The Doll Maker

by Arrixam

Slowly slipping into madness like his father, spending days and nights endlessly crafting his armies, facing forces not meant to be seen by mortal men, he was called upon by one most desperate of his abilities. Now in a new world, will this be for the better for Tristain? Or will it implode on itself? Contains OC Archmage/Sorcerer

7. Arc Conclusion

A note from the author!

...I actually can't remember what I was going to say or to what reviews I was going to reply to. I'm terribly sorry. I'm a horrible person, I know.

Been a while hasn't it? Been meaning to finish this chapter for quite some time. Been, what, a good half a year since this thing's been updated? I apologize again for that. Honestly, I didn't think this would be so popular. I'm still having my doubts about it. But, after looking at how many faves I have... wow.

So, thank you very much for reading the Doll Maker! You've no idea how many tears I've shed from your generosity! I'll try to have chapters more frequent... but you all know how I am on my update status...

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"There is nothing more Evil out there than Humanity itself. They are the worst. Vile and selfish creatures who would abandon any sense of decency or morality if it meant they could gain the upper edge. Some even will to perform Evil simply for the sake of doing it. I have seen True Evil before, and it cost your father his sanity. You think his Sorcery brought him this deep? Think again.

"Having that said... No matter how deep and dark Evil is with Humanity, there is a light just as radiant out there. And Humanity is more benevolent than any other creature in existence."

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Chapter 6

I am a [False] Hero
Finale

It was dark.

It was the only thing my mind recognized but I couldn't tell whether it had been from conscious senses or if I was drifting along in a dreamless sleep. I could not move. I could not breathe. There was a heavy layer of pressure surrounding me, crushing me, making the darkness spin as if I could make sense of anything to begin with.

My heart was giving a steady beat as I felt my blood pulse through my fingertips. Everything I was feeling was taking place in the physical world, I realized. I had no idea where I was or what I was doing here. I only knew I was running out of air and was seconds away from suffocating.

There was a sense of déjà vu at the idea of asphyxiation. It meant, more than likely, I've gone through this cycle more than enough times for my soul to grow familiar with it.

So then, how many times have I died by now? And how many more times must I to learn from my mistakes?

Craven magic spread through my body, amplifying my strength at my command. It did little. Wherever I was, I was bound at every inch. My Spirit was dry with only a small ember of the sunlight magic within me to keep myself alive… just enough to regenerate any damage as I was dying from a prolonged asphyxiation. My lungs were burning and needles were prickling within my skull. My body was twitching, trying to fight as I was beginning to panic. I was drowning in this darkness and all my survival instincts were making me fight with everything I had.

But no amount of squirming would set me free, I knew this. It didn't work the countless times before. Survival instincts would be the first thing I would try. Seeing that I was within this darkness I'm pretty sure they didn't work. Alas, the Sorcery that is Reverse does not allow me to learn from my mistakes when used like this.

I needed to try something I wouldn't do first. And quickly. I had seconds before my Spirit would die out. Who knows how long it will take for enough to gather for Reverse to activate once again? I could have been in here for centuries.

Options ran through my head. Hundreds of them. I only had the ability to choose one. In desperation, I grasped onto one of them I had no idea would work or doom me.

'Spirits, free me.'

The darkness around me began to stir as I asked nature for something so vague. There was no visual in my mind as to how the spirits were to save me. I had no clue where I was or how I was bound. It didn't matter in the end. Quickly, the pressure around me was removed as a crack of light seeped through what I could assume to be up.

In a frenzy, with my body still reinforced with Craven magic, I dove for that light.

My hand burst through the surface and clawed at the ground. My second hand tore a new passage as it gripped a handful of thick grass. I pulled myself free, tearing the chains and rags that bound my body in a tight casing. Several wrappings covered my face, keeping me from getting a healthy dose of fresh air; it meant nothing as I tore it apart, taking chunks of my flesh in my haste.

The air was cold, crisp, and it burned my lungs as I drank it in like water. And the light that leaked through the trees above was absorbed by my skin. Both hurt tremendously, making the world spin around me as darkness etched my vision. But I continued to take in both the air and sunlight. I welcomed it, because this feeling was a reminder I was alive.

I had been buried; presumably, I was believed to be dead by those who took care of my body. The last thing I remember… the vampires. They self-destructed and brought me down with them.

Now the question… how long have I been buried? During the battle, had I an ounce of Spirit remaining the Sorcery Reverse would have activated and brought me back to the condition I was before receiving the mortal wound. But since I was depleted from creating a sunlight sphere, I hadn't any Spirit to spare for myself. Therefore, Reverse wouldn't activate until a certain amount of Spirit could be gained within my body.

Being buried six feet under will greatly hamper that. I can only assume my body absorbed what sunlight it could that had been taken from the grass and trees and sank through the ground. It would be a painfully slow process. And once Reverse would activate and bring me back, I would be completely drained of Spirit once more. Should I fail to survive— or unearth myself in this case— then Reverse would wait to bring me back once my body could attain enough Spirit once more.

I could have been buried weeks, months, to even years. The flaw with Reverse is its absolute deviancy to reverse every trace of experience. Meaning, all experience gained after the point Reverse leaves the target at (in this case, me) is considered to have never existed in the first place.

In short, I don't know how many times I've died over and over from asphyxiation. Or, and this is me just fantasizing, I could have gotten lucky and broken free on my first try.

When I found my strength again, I climbed out of the hole. There was a tombstone with the Halkegenian writings that I've yet to bother to learn how to read. So which means these backwater people didn't bury me as a Commoner… but they didn't bury me as a Noble either. Whatever.

With the rags I had torn, I used them to wrap my naked body. My clothes were probably destroyed in the blast…

Son of a bitch. My pen was in my pocket. I better be centuries in the future. I really don't want to learn to write using a quill and ink.

*Scene*

It took me half an hour for me to climb out of the forest and spot the main gates of the Academy of Magic in the distance. My body absorbed as much sunlight as it could, formatted it into Spirit, and wove preprogrammed healing spells to grant me rejuvenation. Muscles were mended, blood was regenerated, tissue was knitted, bones snapped back together, and my skin returned to its flawless state.

…But I bet you I still have those annoying freckles on my nose.

There were signs of a battle that had recently taken place. A pretty big one. My eyes could pick up faint traces of elemental and planetary energies splattered on the architecture and still lingering in the air. Also, the defensive wards set around the academy were missing— but there was a wireframe pattern set up, telling me they were in the first stages of rebuilding it from scratch. There were also squadrons of knights in steel and leather plating accompanied by magicians in either robes or tailored suits. Some were of a mixture— knights who were also mages and combined their armor with ceremonial outfits coats, capes, and/or hats.

I weaved a spell to redirect any attention away from me should any of them look my way for any reason. Still, even if the magicians of this planet mainly used spells aligned to their affinity I couldn't take any chances and moved out of their perspective. I crouched low and made my way to the far off wall to observe them around the corner.

From what I could tell, they were in the middle of an investigation. Another weave and some Craven magic to amplify my hearing and to zone in on their direction, I could hear the exchanging of details between the various groups. There were three points of infiltration the culprits took advantage of: the main entrance, over the western wall, and through the underground tunnels. The damages the academy took were nearly critical enough to have it closed down until repairs could be made… in about half a year even with Tristain's finest Earth mages working together.

The things they were discussing… surely it couldn't possibly mean…

I looked over the wall, looked left and right to make sure no one was around, and took a few steps back in preparation. Looking at how high the wall was… I took a few more steps back just in case. Craven magic surged through my legs and I activated one Gear to be on the safe side. Last, I wove a spell to alter my sense of direction as well as making my feet stick to any surface.

Grass and dirt stuck to my soles as I kicked off the ground straight for the stone wall. One foot landed firmly on the wall's side and I used it to propel me upwards. Just because I had a spell to have my feet stick to the surface did not mean I could run parallel with it as I would with ground. It was more like climbing a steep hill as I had to lift my knees close to my chest with every step. My spell to shift my sense of balance kept me from losing my focus and falling off.

Seriously, all this just to climb a freaking wall. When last I did this, during the vampire attack, I could do it in just three leaps. But then again, I had three of my Gears active with some adrenaline pumping from all the fighting.

I didn't get the chance to examine anything further. As soon as I reached the top and climbed over to the walkway, I felt the strings that made up the academy's protections flick in activation.

"…Dammit all," I couldn't help but curse. And here I thought I was being careful. The idea of using some stealth magic didn't go any further than diverting unwanted attention. Unfortunately, not even that active spell could prevent anyone from noticing my arrival.

A ringing of bells went off immediately after.

One mage knight, who had been talking with two others in the courtyard down below, had looked towards my direction as soon as the alarms went off. It took him less than an instant for him to focus on me. It took him just as little of time for him to draw his sword-wand from his hip and thrust it in my direction. Never mind the distance was well over a good hundred feet.

Yeah, I didn't need my magic vision to see a spell coming directly towards me.

I kicked off the ground again to dive to the right. Instinctively, Craven magic reinforced my skin to become as durable as steel. It was a good thing the girls had beaten this into me from all their… catfights. No, not training, unfortunately, catfights. The concussive force whatever spell the knight threw at me sent rock splattering everywhere. The shrapnel should have been able to carve into my flesh had I not enhanced my own defenses.

I didn't blame the guy for shooting at me, I thought this as I continued to run down the walkway, dodging any and all blasts he and his fellow cohorts sent at me. The alarm goes off, they spot a guy on the wall dressed in rags and covered in dirt. This all happens after some sort of climactic battle? Yeah, I'd probably shoot first and ask questions after.

"Don't move!" an order shouted from my right.

Flying slightly above the wall, keeping up with me easily, was a knight in leather bindings, a sword-wand pointed at me, and, oh get this, mounting a red dragon about the size of a horse.

Instead of complying, I leapt over the edge of the wall and entered the academy's grounds. The Gift of Craft lit up on the back of my hands as I rushed an inertia dampening spell to soften my landing. But given how high I was and what little time I had, the prospect of only one Gear active only provided so much. My so-called landing had me slamming my face into the dirt, but I had survived.

…Only to find some swordsmen and spearmen pointing their arms at me as they surrounded me.

"He hasn't a wand!" one of them declared.

"How the bloomin' blazes did he survive that fall?" another asked.

"…Wandless magic. He's a filthy Firstborn!" another declared and jabbed his spear a little closer to my ribs.

I stood slowly as to not aggravate these men any further than they already were. A few of them didn't take my gesture too lightly and tried to force me back down with their spear tips. But none of their blades could pierce through me. One of them even had the gall to swing his sword around to whack me with the flat of the blade.

