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ArWen the Eternally Surprised
Author: Ria Time: 2007/11/22
Arwen encounters a strange monk and gains a little extra time.
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Shamballa - Part 3- The Philosopher's Stone
Submitter: Date: 2009/9/14 Views: 416
The Scar
Ishbal, 8 years ago


The sixteen year old boy ran as fast as his feet could carry him across the blossoming green fields. He smiled brilliantly, wishing to tell his brother how well he had done in his lessons today, and he couldn’t wait to hear his brother’s word of approval.

The boy slowed down, however, when he caught sight of him, and then stopped altogether when he realized that there was someone else with his brother. A beautiful woman who looked at the young, bespectacled man with eyes filled with love and was now offering him a small locket.

“Take this as a keepsake,” she said softly, “So you’ll remember me after I’m gone.”

His brother embraced her tenderly, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. As for the boy, he slipped quietly away, a pang of guilt gripping his heart.





The religious process continued on, the sound of chanting haunting the streets. More and more people started gathering around the litany, so that they could get a glimpse of the Holy Mother and her servants. Lust and Gluttony, however, preferred a much better view from a tall bridge nearby. They smiled broadly, for everything was going just as their master had planned all along.

Lust’s expression of satisfaction changed to curiosity when she noticed a very familiar form moving in the crowd. Though the clothes and the hair looked different, there was no mistaking that pair of amber-coloured eyes, or the determination that was reflected through them.

“Well, well,” she mused softly. “Here I was, expecting the Gondorian, and yet the Fullmetal boy showed up instead. I suppose Dante was right.”

Gluttony frowned and chewed one of his big fingers in indecision. “Not good, not good. She said we should find the Gondorian.”

Lust smiled. “It doesn’t matter. The boy will do just as nicely.”

Gluttony never answered, because he started sniffing the air loudly. His beady little eyes shone with the glee and excitement of a bloodhound finally catching a whiff of a long-lost prey.

“I… I smell it, Lust…” he whispered, grinning. “I smell his Ishbalan blood!”

“And there is the man himself,” Lust noted, her purple gaze locked downwards.

Sure enough, a large robed man grabbed Edward from behind, forcing him to turn around. At the sight of the crimson eyes and the large scar on the forehead, Edward instantly pushed the man off balance and ran off. He ran to the direction of the dark alleys, knowing that Scar would chase him there. And when he made sure that no innocent bystanders would get hurt, Ed would fight back.




Kimblee sat in a relaxed manner in a small room, staying hidden as Colonel Archer instructed him. After all, as Archer told him, it would be best if they kept their best weapon out of sight until it was the right time. Though Kimblee was flattered at those words, admittedly, he couldn’t help but feel cooped up, and his battle-thirsty heart craved for some action at last.

The sound of a door opening made him turn around. He smirked when he saw who it was before him.

“Well, well, the Führer himself coming to see me. That’s an honour,” he said, standing up and saluting in a mock cordial manner.

“At ease, Crimson Alchemist,” Bradley said, waving his hand dismissively. Colonel Douglas walked in close behind him, keeping her eyes on the ground and her face as cold as stone. “There is a reason I wished to see you.”

“But of course,” Kimblee said with a snort. “So… what can I do for you, your Excellency?”

Bradley’s fingers rested on his sword. “As you’re well aware by now, the military has received orders to attack the city of Liore in approximately two hours. Nevertheless, there is something you can do for me in secret.”

“And what is that?” Kimblee asked.

Bradley smiled enigmatically. “Shou Tucker may have passed away, but his legacy of perfect chimeras under the control of the military still lives on. Crimson Alchemist, you and Colonel Douglas are to take those chimeras and find your way inside Liore.”

“I see,” Kimblee said, regarding the woman almost contemptuously before turning to Bradley once again. “Are we supposed to look for that twerp that calls himself an alchemist?”

“Yes,” Bradley answered. “And when you do… get him before he causes us any trouble.”

