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Connor Thorn, Messiah (TM): Chapter 12

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Connor Thorn, Messiah (™): Chapter 12

Connor Thorn spent much of the Nog'Dod-bound journey's remaining duration in rather somber, melancholic contemplation of the haunting experience that was, in terms of physical distance, growing increasingly far behind him with each successive leap now being taken by the very impractical-seeming, yet undisputedly awesome, vehicle presently facilitating the transportation of the human and his otherworldly allies, but whose ramifications – physical, psychological and even spiritual – felt like they wouldn't be fading from his conscience any time even remotely soon. Of course, though, while feeling deeply affected by mental scars of his own guilt on top of the physical one entailed by his "tainted" finger, Thorn knew he couldn't let himself get too preoccupied with wallowing about these, for of even greater concern to his psyche right now were his ongoing, incredibly daunting ultimate mission of messianic heroism and the perils thereof that still lay ahead of him, which would doubtlessly be at least as intense as the worst of what he'd faced so far. Indeed, Connor could only assume that the coming, climactic campaign to be conducted against the fortified heart of Cosmo'rath's forces, in which he'd have the most central role of all, would more likely than not make everything he'd managed to survive up until to point pale in comparison, and considering how utterly his physical and intuitive limits had already been pushed throughout those first few battles, this particular thought was what worried him most of all, the boy's imagination consequently running wild with nightmarish fantasies of what seemingly insurmountable obstacles might plausibly be awaiting him.
Then again, though, Thorn meanwhile thought on a more positive note, he would conversely have far more support from allies during these fateful battles, and surely, the leaders he stood poised to meet with beforehand up in Nog'Dod must have had some sort of special plan of action that he alone, as their long-awaited messiah, was uniquely and genuinely qualified to serve as the key figure in carrying out, right; why else would they be waiting specifically for him if they already had all the other necessary ships, armies, etc.? For right now, Connor Thorn could only speculate, and hope for the best, on these uncertain matters, but if there was one thing about the whole crazy situation that the human felt he knew more definitively than anything else, it was that whatever its exact prospects turned out to be, the best he could do was to simply keep soldiering on, trying his absolute hardest and overall believing in himself just as the people of Sertrop and beyond so strongly and vocally did, principles that had seen him through against all apparent odds thus far and which truly did seem more generally inclined to "working" within this world than back on Earth.
Being aware that overthinking these things too much would do him more harm than good and deeming himself to have done just enough thereof for the time being, Thorn ultimately resolved to take a nap despite it being the middle of the afternoon, reasoning that he ought to get as much physical rest as possible while he had the chance, especially in light of his rather severe lack of sleep during the previous night. Stripping down to his pajama-esque undergarments which were well-past-due for a wash by now (not that this was anywhere near the utmost of the boy's current concerns) and crawling into the lower bunk of the nearest on-deck bed, he subsequently lay there for quite some time trying, with little success for obvious and understandable reasons, to make himself doze off, his failure to do so eventually driving him to increasing internal frustration. Once he'd reached what felt like an apex of such anxious infuriation, the very next thing Thorn knew – or more accurately, the next thing he could in any capacity remember afterwards – was his awakening from some nonsensical dream (itself presumably derived from recent experiences of his that were themselves quite dreamlike to begin with) of which only the vaguest bits of detail could be recalled even in the instants immediately following its abrupt conclusion, to the sounds of barking as well as the repeated calling of his own (sur)name. Connor had always been perplexed and annoyed by how the act of falling asleep always seemed to be forgotten after the fact, assuming it was ever even consciously experienced in the first place… of course, this peculiarity was hardly worth wasting time fixating upon, especially during this particular moment of waking amongst all the countless others in the human's life, and indeed, he then forced himself to spring up and back to active alertness far more rapidly than the rate at which he was normally used to getting out of bed as he proceeded to turn and face the strange creatures he now called his friends. To Thorn's surprise upon doing so, the entire crew thereof accompanying him on the Scapestrider was already gathered right next to his bedside in a manner suggesting they'd been there for some time, trying to wake him all the while to no avail until just now.

"Hi, guys," the boy began, trying his best not to sound tired in spite of still feeling very much so, "what's the… wait, just how long was I asleep for just then? Don't tell me I've missed anything important, now…"
As he voiced this concern raised by his first observation about his allies at this time, Thorn made the additional, concern-alleviating observations that most of the Merthaldu were smiling at him, as if bearing good news for their hero, and that no form of alarm was visibly nor audibly active within the Scapestrider, whose interior lighting remained in its default, tranquil blue state. Clearly, this occasion that he was being woken up for was no emergency, which could only mean one thing…
"Fret not, Great Thorn," Father Enkhenye promptly replied, "for you can rest assured – figuratively, that is; please don't go back to resting – that but one event of importance has come to pass while you slept, and you are belated in rising to meet this development by a mere few minutes' time."
"So… we've finally made it to Nog'Dod, then;" Thorn, though understanding precisely what this meant, asked back, checking for clarification: "are we there – or here, as the case would be – right now?"
"Correct;" Enkhenye answered him, expressing triumphant pride in being able to do so affirmatively (and truthfully): "we are here. Now rise and go forth, Thorn; there are some very important people waiting, and indeed overdue, to meet you."
