No matter how desperate the hour might appear or how hopeless the situation might be, remember that you are not alone.  And you will never be alone, for as long as you shall be.  Now go, my dear.  Go and be a heroine once again.”

Consciousness slams back into me as the sky starts brightening back from black to blue.  I’m still on one of the rockets, somehow having held on despite having briefly passed out just then.

With the time until impact just a couple of minutes away and the time until a possible airburst destination even shorter still, I weigh my options, and find all of them lacking.  Even though I might physically be able to fly off and save myself from the blast radius, the idea is so utterly anathema to who I am that I dismiss the idea out of hand.  At the same time, I lack the strength and the time to disarm the remainder of the bombs, even if a bit of my previous stamina has returned.

I find only one possibility even remotely tenable, even if I’m not confident in my ability to pull it off.  My [Ether] is still high, courtesy of the potion I took just before I flew off.  My [Health] is lacking, but I’ll use what little I have left to further fuel my spell via my [Lifecasting].

First, a [Gravity] and [Connection] glyph, to pull the missiles together as they try to fly off in various directions toward whatever targets Apeiron had selected at launch.  For several seconds, it’s a tug-of-war.

Undeterred, I use [Multidimensional Twincasting] to cast the spell a second time.  With two instances of the same spell synergizing together, I’m able to bring them within range.  The mental strain grates at me, and I’m forced to release one of the two copies of the spell as I prepare myself for the Skill that will save at least millions of lives… even if it might cost my own in the process.  Chloe would…  She would not forgive me for this decision, nor will I deserve that forgiveness.

I still choose to do so anyway, because I believe this path is most right.  Only a moment’s hesitation to resteel my mind before I lock in my sacrifice.

Six meaningless shots, all inconsequential in scope and ineffective, all for the sake of charging up my bandana’s [Rainbow Chain] passive.

Everything I have— every point of [Health] and every point of [Ether]— leaves me in a single burst of [Chain Lightning], with thirteen thousand [Ether] in total behind the blast.  The electronics and control mechanisms spark and fry, then catch fire, leaving more plumes of smoke in their wake.  The arcing electricity jumps from missile to missile, then warhead to warhead, catching every one of the fragmenting gates to hell before they can fully open and send the people of Earth on their way.

The sparks catch their targets, then, lacking any sort of ground, all rebound onto me.  Even so, even as the pain takes me and fries my body to shreds, I can be confident that the worst case scenarios have been fully averted.  It will be up to people I have not seen in a long time to clean up what’s left.

As my consciousness again fades, one last System notification appears.

[Your [The Sentinel of Humanity] Class Skill [Humanity’s Protector (Rank VIII)] has evolved, as follows:

1. Whenever [The Sentinel of Humanity] fights in the defense of another, her stats increase by [(Level/10) + (Skill Rank)] x 1.2% (Previously x 1.0%).  (Currently: 21.36%)
2. (New) Whenever [The Sentinel of Humanity] fights in the defense of her home planet, or in the defense of a population of at least one million, her stats increase by an additional [(Level/10) + (Skill Rank)] x 1.2%]