“Why, Führer,” Kimblee exclaimed in mock surprise. “Are you asking me to kill a fellow soldier?”

Bradley’s good eye gleamed dangerously. “Only if you have no other choice. Is that clear?”

Kimblee grinned broadly. “Yes, Sir.”




Another flash of bright red light filled the dark streets and Ed ducked out of harm’s way. The wall beside him blew up to pieces and the teen alchemist had to cover his eyes so that none of the debris would hit him. He ran down another alley, but he cursed loudly when he realized that he had reached a dead-end.

“This is all too familiar, isn’t it, Fullmetal Alchemist?” Scar asked, walking towards Ed slowly, like a lion preparing itself for the final pounce against its prey. “If you’ve come all the way here, then you must know what I’m after.”

“That’s right. You want to create the philosopher’s stone, using your own self as the container. But guess what.” Ed clapped, transmuting his automail into the familiar favourite blade. “I won’t let you do this.”

“And I won’t let you get in my way,” Scar replied simply.

“You can always try,” Ed answered with a smirk. “But before I kick your ass, there’s something I want to know. Four years ago, there was a chimera in Central, part-dog part-girl. It died when someone tore her up from the inside by using alchemy.” Ed’s eyes reflected his anger. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

Scar nodded, understanding what Ed was talking about. “I returned it to God.”

Ed clenched his flesh hand into a fist. “Why?!” he asked furiously.

“It couldn’t be saved.”

“That’s not up to you to decide!” Ed answered back. “Is this how you’re going to kill the Liorites and Rose too? By using that kind of damned logic?”

“You know Rose?” Scar asked, eyes widening in mild surprise.

“Well enough not to let you use her for your purposes!” Ed all but screamed, and lunged for the attack.

Scar’s lips tugged to a small taunting smile. “You don’t learn from your mistakes, do you?” Before Ed could lay a scratch on him, Scar dodged the attack and grabbed the boy’s automail with his left hand. His whole arm flashed brilliantly as he started the alchemic reaction that would destroy the metal blade once more.

He was almost shocked to see that nothing happened. Ed took advantage of his distraction and tried to kick him with his automail leg, but Scar proved faster and grabbed the leg. When he saw that he couldn’t destroy that limb either, however, he used the leg as leverage instead to push Ed away from him.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

Ed chuckled and got back on his feet. “I’ve learnt from my mistakes, that’s what’s happening. Beregond’s told me about your arm. As an incomplete Philosopher’s Stone, you unconsciously figure out the ingredients that make up your opponents and you fine-tune your technique to destroy them. That’s why a good friend of mine made sure you wouldn’t know what kind of metal this is.” He extended his automail arm so that the mithril shone brilliantly under the meagre light of the lamp posts. “And, by the way… Though tougher than steel, this automail is as light as feather, so this will be over very quickly.”

True to his words, Ed instantly jumped forward, wielding his mithril automail. Though the Ishbalan managed to avoid another hit, he didn’t react fast enough when Ed’s automail leg knocked him off his feet. Scar landed on the ground with a loud thud and, at the next moment, Ed pinned him down with his body.

“You idiot!” the boy exclaimed, grabbing the Ishbalan by the collar so that they looked at each other face to face. “Sacrificing the lives of an entire town just to make the Philosopher’s Stone will only turn you into the very people you wish to take revenge on!”

Scar glared at Ed. “You’ve forgotten something important,” he said, curling his fingers around the boy’s left wrist. “I can destroy human flesh as well.”

Ed clenched his teeth and got ready to strike anyway, but he stopped at once. Two blackened spear points barely missed his face and ended up on the wall a good couple of feet away. Ed turned around, for he understood perfectly well who was behind this sort of attack.

“Homunculi,” he said, glaring at Lust and Gluttony. Indeed, the two soulless creatures were standing a bit further away, a strange gleam shining through their cold eyes.