Giving a smile plus an appreciative nod to his quasi-mentor, Connor Thorn, now shifting mental gears into "action mode", then rolled out of bed and set about re-donning his armor in preparation for his official arrival into Nog'Dod, where he could only imagine he'd be greeted by crowds of worshipping citizens and whose appearance and contents as this world's societal capital and presumed crown jewel were matters that he could currently only make wild guesses as to, not that this would remain the case for much longer. It did feel rather surreal for the human to have been offered no preliminary view of Nog'Dod while approaching it, what with the lack of windows here on the Scapestrider's lower deck, and to thusly be set to get his first glimpse of the city from within its perimeters. Thorn furthermore felt some concern over his own presentability at this time, that being far-from-optimal in the wake of his latest misadventures, but supposed there wasn't exactly much he could do about that right now or otherwise prior to his public debut, albeit while still expecting – and even being prepared to demand, if necessary – an opportunity to properly refresh himself at some point during his stay here, however long that would be, before going back to war. It was fortunate in regard to this issue, Connor likewise thought as he reattached to himself the pieces that comprised the suit, that his armor, even in its severely damaged present state, made him look as substantially cooler as it did, namely by concealing much of his physically unimpressive body and exceedingly plain (at least by the standards of this often-jarringly colorful realm and its inhabitants) appearance. Come to think of it, Thorn truly did regret by now having never properly thanked the Flufewog smith who'd produced specifically for him the aforementioned protective gear that had since come to serve its wearer so well; it seemed probable that, had an inferior armorer been there in his place, the messiah would never have made it this far in his journey at all, and he found himself wondering in this moment whether the little guy had managed to survive the battle with the Rorke-Norg horde, hoping, naturally, that he indeed had.

Next making his way over toward the vessel's opened main hatch within the floor at the chamber's center, Thorn allowed the five Merthaldu militiamen to float down through it before him as he asked one more question of Enkhenye, who, along with Frilla, was evidently making a point of staying as close by his messiah's side as possible right now, as though expecting such a conversation.
"So," the boy inquired, pointing across the room towards the on-board weapon racks and the surplus of scepter armaments held thereupon, "I take it we won't be needing those, or any other 'tools' of the sort, while we're here in the city?" Indeed, and as he'd just noticed, the crewmen were themselves unarmed as they exited the vehicle.
"You take it correctly in that regard." Enkhenye replied with a nod.
"So you're telling me it's safe out there, then," Thorn questioned further, seeking to make certain of this – just in case – before venturing out into another new, unfamiliar alien environment, even a "friendly" one, "and that you're sure of this much?"
"We are presently parked at one of Nog'Dod's fortified main gates," the Buumpor priest explained, "stationed at which for this occasion are a throng of armed guards waiting to see that you reach the council's meeting chamber safely, not, mind you, that there should be any actual obstacles for you on the way up there… If you'd insist on carrying a weapon through the city, though, know that you shouldn't have any difficulty obtaining one far better than any of those old things from any of a number of armories within its walls; indeed, I predict you'll end up being quite pleasantly surprised by the selection of equipment you'll soon have access to."
"Alright, then;" Thorn returned, nodding back: "understood. Now," he then added, now gesturing toward the exit hatch, "you can go ahead and make your way down there first; I'll be right behind you as always."
"Your cordiality is appreciated, Thorn," Enkhenye noted, his face then shifting into a subtle frown as he continued, "but alas, I'm afraid that this is as far as my accompaniment in your journey goes."
Despite the relative straightforwardness of this statement, it legitimately took Connor Thorn several seconds to comprehend its meaning.
"Wait," the human queried in shock and confusion at this following a delay, "you're not coming into Nog'Dod with us?"
"Correct yet again;" the devout Merthaldu confirmed: "my place in this world is with my own tribe in Buumpor Village, and though I have pledged myself to ensuring your safety in reaching Sertrop's capital, that mission is now fulfilled, and I can part ways with you knowing that in doing so, I pass on the responsibility of protecting and guiding you to others vastly better-qualified for doing so than myself."
"What about your men – the other Merthaldu – though?" Thorn asked, questioning the logic and/or necessity of this. "They're coming into the city, aren't they; why wouldn't you do the same?"
"Some individuals of my kind," Enkhenye elucidated, "and perhaps even most, would prefer, or at least want the chance to sample, life here in our world's capital as opposed to some mere village, for with all they have done and risked on this journey, the opportunity to experience Nog'Dod seems well-within the scope of what reward is owed to them. I, however, hold no such desires for luxury and the like, nor any other desires that would ever supersede the responsibilities that form my life's true purpose, those being of far greater weight than the average Merthaldu's and with the Buumpor tribe's continued leadership being my foremost, lifelong commitment among them."
"Hrm… well, that sounds fair enough, and very noble of you, I suppose," Thorn then reasoned out loud, "but please don't tell me you plan on making the whole trek all the way back to your village alone in this thing; the thought of that… worries me."
His own sole experience in the way of long-distance travel by way of Scapestrider having gone quite disastrously, with the whole ordeal only having proven survivable by virtue of manpower and teamwork, Connor felt highly justified in this concern for his friend's safety as he voiced it.
"Ah… now I see where your perceived issue lies;" Enkhenye next said, picking up on this: "know that the perilous complications that ensued on our way here were but freak misfortunes, and that the odds of anything similarly life-threatening happening again during a return trip are… well, technically, they're the same as the odds of what really did happen on the initial journey, but even so, you get my point, right, Thorn?"
"Yeah, I get you," the boy admitted with halfhearted understanding, "and if getting back home really is that essential for you, then I guess there's not much choice but to take whatever risk it may entail, and that preemptive worrying certainly won't do anyone any good in any case." Indeed, it was by this same, very much sound reasoning that the average person didn't get panicked over every vehicular voyage that had to be made.