That I wouldn't allow and caught his weapon with my bare hands. Even if it would make them more hostile, I wasn't going to be shoved around by them like this. The man's eyes widened and tried to pry his weapon free, to which I eventually let go of right when he tried pulling his hardest. It would have been comical watching him fall on his rear had I not been in this position.

I was surrounded by soldiers of all kinds. Knights, mage-knights, magicians, at least three dragon-riding mage-knights, and a small number of gunwomen surrounded me. The more… mundane individuals I could take care of as I was right now. But I would have some difficulty taking care of the numerous magic users unless I resorted to my more heavy resources. If I were to do that, the poor academy would see more damage than it had already gone through.

So, to get out of this mess, I had to do something a bit more… sensitive.

"I am Artemis James Philips of Ilyvander. I am a traveling magician from beyond the Rub'al Khali on temporary employment here in the Academy of Magic. I wish to speak with whosoever is in charge at the moment."

…Never mind I'm asking for a parlay after I had been caught breaking and entering. But I had thought I could sneak in and make my way to the headmaster's office (assuming Osmond was still alive) without being seen. But, of course, none of my plans ever succeed as something (usually myself) screws me over.

"…Someone by that name was buried in the forest," someone in the crowd openly stated. "This man is a liar."

Crap. Alright. Plan B.

"Yeah, thanks for burying me alive," I retorted with heavy sarcasm. "Even with magic do you have any idea how hard it was getting out of there? Let alone surviving this long without a source of air?"

Because I still didn't know how long I was buried, I left my statement a little vague. Hopefully someone will reveal some information for me to grasp at and then go from there.

"…That man was buried in pieces due to the explosion," replied the same voice.

"You were… mistaken," was all I could come up with as a reply. My mind couldn't think of anything else to say to persuade them. Nor do I believe my tone was convincing at all, given the way I paused halfway through the statement.

They weren't convinced. Some made statements about me being a heretical creature and were pressing their weapons closer to my skin. The mage-knight with an actual crest on his shoulder cape made a demand for me to place my arms behind my head and to kneel down.

I withheld a sigh. Looks like I'm going back to Plan A: fighting my way through.

"Wait! Hold your fire!" came a grizzly voice as a robust figure paved his way through the crowd. A few knights saw his attempt and stopped him from progressing any further. "I can vouch for him! He's a servant in this academy!"

Ah Marteau, after this I will learn to properly pronounce your name and stop addressing you as Martin.

The officer in charge of the group gestured for the chef to step forward. "You, is this true? Do you so swear on the Founder's name this young… man is under the services of this academia?"

…I noticed he stopped midway to examine me as if he had to confirm what he thought I was.

Marteau gave a firm nod, "That I do. Ki— Philips here's been workin' for a short time. But he has a contract signed by Ol' Osmond himself."

The officer then turned towards me. "If you are a staff member then why did you use your heretical craft to trespass the premises?"

…I might have been a little too mean on Louise, after all. She kept calling me a heretic, a barbarian, a blasphemer, and such others but now I can't fully blame her. I blame the civilization she lives in. These people so strongly believe their magic system is the right, true, and only way with all others being damnations.

"I wanted to avoid this," I gestured to the crowd still surrounding me and the weapons poking uncomfortably at my skin. "Look at me. I'm a wreck. Would you have allowed someone like me through the gates and not think he's some crazy homeless?"

The man made no indication whether he accepted my explanation. Instead, he addressed something else, "Be that as it may, you are charged with trespassing on government property. We will be detaining you under watch until we can confirm this story. Men, take him to the utility shed over yonder until I return. The rest of you, return to your duties!"

His eyes looked at me with disgust, as if I was something less than human. This officer saw me as something that didn't belong. Even with the crises currently going on, he was going to go out of his way to watch me closely. With a click of his heels, he turned away and paced towards the main building.

The crowds dispersed and some men pushed Marteau aside to keep him away from my reach. Three men escorted me to the tool shed by the servant's quarters… and I say 'escorted' very loosely. Two grabbed my arms and tried dragging me with the third jabbing at my back every few steps. I was greatly tempted to break every bone in their bodies.

I won't even mention how they shoved me into the shed, nearly knocking me to the floor, before slamming the door shut and leaving me in the dark.

There were a few rays of sunlight that seeped through the cracks of the wood. I moved to the side that had the most amount of them and leaned against the wall. No matter how little, the more rays of light I could absorb the better I could replenish my supply of Spirit. I might have to fight my way out of this if they decided to burn me a witch.

But for now, I could only wait until nightfall. Then I'll be able to find Osmond and ask him what happened since I died.

And then learn what happened to all the girls the vampires kidnapped.

*Scene*

As it turns out, I didn't have to wait very long. After an hour or so of standing idly and thinking of my options on how to infiltrate the academy, I heard a few familiar voices on the other side of the structure. One I could recognize immediately as Old Osmond. I didn't think the man would come down himself to see me. I'd have thought he would have sent one of the teachers or a soldier to either escort me to his office or send me a message.

A moment later, the door opened and the aged magician stepped inside. His eyes widened in bafflement at the sight of me.

"Osmond," I greeted neutrally. I neither liked nor hated Osmond. I can't say I even respected him. He was a manipulative old man, but one who cared for those under his watch. At the same time, I've seen him use people like objects, myself included. He reminded me too much like Lolifor.

"Master Philips," he said more as an observation than a greeting, as if he needed a moment to convince himself I was here. "You should be dead. How?"

Ah, he did need a moment to convince himself.

Someone leapt through the doorframe as soon as Osmond asked his question. The guards positioned to keep watch on me tried to pull her back, but Osmond gestured for them to stand down.

Kirche looked at me with wide eyes. Scared, disbelieving wide eyes. Those eyes hardened, her brows knitting in further skepticism, and fists curling right below her still impressive bust.

Following right behind her was Guiche, Tabitha, and Professor Colbert. They all had their own surprised reactions at the sight of me.

I did my best to ignore them and reply to Osmond, "Magic. One only I can perform… as far as I know anyways. But that's not important right now. I need you to tell me— gwah!"

I saw Kirche slowly approaching me. I thought nothing of it. I didn't even think she was going to hit me where it hurts the most. You know, the most sensitive of places all men have. I doubt even fully reinforced with Craven magic could I take the full brunt of her attack.

I was on my knees seeing stars. The nausea was closing in right after.

"Madame Zerbst!" Osmond struck the tip of his cane on the ground to get her attention. "We do not know the extent of his injuries! Whatever you have against Master Philips can wait until we know further of his condition."

Kirche didn't say anything. She had her hands covering her face with her fingers massaging her temples. She let out a small sniff, indicating she was on the verge of crying.

"I'm sorry, headmaster," her charming personality was back before anyone could question her. She had her alluring smile back up. "I'm afraid something like that couldn't wait."

Thank God for my healing properties. I was back on my feet… and made sure to keep a good amount of space away from Kirche just in case. "Miss Zerbst, it's good to see you too."

She gave me a dangerous smile as if to say any and all punishment she was to inflict on me was soon to come.

Women.

"As I was saying," I grounded out and turned back to Osmond. "I need to know what happened while I was… indisposed. But before that, I have one question. How long have I been gone?"

"Three days," Tabitha replied in her usual dry tone.

I blinked. I looked away as I punched the numbers in my head. I was at the bottom of the barrel in Spirit reserves when I was fighting those vampires. Solstice couldn't refill me like it normally could since that head vampire used some anti-magic to delete what Spirit both my sword and sheath contained. That guy even deactivated my Gears… and those aren't magical at all!

Getting back to the point, my supply of Spirit was empty. Therefore I couldn't activate Reverse immediately after I had died in the vampires' self-destruction technique. Therefore I had to wait for my Spirit to recharge. Since these people buried me underground, the process was slowed to a crawl as my remains (apparently in several pieces according to that one obnoxious guardsman) were six feet under without a source of light.

"Three days…?" I simply couldn't believe it. "That… I succeeded in breaking free on my first attempt? No, asphyxiation felt familiar to me… then I must have done it on my second? Ha ha, wow! And here I was more than prepared to have been dead for centuries. I don't suppose you people have invented a more convenient writing utensil as opposed to quill and ink within these past few days… have you?"

Because I really, really, really hope I don't have to resort to using a quill and ink. I already miss my ballpoint pen.

"Are you really King Philips?" asked Guiche in the background.

My eyes narrowed as I gave him my greatest death-glare to date. "…Shut up, Guiche."

Osmond coughed into his hand as to regain my attention. "I won't ask any further on how you are back among us, Master Philips. There are things I wish to discuss with you in private, but I cannot do so at the moment. The Royal Guard is keeping you here under arrest and are making plans to transport you into a more secure prison. They are branding you as a heretic for your wandless magic. Unless you can provide legal documentation as your status of a King, or even common citizenship of your Ilyvander, you will be publically executed within the next few days. But even if you provide such measures, they will still have you held prisoner as an illegal immigrant. I can foresee them getting the Church involved to brand you as a heretic regardless. I am afraid the law is against you in every way."

I waved it off, "I don't care. That I can deal with on my own. I had already planned on things to go against me, just not this soon. It makes no difference in the end, I guess. What I need to know is what happened to the girls that were taken by the vampires. Do you know if a rescue team has been made to retrieve them?"

Professor Colbert was the one to answer, "The situation is being kept quiet. No one can enter or leave the academy. With the Princess being one of the victims of the kidnappings, the Royal Guard is deploying their most elite and loyal of knights for a rescue operation. I doubt even the Queen knows; and I pray she doesn't. Who knows how she will react after learning not only her husband… but also her daughter…"

I dismissed his comment about the Queen and focused on everything else. I suppose that would explain why security around the academy was so tight and to attack me at first sight.

My eyes went back to Osmond as I walked a little closer to him. "That man. Their leader. You know who he is, don't you?"

A nod. "Six hundred years ago, as a sign of peace after centuries of continuous war against the other nations, he founded this academy. He brought mages of all kinds from all over Halkegenia under one roof and taught them the formulas of the magic theories we use to this day. But he is far older than that. His roots can be traced as far back as the Great War but a thousand years ago.

"That monster… was once my mentor. Every twenty-five years he would return to the academy to see how much it has progressed. The next appointment was but a decade away, but from our actions against Count Mott I am afraid we've earned his ire."

My eyes narrowed. "Those girls Mott kept… they were supposed to be given to him?"

Another nod.

"…Do you know where he is?"

My eyes locked onto his. His hardened in an expression that spoke of his tremendous age and experience. He opened his mouth to answer.

"Oi! Time's up!"

Alas, the guards entered and broke up our little reunion. They were already pushing everyone out before Osmond could answer.