“We meet again, Fullmetal boy,” Lust said with a smile of triumph. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Yeah… She sent you, didn’t she?” Ed said through clenched teeth. “Well, give her my best regards!” In a blink of an eye, Ed clapped his hands once more and placed them both on a water pipe nearby. The metal became hot to the touch, and the water inside boiled to the point that steam burst out of the pipes with a loud bang right on the homunculi’s faces. Lust and Gluttony cried out in pain and collapsed ungraciously in a heap, but it was a victory that didn’t last. They got back on their feet, their burns fading away to be replaced by white skin again.

“That burned…” Gluttony said with a childish giggle.

Lust, on the other hand, snorted and pushed back a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “You should know by now that you can’t kill us that easily.”

“Then I’ll just have to try again,” Ed declared. But as he was about to take another step, Scar stood up and approached the homunculi, his hand reaching for the inner pocket of his shirt.

Lust smiled in mock politeness. “Hello, Scar. You don’t have to give me that look. After all, we are protecting you.”

“I’m your enemy,” Scar said.

She chuckled. “Are you talking about that time in the library?” she asked, then waved her hand dismissively. “Let bygones be bygones. After all, you are going to make the philosopher’s stone for us now.”

“Who are you, I wonder,” Scar said, bringing forth a sort of pendant with Ishbalan engraving on it. “Does this bring back memories, daughter of Ishbal? You gave this to my brother.”

Lust froze, staring at Scar incredulously. “That story again?!”

“REMEMBER!” the Ishbalan cried, and extended his hand forward as the pendant glinted softly under the light.

Lust didn’t say anything, she couldn’t. She kept stepping backwards, shaking her head continuously.

“Keep away…” she murmured painfully. She grabbed her head with both hands and let out a terrible scream that rang through the air. “KEEP AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“Lust!”

It was too late. Lust ran away, getting swallowed by the darkness of the night. Gluttony had no choice but to follow her after casting a look of hate towards the Ishbalan and the young alchemist.

A few moments of eerie silence reigned, as neither Ed nor Scar wished to speak. In the end, though, Ed’s curiosity got the better of him and he turned to the Ishbalan.

“What do you know about her?”

Scar span around, his arm glowing red. “Nothing that has to do with you!”

“Stop it!”

Ed and Scar turned at the sound of the voice. Rose was standing close to them, still holding the baby in her arms, and Ed was shocked to see that Lyra was next to her.

“What are you two doing here?” he asked

“Please,” Lyra said, “Please listen to what he has to say, Ed. I think that’s what she’s trying to say.”

Ed gasped as a terrible suspicion entered his mind. He looked at Rose in disbelief.

“Rose… You can’t speak?”

The girl smiled sadly and nodded.




Alphonse stood by the rock formations he crafted via alchemy, looking warily at his surroundings. Everything seemed quiet for the time being, and the suit of armour hoped that things would remain that way. He was lucky that no one noticed the alchemic reaction in the first place.

You’d better get on with it quick, Brother, Al thought, sighing mentally. Al felt bad about tricking their friends in such a way, and a part of him hoped he and Ed could still return before they were missed.

His hopes came to naught when he heard the sound of galloping coming to his direction, for he knew only one who rode a horse. Sure enough, Faenel appeared moments later, carrying a cloaked Beregond on her back. The Gondorian didn’t seem to notice the suit of armour, however, so Al stepped out in the moonlight and waved at the man to stop.

Beregond’s eyes widened when he noticed the suit of armour. “Daro!” he said at once.

Faenel obeyed, raising a thin veil of dust as she planted her hooves on the ground and came to an abrupt halt in front of Al. Beregond allowed himself a small smile, and he patted the black neck affectionately before turning his gaze to the suit of armour.

“You’ll have a lot of explaining to do when we get back to base, Alphonse.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Al replied. “But Brother wouldn’t listen.”

“Yes, I found that out the hard way,” Beregond noted dryly, pointing at the bandages on his head. “Don’t worry, he didn’t hit me that hard,” he added, seeing Al lowering his head in shame. “Besides, that’s the least of our worries. The Führer is planning a full assault as we speak. The whole army will be here by daybreak.”