"I will be alright, Thorn;" Enkhenye insisted: "of this, I can all-but-assure you. There are infinitely more significant matters for you to be concerning yourself with right now than my personal safety, and as established previously, people vastly more important still than I are waiting to meet you, the most integral person in all of this, as we speak. Please do not prolong their waiting in favor of worrying about me any longer; you can consider that an order." The priest spoke with a distinct, candid sternness not often heard from him as he said all of this.
"Rawrf!" an agreeing howl then interjected as Frilla could now be seen to be sitting directly next to the (un)boarding hatch in less-than-patient waiting for her master.
"Goodbye, Great Thorn," Enkhenye subsequently finished, clearly meaning this statement of farewell as his last to the messiah within their present conversation, "and Godspeed."
"Likewise to you, Father Enkhenye." Connor Thorn then concluded to his friend, remaining dubious about his prospects but knowing it to be true that he shouldn't – and indeed couldn't afford to – dwell on fears so insignificant to the big picture of his ultimate mission as he stepped forward to join his Glanmi guardian at the Scapestrider's exit.
Leaping down through the hatch, Thorn touched the ground moments thereafter in what most would consider a fairly "badass" pose, with one hand pressing against the floor prior to his standing upright, even though he hadn't actually made any conscious effort to land in such a "cool" fashion. Taking a good, long look at his surroundings then, he now found himself inside a massively spacious, rather blandly-(un)furnished room that initially seemed to resemble a warehouse before being promptly realized to in fact be a garage with Thorn's spotting of several other bizarre vehicles – basically amounting to floating cars and/or miniature tanks and none of them anywhere near as large as his own party's – parked in the distance across from him. In spite of this and per the human's next observation, the height of the chamber itself was far greater than that of the Scapestrider, looking like it would be able to accommodate a vessel at least twice as tall. Connor's imagination started trailing off at this point with thoughts of what such a gargantuan vehicle within this world might be like, only for his next sight as he then looked directly up ahead of where he stood to quickly reel his mind back into the reality of the current situation.
Standing at the garage's far end near a large (yet nowhere even close to the overall height of the room itself) doorway were a number of aliens, most armed and all evidently assembled for the express purpose of meeting and escorting their long-awaited savior-to-be. These included the five familiar Merthaldu volunteer soldiers from the preceding voyage in addition to multiple members of races not encountered by the boy up until now, but one particular figure among all of them soon came to catch Thorn's singular attention not only despite, but in fact because of, being quite familiar to him indeed.
"Peaco!"
Sure enough, there at the center of the small mob and unmistakably recognizable by his fuzzy pink complexion and massive ears even with said crowd's other, more sizable constituents partially obscuring his form stood the Flufewog admiral who'd been Connor Thorn's key ally during the messiah's very first battle back aboard a certain airborne installation whose designation admittedly escaped the human at this time. Having last seen Peaco while rushing ahead of him at the pink one's own insistence in the midst of a positively hellish engagement, Thorn had all-but-assumed him to have perished in the carnage, and in this moment, as he saw the adorable yet valorous commander to be alive and well, he couldn't recall any past instance in his life wherein he'd felt happier at being proven wrong about something.
"I'd thought you were dead!" Thorn told the Flufewog with great relief that this was not the case as he, Frilla following almost step-by-step at his side, proceeded to approach Peaco following his initial greeting and while the servicemen surrounding the latter stepped aside, clearing the path to and view of him and giving clear indication in doing so that the three-eyed, big-eared one was indeed the main person of greater importance than they whom the hero was to meet and speak with at this place and time. Upon getting a closer look at the Sertrophian United Council of Defense's smallest member, it could be seen that he was dressed differently than he had been during the battle, now sporting a more formal and less combat-ready uniform adorned with a number of badges representing a presumed variety of military and/or political accomplishments, although he still wore the same hat that signified his unique status.
"Yeah, well, be glad you thought wrong." Peaco remarked back to Thorn, mirroring his own above-described thoughts on the matter. "Furthermore," he then went on to announce, his voice maintaining as cutely high and squeaky a pitch as ever despite the relative seriousness of his words (though amused and endeared by it, Connor could definitely imagine this vocal quality that was characteristic of Flufewogs in general leading to them facing difficulty in being taken seriously by certain other beings), "welcome to Nog'Dod… almost. The door behind us being the official Southern main gate, you're technically still just barely outside the perimeter of the city proper. Let's remedy that situation so we can give you a proper welcome now, shall we?"
"Yes," Thorn promptly voiced his agreement with a nod, "let's." His anticipation of getting to see what Sertrop's capital truly looked like was, after all, mounting towards insufferable levels as of just about now.

With that, Peaco turned to face the sealed gate behind him and reached to a panel residing on the wall next to it, and placed very low thereupon so as to be physically reachable by his kind. One series of rapid-succession button-presses and accompanying beeping noises later, the door's halves slid apart with a pleasing "whoosh"-esque sound, revealing on the other side an expectation-exceedingly bright, shimmering environment that nigh-instantly made the word "utopia" pop into Connor Thorn's mind based merely on this first glimpse of its periphery.
Next stepping through the newly-opened gateway before turning back around to face Thorn again as soon as he was just within the "official" border, Peaco then proceeded to reiterate his previously self-negated greeting announcement with decidedly more enthusiasm this time. "Okay, now you're welcome to Nog'Dod, for realsies!" the Flufewog Councillor-Admiral exclaimed with great pride and confidence. "Come, now;" he then instructed: "follow me."
