Chapter 10

….

Flames.

All around him, flames.

The flicker of red, the yellow sparks, they all carved themselves into his mind.

It hurt. Even in this state of numbness, he could tell it hurt. His breath was short and painful, and his right arm went up to grasp his chest, his body breaking down. His left arm was twisted and torn in various places.

–What was I doing…?

That's right. He recalled that moment. The flash of blood, the touch of cold steel, the feeling of death lingering around him.

He dropped to his knees, sweat pouring out of his skin. His body was burnt and wounded in many places, and countless splinters and scars decorated his already dying body.

–Where…is this?

He looked around. Farther than his eye could see, flames burnt wildly through the air. Scattered among those flames, were debris of white metal, their paint burnt off by the intense heat and the damage they took.

–Why was I…?

Finally, he noticed it.

A dead body, one that belonged to a young girl. His hazy eyes could not make out her figure, but he knew who she was. From the clothing she wore, from the hint of red hair, to the one massive wound on her heart.

That's…right.

She was-

Ventus silently shook his head from the thought. Perhaps his previous one-sided talk with a very depressed Blanc had brought up some emotion in him, and spurred a reaction. He scolded himself for that.

He could've been killed in his moment of thought.

Looking out the window he's been sitting beside to, he saw the slightly bright snowy sky, the sunlight obstructed by the passing snowy clouds. He could however tell that it was around an hour or two past noon.

Currently, he was sitting inside one of the few halls in the Basilicom, organising his current thoughts on his lonesome. Linda and Kei were in the lobby, doing their own tasks and all.

They were probably worried for Blanc and were trying to cheer her up, saying things like how he 'doesn't understand her heart' and 'can't empathize with her', which he accepted without any complaint. They were true after all.

But judging by the fact that it's past lunch now, and Blanc hasn't shown a single sign of moving, their plans of trying to cheer her up seems to have been met with little success. His words might have created a deep chasm for her to try and fill.

However, he felt like it was the right thing to do. If that girl could not find her own convictions in the time of despair, then she was not cut out of being a ruler, or even a goddess.

Her true age may be unknown to him, but her heart was still young.

Then, suddenly-

"!?"

He felt it, a chill ran up his spine. Another huge sign of Negative Energy was heading this way. But, unlike Trick, it was refined and controlled, and hid itself well against the energies in the air. Without a great perception, no one would be able to sense it coming.

He jolted up from his seat, sending the chair tumbling down onto the floor as he ran. In 15 seconds or so, that being will land at…exactly the same place he first saw Trick.

Was it trying to investigate Trick's disappearance? Was it Trick's comrade then? Whatever the answers may be, danger was quickly making its way her, and it's his duty to keep the himself and his comrades alive.

Bolting through several sets of doors, he finally made it out to the broken room, where-

*BOOM!*

A loud explosion sounded, sending a cloud of dust and snow into the air. He managed to shield his eyes in time, but the extreme force sent him crashing into the wall.

The snow and dust settled, and out from it came-

"Holy shit…"

It was a hulking being. It towered over him, much like how Trick did when they first met. But unlike that disgusting bastard, he towered over him, not just in size, but in power and presence as well.

"…You're the one who took out Trick, I presume?"

"K-Kah. Damn right. And what? Looking to avenge your fallen comrade?"

With a body that resembled that of a certain mech, with a pair of jet wings on his back, and with a massive flaming sword held in his right hand,

CFW Brave, has arrived.

"I would be destroyed, wouldn't I? But, no, I've come here to negotiate with you."

"Oho? Let me hear it, would you?"

While his voice was dripping with sarcasm, he was also half-intrigued by what this being came to offer him. He seems like someone who'd suck at trying to role-play, so he was interested in how this was going to play out.

And besides, there was something else he wanted to know as well.

"What is your objective? To what purpose do you oppose us?"

Ah. I see. In that moment, he realised something, and his mouth went open. 'Oppose them'? Was that what they saw it as? Well, it's not wrong, but it was far from the truth. He let out a sigh and shook his head.

"Oppose you? Why would I do something like that? I'm just there to kill some bastard with a weird fetish. 'Sides, if I really did oppose you,"

–One of us would've been dead already.

He didn't finish the sentence, but the sudden stop made the saying more dramatic. And while that mech face didn't hold much emotion upfront, he would like to instil some fear into that towering robot.

Brave fell into a short moment of silence, before Ventus continued.

"Also, you're just trying to revive Arfoire, right? I don't have anything against that."

"!? You don't?"

"Nope. It'll help my own goals anyway. Although…I am curious, with what method will you use to bring back ma-, Arfoire? And for what?"

Brave saw the genuine truth in his words.

As a being of noble dignity and a humble pride, he knew no lies would get through him, and in return, no lies would come out of him as well. This man, Ventus, who was standing before him with a small grin was telling the truth. He just knew.

