Izel had seen how the ruckus' divisive aftereffects caused by the petite bookworm commenced their subtle machinations. Enough to dissuade her compatriots, especially those appointed to battle, from retiring after the summit. The Tamoanchanese warriors convened at the erstwhile palace now reserved as Elder Cipac's sanctuary.

Communal gatherings—not to mention secret—could be deemed a transgression in the eyes of the Kagatsean authority, if the proper permits were not in place. Not to mention Otnagochi was ensconced within the confines of curfew law. However, only the plebeians and the ignorant absorbed Alicia's pronouncement and kept it to themselves in their deep slumber. Not these warriors. If needed, they could be more discreet than rats or Kagatsean shinobis.

In between small conclaves discussing the same root cause, Izel espied the triumvirate of Itotia, Ixpepe, and Momozcotzin lounging against a stone wall with a metal emblem of the Tamoanchan symbol, an illuminating fixture fixed above them like a benediction from the sun god himself. Izel's eyes intersected with Momozcotzin's, which for some reason, seemed perceptibly dimmed despite his eyes being agape and the lights right on the edge of his face. Quickly her attention strayed to the one particular object which Izel ascribed as the locus of irregularity in the large man's eyes: a clay mug in his hand.

Izel was in fact loath to cross paths with him, made all the worse by her earlier deduction. That said, she felt as though she owed a responsibility to Citlalicoatl to tide him back onto the straight path.

"And here comes the miracle child," Momozcotzin babbled. Upon closer inspection, his face bore the telltale sign of bloodshot eyes, jowls stricken with mild seizures. There was no implicit flattery embedded in those words.

When Izel could make out the contents of Momozcotzin's cup, her general disdain was justified. "We stand on the brink of war tomorrow, you buffoon," she retorted sharply. "Are you oblivious to the enduring effects of an octli hangover throughout the day? Or do you dare to intimate an inclination towards fleeing the battle?"

"You think so little of me when you are the lesser one!" Momozcotzin's prodigious and swift advance towards Izel managed to deliver a shallow but intimidating earthquake that crushed the guts of her heel into a reflex retreat. "You think my parents will see me as a suitable match for you if I were a craven devoid of spine? With everything we've got, tomorrow's war will be ugly. My throat will be drenched in golden agave wine until my heart is content so that my fire magic can flourish to my heart's content as well!"

Izel redirected her gaze to Momozcotzin's remaining companions, still with her aggravated look. "Do you genuinely stand beside him as if effigies, hoping that he dies out of mana in battle—or worse, burns down the palace before daybreak?"

"Momozcotzin is wise, like a true warrior," Itotia rebutted, nonchalantly resting against the wall with arms crossed. Ixpepe’s act of handing her man a cup filled with the same liquid amounted to a blatant affront to the Orange Witch's face. "Besides, he has mana exceeding yours tenfold, Woman."

"Izel is worried about the man she dumped," a feminine taunt came from Ixpepe before being met with a coquettish snicker. "What of the skinny man from this afternoon? Oh, I guessed you'd actually have some admiration and desire for Momozcotzin."

"I won't be so easily lulled by slutty notions as you are yourself, Snake!"

The dwarf warrior's back abruptly rectified as the stone wall he had been leaning against, red beginning to suffuse his skin along with vapour wisp. He stood a mere two steps closer than Izel, who maintained an unyielding pose until Momozcotzin's giant hand intercepted Itotia’s chest. "Don't, Itotia. Your boiling whistle, however small, is very sensitive to the ears of Kagatsean shinobi. You may exact retribution for your ladylove amidst the throes of battle. You have my blessing," Momozcotzin's inebriated visage turned towards Izel with a small, irregular nod. "I actually hope as Ixpepe said. I think the only way to conquer you is to ram a foot down your throat. But that can wait since we're here because of your Westerner friend, who turned out to be just as good at stirring up trouble for herself. What an exemplary cohort of delinquents you would make!"

Izel's eyes crinkled. "I never said the person to whom you allude as my friend."

"She and that loudmouth friend of yours are two unfamiliar faces I've seen only today," Momozcotzin prattled as he ambled about the small circle of young adults, swaying slightly but only to the extent of a gale blowing through a sturdy cypress. "Precisely when you arrived from the capital."

"They are her friends," a voice that was not among them added. Nenexoch without his rooster helmet confidently stepped into the group as if they indeed constituted an alley faction of childhood friends. Without that vaunted headgear, he presented himself with a faded haircut in the front and a thick ponytail at the nape. "If you still remember the luminous burst that nearly dismantled our defences? It was her."