Subsequently following Peaco's lead into and through the city with Frilla and the various guardsmen trailing close by all the while, Thorn was treated at this point to a set of sights whose wonder easily surpassed that of any of his prior otherworldly experiences and encounters during his adventure thus far, or perhaps even all of them combined. From what he could now tell, Nog'Dod was apparently situated within a colossal, semi-translucent (from the inside, at least) and silver-tinted geodesic dome whose sheer scale dwarfed even the largest stadiums and other comparable buildings that could be found back on Earth… and the funny thing about this, which the human wouldn't discover until his next visit to the capital, was that said superstructure, in truth, comprised not the whole of Nog'Dod, but rather the city's Southern quadrant. Additionally taking note of the sunset-like state of the sky as distantly visible above through certain unobstructed spots near the dome's top, Thorn correctly reasoned that the time currently stood somewhere in the early evening period of this day, the third elapsed since he'd first arrived in the Nava-Verse… it was telling indeed of how unprecedentedly eventful this relatively short period had been for the boy that he had to consciously think back through his journey and the passage of time therein to remind himself that it hadn't been longer, which it certainly felt like.
A majority of the hard surfaces – flooring, building walls and the like – throughout the city, or at least in this particular section thereof, were solid white, or shades very similar thereto, in pigmentation, with grey/silver, gold/yellow and several different hues of blue making up much of the dominating color palette's remainder. The various edifices within the indoor complex were rather compactly distributed across a number, if not dozens, of vertical stories, interconnected by numerous escalators and elevators, such that good use was made of nearly the entirety of the dome's height and overall space. The organization and atmospheric "feel" of the place in general strongly reminded Connor of many an Earthly shopping mall and department store, albeit magnified countless times over, and it quickly occurred to him that getting lost in here would be very easy. In fact, he likewise-soon came to find it hard enough just to be sure of which way Peaco and the rest of his group were heading, as well as to keep them distinguishable in his view from the surrounding crowds of assorted aliens passing by in every direction imaginable, as keeping up with them swiftly proved to be somewhat of a hectic struggle in itself. It was a far cry from Thorn's expectation of a grand welcoming party parading him through the streets as on object of practical (or even literal) worship, not that he was necessarily complaining about the lack of such an event that he would frankly feel uncomfortable with and heavily stressed-out by. Furthermore, it seemed quite evident that Nog'Dod's general citizenry had not been preemptively expecting him, or at least did not readily recognize the messiah as he walked amongst them in spite of his physically unique status as a human, which could be easily chalked up to the sheer variety in their own population, and how wildly different many of them looked from one another to begin with. Indeed, the myriad of frequently bizarre, often frighteningly intimidating "new" humanoid life-forms that Thorn was seeing for the first time right now was ultimately the most interesting – and sensorily overwhelming – aspect of his initial Nog'Dod experience, as well as his biggest distraction from staying on track in following Peaco and the others.

Some several or so minutes of walking later, there occurred an event that, once it came about, it seemed miraculous in hindsight hadn't happened sooner as Connor Thorn found himself bumping face-first into one of the countless otherworldly pedestrians whom he was making his best (yet apparently insufficient) effort to weave around and past all of without incident.
"Oh, sorry!" he hastily apologized to this person whom he'd had no clear look at prior to their collision as he pulled himself back from their chest, not so much truly regretful for his supposedly perceived carelessness as he was fearful over whatever predicament of confrontation might now have been on the brink of occurring with this individual which, for all Thorn knew in that moment, could have been the fiercest monster in the whole of the city. "Please pardon me, miste- I mean, misses… miss… oh my God…"
As the boy could now quite plainly see, the person he'd bumped into was not only, in fact, female, but a particularly voluptuous specimen of one, at that, being a green-skinned and sleek-bodied humanoid bearing a rather strong likeness to that classification's namesake in shape, while distinctly lacking in clothing of any description… Come to think of it, a great many of Sertrop's inhabitants were usually "naked" outside of situations that specifically necessitated protective gear, but this individual was the first Connor could recall seeing for whom this proved to be very conspicuous in his perception, namely regarding to her breasts… all three of them.
"Oh my God," he thought to himself as he processed all this and gained new perspective on what had just happened, "did I really just slam into her… chest?"
The green woman, whom Thorn was now additionally noticing to possess some very plantlike bodily qualities, including a growth resembling a budding flower (and initially mistakable for a hat of some sort) protruding from the top of her head, then slapped the intruder to her personal space across his face. Though hardly hurting, what with his helmet being on, this action seemed to signify a "Yes" as the answer to Thorn's aforementioned, pending mental question while also, and just-as-distressingly, making him realize that he'd basically been staring down at her breasts for these past few seconds, and all-but-autonomously-so as a byproduct of his sheer shock at seeing them as they were, surely contributing to the violent reaction's elicitation.
The human's next sight, which came sooner than he could give any further apology, explanation for his "actions" or other form of response to the plantlike alien girl, was of her walking away from him, head raised in contempt, and Thorn's noting of this was promptly followed by that of the fact that a number of other strange-looking bystanders within the vicinity now had their attention turned to him as well, and were looking at him with largely the same negative sentiment. Amid all the observational mutterings subsequently heard from these people by Thorn as he remained standing there in embarrassment, he was only able to make out the words of one voice through all the others overlapping with it, but what he heard this unidentified creature saying about him was deemed as a red flag in and of itself by the messiah.
"Say, just what exactly even is that guy, anyway?" Thorn would have considered the unusual, "honky"-sounding quality of who-and-whatever's voice this was to be fairly amusing, if not for the dire awkwardness of its words in the present situation.