He truly did bear no hatred or malice towards him, and there was no sense of hidden hostility and danger present in the man. He relaxed, thinking that telling him some information about it would do no harm.

"By harvesting Negative Energy from the CPUs, we could perform a ritual to bring her back. We currently hold 3 captive, and one is-"

Saved by him. That single action threw a cog-, no, an entire wrench into the machine, and now they were trying their best to fix it. Was Brave trying to ask him to hand her over?

Well, no matter. Whatever he said, he wouldn't hand over someone he'd went up and saved from danger. Just like how she felt a connection to him, he too felt that something was connecting them.

Unlike her however, he knew what it was. But he'll save explaining that for a rainy day.

But-

"It won't work. Even if I give Blanc over, and you do this ritual thing with all 4 of them, Arfoire wouldn't be revived, or at least, her true form wouldn't be brought back. Your plan has a major flaw."

"…And what may that be?"

"Do you have someone as a catalyst, someone who holds memories about who she truly was? If you summoned her now, you would only bring back a culmination of your will, taking shape of an Arfoire twisted by your image of her. You won't be reviving her, just making someone else inhabit her body. That's not Arfoire."

Brave was confused. 'Catalyst'? 'True form'? What did he mean by that? And why did he know so much about that?

"Let me ask this, who do you think Arfoire is? Your description, I mean. Obviously, you know who Arfoire is."

"…She is…Death. And she will bring salvation to the race of men."

For some reason, Ventus sneezed when he heard that, along with a shiver running down his back. Perhaps the surrounding cold was getting to him a bit.

"Your answer's wrong. Sorry 'bout that."

He sighed and raised waved his right hand in disappointment. He had hoped that someone would finally get it right, but damn, it seems like the history of Arfoire really has been convoluted by the countless stories about her.

But Brave could not understand. All his life, he's searched for countless ways to enact this judgement, and his life-long work has led him to Arfoire, the woman who brought death upon many humans in her time.

He lived his life ostracised by human society. That much was obvious, looking and fighting like a monster despite his kind nature.

He and Magic were CFW, which were culminations of Negative Energy that had gathered into a sacred divine space and manifested into a physical form.

But that brought them drawbacks.

Just as they received powers from Negative Energy, in the same manner as Ventus does, their minds are constantly flooded by all the misdeeds of humanity, all the chaos and disregard and hatred they carry in their hearts.

At some point, Magic couldn't take it anymore, and he understood.

He needed to find a way to stop this. Death was no an option, as they would be revived again after some time. Stopping evil wasn't a choice either, as humans will always carry hatred and darkness inside their hearts.

Years began to pass by, and Magic continued to get worse. She might hide it under that façade of hers, but he knew. He knew she was suffering.

And that thought haunted him every passing day and night.

But then, his mind stopped.

He came here exactly because he was worried about the person who ceased the existence of Trick. If he simply wanted to end all this suffering…couldn't he just ask him to end his existence?

He couldn't continue that thought however,

"Y-You…ha…?"

Ventus turned around to see Blanc, wearing a fluffy light brown jacket over her white dress, looking with utter fear upon the monstrous being of Negative Energy standing before her and Ventus.

Retreating from his earlier thoughts, he managed to decide against it and turn around, the wings behind him shining with flames as he began to lift off the snowy ground.

"I suppose we'll meet again."

"Sure do. Don't die yet, okay?"

That man was…interesting. With that fleeting thought, the flames burst violently and he launched into the clouds, leaving behind the two to stare up at the falling snow.

Now, onto the squeaking chick sitting behind him.

"A-A…a…"

"Are you okay?"

There was no response. All she could do was sit there, tears building up in her eyes. From the looks of it, she was…traumatized. Perhaps by her kidnapping?

He wasn't quite sure, but if there's one thing he's sure about, it's that she'd be getting a cold sooner or later if she just sits there all scared. Carrying her still scared self, he brought her back to her own room and silently sneaked out of the Basilicom.

He wanted to go somewhere to clear his head.

A church.

Silent, pristine. Peaceful, impactful.

At the west side of the city, a large church stood, withstanding the snowy winds outside, keeping the inside warm for those in need of protection.

Inside, only a single priest could be seen. He was kneeling upon the altar, his hands clasped together in prayer as he voiced his words to the gods he prayed for.

The church was decorated with a simple stone altar for the priest to preach and pray, and rows of wooden benches for the people to sit and hear his words.

Today was not the day for prayer however, as many were in dismay over the recent rumour that their CPU had been captured. While it was nothing but a rumour, reality was conceived by what we believe, not by truth. And this has struck fear into the hearts of the people.

"You pray to your god, not knowing whether your faith will go answered?"

Then, a voice asked him that. He slowly opened his eyes and lifted himself, turning around to see a man with red hair sitting casually on one of the wooden benches, his left leg crossed over his right one.