Kirche gave me one last look before she was pushed outside. I knew that look very well. It was one Lolifor gave me whenever he had a plan. It spoke of a tremendous amount of trouble with the payout being hardly worth it. But during the Godking's Rite, where our enemies were always leagues stronger than us, his plans always came through in the end.

I made sure to not look away from Kirche. I was placing my trust on her and would wait for her to enact on this plan.

The door shut and I was left back in darkness.

*Scene*

It was around midnight when the guards entered the shed again. They weren't alone. Men with swords and spears pointed their weapons at me as a pair slowly approached me with a crude pair of manacles. Now they could only sell if it one of them said—

"No funny business now."

Oh dear Lord Jesus Christ. He actually said it.

I looked at him once and didn't budge from my spot on the floor. But I knew they were looking for an excuse to harass me at every chance, so I stood and extended my wrists for him to clasp. The first guard clasped them on while the second tightened the locks. They 'escorted' me back out of the shed and down the courtyard back towards the main entrance.

An iron carriage was waiting for me with a pair of riders sitting at the front and a third member holding the gate open. One was the driver, the other rode shotgun with a twisted staff resting on her lap, and the third had her wand pointed at me when I was approaching her. They wore dark cloaks with the hood drawn to hide their faces.

No one was questioning them. Really.

Shoving me inside the carriage, my escorts shut the gate after the third member climbed in with her wand still pointed at me and knocked on it to signal the driver to move out. The driver didn't say a word, only made a hand gesture to wave them away from the carriage as he flicked the reins. The pair of horses neighed but pulled the primitive contraption down the road. The guards and soldiers remained on the road until we were a good distance away.

"…I can't believe it actually worked," came from my mouth. Seriously, I can't believe it worked. If anyone tried to pull something like this back on Earth they wouldn't get very far. Hell, they wouldn't even make it past the preparation phase.

"Those were my words…" I heard Guiche groan from his seat up front.

Kirche withdrew her hood as she tapped her wand in her hands. She bore a proud and triumphant smile. "You should have a little more faith in me, King Philips. If it weren't for my ingenious planning you would have been rotting away in a dungeon in the capital."

I let loose that large sigh I had been holding in for a while. I believe since I've been summoned on this God-forsaken little rock. "No, I would have broken out right here, taken my containers' clothes, and make my way back to the academy to finish my conversation with Osmond. And I'll have you know I did have faith in you. But… how did you guys get those clothes?"

My eyes flickered here and there in Kirche's attire. Naturally, admiring my observations on her, she even was as far as to open her cloak to reveal what lay hidden underneath… while striking a pose and giving me a wink. She was wearing a military-grade coat of arms some of the mooks were wearing back in the academy. However, because it's her, Kirche had the top three buttons undone so to flaunt her cleavage.

Guiche and Tabitha were both wearing identical clothing.

…I should also mention the little blue-haired girl was reading under the cover of darkness while Guiche continued to drive almost blindly. I could see him squinting through the window slit of the carriage. Only one of the moons was out tonight and it was half-waning.

"Well~" Kirche began to answer… by grabbing both her breasts and hefting them up. My brow couldn't help but twitch. "These allowed me to gain a… private audience with the three gentlemen who arrived with this wagon. They didn't even mind with it being three sharing one Noble schoolgirl. Tabi, meanwhile, put them to sleep with one of her spells. They won't wake up until morning and we'll be long gone before then."

My face was in my hands at the end of the explanation. "Do you realize what you've done? They know you were the one to knock them unconscious and took their clothes. They are military officials, Kirche. Your immunity as an abroad student can't protect you from something like this. And from what Colbert said, the school is on lockdown and will take immediate notice if three of their students go missing. Put two-and-two together and they will have you marked as wanted criminals."

"…I was afraid of that," whined Guiche as he gave a heavy sigh.

"Stop the cart," I said. Guiche didn't comply; he continued to look forward down the dark path. "None of you are going to be criminals just for me. You've done enough. If you hurry back now there is a chance they won't notice you're missing. Kirche, make sure to spill some wine in your room or something while those men are still there. If you play things right you can make it look like they had too much fun while you play innocent."

"…I'm afraid I can't do that, Darling," Kirche looked at me with determination fixed in her eyes. "We all knew what was at stake for doing this. The headmaster and Professor Colbert did their best to talk us out of it, but we're not going back."

"What?" I was getting annoyed. They shouldn't have to throw away their lives just for me. "Why would you do that?"

"…Saving them," Tabitha responded before shutting her book. From within her cloak, she pulled up a rolled sheet of aged paper. "Know location… Know you can save them."

My eyes widened. Now, I was twice as furious. "You could have told me that and still go back. But you're set on following me, aren't you? Have you any idea what those things are? If the three of you couldn't match them the other night what makes you think you can take them on in their stronghold? Did none of you remember what happened with Foquet? What I am about to face is nothing compared to her."

Kirche didn't answer. She only crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. It wasn't a sign that she didn't have a response; she simply refused to give it to me.

The carriage came to a stop. Both Guiche and Tabitha hopped off the edge; the former circled around to open the gate while the latter tended to unstrap the horses.

As soon as I stepped out, I glared down at Guiche. "None of you are going with me. Go back to the academy before you make a mistake that will cost you your lives."

Though Guiche still feared me as I was the one to have nearly beaten him to death, he stood firm and did not move from his spot. His knees shook, but he refused to look away from me. "No, King Philips. I shall not. My life might be lost in the process, but it will be worth it."

I grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the carriage. I lifted him off his feet so we could look at another eye-to-eye. "Worth it?! You'd die if it means you can kill just a few vampires?! If you can kill them. I am trying to assault their base; where they will have the protections to hide from prying eyes and to kill those who stumble in. It is their home turf; they will know it better than anyone. If you couldn't do anything against them in your own backyard, what makes you think you'll make a difference on theirs? Is that what you're willing to die for?"

He grabbed my wrists and returned the stare. Defiance burned in his gaze. "They took my Montmorency. I will bring her back, King Philips. Even if it costs me my life. That is what I am willing to die for."

My grip did not loosen. I know how he felt. Truly I did. When the Sovereign had taken Terah hostage after we first drove him off… I ignored Lolifor's advice and went with my own agenda. He had a plan, he had a way to save her, but I wouldn't listen because there was a high possibility she would be hurt. My method was stupid and a massive gamble with hardly a chance of it working, but my mind told me it would save Terah without any harm coming to.

I gave in to the Sovereign's demand and delivered him Solstice. He tried to kill me with my blade. I accepted the act as my atonement for failing to protect my sister.

Instead, Terah took the attack for me.

Guiche and I continued to stare at another. There was an understanding between us. I knew what it meant to have someone you love with every fiber of your existence being threatened. The fear of losing that person will drive anyone mad. It had driven me mad, beyond the point of desperate. I shoved all else aside recklessly.

And I paid the ultimate price for it.

I let Guiche down but I kept my hands on the collar of the uniform. I could promise him to bring Montmorency back for him, but I know those words will never reach him. Lolifor had tried the same thing when Terah was taken— and even then at the time I knew he would do everything in his power to make it happen or die trying, but I wouldn't listen. Guiche won't either.

But it's not the fear that is the worst part. It is the fact the one I loved the most is gone forever. This was a feeling I would never want anyone to experience. This was a feeling I had to stop from ever arriving within anyone else.

I could tell him to follow my plan down to the letter if he wanted Momorency back; but when the time arrives that he will have to make a choice to grab her at first chance or to fight at my side, he will always choose her first. Even if he knows it will be the death of them both. No one can abandon their reason for living for no matter reason.

I looked at Guiche one last time before stepping away. My gaze went to Kirche, who was watching us with her back against the carriage, and then to Tabitha, who watched us with what seemed to be a bored expression when in fact she was prepared to attack me at a moment's notice.

"…How do you plan on getting there?" I eventually asked.

Kirche did not give me her usual smile. She replied professionally without any hint of amusement, "Tabi's dragon can fit all four of us plus the supplies we hid in the forest over there." She pointed to the sea of trees behind us. "It'll take at most an hour for us to reach the territory Osmond marked on the map. We hope we can get there before the Royal Guard does. While it would be beneficial to have them on our side, I doubt they would permit a group of children to partake in their raid."

"…What of you?" Tabitha asked as she caught what I said. "Go alone?"

Solstice appeared in my grip. I wanted to cry with how cold it felt in my grip since the core was no longer filled with Spirit. But that did not mean its mystics was gone. With my own supply of Spirit, I could activate it once more. Or… I could supercharge it and have it back to its glory if I…

I gave her a smirk and paced away from them. "Who said I was going to be alone?"

I turned and thrust Solstice as I channeled Spirit through its core. Upon my mental demand, it immediately unveiled the spell I wanted of it. As I thrust it, the blade pierced through open air and entered within a pocket dimension…

…Where I kept my regalia.

The blade glowed alive in a white flash as a nova of Spirit surged through it from within the pocket dimension. The light seeped through; and like a living being the light spread past the hilt and latched onto my hand. From the light, metal began to form in pristine white armor and continued to grow from there. It formed along my arm, spread over my shoulders, and began to run down my torso all the way to the tips of my toes. Every inch of my body was coated in the same white and silver metal that made up my Djinn Sentinels.

However, this armor was transcendently different from any of theirs.

Golden lines of intricate markings lit up the surface of my armor. Each line had a purpose. Every stroke, a trigger. Every pattern, a spell. This armor contained a nexus of weaves overlapping another, making them stronger as they worked together. And inserted at the front chest was the source of its power— Spirit in its most raw form given manifestation and crystalized into an instrument:

It was a Sun Sphere, an orb no bigger than my fist. And yet, it had the full power of the sun that gave this planet life. It was a creation of the Sun King herself.

What I brought into this plane of existence was the regalia that made me a King of Ilyvander. It was what gave me the reinforcement to defeat the Sovereign Jinni. It was what kept the Storm King from invading my lands and taking everything precious I had left.

This was the armor of Godking Dalang.

"K-King… P-Ph…" Guiche couldn't even finish whatever it was he wanted to say. And maybe he didn't have anything to say. Maybe this was just his reaction to what he was seeing.

"Brimir's balls…" Kirche swore.

Tabitha, as expected, said nothing. She only stared at me with wide eyes.

I didn't say anything to them. I had something else I needed to take care of.

"Ten," I so commanded.

Heat and light emitted the area as ten of my Gears activated at once. One of the Sorceries that made up the Godking's armor reinforced my body to resemble that of a Jinni's. It meant I no longer had the restrictions of a human and could transcend my limits to reach however high my mind could process. With this armor, I could activate all of my Gears without repercussions.