Truly, it was coming to seem increasingly inevitable that this predicament would grow into even more of a scene, wherein the presence of a human on Sertrop, and within the Prime Galaxy in general, would become known to all under the worst possible circumstance… well, maybe not the absolute worst, but easily the most embarrassing, and certainly a dreadful way for Thorn to be formally introduced to the bulk of the population he was tasked with saving. Just then and right as he was preparing to come to terms with this, however, a noise distinctly familiar to and likewise-welcomed by Connor Thorn's ears while being conversely disorienting and frightening for everyone else hearing it at this time rang out in the form of Frilla's shrill howl of warning and deterrence as the Glanmi was quick to relocate and rejoin her master from however far away she'd drifted during their hectic commute through Southern Nog'Dod. Upon seeing the approaching angelic beast whose form was apparently widely-recognized and associated with authority among their people, all of the alleged pervert's potential harassers immediately moved out of her path as they ceased all staring and heckling.
Frilla barked up at Thorn, and then off into a certain yonder direction, neck outstretched and paw swiping forward so as to make clear that she was "pointing" this way. Instantly picking up on this and peering over in said direction, the boy then saw Peaco and the others standing several yards ahead near the base of an elevator, and looking to only just now be noticing that he had indeed fallen behind and out of their sight. Thorn honestly felt somewhat annoyed by the escort group's evidently poor skill in terms of actually escorting him, but ended up making no real fuss about this as he and his pet guardian proceeded to hurriedly rejoin them.

Many deck-traversals and lift-ascensions later, but all in all not long afterwards, the party arrived at a platform, perched fairly close to the dome's peak (with the features of the ground level at which they'd entered appearing virtually microscopic while looking down from this point, Connor was immensely thankful right now that he had no real fear of heights), that bore host to an indoor (not-so-)miniature garden, among whose numerous showcased forms of flora the human could recognize a few from the grotto of Lel'Thlenu's lair. These arrangements of plants collectively surrounded an artificial pond – really more like a pool, albeit a positively massive one by Earthly standards – inhabited by various otherworldly fish that were still ultimately mere fish and thus not worth describing in any detail here, at the very center of which stood a fountain in the form of a statue depicting what Thorn could only (correctly) assume to be a form of angelic being, so bizarre and ethereal was its body shape even by the standards of every type of being he'd seen in the flesh within Nog'Dod. Sparklingly clear water spouted from many holes at the tips of what appeared to represent tentacles or tendrils of the unusual – yet plainly sacred or otherwise-venerated – creature.
Just as Thorn was about to inquire about this site, the most obviously unique "landmark" he'd seen thus far while in the capital, Peaco began personally addressing him for the first time since his "official" greeting upon opening the city's gate, much to his surprise.
"Alright now, Thorn," the pink one said, "know that we're now very close, in effect, to where we need to get to; to where the rest of the council is waiting for us… mainly you. I'm trusting our city isn't too much for you; that you aren't feeling disoriented, exhausted or anything, right?"
"Nope;" Connor Thorn casually lied: "not in the slightest."
The Flufewog frowned at him. "Don't lie to me, boy;" he told Thorn, his previous question having apparently been a "test" of some sort: "we can't afford to have a liar as our messiah, and if we're going to stop Cosmo'rath, you're going to have to tell us the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth when it comes to the important stuff we'll be discussing with the council. Anyway, now, do know that the hard part of making it up through the city, which, by the by, will be much less crowded once – or rather if – you manage to help us win this war, what with all the refugees being able to go home safely, is done with, for the way directly to Nog'Dod's pinnacle from here is right through there…"
Thorn then paused, blinking in confusion. "Wait… through that fountain thing?" he asked.
"Wha- no!" Peaco rebutted frustratedly, then pointing as emphatically as his wee little arms were capable of towards the fixture of which he was actually speaking. "There!"
Looking across the platform in this direction, Thorn now caught sight of a closed doorway within an adjacent wall, guarded by a pair of armed, lightly-armored Merthaldu and with a glowing sign above it reading "V.I.P. TRANSIT", which he'd completely failed to notice prior to this instant.
"Oh." he then noted flatly.
The party subsequently approaching this gate, Peaco produced as they drew near it and its guardsmen, and from an evidently very well-concealed compartment within his uniform, a permission-signifying card-like object, resembling a typical grade school hall-pass, that seemed oversized even for the larger Sertrophian humanoids for whom it was clearly designed more-so than for a Flufewog, being practically half the entire size of the one currently holding it up.

"This one is to accompany me," the three-eyed admiral specified to the doormen, pointing back at the human boy, as they prepared to open up the passage for him, "as is the four-legged one at his side."
"Apologies, Councillor Peaco," one half of the Merthaldu duo then promptly informed him, "but all of Nog'Dod's transit systems are for use by humanoid citizens only; no beasts – divine or otherwise – are allowed, per safety protocol… and with all due respect, shouldn't you, of all people, know about that ordinance already?"
"Oh, I'm well-aware;" Peaco clarified: "I just don't care about such arbitrary policies. Besides, and for your information, not only is this 'beast' indeed a divine angel, but she's one with a very particularly special duty entrusted specifically to her by the powers that be; I'd say that if ever there was an exception to your little rule, she's one. Isn't that right, now, Thorn?"
"Uh, yeah," Connor then matter-of-factly affirmed, speaking up to the guards as he, and Frilla, took a few additional steps toward them, "he's right; this Glanmi and I are pretty close. You could say that we need to stick together; both so I can keep an eye on her, and vice versa."
The doorman pair, meanwhile, seemed to scarcely even hear these words as their visible taking-aback at the mere mention of the name "Thorn" in reference to a person who was present right in front of them in this very instant preoccupied them from being able to pay much attention to anything else at this moment.
