“We know not how he arose, or exactly when, but we suspect that the cries of the dispossessed must have produced that being which we named Mahanai. Just as we the Encarnacion is an incarnation of souls, so could he, an incarnation of their anguished voices. He must have judged that humankind was unworthy of its place on earth, having squandered paradise, and for that, he sought our extinction.”

“We named him Mahanai?” asked Isaac.

“Correct. He is an antithesis of the divinities we worship, and he deserves no epithets. That is why the past Encarnacions have suffixed ‘nai’ to his name. He is not a MAHA. Do not afford him respect; he needs none, wants none.”

“And he seeks to destroy us again, nearly two thousand years on from when we were given a second chance, just when we’d regained some semblance of height...” Elwin lamented.

Hearing Elwin’s somber monologue in the waning light, Professor Aionia looked unfathomably wistful. And seeing her expression, the kismets could not help but to think to themselves: how long was Professor Aionia herself haunted by this terrible fact, the fact that only she and a few others could know? Who was her Tanaar? And now that they knew of the history of their Earth, what could they do about it?

“In the nine Naraks we’re going to lose our civilization again. We won’t let it. I won’t let it!” Elwin shouted, thinking of his father, his mother, his brother, darting his head up, wiping away tears that emerged without knowing, his eye burning with purpose.

“And you chose not to tell us any of this, not to tell the peoples of the Republics, because...” Katherine trailed off.

“Because you would have been burdened with the tragedy of mankind, its folly, and its weight for all of your waking lives.”

“So this is why you tell only us... only those who could bear its crushing weight, and the tournament is a way to filter out those who can from those that cannot,” Mirai analyzed.

“Incisively put.”

But Isaac interjected. “You told us Mithra, Astinel, the Founders of the First and the Second Republics, were also Encarnacions. Why didn’t they do more? Why didn’t they reveal their status? People would have believed in them, right? People wouldn’t have squabbled amongst themselves, knowing such an absolute being as the Encarnacion existed, and the civil war we once had two hundred years ago could have been avoided, couldn’t it? Professor Aionia, why do you not reveal your status as the Encarnacion?”

Professor Aionia gave a long sigh, and answered him the best she could. “Once people realize that a divine being exists in the flesh, their instinct is to submit to it. Even without, they make an image of one, and do the same. You are correct in that peace between each republic, and even between Mythrise and Jin could have been achieved if the Encarnacions revealed themselves as powerful as the MAHA. But if they had done so, all the peoples on Earth would have resigned their futures to fate, assigned their fortunes to divine judgment. They would have lived in fear of the divine, or lived only to please them and receive their boons, caring not what society they create nor the foundation it rests upon.”

“But it is true that peace can be had, right?”

“Yes. But what if the Encarnacion were to perish? What if the Encarnacion were to disappear? Having lost their figure of worship, the peoples would once again turn on each other, possessing no one to enforce a moral code. So peace achieved through divine tyranny is no true peace; it is not a vision of a civilization that can sustain and weather independently through the sands of time.”

“I understand...”

“Rather, a sustainable civilization is one in which the people strive to make their own futures, and are given the power and liberty alike to determine with their own hands and voices what must be accomplished. This is why Mithra refused kingship, even when it was within his realm of power, and instead created a framework of laws as the basis for a nation. He learned from the errors committed by empires who lived before him; that kings and queens make servile peoples, they make nothing but servants! What use is technology or discovery if the people do not know the weight of their creations or their actions, and are hence destined to destroy themselves?”

“So that is what Republic means... Res Publica... Matter of the People!” exclaimed Mirai.

“Right. Though we’ve had our share of external and internal strife, we the Republics, we the people, have always stood up again in defiance of extinction. We always found our road back to the future. Our Mythrisian civilization, beginning from humble origins with huddled refugees escaping the old, collapsing world, lasted nearly two thousand years, much longer than any empire or dynasty upon the ultracontinent Yanasura!”

Professor Aionia’s voice was briefly intonated with that of an older man, perhaps Mithra, one soul among many. To the kismets, who’d only learnt of history at school through textbooks and words, witnessing the voice of the mythical consul in the living flesh bordered on the frightening, and the wickedly awesome. The wonder interjected a degree of mirth that lifted their spirits a little from the tragedy of paradise lost.

“All this time,” Isaac spoke, “there were snippets strewn through your lessons. The tale of Dmitri and Alexander Kosmogorov, how you knew of things that escape the everyman...”

“You spoke of history almost as if you lived through it, Professor,” Mirai added.

“I did too,” said Elwin. “When you trained me to perceive the ORI with my Asha, to cultivate and deepen my Kaha... but the entire time I didn’t think there was any more to it other than you being a brilliant experimental philosopher. Of course, someone who knew the inner workings of the Mahamastra would know how to wield it in incredible ways, so that was my obvious intuition, but... in addition to being an experimental philosopher...”

“We never expected you to be the – well, the incarnation – the Encarnacion! The champion of two billion souls, our lone thread to what everything once was!” exclaimed Katherine.