I could activate all twenty-three of my Gears. But there was no reason for me to. At least not for what I was about to do.

I lifted Solstice over my head and I switched my vision into the String World. The Gift of Craft lit up on my hands. The Godking's armor amplified its properties. Now, if I could achieve perfect 100% efficiency in whatever I so chose to craft through the Gift, the armor was improving that and giving me what I could only estimate to be around 225%.

With the Sun Sphere to give me infinite Spirit, the Gift of Craft to perfect my spell, Solstice to weave it together, and the Godking's armor to break through all of their limitations, I had everything I needed for this assault.

I was going to show that vampire what it meant to steal from an Ilyvander King.

"I should ask…" I began as I twisted Solstice in the air. Like a key turning tumblers, Solstice activated and wove the spell. A series of wireframe figures manifested in front of me. They quickly knitted together, made shape, gave structure, and had them formatted to exist within the Laws of this world. My desired creation appeared before me and gave a salute with weapons raised in the air.

The three were rendered speechless. Tabitha dropped her staff and book with her fingers going numb; I doubt she realized it. Guiche fell on his rear as his face paled as white as the moon. I don't blame him, he was seeing a small army of the things that had decimated his Valkyries. As for Kirche, her eyes were wide but locked on me the entire time.

"Will you three be able to keep up with me?"

They lifted their weapons and like clockwork holstered them into the slots at the side of their mounts. Bows, staves, swords, shields, and several other weapons of warfare made a singular sound upon being strapped in place no military will be able to synchronize no matter how much training and augmentations each soldier went through. As one, they turned and mounted their vehicles. The hum of mystics electrified the air and ground as Spirit-empowered generators lifted them off the ground. They were ready to move out. They needed only the command to launch.

I took the map from Tabitha's hands, looked at it once, memorized the geography, and then returned it to her. Without another word, I approached the nearest vehicle I created, mounted it, and gave the mental command for my legion of Djinn to follow.

*Scene*

While it was true Doll Maker was a Sorcery designed to specifically craft the Djinn, it was an incomplete Defiant Work by design with the initial purpose for my father to attune it to fit whatever needs he demanded. It was why there were two different types of Djinn— the Sentinels which made up the dominating army of the Godking, and the Levels which made up the 'families' to further progress the research of every field imaginable for the Godking's archives. Doll Maker was a Sorcery with two set functions: one, to create matter in whatever shape the wielder so demands; and two, to give that created matter life.

However, the process didn't need to be in that order.

For example, if I were to use Doll Maker to craft a sword then that sword will have sentience but will lack the means to express it. Then, there is also I, the crafter. If I envision it to be a sword upon creation, then the sentience will think itself a sword and not a person because it is how I perceive it to be. It will have— at best I can describe— a sense of purpose to fulfill its duty as a sword and try to learn ways to improve itself. Through time and experience it will grow sharper, denser, and will alter its entire structure to fit whatever necessity it is given— such as to be used as a tool or a weapon. But, once it breaks, all of its experience will return to me.

If I were to create life first and then craft a blade, the entire picture changes. 'Life' only becomes energy without a vessel, but a source of energy unlike any other that could rival the intricacies of a Sun Sphere. After all, it is just one shy step away of being a soul. If I were to make a vessel surrounding the essence of life, then the vessel becomes a container. It does not become a doll; it becomes a mystic weapon.

The Sentinels are created using these two templates. The former is used to give the armor life and will while the latter is used to give their weapons power.

Such also includes the vehicles we are driving.

Originally, my father had horse-shaped Djinn for his division of dragoon cavalry. They were dragon-sized horses if they had to support the eight feet tall Sentinels. However, my great displeasure regarding horses had me trying to think of a different way of traveling. Oh, I still have those metal creatures used by the Djinn guarding the borders of my kingdom… but I'll never use them.

I wanted something more modern, like a car or even a motorcycle. Instead, Lolifor proposed something much more… outlandish. And, infuriatingly enough, I couldn't deny his reasoning.

They resembled motorbikes, in a sense. They were long, narrow, and could have fit one wheel on the front and back if I so chose. I could even adjust the controls for me to be handing the mystic instrument on my stomach, to slightly leaning over, to even sitting upright. And just like the horses or any other vehicle I had wanted those first years as the new Godking, they were inscribed with a series of spells for the sole purpose of transportation.

They levitated off the ground, adjusted the frequency to balance on any footing no matter how uneven, and could outrun any fighter jet found on Earth easily. There were also spells to improve its durability and to generate a shield on all sides when enough speed was gathered, because greater speed meant more Spirit was cycling through its system and burning hotter. Thus, if I so wanted, I could drive in a straight line at top speeds and plow through any terrain to reach my target.

But I didn't because then the dragon Sylphid wouldn't be able to keep up. I could see the poor thing struggling already even with Tabitha putting up some sort of wind-based shield to improve its aerodynamics. That, and I don't want to destroy a few villages if it could be avoided.

We broke through the forest and traveled under the cover of darkness due west. Through the mystic visor of the Godking's armor I was able to see my path and a navigating spell was keeping me on track. Right on my tail followed my 150 Djinn in an orderly and organized fashion. They moved in perfect sync, swerving here and there whenever needed and adjusting each member's space when needed as to avoid any clashing.

My eyes narrowed slightly at the upcoming terrain. Already my Djinn were altering their formation to fit the road we were about to cross. Within the span of a few minutes, we broke free from the grassy hillside and entered a rocky slope which quickly turned into a canyon. Naturally, Sylphid was able to fly over the canyon and didn't have to worry about the labyrinth.

It also meant I was free to pick up the speed and have a little fun.

The G-force alone should have crushed my insides with how I sharply turned on the road. But with the Godking's armor nothing happened to me. I didn't need to look back to know my Djinn were following me in a straight line, mimicking my actions down to the smallest detail. The navigation spell, which came as a single red line in my vision as well as a mental map displayed in the back of my head, kept me updated on the best route to take.

I reeled back the thruster. My vehicle lit up a little brighter as more Spirit flared through its core. It activated the shield, splitting the air to maximize my resistance. We went off slopes, almost gliding through the air with every leap, and gracefully landed on any surface without losing speed or suffering rebound force. I even used one side of the canyon to bank my turn.

And with every action, my legion of Djinn followed perfectly.

My eyes narrowed again as we were about to reach our destination within the next twenty minutes. Sylphid was a little ways behind me but still over the Djinn at the tail of the line. I reeled the thruster once more and picked up speed. At my mental command, my Djinn separated into different divisions and traveled down different paths. They knew their purpose for this assault and would carry them out.

A third of the Djinn followed me; they would be the main strike unit.

About fifty meters away from our destination, I stopped any advancing. I dismounted from my vehicle while my Djinn spread out into formation. Their instruments died down and deactivated yet they did not dismount. They waited for their next command— which shall be when to strike and infiltrate the base.

It took a few minutes for Sylphid to reach us. I waved an arm to get Tabitha's attention and to signal for them to land. The dragon seemed more than eager to get down to the ground; and it was, because it whined once before collapsing from exhaustion. It was panting pretty heavily. Her master slid off and immediately began to pet it and whisper soft sayings of praise and soothing words to rest.

"What's going on?" Guiche asked as he approached me. His clothes and his hair were a wreck from getting a face full of heavy wind. Despite the seriousness in his tone, I could see he was more than happy to be on the ground. "Why did you have us stop, King Philips?"

I turned and pointed down the remainder of the path, leading to the edge of the canyon and out towards a great abyss. There was nothing but a cliff with the ocean's view as far as the eye can see.

"If we were to get any closer, they will spot us," I answered. "There are no signs of an alarm going off, but there is still a chance they had seen Sylphid. Still, even with their superior sight in darkness, they cannot see any further from this spot. I did not detect any surveillance spells or watch guards. However, I am going to be more than careful in this operation."

"No Royal Guard," Tabitha spoke up while continuing to pet Sylphid.

Kirche narrowed her eyes. She pulled out her wand and was about to cast some sort of spell— a charm to enhance her vision from what my eyes could pick up— but stopped herself short. "So where is their base? Hidden in a cave or something further up?"

I shook my head. "No. It is at the edge of the cliff right there. You cannot see it; there is a barrier creating a powerful illusion to hide it. While there is an ocean there, a fortress has been built under its waters with a tower erect for them to travel through. However, the drawbridge is up. Even if you were to break through the barrier entering is next to impossible unless you can bring the bridge down."

She quenched her eyes, trying to see the barrier only my eyes could pick up. It was an impressive barrier, one even I would have found challenging to build with my Archmagic and Gift of Craft. It created the illusion nothing was there, provided phenomenal defense against all manner of magic, and had spirits of vengeance roaming around to vanquish any unwanted intruders.

"So what's the plan, King Philips?" Kirche asked as she tapped her wand against her crossed arms. "Is there any way you can bring the barrier down with your magic?"

"…I could. But then that would alert our enemies. It would take too much time for me to bring the bridge down. Plus, we don't know the layout of the fortress. We could be walking into a trap at every corner. They would have plenty of time to prepare for a counter-assault…"

They weren't going to like my plan.

"I will be going in there first," I explained and put up my hand when they were about to argue. "I have my Djinn stationed all over the place. There are spellcrafters among them. Once I find a way to bring the bridge down I will signal for them to break the barrier. Then you will be following them inside. The goal is not to kill as many vampires as possible. The main objective is to get to the prisoners and extract them to safety."

…Assuming, of course, they are still alive.

"And what happens if they decide to kill you instead?" asked Kirche with a hint of anger in her voice. "Did you not say yourself we will be fighting in their own territory? That they will have protections against those who stumble in? No matter how formidable your magic is, King Philips, you are but one man. You will be surrounded by an uncountable number of monsters. Do you have a means of sneaking in unnoticed?"

"I have a plan, Miss Zerbst," I said in a stone voice. "Follow through with it and you can save your friends. There is a reason why I allowed you to come and not leave you behind. Do not betray my trust."

She wanted to argue further. But she had nothing further to say.

I stepped past her and approach Guiche. He took a few steps back, intimidated by the impression of the Godking's armor. "Guiche. Answer me this. Do you remember our duel? Do you remember what it meant to stare into the eyes of death? Do you remember what it felt like knowing you were helpless? Knowing your choice to live or die was to be decided by something beyond your control?"

He paled. His eyes locked on mine but he was not truly looking at me. His mind was recalling the memories he didn't want.

I didn't give him the chance to answer. I furthered my questions, "Are you prepared to face that again? Are you prepared to be thrown into a den of wolves knowing you will not survive no matter how much you struggle? Are you prepared to give your life all in the name of nothing?There is no power you possess that will save your beloved. You will fail. Will you try anyways?"