Al gasped. “But Brother is inside the city!”

“Oh no…” Beregond breathed out, slapping his forehead. “We’ll have to find him before they get here. Do you have any idea where Edward could have gone?”

“No,” Al answered. “He just said that he was going to look for Scar.”

“That means he could be anywhere,” Beregond mused. “We’ll have to separate.” Still holding Faenel by the reins, he grabbed Al gently by the hand. “Come on, let’s go.”




Ed sat cross-legged on a creaky chair in the centre of the poorly furnished room. The place was dark but for the light of a small candle placed on a table nearby, and there were four plates with some warm food in them. None of the occupants touched the food though. They had other, more serious matters to attend to.

Lyra walked up to Ed, a hand clasping her long dress so that it wouldn’t sweep the dusty floor and another holding a glass of water. “Here, you probably need this,” she said.

Ed nodded his thanks and accepted the water; he was thirsty anyway. Even so, he couldn’t help but look hard at the young girl.

“Is there something wrong?” Lyra asked, evidently puzzled by Ed’s piercing look.

“You tell me,” Ed replied, taking a sip of his water. “What are you doing here, Lyra?”

Lyra sighed. “I came here to help, that much should be obvious, Ed,” she said.

“And what did Dante say about your decision?” Ed asked, still regarding her closely.

Lyra shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Ed raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh? I’m surprised. Aren’t you her student?”

“Not anymore,” Lyra replied with a huff. “After what happened at the mansion, she left without saying anything to me, so I took the next logical step: to put my alchemy into good use.”

“I see,” Ed said, downing the rest of the water with a gulp. “And what is your story with Scar? If you had wanted to help the Liorites, you should have fought him instead of helping him.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to stop him at first,” Lyra said. “But then I heard his story and I realised that he’s not the one on the wrong here.”

“I already know his story,” Ed said indignantly.

“No, you don’t,” Scar said at that moment. He was sitting on another chair at the other side of the room, looking at his locket thoughtfully. “Back when Ishbal was still a peaceful land, I had an older brother. An intelligent, respectable brother whom I was proud of. My brother had a beautiful lover, who died of a disease all too early and returned to the bosom of our God, Ishbala.”

“And?” Ed asked with a frown, facing Scar.

“And, in order to revive her, my brother defied the teachings of Ishbal and taught himself alchemy,” Scar answered. “Yet, even after paying for his lust, she didn’t come back.”

Ed nodded in understanding. “What he created wasn’t human.”

“Yes.” Scar sighed. “After that, my brother was banished, because alchemy was forbidden in Ishbal. I thought that would be that but now… I begin to wonder if my brother succeeded. That woman named Lust looks exactly like my brother’s lover.”

“Only in looks,” Ed said. “Lust is just a homunculus, a product of failed human transmutation and nothing more.”

Scar’s hand closed around the locket tightly. “I see. Then she’s truly gone.”

“That reminds me of something Dante told me,” Lyra said then, crossing her arms in thought. “She said that she once failed a human transmutation and created a homunculus instead.”

“Several, more likely,” Ed replied with a snort. “She created them so she could have under her control the perfect, unstoppable army. At least, until now.” The teen alchemist got up and walked up to Scar. “Give me the locket.”

Scar looked at Ed hard. Nevertheless, he decided to indulge him. “What do you want it for?”

“To verify something,” Ed replied. “Lust hates this locket for some reason. If what my teacher said is right…” At that, a sharp clicking sound filled the air as Ed opened the locket and he looked inside it. “Just as I thought. My teacher told me that the homunculi are weak against parts of their former bodies.” He picked up the contents carefully and showed them to Scar. “This must be a lock of hair from your brother’s lover.”

Scar locked his gaze on the lock of fine black hair as though he was mesmerized. He reached for it almost hesitantly and took it from Ed’s hands so that he could look at it the better.

“Yes… it is hers. She always said that she wanted a part of her close to his heart. That was why she gave him the locket,” he said softly.