"Ah, the Moon Eater episode?" Momozcotzin raised an impressed whistle. That wide, excited grin of his suggested lewd musings that Izel was all too well acquainted with, and it made her almost vomit. "I don't particularly fond of girls with feeble and inept appearance, but xiuhcoatl was my witness, when I saw her, I could feel an indomitable warrior's soul within her, unlike those kuiloni in Takamagahara." The giant man took a step closer to Izel. As usual, Izel recovered the gap. "Say, is there any chance she remains unclaimed? I wouldn't mind warming the fruit of her fertile womb—"

A slap from a flaming hand petrified the mouth. Residual embers crackled out of the man’s visage.

Itotia and Ixpepe promptly kindled fireballs in their hands, while Nenexoch's hand served as the quencher.

"No one esteems a warrior with your odious conduct. You watch your tongue, Man!" A cold threat from Izel.

Momozcotzin chose to let out a raucous guffaw, crowing, "Your slap is like a grass caress, woman!"

The seething turmoil inside Izel was the fuel that enabled her to near the bastard and shoot him a withering glare. Teeth gnashed behind the sealed portal of her mouth, until several strokes Cipac Elders' staff silenced not only Izel, but all those gathered. A battle for another time. The Orange Witch flounced away to blend in with the crowd.

The Elder Tamoanchan had actually been seated earlier accompanied by a line of priests, but only now did he finish his thoughts and dilemma on the Camelot lady's remarks. As solitary as the fire warriors were, they had a deep devotion at least to the leader who united them all.

"We the People of Tamoanchan do indeed forbid any form of magical energy that does not come from Citlalicoatl. We have no need of Arcane, and we show contempt for Khaos," the elder explained. "But nothing is as constant as death, and that includes time itself. We must maintain who we are, but we must also know when to adapt. There is no better time than now."

Nenexoch discerned Izel’s signs of incoming temper from a distance, however subtle. An expression of seemingly insignificance, yet he failed to notice the calloused fist that could not lie buried in the crowd, let alone perceive its burning fervour.

"We have seen Arcane being held by a child," Elder Cipac continued. "Then there ensued a clamour over the so-called decision to banish mujinos by the might of Khaos. While that knowledge has not been proven true—at least not by Kagatse officials—I can assure you the questions remain."

"So what is Tamoanchan's stance on this, Tlatli? " A single Tamoanchan voice rang out among the sea of fire practitioners. "Surely we not only take precautions but also maintain our values of not soiling ourselves in the eyes of Citlalicoatl with the potion, do we not?"

Elder Cipac doubting the matter was one thing; but if the priests behind him mirrored the same disposition through altered glances, it was quite a worrisome matter. Even when they had been deliberating all along, doubts were still creeping up on them. It took a while for the people in the seat of power to confer among themselves, reconfirming their decision before the elder issued another proclamation. "I'll tell you this: each day, we face peril, unlike the tranquil epochs of centuries past. What matters now is the safety and survival of the Tamoanchanese. Therefore, you shall not hear a definitive decree from me or the priests. You retain the autonomy to decide whether or not to partake in the mujino-taming potion."

There was no surprising reaction from his followers. Only murmurs. Yet, the most abrasive of crunches prompted a collective wince. Izel bumped her shoulder into the sea of people in an attempt to break through the throne barrier.

"So that's it, Tlalti? The Tamoanchan's stance is crumbling now?"

All eyes were wonderingly focused on Izel. The Orange Witch was aware of that and reciprocated with a look of equal incredulity. These were not the Tamoanchan people she had known—warriors still, but lacking the uniqueness, let alone the pride, of the warriors of yore.

The elder, on the other hand, refrained from comment, which, akin to letting a fire spread across dry grass, worsened Izel's frustration to a physical seething.

"You passively allow Khaos to infiltrate our people. What would Citlalicoatl see in you?"

"Is it truly Khaos?" behind the elder's placid question, lay a challenge. "Your friend, remarkable as she may be, failed to substantiate her accusations."

"But still, you left your flock to fend for themselves in a way that could lead to their destruction! This is not the conduct of the guiding sun, as we have been taught!"

"Since when have Tamoanchanese warriors been sheep to be continuously dictated to by the shepherd? We stand united as a strong flock, not only due to our numerical abundance, but because each individual is a talented warrior in intellect, strength, and mettle since time immemorial. You doubt the potion as if it harbours Khaos, but I shall not pass judgment, and you have the right to reject it. The sun will continue to shine upon those who use auxiliary potions for war and those who abstain. Once again, your bias is merely that—bias."