"My dear God;" one of the Merthaldu muttered as both he and his partner knelt down before the messiah: "please forgive our insolence, Great Thorn… any being with a special place in your service has the right to travel with you via any means necessary, so long as you will it and all arbitrary policies be damned!"
"We're so sorry…" the other then added, rather redundantly reiterating the same apologetic sentiment as though believing that Thorn might violently punish him otherwise.
"No need to worry guys, really;" Thorn assured the two, trying his best to come across as modestly and cordially as possible: "it's not a big deal at all… in fact, I'd say I've long-since grown used to putting up with 'insolence' a lot worse than that on an almost daily basis!"
Without further issue, Connor Thorn next headed through the now-opened gate into the transit sub-complex alongside Peaco and Frilla, while the gaggle of other, "random" aliens who'd comprised the rest of his ultimately useless and superfluous escort crew remained outside and thus stayed behind, presumably due to their lack of constituting "very important people"… or even slightly important ones, for that matter. The interior of this transportation-center was decidedly dark when it came to its lighting, or lack thereof, but not in such a way that this apparently intentional aesthetic came at the expense of visibility in practice, with the objects and structures inside seeming to give off a sort of "glow" that faintly, yet distinctly, illuminated their shapes. Based on his first impressions of the place, Thorn, if asked to do so, might have described its appearance as one part laser tag arena, two parts subway rail line, and maybe half a part TRON-style "game grid". No one else seemed to be using at least this particular area of the V.I.P. transit circuit at this time, for the only other beings present in the vicinity were quite clearly employees, and severely bored-looking ones, at that. Thorn made sure to savor the respite that was entailed by visiting this relatively peaceful and quiet environment immediately following a trek through one of the most dauntingly confusing and crowded venues he'd ever found himself in, and which he knew wouldn't last long as he'd be meeting the council – and supposedly required to bare everything before them – directly after going through here, and then facing infinitely more intense ordeals still presumably not long after that.
As Peaco led the way in approaching and then climbing into the nearest vacant, "parked" one, it could be seen, and subsequently experienced firsthand from inside, that the vessels used here possessed an almost spherical, "pod"-like shape, and were fairly small, that which the trio would now be riding in being roughly comparable to the average Earthly car as far as carrying capacity was concerned. It seemed strange that a rapid-transport system within a complex as vast and heavily-populated as Nog'Dod obviously was would be equipped to accommodate so few passengers, but then again, Thorn simultaneously thought to himself, this was the "V.I.P. transit", a label that implied the coexistence of another, "regular" transit line which it felt reasonable to assume probably boasted much bigger "cars" to effectively cater to the masses.
Peaco, as was to be expected given that he was, after all, the only one here who actually knew the city's layout and the workings of this system, promptly seated himself in the main chair from which the vessel was to be piloted/directed, and whose elevation he had to manually adjust to the highest available setting to be able to reach the control panel in front of it, leaving the human to take his own seat beside the Flufewog and the Glanmi to lay down in the back behind them both. Moments later and following a number of touch-screen-presses by the big-eared war hero, the desired course was successfully charted, and the pod then slowly moved itself outward from the boarding deck onto the main railway, upon reaching which it instantaneously zoomed forward at full speed, exiting all attendant employees' sights within seconds thereafter.

Connor Thorn found the sensation produced by the vehicle's movement to be quite pleasant, in a novel sort of way akin to the appeal of many a theme park ride, although unlike such attractions, there was little-to-no sightseeing to be done over this ride's course, which consisted largely of a continuous dark tunnel whose monotony was broken only by the occasional passing-by of other boarding/stopping points on the line, and very rarely another pod zooming by in the opposite direction. This, naturally, gave Thorn all the more reason to focus on using this short time he had alone with Peaco for some meaningful discussion of important matters with his pink acquaintance, and he thusly proceeded to do exactly that.
"So," the boy began inquiring somewhat nervously shortly after the vessel started moving, "what exactly is it that you, the rest of the council and the people of this galaxy at large need me to do at the end of the proverbial day that no one else can; what is the grand scheme of this whole war looking like for us right now, and what is our side's current plan?"
"Regarding the present situation in terms of our war effort, which is certainly the topic among those you've just mentioned that I myself can enlighten you on most authentically," Peaco started explaining in reply, "the first and foremost thing you need to understand is that our ultimate, end-all goal is the assassination of the Xoultac Heinrich, or 'Evil Ninja Emperor Heinrich', as the fiend, for some strange reason, prefers to call himself; if and when he is taken out, the war – the 'Vision Wars', as it's called per the holy text's ancient prophecy, even though it's really just one big war – will be pretty much as good as won and done with."
"Wait… really?" Thorn then asked back, highly skeptical of the notion that winning the war as a whole could come down to such a simple (albeit still far from easy) objective of "kill the big bad guy" (not that he would complain about this being the scenario's reality if convinced that it really was, mind you). "Where I come from," he explained, "that is, back on Earth, wars are – or were – generally more complicated than that; like, quite a bit more complicated. Hell, even calling them a lot more complicated might be an understatement…"
"Well, I won't claim that I can truly understand the kinds of wars you humans fought back in your day in the same way you do," the Councillor-Admiral responded to this, "but know that the so-called 'Vision Wars' aren't the first such conflicts I've seen, and based on my past military experiences that earned me the position I hold today, I think I may have a fair idea of what you're getting at. You see, fighting other people is one thing, but I wouldn't suppose anyone in your time ever had to wage war against demons, did they?"