Slowly, I saw his eyes focus back into the real world. They were looking at me as my words brought purpose.

Solstice appeared in my grip. I lifted it over his shoulder with the blade touching the side of his neck. It was drawing blood even by the gentle touch because I demanded it to.

I asked one final thing. "Are you prepared to face death? Are you prepared to fail? Are you prepared to watch the one you love die? Are you prepared for her to see you die in vain? If you go, you will die. If you stay here, you can see her rescued. What will you do?"

His eyes lit up in determination, almost in defiance to me. "I will go, King Philips."

"Why?" I demanded of him.

"Though I am a lowly Dot-class mage, I am still a Noble. It is my duty to serve in a times of crisis for my countrymen. And, I am the fiancé to Montmorency Margarita La Fère de Montmorency. Our engagement may have been decided by our parents, but I love Montmorency more than anything. Even if there is the slimmest chance of saving her, I will do so. I will never be able to look her in the eye nor forgive myself if I remain here like a coward."

His mind was set. He was willing to jump through the fires of hell for her. This was not some hormone-driven fancy he had with some girl. Guiche's heart was bound to Montmorency.

I take back my first impression of Guiche. He doesn't remind me of Lolifor, he reminds me a lot like myself.

I removed Solstice from his neck and spun it around so to rest one hand on the hilt and the other at the flat of the blade. I closed the distance between us and lifted the First and Last Sun for him to grab.

"W-Wha…?" he looked at me dumbfounded.

"Take it, Guiche de Gramont," I replied with authority befitting that of a King of Ilyvander. "I am placing you in charge of the extraction. My Djinn shall be yours to command and shall support your efforts. Use these resources to save not just the one you love, but those your duty as a Noble of Tristain rely upon. Protect them with your life."

He was hesitant in taking my sword, but eventually he reached out for it and hefted it off my hands. Like Louise, he had expected the sword to be heavy and was nearly thrown off balance by how light Solstice made itself to be by his standards. His eyes were glued on the shimmer of sunlight coursing through the blade.

I knew he could feel its power surging through him, reaching through his innermost workings, working its mystics to improve and correct any and all flaws he had upon himself.

"I… will not disappoint you, King Philips," he said in a trance at first but then shifted into one of drilled military procedure. More than likely a response from being the son of Tristain's Marshall.

"Do not disappoint those who will need you the most, Guiche," I reminded him instead of his mission. I stepped away from them all and returned to my mount. But I did turn back and gave one last word. "The three of you. You know what will be in there. And yet you came anyways. You've put your faith in me and I so swear I will not let you down. Since you put your trust in me, I will see to it each and every one of you live through this or I will die protecting you.

"Know this; as of this moment you are not Nobles. The enemy will not care about your status and privileges. You are people. You are not the son of Marshall Gramont. You are not the heiress to House Zerbst. And you are not a Chevalier of Gallia. You are…

"Guiche," I looked directly at the blond fop.

"Kirche," my gaze turned to the red-haired harlot.

"Tabitha," then, I looked upon the somber and battle-hardened bluenette.

"This is where your legend will begin. What will you make of it?"

My vehicle came alive as I mounted it.

"Wait!" Kirche called out to me and rushed over to Sylphid. She dug through some of the bags dumped in a pile and pulled out, of all things, the rusty blade of the Fae she had purchased for me some time ago. I had honestly forgotten about it. In haste, she came to my side and delivered the anti-magic weapon into my arms.

"Since you're giving Guiche your sword, you might as well take something with you," she reasoned. "If things get dicey in there, you're going to need something more than your magic to protect you. King— No, Artemis… please come back to us."

Though the blank visor divided us, our eyes locked for a moment. I nodded only once before slipping the (not) talking sword to the weapon holster of my vehicle. Without looking back, I reeled the thruster and took off for the main entrance. The first phase of the extraction plan was about to kick off.

*Scene*

It was a good thing I avoided the question on how my plan was to work. I'd probably never hear the end of it from Kirche. I wasn't going to dive directly into the waters and find a way to enter. I wasn't going to pierce through the barrier with some stealth magic. I wasn't going to grapple the drawbridge and force it down either. No, my plan was a lot more subtle than any of those.

'Spirits that guard this gate, I seek an audience with the master of this territory. Permit me entrance.'

There was a vibration of the strings that made up the barrier— a sort of acknowledgement the spirits of vengeance floating around had heard my request. Now, I had to wait to see if they would comply.

It didn't take too long for a hole to crack open in the air. The veil was being lifted just enough for the creaky wooden drawbridge to lower down while the spirits moved away to allow me passage. A tunnel was made by the spirits and the barrier for me to travel through; I could look up and see them staring down at me with snarling jaws and malevolent eyes. Halfway through the bridge, the entrance of the barrier closed with the tunnel slowly coming down. It was matching my steps as to not drown me in malicious onslaught it was made to enact.

A tall figure with cropped blonde hair stood at the entrance. He was dressed in a fine tailored suit without all the unnecessary frills the Nobility wore. His was more practical. Yet, strapped to his waist was a straight sword. My eyes could pick up heavy traces of mystic influence— it was not a magic blade but one crafted through prayer. It was a divine weapon as far as I could tell.

He stood patiently with an oil lantern lifted at shoulder-height. However, as I approached close enough, his mouth curled into a grimace as he took a reflexive step back. His eyes were locked on the Sun Sphere in my armor's chest.

"Are you able to remove that?" he asked with politeness, but could not hide the sneer as his voice was mixed in with pain.

Of course. Vampires.

I was not so dense as to leave myself completely without protection. As my armor began to retract, I made sure to keep two of my Gears active with Craven magic reinforcing my endurance to maintain the Gears. In a matter of seconds, my armor shifted and folded into the shape of a sword with the Sun Sphere lodged at the base of the blade. With a mental command, I restructured the 'armor' to overlap itself with a sheath. It even came with a strap; I didn't even ask for one. Imagine that.

"While I am confident negotiations will go well," I began to explain as I slung the Godking's armor over my shoulder, "I believe a healthy amount of skepticism is required for both parties, isn't it?"

My vampiric escort did not respond. He merely made a gesture for me to follow him as he led us deeper into the tower. It was a large structure that could fit several rooms on the top floor. I could spot numerous ladders and sliding poles that led deeper down. But instead of taking any of those, we were taking the primary winding stairway.

I counted ten minutes before I felt it grow tremendously cold. Unlike the other rooms and levels we passed through, there were no more windows from here on out. I could only assume we had just dove beneath the water… and continued to climb down. It made me wonder if my escort was waiting for me to arrive or if he had a more efficient method of making way through this structure. I pray for the latter else they already knew we were in their territory long ago.

"This way," his spoke up as we entered the… nineteenth floor. There were still more stairs to go but he decided instead to lead me elsewhere. The temperature now was insufferable. I ended up weaving a minor spell to keep myself warm. My escort stopped in his tracks to look at me with suspicious eyes. It was only a glance mixed of curiosity, skepticism, and surprise before he resumed his pace.

I don't know if he reacted that way because I used wandless magic or to see if I was attempting to attack him. It could be either one. I couldn't get a read on him.

He led me down a long hallway. A long dark hallway with no source of light other than the lantern in his hands. I know next to nothing about vampires so I don't know if they could see in the shadows or if they relied more heavily on their other senses to navigate. My escort could have been using the lantern for just my sake. Enhancing my sight, there were no decorations on the walls. We passed a few doors and I could feel life brimming on the other ends. Some signatures were leaning against the door, curious to know about the beating heart and source of food passing by.

He stopped abruptly, turned sharply towards one door with a click of his heels, and opened it. He held it open and gestured for me to enter.

This room was dimly lit. There was even a soothing wash of warmth as a furnace blazed in the corner. This was… an entertainment room, if I could put it into words. Chairs were lined towards one wall along with sofas and various cushions. Heads of small vampire children and teenagers turned their way towards me. Some lingered, wide eyed at my arrival, while others dismissed me and returned to the entertainment. The older ones, the mature vampires lined around the room, continued to look at me with caution. Some of them I recognized.

One in particular was the blonde woman I had clashed swords with. Her crimson eyes glared at me while her face remained at peace. She did not bore a single expression; she merely observed me carefully such as how one predator would acknowledge the presence of another wandering within their territory. I could see her pondering to herself: should she drive me away or ignore me?

Sitting beside her on one of the sofas was the blue-haired head vampire. He sat leisurely with his legs crossed, one arm over the edge behind her shoulders in an intimate yet casual closeness, and reaching every now and then for a bowl of… fruit. His eyes turned towards me once, a mischievous glint in his stare. He brought a finger to his lips in a universal gesture of silence as his attention returned towards the entertainment.

My eyes flashed around the room. Seated among the vampires were a number of kidnapped girls; students, military officers, and staff members of the academy. Few of them were putting up a brave face, but most of them were shivering in fear and sitting as still as possible. Their eyes flickered towards me, pleading with me to save them. The vampire children were teasing them, pressing themselves close to them just to watch them jump and some even sniffing them while licking their lips. It was a game to them.

My escort placed his lantern down on one of the far end tables and made his way to join the festivities. He cycled around one couch and sat close to one of the student girls. She didn't move away, too frightened to gain his ire. He nodded once to her and watched the entertainment displayed on the wall. Montmorency continued to shiver while holding back tears.

Meanwhile, my mind was at a blank. I scratched my head as I watched the entertainment.

It was a motion picture. A cartoon, in fact.

At the far back of the room was a projection reel being operated by one of the matured vampires. It worked on some sort of clockwork mechanic to keep itself spinning without pause. There was a sealed flame behind several layers of magnifying glasses, the film moving between one of the layers, and a final lens to project the image onto the painted-white wall.

It was probably the most primitive projection reel I've ever seen, and warranted my curiosity to figure out how it worked, and naturally no sound could be made for the silent movie. But this piece of junk was probably the most advanced piece of technology I've seen so far on this planet.

I waited until the cartoon ended. With a wave of his hands, the head vampire lit the candles around the room to aluminate the area. The other vampires were somewhat displeased by this, but the human girls welcomed it. They probably haven't seen sunlight in days and would appreciate any means of light by this point.

"Another fine work, Trudana," the head vampire stood and gestured towards one of the teenage vampire girls sitting on the floor. "I'm very proud of you, my darling child."

The vampire bowed her head and muttered a few things under her breath in embarrassment. The small click of girls sitting around her either giggled or teased her. A normal girl would have blushed.

I looked around the room once more. This… was making things much more difficult to progress. Though they were vampires, I was also seeing traces of humanity within them. They laughed, they snickered, they trolled with another like how children their age would have. They even tried to get their human guests involved in the charades but were walled by their captives' fears for them. The vampires only dismissed them rather than be agitated, as if this were a normal occurrence.