Izel gave a nod laden with sarcasm. "For potions, that's all well and good, I understand, but I guess it doesn't apply to relying on Citlalicoatl's power directly?"

Tension began to infect the bodies of those present. Topics such as the ritual of summoning Citlalicoatl or invoking his name for complicated situations seemed like taboo conversations nowadays.

"Such behaviour is juvenile, Izel," the elder's voice softened. "As much as I and you long to see Citlalicoatl once more, the Kagatsean Government has granted us a home under the condition that we do not hold magical meetings or rituals. The Cemihcac Tona ritual cannot be clandestine, by its very nature!”

"Why deny us what is rightfully ours to do? After all, we aid them as well!”

"So you want to risk exposing the ritual to the world?" Indeed, Nenexoch's patience had worn thin since Izel brazenly approached the throne.

"Are you more worried about that than anything else?" Izel asked back.

"This act of lust for Citlalicoatl's power is a dead man's game," he retorted snidely. "A behaviour befitting a Tzitzimitl. If it comes to light, the Shogunate will swiftly decree our annihilation. We are in the worst possible situation to hold the Cemihcac Tona. Come to terms with it."

Izel responded to the sneer with a derisive cough. "Even you, Nenexoch?" she said afterwards, soft but tinged with chagrin. "You were my inspiration, Nenexoch, to know that I could alter my circumstances and those of my family by living obediently and competing with you and the others. You are the paragon compared to the others." Izel's subtle trembling lasted a while, her eyes closed in contemplation. "It seems that the favour of this land has blinded you. You are more afraid of having no ground to stand on and lie on than Citlalicoatl forgetting you exist."

"Ha!" The man's croak reverberated. He jumped from his place next to a priest, and every one immediately gave way. "Citlalicoatl this, Citlalicoatl that—I'm sick of you linking everything to Citlalicoatl!"

Izel's eyes widened along with her now unashamedly chattering teeth. "Mentioning his name in vain! Beg for mercy before the sun harms you!"

"I'll cease this vain babbling when you cease your own hypocrisy! Sometimes, not everything has to be about Citlalicoatl! Look around you! Can't you see the weary faces in Takamagahara? I lost my family and brothers and sisters in Ginnungagap, but with the fire of my god flowing through me and everyone else, we still came out strong! Never have I begged my god like a master dictatoring his servants, for he has granted me life and strength. Me, Momozcotzin, and Itotia seek Cemihcac Tona's blessing to fall on one of us, but I'm not willing to barter it for the life of my living kin! We cannot confront the entire Kagatsean army if they turn against us. Yet, you, you are selfish and foolhardy. Your privilege as the first woman in the ritual after centuries makes you believe you are akin to Matlalcueye or abnormally worthy like Tota. You always felt this way even before that dark calamity! Your recklessness endangers us! Your perverted thinking might drive the surviving women and children out of their homes!"

"Nenexoch!" Elder Cipac raised one hand. "Your point has been made."

Nenexoch exhaled heavily before pausing. "Forgive me, Tlatli." But there was still a word in store for the Orange Witch. "Go fight. Go fight to keep your people alive. If Citlalicoatl wills it, he will bring miracles in his time. Never call me an unbeliever, for I believe in that!"

"So you want everyone to fight a battle that will not stop while waiting for Citlalicoatl's miracle?" Izel's breathing circulation was heavy and loud, until the vapour literally billowed forth. But when the vapour dissipated, her arms lifted up in a fake embrace before limply drooping again. "Very well. We'll see how your way is. Let's see how long we have to wait for Citlalicoatl to honour the passive spirit of his people. I hope I don't die before that happens! I hope you don't go extinct before that happens either!"

And thus Izel flounced out of the palace, slamming the sliding door with pleasure, hoping that perhaps some civil guards would notice this suspicious assemblage.

***

Even prior to the first light, the sound of tyres rubbing back and forth on the road, the clatter of feet, and the shouting of instructions over the loudhailer had already cast an uneasy pall over Otnagochi, to the point of infiltrating the hearts of those who were still in bed. Even researchers like Alicia were denied of the luxury of a fair amount of sleep. Alchemists were required to assemble at the institution's offices, just as the remaining civilians had to vacate their homes and enter the bunker tunnels in the cliffside.

