Chapter ?: The Two Evils
Arthgallo picks the fallen weapons before planting them perpendicular to the ground. He did not speak a single word or shows any emotions as he continues.
Ashling, who is sitting at the other end, wonders what the purpose of Arthgallo's actions as she records down another chapter in her book with a quill pen.
The weapons serve no purpose without their masters. Arthgallo should focus on recovering his injuries and awaits the next batch of fools.
"My lord, why do you insist on doing this?"
"These men fought with courage even in the face of death, sacrificing in the belief that their deaths will bring a brighter future for those remain in this world. This is my way of honouring them."
"Even they are your enemies?"
There is a moment of silence between the two.
"Even they are my enemies."
Arthgallo plant the final weapon on the ground before walking back to his throne.
Behind him, a sea of makeshift graves that shimmers under the sun as it shines down into the ruins. A beautiful sight with a grim reminder to those that unfortunate enough to see them.
"You are getting soft, my lord." Ashling shuts the book after penning down. "We are the manifestation of the WILL. Our duties are to-"
"I know. I do what I must."
"Do you? Why didn't you kill those that ran away in the previous fight?" Ashling points to the sole entrance of the ruins.
"They pose no threat to me, there isn't a need to kill them."
"You do not kill a weed by trimming its leaves, you must pull them out by the roots. They will simply return, with a bigger army. You will be force to take more lives in compare to those that you had spared."
Arthgallo closes his eyes for a moment, considering Ashling's words.
"My lord, I'm sorry if I spoke outside my boundaries. If you allow your heart to cloud the judgement over and over, you will not be able to complete your given task."
"I understand, there is no need to apologise. Logics and morals aren't balanced out equally in every decision we make."
Their conversations cut short as they hear footsteps echoing towards them.
Arthgallo reach for his weapon and Ashling walks back before melting away into the shadows.
Arthgallo weapon can be describe as similar looking to the fallen hero's Crescent Rose.
Huntsmen and Huntresses, gathering ten times bigger than the one Arthgallo slaughtered previously. Both races preparing to fight side by side to the end.
"Why do you insist on throwing your life away?" Arthgallo questions them. He knew the answers but hoping that they will give him a new respond.
"For a different future." One of them shout out. "If we do not change the past, we will all die!"
"There is no difference even if you have changed the past." Arthgallo replies back "only variations but the ending will remain the same."
"Even so, we will take that chance. we have to. The alternative is to die to th-that Grimm monster. If all the past heroes survive, we will be able to-"
"No, that will not be possible." Arthgallo did not hesitate or consider for a moment from their reasoning. "Like I said, only variations of the past you will change, the course of the future will remain the same. There is no escaping from it."
! BANG !
A DUST bullet flies past Arthgallo cheek, striking at the throne behind him.
"Why are we talking to a villain!" a kid, no taller than Arthgallo's waist, takes aim with the gun. "He is the one who cut down our family members and friends without emotion. We just have to kill him and get to the portal!"
Other younger huntsmen and huntresses shares the kid emotion and raised their weapons and guns at Arthgallo. Whatever peace talk or persuasion the older huntsmen and huntresses came out with on their journey here, just went up in smoke by the young ones actions.
"A villain…perhaps I have lived long enough to be called one." Arthgallo laughs bitterly at the comment as he tightens the grip on his weapon. "There are no heroes in this story. We all are villains."
Dust bullets begin to fill the area as the huntsmen and huntresses unloads their weapons on Arthgallo's direction.
His throne is the first casualty in the gun fight.
Arthgallo dash towards the army in an inhuman speed as the bullets fly harmlessly pass him, cutting down the least battle experience huntsmen and huntresses in one swing of his weapon.
The fallen huntsmen and huntresses' bodies soon turn to dust.
Their blood coats Arthgallo's outfit and his weapon, making his appearance like the demonic beast from stories past down by their ancestors.
A look worse than the Grimm that they are trying to escape from.