“Well, what’s done is done. For whatever reason, humans always believe they can defeat death,” Lyra said with a small huff and turned to Scar. “You still haven’t finished your story.”

The Ishbalan didn’t reply. He simply took the locket from Ed’s hands so that he could place the lock of hair back inside the locket. Once he closed the locket and put it around his neck once more, he continued with his narrative.

“Some time after my brother left, we were invaded,” he said. “We retaliated in an attempt to defend our home, and then the long exhausting battle began. It was during that time that my brother returned too, claiming that he knew how to create the philosopher’s stone and thus save Ishbal.”

“And your people actually accepted him back?” Ed asked.

“We were at war and desperate. Most of us believed that we had no other option left,” Scar replied. “So, my brother came back home and locked himself in his room, working on his research. But, just when he came close to completing it, he abandoned it.” Scar looked at his left arm. “I couldn’t understand why at first. Now I know.”

Ed sighed and rested his back against the wall. “Yeah, Beregond told me about that. It would take a lot of lives to create the philosopher’s stone even through Ishbalan alchemy.”

“An entire city, to be exact. Because then all the souls that are absorbed from those deaths become one, thus forming the philosopher’s stone,” Scar answered. “Even so, the philosopher’s stone was necessary in order to save Ishbal from war.

“It was also why Ishbal ended up destroyed.”




“They’re coming! Run for your lives!” a woman shouted, holding a small child in her arms. The sound of explosion followed, and all the Ishbalans that were trying to flee dispersed hither and thither in terror and panic. Only one young man didn’t lose his heart just yet, and he was still holding his brother by his tattooed wrist and dragging him forward.

“Hurry! They mustn’t find you!” the young man said.

“Please… just leave me here…” the bespectacled man murmured.

“No!”

Another explosion filled the air, knocking the brothers off their feet. They tried to get up, but a tall, lean man stood tall at the top of the sand dunes, looking at the refugees contemptuously.

“I am Major Kimblee, the Crimson Alchemist,” he declared, a broad, maniacal grin tugged on his features. “I’m the one responsible for the annihilation of this area. So I hope your souls are prepared.”

“Please, stop!” an elderly man cried, walking up to the alchemist, keeping his hands outstretched in a gesture of mercy. “We’re being chased out of our own country. Isn’t that enough?”

“I’m just following orders,” the Crimson Alchemist replied coolly, “Even if it means killing every one of you bastards.”

The old man gasped and tried to run away, but it was too late; Kimblee grabbed his face with both hands. The man exploded in pieces, a sight that made the Crimson Alchemist let out a cry of triumph.

“You monster!” the young man cried, clenching both his hands into fists. He lunged in the hopes of hitting the Crimson Alchemist on the jaw, but, unfortunately, the young man wasn’t a trained soldier. Kimblee avoided the punch easily and grabbed the young Ishbalan by the forehead.

“I like your style, so here’s what I’ve thought for you: I’ll blow you up piece by piece,” Kimblee said, his tone light and eerily jovial. “First, let’s turn part of your skin into an explosive material, shall we?”

The words barely escaped his lips when the skin on the young Ishbalan’s forehead reddened and swelled until it went out with a loud, sickening pop. The Ishbalan cried out and reached for his forehead, the excruciating pain almost tearing him apart.

“Wait,” Kimblee said. “I’m not done.” Sure enough, he grabbed the Ishbalan’s arm with both hands and then let go. Blood spilt on the young man’s feet as the arm exploded in a mass of red, and the young Ishbalan fell on his knees, almost fainting. “And then…”

“STOP!”

Kimblee and the young Ishbalan looked up. The Ishbalan gasped, for his brother was back on his feet, revealing his upper torso and keeping his arms outstretched.

“Let him go,” the bespectacled man said, trying to keep his tone threatening.

Kimblee was hardly daunted though. He whistled to see the great amount of tattoos on the dark skin of the Ishbalan. “My, that body looks like a huge transmutation circle. What are the odds of finding an Ishbalan alchemist?”