Connor shook his head. "No;" he said, just in case this negatory gesture wasn't immediately understood, before elaborating: "truth be told, the world I'm from, as I knew and understood it, didn't even really have demons, at least as distinctly physical creatures like the crazy monsters you have to deal with here in your world."
"Well, then," Peaco went on to educate his messiah, "know that demons – as they exist here in this world – are fundamentally different in their very nature from us mortals, and don't think and function quite the same way we do. Namely, they lack ambition and willpower, and generally pack a whole lot of figurative bark with little likewise-natured bite to back that up: they're passive; self-restrained without even being aware of it. Heinrich, for whatever reason, is different; having founded the organization known as Cosmo'rath from within the larger Arcane Order of Lord Reson, whose acts of true terror have otherwise been few and far between throughout our galaxy's history, the exceptionally nefarious Pride Archfiend has managed to rally and coordinate more lesser demons to attack our worlds more aggressively than any other threat this universe has ever faced. If we can get rid of him, then the rest of Cosmo'rath, left without a leader who can effectively inspire them to carry out such atrocities, will relent in their war effort and fall apart as a force, surely – and not even necessarily all that slowly, either – crawling back to the dark depths from whence they came… Now, tell me, Thorn: does knowing that much make our situation any easier for you to wrap your head around; in your world's history, was there ever a comparable war, spearheaded by the villainy of a singular individual?"
"Yes; yes there was." Thorn readily affirmed. "In fact," he added, "the funny thing is: said human war was actually the biggest one ever, at least as of when I was pulled from my world and into this one… but even so, having an obvious archenemy to go after didn't make victory any easier to achieve there, and clearly, taking out Heinrich isn't going to be as simple as it sounds and as we'd all wish it could be, either. What do we – and myself in particular – need to do to get to him?"

"The core backbone of Cosmo'rath's military strength," Peaco then continued informing him, "lies, – or rather, laid – in a trio of colossal demonic carrier ships known as Arcane Dreadnoughts; these were the vessels responsible for carrying out the initial and most devastating attacks on our world's cosmic neighbors, Hulptos and Etigna, after which two of them entered and subsequently stayed in orbit of this octant's remaining strongholds of civilization, Sertrop and Yominasst, periodically wreaking further acts of terror against the peoples thereof. Not too long ago, a few cycles back, the commander of one of these Dreadnoughts decided – foolishly, in hindsight – to bring it down to Yominasst's surface for a direct assault against Yumyok, the planet's capital city, and to make a long story short, our allies managed to destroy the accursed thing… only for the third of Cosmo'rath's flagships to emerge and take its place within mere days thereafter, resuming the enemy's Yominasstian campaign which they've been keeping up ever since. Much more recently, the Arcane Dreadnought that had been harassing Sertrop all this time attacked and boarded my own people's orbital mothership, Air Station Alpha-Beta-Delta-Gamma-Omega… and of course, you already know more fully well than anyone else how that incident turned out. Thus, only one Dreadnought now remains active, still striking fear in Yominasstians' hearts whenever they look up to their world's blemished sky…"
"So is that last Dreadnought where Heinrich is?" Connor Thorn asked at this point, though he already knew with near-certainty what the answer to this would be.
"Nope;" replied Peaco bluntly: "he, like all others of his kind, is far too cowardly to take such direct charge of the war he started, especially now, when the fighting it at its most intense. As a literal embodiment of the worst kind of sinful Pride, he rationalizes himself as being 'above' taking personal part in such brutish action that he can have others do for him instead, and would much rather keep himself comfortably cooped up in his personal pleasure palace, of which every Xoultac has one. That is our ultimate target; one which will only reveal itself after the final Arcane Dreadnought is destroyed, thus leaving the 'Evil Ninja Emperor' with no choice but to take matters into his own hands if he still intends to see his intentions of interplanetary domination through… and trust me, he will."
"So, then," Thorn now sought clarification, "we basically have just two more big enemy ships to take down, and then that's it; we win?" Now that it was being brought up again, the human could indeed vaguely remember Father Enkhenye describing the war's planned endgame scenario to him similarly, albeit with much less detail and background information given, way back in Buumpor Village.
"That is correct," the Flufewog confirmed, "but be warned that this will, in all likelihood, prove even easier said than done, which is to say harder, than you're probably imagining it will be, even after experiencing the waking nightmare that is a true battlefield. Both of the previously conquered Arcane Dreadnoughts came to us, giving our forces opportunities to decisively strike back against their forces which were fortunately taken full advantage of; now that they're down to their last flagship, Cosmo'rath will not be making any sort of similarly risky moves with it any time soon, though they will continue sending out their lesser vessels and forces so as to keep bringing harm to our peoples indefinitely. The only way to put a stop to that – and to draw Heinrich out of hiding, to boot – is for us to set out with a viable invasion force of our own, taking the fight to Cosmo'rath. Our civilization's diminished manpower and resources being such that we'll only have one shot at such an effort, making that effort count as we put it into action, as well as serving as a symbol of inspiration and hope for the rest of our force with your mere presence, is where you, Thorn, must figure into all of this… or at least, that's the way I prefer to think of it. The other Councillors may have their own 'spins' on things for your consideration, but regardless of how you want to look at the whole big picture, know that these are the basic, hard facts of our situation and what needs to be done about it, one way or another, at the end of the proverbial day… and ideally within the next few actual days."