"Well, young man, what do you think?" the head vampire asked me before plopping another grape into his mouth.

While I would have loved to have gotten straight to business, I couldn't just threaten the man right off the bat. Especially with the human girls in the room he could easily use as shields. I went along with his amusements for now. "It… was interesting. I wasn't paying much attention to the story, so I'm afraid I can't really give a good review on it."

He stared at me, unmoving as a statue. Something glistened in his eyes, a feeling of recognition or understanding beyond the words I had shared. His mischievous mood increased.

"Everyone, please retire early this evening to your chambers. I must tend to our guest."

Whines were made but none of them complained openly. They stood, some pulling the human girls up by force while others made polite gestures to help them up. Two matured vampires pulled either an oil lantern or a candelabra from the wall and escorted them out of the room. But few remained. Such as my escort earlier this evening, Montmorency paralyzed with fear sitting beside him, four remaining matured vampires, the blonde maiden, and of course the head vampire.

"Back from Helheim, I see… Philips, was it?" he opened with while eyeing my choice of clothes.

…I was still dressed in the blood-stained rags since I didn't have a chance to find any suitable attire. It covered my modesty, at least, but didn't provide as much coverage as I would have liked. Half my torso was exposed and my upper-thigh and below as well. My feet were bare as I had a wedge of magic around them to provide safe footing.

I looked squarely at the man and remained where I stood. My back was straight, my stance solid, and my eyes determined. I looked at him as a King of Ilyvander. "Introductions are in order before we begin. I am Archmage Artemis James Philips, Godking Dalang, a King of Ilyvander."

I even gave him a courtly bow of respect, one I would give to the Storm King whenever we had to meet. A hand over the heart, my body barely lowered just enough to show respect but not lenience.

He cycled around his seat with the inhuman grace befitting someone of his age and experience. His eyes held centuries over me, but he did not look down at me. He saw me on equal footing. With a flourish of the tail of his suit, he gave an equal bow of respect.

"Guiles de Rais de Montmorency-Craon," he said in a suave and eloquent voice. "Lord of Shadows residing over Tristain."

I blinked. I knew that name. I had studied him in high school.

"I see you are familiar with me, King Philips," he gave a toothy grin. "But I am afraid I cannot speak the same for you. I know of the tribes and empires beyond the Rub'al Khali but I've not heard of this… Ilyvander before. I do not doubt your credibility as a King; you walk as one, if not one with young experience."

The Storm King had said something similar. When we first met, he thought I was unworthy of the title of Godking and only saw my father as his true rival. It was why he reinstated the war to claim my Sun Spheres. I've always been able to drive him back, but I've yet to earn his respect enough to have him stop. He claimed only my father had the intimidation to keep him at bay.

"I have heard… stories of you," I began carefully, making sure to not slip anything that I shouldn't reveal. "Blue Beard, they called you. A man of Nobility who married every few years, yet none knew what became of your brides. They say you stuff them and hold them in your deepest dungeon to keep as trophies, to forever preserve their beauty. But those… are just stories."

His smile stretched further. This time, the blonde maiden rose to stand at his side. I never looked away from Guiles.

"To what honor do I have to be in the presence of a King, Sire Philips?" he asked in a low tone with a wolf's grin.

"We saw each other on that night," I returned. "I acknowledge my defeat before the hands of you and your subjects—"

"Family," he corrected; there was an edge to his tone but kept the smile and charm.

But I would not correct myself. To concede was to bow my head to this man and say he was better than me. Admitting defeat of one battle is one thing, but to surrender oneself is to lay everything for him to take. I might as well hand him over my regalia while I'm at it. "I admit defeat. Yours was a force superior to what defense I could muster. I am here to negotiate a ransom for the release of those you've captured during your raid."

His smile thinned, if not by a slight margin. "I hear words of surrender, but this does not come from your heart. This is rather problematic. I've promise my steward the hand of my great descendant, this lovely lady still seated here. And I am afraid some have been adopted into my family within the past few days."

My eyes flickered over towards Montmorency, who released a small whimper at his words. Was… Was it possible she was related to this man? They had the same family name so it could have been possible. And the steward… my escort who sat close to her as if she already belonged to him? Things began to make sense. However, I couldn't focus on it at the moment. Guiles was thinking things over on his own.

"But… Very well. I will hear it. What do you have to offer?"

"Your life and your… family."

His smile dropped entirely. My eyes were dead-set. I didn't just create a legion of Djinn Sentinels for us to walk away unharmed from this.

I also understood what this meant. Vampires or not, this man looked at those he watched over as a family. And they in turned looked at him in the same way. I had seen the young ones behave like children their age, teenagers be moody and teasing, and the young adults to matured vampires behave accordingly. They were just the same as a human clan.

I remember having killed many of these children on the night of the raid. This was the price of war. The Storm King's Seraphim weren't so different. Much like how my Djinn had families of their own, the Seraphim had theirs. Wives, siblings, and children to return to. Killing them always told me there was someone on the other side of the line who were going to miss them.

But I could not move away from this fortitude. I hardened my heart. I hoped things wouldn't have to go this deep, but that was just wishful thinking.

"…That's quite a jeweled dagger, King Philips," Guiles began. "Beautiful, decorative, but an instrument of murder just the same. However, it only has one use before it breaks. Are you sure you wish to use it now and not later?"

Meaning, even if this threat goes through and I manage to walk everyone out of here, there wouldn't be any stopping him from coming after me in the future.

"From one lord to another," I began with a voice of authority. "We are tasked, no, given the responsibility to take charge of those lesser than us. The inexperienced and dependent. Their safety and upbringing is on our hands. I am offering you a chance to fulfill that responsibility. Release those who I am charged with or I will use force to take them back. Lives will be lost on both ends. I am giving you a chance of peace."

"Peace?" he asked with a hint of dark humor. "There is no peace among our kinds. Humanity persecutes us as we hunt them for sustenance. The other Lords of Shadows have a much more… barbaric method of claiming their servants."

"You mean like the girls you bought through a slave-trade?" I countered, remembering the deal I had to make with Mott to free a large amount of servant girls.

"Much more barbaric methods, I assure you," he repeated with a shake of his head. "I may release the mage-born to your care, but the untouched shall remain with me. This is my gift to you, King Philips. A gift, I say again. Reason this; if I were to release everyone as you desire then we will require sustenance again. We will hunt in a new region and what you are attempting to correct shall happen once again. You ask for the impossible."

Perhaps… in a more familiar environment I would have been able to bargain with this man. I could have set up a system that allowed him access to blood for him and his clan. In the modern world getting blood was much easier and clean than simply kidnapping. While still highly illegal, acquiring blood from hospitals and clinics would have been much more efficient. Lives wouldn't have been lost, or at least kept to a minimum.

But this wasn't my world. Perhaps a human would willingly give their blood for a vampire for the remainder of their life for… perhaps protection or knowledge of their dark world, but those were far too few in numbers. I can see how he had come to this conclusion. He had to kidnap in order to keep his clan alive. Girls were kidnapped but kept alive to prolong their use in order to keep their whereabouts mum for as long as possible. Generations could have gone by without him needing to resurface for a new source. Count Mott's slave deals was just another way to hide his exploits under the legal rug.

I would love to learn from this man. So many questions I could have asked him. But he had to be born in this era of this world. It was not his fault. This civilization had forced him to understand one thing.

Neither of us could live together.

"Then… there is nothing I can do for you. I am sorry," I said with a heavy heart.

My escort rose from his feet, drawing his holy sword with the steel hissing against the scabbard. It sounded like a lulling dragon slowly awakening, having been disturbed and dangerously angry. As more steel was released, I could feel the holy presence leak around the room. It sent tingles down my spine.

The maiden at Guiles' side too drew her weapon. It was a silver sword that glistened red by the candlelight. There was something unholy about it, in deep contrast to her counterpart's weapon. It did not devour all that was good like most cursed weapons would. Rather, it seemed to hungrily devour the darkness around the room. It made it that much more powerful.

Guiles' eyes glistened once in understanding, knowing this was the inevitable truth we would come to in the end and accepting it. But his eyes sharpened into something fierce. They were the eyes of one who had seen war his entire ancient life. Dare I say they surpassed the Storm King's magnificence. He had all of P'Zylor's brilliance without any of the proclaimed god's arrogance.

I clasped my hand around the Godking's armor. The signal was sent to every Djinn stationed outside the fortress.

Sunlight blazed as I brought the sword around. The battle begun.

*Scene*

"T-This is it!" Guiche immediately stood. He had never let go of Solstice. It had rested on his lap while they all waited patiently for Artemis to give… something. They didn't exactly get how they were supposed to know when to strike and only assumed the Djinn would do all of the work. As soon as the Djinn moved, the three would know it was time to siege the castle.

But then Guiche felt… something stir from within him. He had no idea what it was, but he knew now was the time.

Before the girls could question him, the Djinn came alive. Their mystic carts roared like metal dragons with levitation magic as each construct brought their weapons to arms. In perfect synchronization, they prepared for the first charge assault with a spear in one hand and another on the reigns of their vehicles.

Three Djinn floated backwards and readjusted their seating. The three gave a unified gesture fo the students to climb behind them.

And so they did, with Guiche taking the middle.

Sylphid gave a whine of concern, but Tabitha ordered the dragon to remain still and to stay safe. The dragon whined once more but obeyed her master.

Stationed all over the canyon, Djinn Sentinels with staves stood at the cliff's edge on the highest peaks. While their cores blazed with sunlight, they weaved the energies of the moonlight to their bidding. Thirty magic-wielding Djinn spun a net, linking with each other to reinforce the aptitude of the spell.

In one unified movement, they tore down the barrier of the castle. Spirits of vengeance dissipated into nothingness.

But that was not all. A second weave had been prepared. Water shifted below, swayed, and split apart. A gap was made which only grew more as the ocean was being parted by an invisible force. Quickly, the underwater fortress was being exhumed. A grand barrier was being erected, powered by the magician Sentinels, pushing back the waters.

Guiche wouldn't wait for the entirety to be revealed. Something else stirred within him. Perhaps it was from Solstice's influence. He simply knew now was the precise time to strike.

He rose the blade above his head. "Charge!"

There was a roar of valor, something almost quite human. Djinn raised their weapons and resonated their voices as they drove forward. Vehicles roared with them with their magic thrumming, propelling them forward onto the upcoming battlefield. Guiche barely had a chance to grab the underside of the Jinni's backplate before the pilot drove to follow his brothers. They raced down the canyon faster than any horse, faster than Sylphid could fly, with a barrier of wind and magic to stop the suddenness of their speed to cripple the human children.