Professor Aionia smiled feebly, but exhaustion was plastered on her face. “Not billions anymore. Ahura expended a vast proportion in his battle against Mahanai, and Mithra, Astinel, and subsequent generations subsumed the remaining tens of millions more to defend their Republics against tides of evil.”

“How many souls do you champion as of now?”

“I, the 50th, champion merely a million and a half.”

Each made an audible gasp. Two billion Kahas that once empowered Ahura to fight like the FOUNDERS themselves, now huddled to a rapidly depleting number. Even with less than one-thousandth of Ahura’s original might, Professor Aionia had cleaved clean the demon underneath the lost city. But without knowing the purpose of the Encarnacion, they could only ponder as to what this loss meant.

“Professor,” Isaac enquired, “if the Encarnacion does not reveal themselves to the world, then... what is their task? What do they do?”

“Our purpose is twofold,” she answered, “first and foremost, to prevent Mahanai’s return to this world at all costs, and second, to equip the world with the tools and ability to fight him should he return, by exploring the stories and messages of people who live in us. More recently, I’ve added a third mission: to dedicate our lives to the pursuit of preserving humanity, and of civilization.”

“Mahanai...” Mirai trailed off. Something seemed to crystallize in her thoughts. She looked up, somber, her eyes fatigued with the weight of epiphany. “The MAHA from the beyond that tried to turn me to him... that was him, that was Mahanai, wasn’t it...?”

Professor Aionia grasped Mirai’s hand. It was cold.

“Yes, it was.”

“And you came out all the way, fought the world to save me back then...”

She embraced Mirai as a mother does her child.

“Why... Professor Aionia? What did Mahanai wish from me? He prophesized that I would have no choice but to call him again, and I’m still so afraid... after hearing of the things that must come to pass, from the spirit Hûnbaba...”

“Be not afraid. As long as I’m here, I shall never let him near you.”

Elwin listened on, his heart heavy. He fully understood what Mirai had faced; an experience like that would have broken the minds of most children at that age. But for Isaac and Katherine, this was the first time they’d heard such tale.

“What would have happened, had I accepted Mahanai’s offer?”

Professor Aionia produced a heavy sigh. “Then you would have turned into an Anghra, your Kaha no longer yours to keep.”

“An Anghra?”

“A demon born of karma, given strength by Mahanai.”

Isaac slapped his knee. “Is that what we fought in the –”

Elwin held out his hand to pause him. Isaac did not have to verbally remind Mirai the sort of monster she could have become.

“Sorry...”

“I’m alright, no need to apologize,” she assured, parting from Professor Aionia’s embrace. “It’s – it’s – it’s from a long time ago, anyway. Go on, Professor, please explain everything to us. What exactly are they, these Anghra?”

“Their origins date back a thousand years to the time of Astinel. Before him, we suspect that Mahanai had yet to recoup his strength from his battle with Encarnacion Ahura. He likely possessed not the terrible might to pierce the veil that separates this world from the Abyss.”

“But as time passed, and suffering amassed in the hearts of the living, through war, famine, pestilence, and above all, avoidable human-made tragedy... Mahanai began to restore in himself his old glory, fed power by the cries of those who wished death in all its forms. The first war between Mythrise and Jin and the immensity of suffering inflicted allowed Mahanai to pierce the veil with his will for the first time in eight centuries, and began to call out for the anguished, the tired, the poor. He promised them power, in exchange for doing what he seeks.”

They listened intently.

“Vengeance can be yours, Mahanai offered them, in exchange for loyalty of their Kaha. Those who accepted would receive a portion of his power; but in their newfound malevolence they would cease to be human, and transform into a demon, a karmic demon which we call Anghra, a Destructive-Spirit. He exploits children and youth to become his servants, because their potential for growth dwarfs that of already matured adults.”

A wave of utter nausea and disgust came over Elwin and Mirai. They had to untwist their grimace.

“Fortunately, most Anghras do not live for long. After exacting their revenge, their powers spent, they turn to shadow and dust, leaving this world... but some, whose wills are incredibly potent, are able to bend their newfound powers to grow in strength, devouring innocent humans and consuming their numerous Kaha to add to their own. Such children-turned Anghras are labeled Mora, or Purveyors of Death, and this is what you fought in the lost city.”

Cold sweat came over them.

“How was it able to enter our midst, Professor? What of Lucian? I remember him yelling at Professor Thales – well, the fake Professor Thales – before he sunk his knife into him. Lucian seemed angry that the demon forced his hand to do things he didn’t want to do,” explained Isaac.

“With the revelation of Mahanai now revealed, I can explain to you our findings,” assured the Master of Light. “After he recovered about a month ago, Lucian testified before us in detail what had happened to him. He explained that early on last fall, he was approached in private by his Tanaar – Professor Thales – who then revealed to him that he was aware of every detail about Lucian’s true identity and past. He used it as leverage to threaten Lucian into doing what he wanted – namely, to ensure your expulsion from Aeternitas, Elwin.”