Hearing him explain such dire and pressing matters at such lengths made the contrast between Peaco's serious words and his naturally cute, squeaky little voice stand out even more prominently, and in spite of himself and the great respect he truly did have for the three-eyed one, Connor couldn't help but to find this majorly distracting while listening to all these important things that the tiny Admiral had to tell him. He even cracked a few brief, involuntary smiles during the speeches at how silly they ended up sounding at times, though thankfully, Peaco apparently either didn't notice these moments, or didn't care/mind them enough to call Thorn out on his inadvertent rudeness. Nevertheless, the boy was able to successfully understand and process all the information he learned here more-or-less without any such difficulty or issue, a feat that some might actually have considered fairly impressive in itself given the Flufewog's speech not exactly being the clearest by most human standards either, and which was obviously far more pertinent to the grand scheme of things than one's courtesy regarding a "funny" accent.

Within the next minute's time after Peaco concluded the last of his above-transcribed expository monologues to the messiah and sooner than the latter could think of anything else worth saying to the former at this time, the pod-car carrying the both of them plus Frilla, who'd seemed somewhat eerily quiet as she'd patiently sat there in the back throughout the ride, halted rather suddenly in its tracks before slowly reeling itself inward toward the now-adjacent stopping/boarding platform that marked its occupants' chosen destination. Proceeding to exit the vehicle once and only once it had come to a complete stop, the main thing that stood out to Thorn about this station was the lack of anything that actually stood out about it, with the deck appearing identical to the one at which he and his two companions had entered the transit system, not to mention all the others they'd zoomed past on the way up here. Any and all consequent doubt that this was indeed the right place at which to be getting off, though, was quickly dispelled as the trio, still led by its smallest member, approached the nearby doorway back into the main city complex, the neon sign above which could now be plainly seen to read "NOG'DOD PINNACLE, ENTRY POINT C". Upon this door's opening that promptly followed, said sign was swiftly proven to be no liar as it was nigh-immediately evident that the area awaiting Thorn on its other side truly was the Sertrophian capital's pinnacle, and in more than one sense of the word, at that.
From Thorn's current perspective based on his limited understanding of Nog'Dod's scope, it was apparent that this was the main dome's uppermost section, looking up from the base of which the material composing the superstructure's exterior at its very zenith was close enough to be physically discernible from the now-starry sky beyond it. The floor here being completely solid, such that no view downward was possible, it was also implicitly clear that this pristine penthouse of a district was sealed off in this regard from the rest of the city below it, thus severely limiting its accessibility by most of the population… which did seem like a controversially "elitist" design choice, especially for a supposed utopia, not that the human was about to seriously concern himself over such comparatively trivial ethical issues during this time of crisis. In actuality, this area resided not at the peak level of the same dome Thorn had previously gone through, but rather within its own structure that was perched at the topmost and most truly central position in Nog'Dod, between all four of its larger domes. The perception that physical access to the pinnacle was highly restricted, meanwhile, was effectively accurate, and this had, in fact, been extremely controversial in the past, to which a certain pink Flufewog could quite personally attest… but of course, that concerns another story of Nava-Verse history entirely.
As for the ongoing relation of this story's events, there was little opportunity in this place at this time for further sightseeing by Connor Thorn, nor for awkward (sexually or otherwise) unintended mishaps involving him, for the path from where he'd just exited the transit system to his destination within the capital was actually very clearly-defined. As he followed the big-eared one's lead toward, and subsequently up, the nearest of several ornate staircases that all connected to a conspicuous and decoratively colorful central tower structure, Thorn did not need it spelled out to him to know that this edifice held the council's chamber, and likewise did not intend to prolong the waiting of those within it any longer with more chit-chat between himself and his escort; after all, Peaco was a member of the governing body he would be convening with anyway. Next entering this building, he then found himself walking down a lengthy, cushion-walled hallway adorned throughout with numerous painted portraits depicting various aliens whom he could only assume were historic past members of the council. Thorn, however and despite his habitual hyper-observance, ultimately paid little mind to these pictures as he instead focused on bracing himself for the now-imminent fateful meeting that would define the plan of action for his forthcoming tribulations, as well as the rest of the Sertrophian leadership's first impressions of their long-awaited hero, likely leading in turn to his formal "unveiling" to the local general public. His armor and overall physical person remained in less-than-stellar shape in terms of outward presentability, but the boy had a hunch that the council would hardly mind, let alone judge him for, this as he felt far more concerned over the prospect of what he would say to these people. Recalling Peaco's stern advice for him to tell them the whole truth and nothing else, Thorn soon came to a mental impasse between finally doing just that in regards to the questionable circumstances of his transportation from Earth to this world, a matter that would surely be brought up here, and continuing to be evasively vague thereabout, considering what consequences might potentially be entailed by either option and eventually ending up simultaneously trying to formulate plans for both full disclosure and fabrication in the face of this inevitable question. By the time the gallery of a corridor's opposite end and the behemoth of a door, as tall as the whole of the room, that stood there were reached, Connor felt no closer to reaching a decision on his internal dilemma, yet kept his anxiety externally invisible as he held his head up high and assumed a strong-looking upright posture in anticipation of making his "grand entrance" before the council… whether he was as ready to answer to them as he'd like to be or not.
As Thorn watched, Peaco then pressed multiple buttons upon a panel located to the side of this door, following which a deep voice was heard from an apparently rather low-quality speaker within the device.
"Who goes there?" it asked succinctly and somewhat statically.
The Flufewog said nothing, instead gesturing to the most important person among those presently poised to enter the chamber for him to answer.
"Thorn;" the young messiah promptly leaned in and spoke, loosely imitating a certain cinematic spy: "Connor Thorn."
He had always wanted to say that.

TO BE CONTINUED…
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