Before they knew it, they were airborne, flying off the cliff and diving head-first into the fortress' ceiling. But Guiche and the others were at the far back of the invasion. The first wave of Djinn thrust the throttle, activating higher speeds and another layer of protections their vehicles were built with. They flew straight down like meteors from the heavens, glowing brightly from the surge of Spirit. They were the first to crash through the ceiling, tearing a gaping hole through the rooftops and continuing to drill downwards.

The next wave followed at the same speed, drilling deeper and following the schematics given to them by their creator, who so bravely infiltrated on his own. But, in the middle of their descent, they dismounted from their vehicles and rolled onto the floor they were ordered to secure. Wave after wave of Sentinels, in two parties of six per floor, descended and then dismounted. Their weapons cleaved, pierced, impaled, carved, spliced through any opposition as soon as they landed. They moved swiftly, following their orders to find any human survivors and extract them to safety.

Guiche's party descended to the deepest pits of the stronghold. Their mounts drove down at a frightening speed before their pilots drove their heels back and forced the mounts upright during their descent. Before hitting the bottom level, the levitation magic readjusted the propulsion and granted them an easy landing rather than the bone-breaking crash the Djinn would have been able to withstand.

Like the others, there were already two parties of six Djinn. Guiche's group was the third with three Djinn and three of them.

"Well…" Kirche was the first to gain her bearings. She had tried to calm her nerves back in the canyon by combing her disheveled hair due to Sylphid's speed. And her hair was still perfect, but it was her face that looked like she had just been on the back of the blue beast. She looked ready to puke. "That was certainly… something."

Guiche wanted to puke himself. But he found strength in himself to dismount and lead the charge. His grip on Solstice increased and it eased his nerves. The Djinn cycled around him, looking at him through their faceless helms. They were awaiting his orders.

"Stay together," Tabitha said. Her eyes were cold, steely— so very unlike the monotone girl he had thought he knew. It told him she was in her element; that of a battlefield where one could die at any second through any mistake, be it intentional or accidental.

He nodded at her. He found his spine and began to order. "Stay together, watch our backs, and move steadily but swiftly. We are to find any captives from the Academy and bring them home!"

Immediately, the Djinn moved into formation and moved as swiftly as the human children could allow. While their brothers above them could move five to six times faster than a human and still be considered a casual pace, those escorting the students needed to protect them first and foremost. And their role at this deepest region was of the highest priority. Their Godking had detected an area his mystic eyes could not read. A room that was blocked by his senses. One does not go to such great lengths to have an undetectable territory for nothing.

They met no resistance on their way to the location. All of the fighting was taking place above on the higher levels, where most of the residences resided. Some in the lower areas where the more powerful and darker of vampires protected the treasures of the fortress. They followed Guiche's commands to search every room, every corner, every nook. They complied because it was a directive of the Godking, but they made sure to follow the plan their creator had given them. He needed to know what lay in this secret chamber. And so they guided the boy and his compatriots throughout the darkest and deepest of the labyrinth without him fully understanding they were the ones in charge.

They were a few paces away from their directive when they stopped their advance together. One Jinni, a magician, had detected several layers of protections, wards, and traps ahead. That brother stepped to the front of the group, swayed his hands around with what limited Spirit he had in his core, and disabled their foundations.

He fell to his knees shortly after, weakened by the lack of solar light and the intensity of the defenses. One Jinni grabbed him and dragged him away back to the excavation point. They could not afford for their Godking to be burdened with this one's death in this time of crisis. The spear-wielder dragged the magician away from the group to be exposed to the moonlight before he perished.

"Do you think they're in there?" asked Kirche.

Tabitha narrowed her eyes. She didn't want to say what she suspected to be inside the sealed door. She knew the prisoners, if any, would be kept in a different area under a different environment. Whatever was behind that door was more of a vault— a place of treasure and secrets.

Guiche, however, grasped at the same notion as Kirche. "Break it down!"

The Djinn would have done so anyways, but complied in a manner as if under his command. Two stepped forward, grabbed the edges of the large steel doors, and tore it down as if they were molded out of soft clay.

The stench was the first thing to strike the human children. It was a stench they were somewhat familiar to from the church wards. But clinics of the Nobility were far more… sterile than the clinics of the Commoners. But both could never truly wash away the smell of death no matter how much wealth and magic was thrown around.

Here was no different. The stench of chemicals and decay washed over them like a tidal wave of oil and grease. It clung to them, seeped through their skins, and they breathed it in even as they hid their faces under their arms and clothes.

What strength they had gathered was lost when they entered. Guiche was the first to release his stomach onto the floor. Even the smell of his bile was welcomed over what lay within this room. Kirche had followed him shortly after, only due to her walking behind him and not having as immediate of an effect as he. Though Tabitha did not release the contents of her stomach, her brows were scrunched with her face tinged green.

The room was a mixture of a laboratory and a morgue. Bodies lay sprawled across tables, some fresh, some long been dead and rotting, and some chalked and stiff with preservatives. Glass jars of various organs with neat labels lined shelves. Some were even color coded or had notes sprawled on their tags to differentiate their originators. Body parts of every type, size, and shape were in display cases; there were ten different left arms, ten different types of knees, ten different types of thumbs, and even ten different types of fingernails, and so on.

The horrors would not end. Guiche found himself staring at faces. Stretched skins lined one of the walls. He could see the slits for the eyes, creases where the nose would be, and the gaping sections where the lips would be. Of course, directly below them in their own little case, was a large selection of lips organized from their volume, to their color, to their height and length, and so on.

Perhaps it was because it was Guiche and his purpose of being here, but he noticed the one thing all of these pieces of flesh had in common. Pale, blonde haired, and blue eyed women. He only noticed despite this trauma because they were the same features his beloved Montmorency carried.

"Oh God," he muttered, his voice so weak he could have been imagining his own words. "Oh God, oh God, oh God!"

He needed to get out of the room. It was a dead-end anyways. His Montmorency wasn't here. The Djinn obeyed his plea to leave and pushed him onto his feet. He hadn't realized he was on his knees. They rushed him out of the room, regrouped, and retreated back towards the extraction zone. The Djinn had found nothing of importance their Godking would have wanted, nothing but a few books they claimed as spoils to advance his Sorcery. Their original mission was now their priority. Up above, several of their brothers had found the members of the academy and then some.

Returning to the hole, Guiche looked up to see the clash happening high above their heads. Upon the tallest tower, in his pristine armor of silver and sunlight, King Philips fought valiantly against two vampires. He held his own against the two with the rusted sword while keeping someone safe in his arm. At the moment Guiche saw him, King Philips' eyes looked away from the battle towards him. The moment nearly cost him his life as he scantly avoided a fatal blow from the blonde vampire. But with a swing of combos and a kick to shove himself away, he leapt into the open air several hundred feet high above.

"Guiche!" he called out through a thunderous voice. "Catch!"

The person in his arms wriggled and clasped onto him tighter. But he wouldn't have it. He released her grip and threw her towards his direction.

She screamed, naturally, and the sound of her terrified scream shook Guiche. Her pitch and her whimsical blonde curls had been familiar, as it should have been. The woman King Philips had released was his beloved Montmorency.

The Djinn could have moved to intercept. They needed only the command. And even if not commanded by Guiche, they would follow the orders of their Godking to save her at the last instant. Tabitha and Kirche would have as well with their spellwork.

But Guiche wouldn't allow it. He was going to save her. His rose wand was out, waving in the patterns he had been taught in the academy, and chanting under his breath in a rush. The words would have normally been twisted as his heart was booming in his chest. But he had forgotten Solstice still remained in his hand. The blade knew his intentions better than he and so corrected his flaws. His tongue chanted perfectly, his hand waved flawlessly, and his Willpower flowed without resistance.

Her descent was slowed until she was gradually lowered at a casual pace. Her screaming stopped as she realized her fall was interrupted. She spun in the air; her eyes widened as she saw who it was who saved her.

"G-Guiche!" tears began to fall at the sight of him.

"Montmorency!" he reached a hand out for her. His concentration slackened and would have normally dropped her, but Solstice kept the spell flowing, letting him have his moment.

The tips of her fingers grazed him. He pulled her in and embraced her. She began to cry and squeeze him. He petted her head and whispered assurances towards her.

Their moment was sweet, but it had to be short. They were still in enemy territory. He made promises to her, released her, and lifted Solstice higher. He still had an army to lead and souls to save.

"Get her out of here," he commanded.

"Wait, Guiche, I'm not leaving you in this hell!" Montmorency argued.

"And I'll never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you, my Montmorency," he returned in a stern voice. "Please go. For me."

She couldn't argue with the look on his face, that of a hardened soldier, that of a hero determined to fulfill his purpose. One Djinn swept her up in its arms, bent its knees, and leapt three stories. He continued to do this until he was back at the rooftops before taking a final great leap back into the canyons.

*Scene*

This was the first battle they were introduced to. But be that as it may, they had the skill and experience etched into their cores to be able to match their most veteran of brothers and most powerful of the enemy Seraphim. Every generation of Djinn grew more and more powerful, but at the cost of their Godking's sanity. Their flaws could only be corrected by their Godking; therefore a veteran who had withstood three battles against the Storm King's army was inferior to a newborn Sentinel.

One hundred and fifty Djinn Sentinels born under a few hours was the most advanced and powerful of their kind to date.

The second superiority Djinn had over their enemies were their synchronization. One Jinni did not equal one Seraph, this was true. A Seraph alone was equivalent to three Djinn. However, three Djinn united were equal to nine Djinn standing alone, and therefore equal to three Seraphim. Four Djinn were equal to sixteen Djinn alone. Five equal to twenty five. And so on.

One Djinn alone could withstand and slay a Divine Beast, but could never hope of overcoming a Seraph on their own. But together, even with inferior numbers, the Djinn had been able to fight on equal grounds to the forces of the Storm King under horrendous odds.

One Djinn alone was more than enough for a small squad of these vampires, matured or not with their Natural Works of spiritual manipulation. But even a Djinn would be overcome by large numbers if he stood alone. United with five other brothers, however, and they were a walking fortress.

On the sixth floor, a squad of six Djinn charge peerlessly through the maze. They knew where they were going after both the Godking and the magician Djinn in each unit gave them a readout of the territory. Each squad comprised of a single magician, an archer, two lancers with swords, and two shield-bearers.