“Stay away!” the tattooed Ishbalan warned.

“Or what?” Kimblee said. “I’m not that weak, you know. I have this.” With that, he took out of his pocket a small red stone and held it up so that he could use it. But the red stone suddenly lit up with a brilliant flash and the man cried out in pain. His tattoos turned red and, at the next moment, the stone flew out of Kimblee’s hand. The Ishbalan’s cries became louder as the stone dissolved on his chest, becoming one with the tattoos.

“What is this?!” Kimblee exclaimed, still looking at the scene in surprise. He didn’t have time to ponder on matters though. The sound of cannon-balls firing made him turn around, and he cursed loudly when he saw a human shaped tank approaching his direction. “Damn it… That Colonel Grand!”

The one-armed Ishbalan didn’t know what happened next. Overcome by exhaustion and blood-loss, he succumbed to the blackness of unconsciousness. When he woke up again, there was no sign of the Alchemist or of anyone else for that matter. Everything was quiet once more, and even the pain in his arm was gone. He raised his left arm to feel his scarred forehead.

It was then that he realised it. There was another arm in place of the one that he had lost. A tattooed arm. His brother’s arm.

“What… What is the meaning of this?” the young Ishbalan murmured in disbelief. He looked up, and saw another form lying on the ground a few feet away from him.

“Brother?” Worried, the Ishbalan stood up and hurried at the other form’s side. “Brother, please…” He turned his brother over on his back, hoping that it wouldn’t be too late.

He froze when he saw his brother’s left arm gone, replaced by a stump.

“No! What have you done?!” the young Ishbalan cried, shaking his brother.

“The people that were inside me… are inside you now… through that arm,” the bespectacled man answered softly.

“Why?!”

“So you would live.”

“And what about you?!” the young Ishbalan asked in exasperation. “I need you, Brother!”

“It’s too late for me…I’ve already done the unforgivable,” the dying man said. He smiled, keeping his eyes locked on his younger brother. “You loved her… didn’t you?”

The scarred Ishbalan flinched at those words, but his brother didn’t seem angry at all. Just sad.

“I’m sorry… but I’ll be seeing her… first.” And with those last words, the older Ishbalan passed away, a sigh flowing out of his lips. All that was left in the young scarred Ishbalan to do was cry his anguish to the heavens above.





Ed sighed and bowed his head. He hated to admit it, but he felt for Scar now, for the Ishbalan’s story reminded him of his own. Scar would do anything for his brother’s sake, even face danger against all odds. Except Scar’s brother was gone, never to return.

“I understand. I understand what your brother was trying to do, and why he gave you life,” the teen alchemist said quietly. However, his hands clenched into tight fists. “That’s no excuse for you to use Rose in order to complete your brother’s work.”

“He isn’t using her,” Lyra said at that moment, shaking her head.

Ed faced the richly dressed girl, looking at her sceptically. “Then what is he doing?”

“Scar isn’t planning on using the people of Liore,” Lyra answered. “When the fighting begins, the Liorites will take an underground pathway and evacuate the city. Then the soldiers that will be lured in will become the ingredients for the philosopher’s stone.”

Ed bit his lower lip to suppress a gasp as he understood what that meant. The colonel, Hawkeye, Havoc, the others, Beregond… everyone would be…

“There will still be victims!” he exclaimed. “No one deserves death!”

At those words, Rose stood up and shook her head in a defeated manner. Holding the baby in her arms, she walked into the other room without looking back. Ed watched her go, not understanding what her reaction meant.

“Rose…”

“Do you have any idea what the military did to this city? To her?” Scar said, his look piercing Ed through. “She was taken away and when she got back… she couldn’t speak. Nine months later, she gave birth to the boy in her arms.”

As realisation crept treacherously up his spine, Ed felt his eyes widening tenfold.

“You mean… Rose was…?” But his voice died in his throat, unable to finish the sentence.

“Do you still want us to forgive the military?” Scar asked, “Or do you want further proof?”

TBC…
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