"That is faith." He answered kindly, recognising that this man was neither putting down his faith or belittling him. He was simply asking a genuine question, one he genuinely wanted an answer for.

The man shifted in his seat, seeming somewhat annoyed at him.

"And what if your god doesn't exist? What if your faith is misplaced?"

"…That is the choice of the lamb. If they choose to believe or not, whether their god is real or not, that simply comes down to their choices. If they believe that their faith is kept, then they carefully choose their ways. If they do not, their actions are spurred from the tiniest of emotion."

The annoyance he had melted, and he simply stayed silent, the questions he had already answered. He simply cracked a light grin and opened his eyes, those orange orbs of his stared directly at the priest, observing him.

The priest did not speak, only simply moving to him and taking a seat next to him. He relaxed his back upon the wood and sighed.

"So, what brings you here, my lord?"

"…So you knew. 'Guess that makes it easier than."

Ventus got his usual grin back as he looked at the man, his eyes much softer now.

"Any priest who steps into this place knows of you, lord Ventus. It has been a while, hasn't it?"

"…Sure has."

The two men exchanged an understanding silence, the whistles of the falling snow seemed to dampen as they sat. The cold snowy air became just the slight warmer.

To be honest, Ventus had no idea why he was here. There was no reason for him to go here, and he certainly didn't have anything he wanted to do with the church of this priest. But…

Perhaps he just wanted to have a chat with someone, someone who truly knew of him. Not personally of course, but he knew enough from the teachings he had, and that in itself was pretty cool.

"What has made you return, my lord?"

"…My sister."

The priest spoke no more. He knew of his legend and story, and what had happened to him and his sister. It was not pretty, something that Ventus never wanted to experience ever again.

What had happened to his sister and how he came back, those questions were something he had to save for a later date. For now, he simply wanted to enjoy his time with this legend of a man.

He was, after all, an important figure for Lowee.

In the end, since the sun was starting to set, the priest had to close the church for the day. They did however go on to eat some curry at a nearby restaurant, chatting about the priest's daily life and Ventus recent battles, before the two went off on their own ways.

Their meeting was a short one, but memorable.

"Aah…Time to work, I suppose. Let's try and get home this night, and without blood all over again. That seems to happen every time though…"

But, now was the time to put those factories back in that distance village to use. Sooner or later, that thing's going to overload with Negative Energy and everything's going to go downhill from that. He might as well make use of it instead of it all going to waste.

His allies might not enjoy this however.

Skipping ahead several hours, he was now standing inside that ever so ruined church he battled Trick in. The aches of Trick's defeat lay nowhere in sight, every single speck of existence he once had was destroyed by his [Helheim].

Making his way down the staircase, he descended into the darkness, his eyes catching sight of the horrors Trick committed on these people. Their lifeless bodies tied to the walls, ceiling, and floor with no regard of their humility.

And standing in the centre of it all, tied around with black cables was a young cat-girl.

The sister of that assassin cat-girl he murdered.

Unfazed by the stinking smell, he placed his right hand on the wall and used his newly acquired magic, creating several black cables to connect into the other cables in the area, fusing them all and attaining dominance over them.

It was time to get to work.

He dragged out the produced Negative Energy from them all, sucking out all the energy from them and turning them back to normal, lifeless corpses. The only exception remaining was the young cat-girl, the main production line between them all.

The energy flowed through the cables and into him, overloading his senses as his nerves did its best to adapt to the sudden surge of energy. Countless emotions and memories flowed into his mind, and he closed his eyes and accepted them all.

It was the least he could do.

A minute went by, and he lifted his hand from the wall, before slumping and crashing against the wall. His breaths were short and hot, his chest raised and sunk as he feared his heart bursting through his chest.

He sapped all of the normal corpses of their Energy, and he was left in this state, tired, exhausted, weakened.

If he was to suck out the main factory…God bless his soul.

However, he had a small grin on himself, feeling that, despite the fact that he could spot his body dotted with many signs of cellular overdrive, purple cracks running across his skin, he could, at least, proudly say that his strength had taken quite a leap. His mana reserves especially.

Let's say…[Hades' Wrath]. It's a move she could pull off about 4 times before his battery runs dry. A 25% energy consumption.

Now however, it's dropped to only being 15%, which meant that he could pull off 6 attacks with 10% remaining. Still not an ideal number for him, considering the demon he's going up to help his comrades, but it's good enough.

Now then…

His eyes trailed towards the lifeless cat-girl standing in the centre, her eyes staring blankly at the floor, her skin as pale as marble. For once, he had a visible frown on his face, which was caused by genuine pity, even if he didn't admit it.

He wobbled down the steps and stopped before her, slowly bringing his hand to pet the girl's head, his frown growing deeper knowing that he'd get no response.

Slowly, he reached for his waist,

And slit her throat.