Alicia met Wisesa with Barong on his back, ready for battle, amidst the scattering of panicked citizens. The lad retained his striated surjan and blangkon, but this time his chest was covered in a spiral-shaped armour. Someone's shout disrupted the two's gazes from each other, now turned to the distant portal—an unstable black mass expanding in size. A sharp thunderous crash and lightnings of crimson and azure accompanied it.

While the sky was dark still, it dawned on Alicia's eyes that there was a white circular outline enveloping the portal. It was somewhat reminiscent of a solar eclipse.

"Those evil creatures are coming," Wisesa said, then turned to Alicia. "I should get going, then. Good morning, Missy." He performed a mocking greeting gesture.

Just as he took his second step, Wisesa's progress was impeded by his hand ensnared by an unseen force.

Wisesa turned sharply, finding Alicia holding onto his right hand. A look of worry was etched on her bookwormish face.

"P-please be careful."

For the umpteenth time, Wisesa found himself dumbfounded by his interaction with the lass. It was as if their connecting thread was getting shorter with each passing moment. His brows furrowed shortly after, and her restraining hand was dismissed.

"Guess what, Miss. I was forged into a fighter and assassin by that crusty old bastard in Yawadwipa. Before you go throwing them punches, you gotta know how to 'be careful'. Barong’s here after all. I ain’t kicking the bucket before it gets out, and it still has the responsibility to keep its home alive and working."

"I'll gladly accept the task if you let me do so to the best of my ability!" exclaimed Barong.

Wisesa always deciphered the cat's meaning. "I changed my mind, if I die, no big deal...."

"Hey!"

"Please don't say that!" Alicia interrupted him.

"What are you, my sister or something?" After saying that, his scornful laughter came out. "But don't go thinking you can just lounge around. I'm anticipating a fresh revelation come this afternoon to put a halt to this plague." Wisesa immediately rushed and jumped onto one of the army's engine carriages.

"Oh, aye! Don't forget about last night!" Alicia waved.

The engine carriage with its fuel pumping hard drove Wisesa as if to race to the outer position of Shinpi's wall, the front line, exactly where he was stationed. However, before the last gate, he deliberately jumped off and proceeded against the current of soldiers streaming out when he spotted Izel and a number of Tamoanchanese practitioners dawdling towards the mujino antidote potion stall.

"Decided to taste the potion?" Wisesa was already aligned with the orange witch.

Izel cast him a fleeting peek. "Oh, I still have my pride and judgement in Citlalicoatl's eyes, Man. You need not worry."

"Too bad, then. I could use a drinking partner."

The potion distribution post had an actual queue, but a Lojitenggara man seemed to find the concept absurd. Izel's expression turned alarmed when Wisesa preceded her to walk near the line of soldiers.

"You wouldn't stoop so low as to fetch that potion!" Izel exclaimed.

"If it helps me rack up points in the game of who kills the most, why not?"

Wisesa's sleeve was pulled tightly by Izel. "Desecrating the blessings of Tlaltecuhtli places you somewhere between foolish and senseless! Do you not even feel remorse for your bespectacled companion?"

Unfortunately, Wisesa's hand had already cut through the ranks of queueing soldiers to retrieve a small vial from the supply box. "It would be even more foolish of me to spend my youth obeying a god who makes my life miserable, or an insignificant nerdy girl, don't you think?"

Just as the potion was about to be stowed in his pocket, someone intercepted his hand. Just as he thought it was another worrywart antic from Alicia, he found Hashomon, the true owner of that hand. Izel was half stunned before stepping back.

"So, did you decide to go your separate ways about whether or not to drink the magic potion with your friend?" Hashomon appeared eager to chime in.

The lad's brows began to furrow. An awkward stare. "Well, she can't prove anything, can she? Now, if you'll excuse me," Wisesa attempted to sidestep, but Hashomon once again halted him by suddenly appearing in front of his face!

"Why don't you just drink the potion?" the magic shogun asked.

Wisesa's eyes scanned Izel for support. But Izel's bulging eyes implied a refusal to be complicit. "With all respect, Lord General, the troops are already making their way to their posts. Can't I drink it later or sip it little by little during the game?"

"You must drink it in place. Now."

Crap. Wisesa should have reserved the potion for the bespectacled alchemist. And Hashomon seemed to be blissfully ignorant of the destruction of the world until his eyes saw that there was no more liquid in the bottle the lad was holding.

But suddenly their ears were assailed by the cacophony of debris crashing and the cries of soldiers driven to madness. Hashomon swiftly turned, but the rushing air left a cut on his cheek as kettles of Gothhotroosoared through the wall at the speed of Thunderkeeper's lightning! []