Any opposition that had come across their path was either hailed with a volley of arrows, rammed through with the shields at the front, or minced into pieces. Most attacks simply bounced off their armor, which was more than capable of taking the blunt of Seraph weapons, fangs of Divine Beasts, and even moderate levels of the Storm King's Miracles. Attacks by the use of spirits was ineffective. And those technique in which would slow their progress such as destroying the ground or having the walls cave, the magician in their party would counter or turn it against them.

The sixth floor division stopped suddenly. There was no opposition this time but instead stood… a curiosity. Djinn looked at another, mimicking the human gesture of confusion as if questioning the other of they too were seeing the same thing.

Before them stood… a black Jinni. It was of human frame like they, but smaller, slimmer, and more compact. Its arsenal contained various daggers and firearms littered over its body. While the white ones were built to be bulky to withstand monsters no human could hope to defeat, this black Jinni was built to be silent, stealthy, sneaky, and cunning. Its black armor indeed did absorb the light, but rather than radiating with it this Jinni made itself darker. No light shone off of its armor.

Faceless helms stared at the faceless mask. It made a gesture for them to follow it.

So they did, trusting this black brother of a doll.

*Scene*

Princess Henriette des Tristania huddled close to her childhood friend, Louise, as well as several of the other girls who remained in the dungeons. Their captor, a fiend of Tistain's blackest history, Guiles de Rais, had selected a chosen few for them to be relocated to more 'comfortable' quarters. But there was a price, of course there was. The girls he selected had the choice; they were to be companions of his children, those he claimed were mature enough to curb their appetites, and were given just as prestigious as livings as the highest of Nobility in exchange. Or, they could continue to rot down here in the cold.

Henrietta had been one of the select few. He said it had nothing to do with her 'tainted' pedigree— a snicker had escaped his lips as he mentioned her lineage— but because she had one of the most dazzling of blue eyes he had seen in a long while. The way he looked at her eyes… she could feel his jealousy but was so perverse she could have sworn he would have torn them out and replaced his own for them. As if such a thing were possible.

She had refused, saying she would remain in the dungeons with her people if even one were to be subjugated under these conditions.

Guiles accepted, with something of a sigh as if he had lost a minor investment in a business he never had faith in to begin with. A sigh of mockery, she would say. Nevertheless, he claimed to be a good host and brought blankets, warm clothes, and a few lanterns. Their meals were always warm and nutritious.

But during the periods when the servants would leave them in their cells was always the coldest. Girls huddled close to the lanterns as if the small whicker of a flame could warm them. Fights had broken out when a girl would accidentally extinguish the flame. Others would bring their cloaks and blankets together to form tents while they used their bodies to warm another.

Under these conditions, neither Commoner nor Noble were different. Especially when no Noble could perform magic without their catalyst.

"Princess…" Louise began for the fourth night in a row. Heavy guilt filled the pinkette as she hadn't been able to sleep. Nightmares plagued her on the night they were captured. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

Henrietta could only hold her hand. She had tried to reassure her that it was never her fault. Henrietta blamed herself more than anything. She had been selfish, had snuck out without notifying her guard, and had found her way into Louise's room. Their reunion had been a benevolent one as they caught up into another's affairs like true friends, going long into the late hour, before a mist had swept into the room and lulled them to sleep. Had they not lowered their guard, had they not delved into a few bottles of wine, and had Henrietta at least brought Agnes things might have played out differently.

A great vibration shook the walls of their cells. Everyone was quiet as they strained their ears in the chance to catch the briefest of noise to grant them clues. But this deep into their unknown location granted them only silence.

The vampires standing watch muttered to themselves. Their voices were too quick and too low for human ears to hear, as it was intended for only their kind to pick up. But Henrietta could read their faces easily enough. Commands were being given for two of them to go see what was happening. Heads nodded and two left, leaving four vampires to remain watch.

She saw the one in the furthest back drop dead, his throat slit. His body hit the floor without a sound. None of the other vampires noticed.

But a few girls had seen this. They gasped. The vampires turned their heads towards the cells. By that point the next one in the group perished in the same manner, again without their notice. Two remained. And as the two began to notice the girls were watching an invisible phantom stalk to his next target, they began to turn towards what they were looking at.

By then the third was dead. The fourth had only seen blood ooze out of a wound cut by nothing.

He leapt back, opened his mouth, and began to chant a command with his Firstborn magic…

There was a twang in the air with a muffled pop of the air. Something faster than the swiftest arrow flew through the air. Almost at the same time of the sound, the vampire's head reeled back as if blown by a tremendous force. He fell on his back with blood seeping onto the floor from a piercing wound that broke to the back of his head.

The cell gates open at the far end. Then the next. Then the next. The next.

Her groups' gate flung open. She only saw the briefest instance of her rescuer. A tall young man, oh so very tall, with fair skin, copper-toned hair, and dark attire with a drawn hood. He continued to move quickly, undoing the locks with the stolen keys and opening the gates with such precision as if he was bred to perform this task.

She was not the only one to rush towards the gates. Others had remained where they sat, timid to leave as though this were all but a trap. She, however, needed to see who her rescuer truly was.

"F-Familiar?!" Louise shouted, gaining the attention of many of the girls.

Henrietta blinked. She will admit she didn't believe her best friend's story about the young man. She still truly didn't. But at least now she knew the boy she had given such livid detail did indeed exist.

Artemis James Philips, a self-proclaimed King beyond the Rub'al Khali according to what Louise had shared, turned his head over his shoulder just once to peer back at her. He did not stop with his work of opening cell doors as emerald eyes pierced through the petite girl. Louise shriveled at his gaze.

Upon reaching the final door, he tossed the keys aside and released a bag over his shoulders. Henrietta had to question herself; how had she not noticed he was carrying such a large bag sack on his back? He undid the straps and flicked the contents out to roll all over the floor.

Wands littered the ground. He was giving them their means to fight back.

Without another word, he turned back around and climbed the stairs leading out of the dungeons.

"Wait!" Louise called out, picked up a random wand, and ran after him.

"Louise!" Henrietta tried to stop her. It was too dangerous to go on her own, even with the support of the young man. They knew nothing of their situation and needed to gain their bearings. Henrietta chased after her, climbing the stairs in pursuit.

She nearly shrieked when she almost ran into the white giants around the corner. They were larger than any man could possibly be and could only assume they to be golems of some sort. Perhaps of the young man who had just left them. But he was nowhere in sight.

"Can you get us to safety?" Louise asked one of the giants as though she was familiar with this creature.

The golem, and by this point Henrietta was doubting it was a construct of magic and more like a true giant, turned towards Louise and gave a nod. He lowered his weapon and brought a hand for her to reach. She accepted it, her tiny hands barely wrapping around one of the colossal fingers.

*Scene*

Everything was going according to plan. So far. I'm still waiting for that one thing I couldn't foresee to fuck me over. Just like how I have my ace in the sleeve (to which I'm using at the moment so my point is moot), the enemy always has their own. I've yet to see Guiles' and am still waiting on it. This is his territory and I just kicked open the front door. I've gotten him surprised, but sooner or later he's going to bounce back onto his feet.

I say that because he only has his lackeys fighting me while he ran away. A man of his power and experience wouldn't just run away like that. He has something in his arsenal and was going to use it. He simply needed time.

Her name was Jeanne. The maiden from before with her unholy weapon. Not cursed, unholy. I shouldn't be surprised she would be this world's Jeanne D'Arc if this world had its own Guiles de Rais. I shouldn't be surprised Guiles would be a vampire if his history was similar to the one in my world. The Law of Progress is funny like that. But I was astounded the Joan of Arc would be turned. Perhaps it wasn't by her will. She had yet to say a single word and was fighting me as if she had nothing to lose. She wasn't afraid to get cut, didn't flinch when I wounded her— she didn't react to anything I threw at her. It was as though she was more of a zombie than anything. What would those be called? A vampire zombie? I believe they were called ghouls. Fuck if I know.

His name was Roland of Charlemagne. Now that threw me under a bus. Sir Roland was a legendary hero even I've heard of. And if this world was going to be parallel to my own, I'm going to make a wild accusation and say the holy sword in his hands was Durandal.

I'm not just saying that because his sword has enough holy presence to cut into my armor, slice stone as if it were butter, or even split whatever spell I threw at him in a single sweep. But… you know.

I should be winning. With the Godking's Armor and ten Gears active, I was running circles around the both of them. Their teamwork was great and their swordplay was better than mine with centuries of training and experience to back them up, but ridiculous surges of power and speed can topple skill if given enough quantities. Five times I've killed Roland and thrice I've killed Jeanne.

I've severed their heads, I've pierced their hearts, I've scorched them to ash, I've had them flayed into tiny pieces, and I've even obliterated them into mists of blood. But they always came back.

It was because of Jeanne's sword. It was also how they were able to withstand the radiance of the Sun Sphere in my chest. The light of the Sun Sphere continuously burned them. But her blade devoured all that was wrong with their selves. Their wounds flew off their skin like patch marks of cloth, drifted towards the blade through an attracting wind I could not stop, and was devoured into its silver skin.

That power wasn't vanishing. It was growing. She was going to unleash it at some point. And unless I could get my hands on Solstice, there wasn't much I could do to prevent it. It's not like either of them would give me the chance to weave one of my greatest defense spells— something that would take a considerable amount of time even with the Gift of Craft.

Around me, I tried to keep my attentions on the happenstance of the rescue operation as well. I had underestimated the number of vampires Guiles had under his command. A large majority of them I could still detect remained in their chambers. Most of them truly were children. But a good hundred others were matured or close to the brim of. A hundred powerful vampires would have been too much for a grand army of mages of this world. But against a small league of Djinn? It was an unfair battle as the vampires were powerless to stop them.

Vampires had also tried to stop the magician Sentinels on the cliffs. But the second division of fifty Djinn were stationed to defend them with at least three other magicians per group in case one did indeed fall. I couldn't have the suppression spell collapsing and flooding the castle, especially with the massive hole my Djinn had created upon entry.

The third and final division was the extraction crew. While the first was to invade and find the prisoners, the third would be there to get them safely out. If needed, a rushing retreat to get as many as possible as far away from this place.

Things were going well. There were more girls than I expected, which meant there were more captives than those taken from the raid on the academy. They were being carried out, two per Jinni, with a Jinni jumping back down to grab the next set. They worked like clockwork, never slowing down for anything as the first division protected and located any remaining girls.

But, I was still terrified. Where was Guiles during all of this?

"You know nothing," hissed Roland.

We stood apart by ten yards. None of us lowered our guard. I kept my back to the extraction sight, to which Roland continued to glare at. If he tried to do anything, I would be there to stop him. And if Jeanne were to slip by me, she would have a platoon of Djinn on her ass before she could make it halfway there. No, I would rather take on Jeanne and deal with her unholy sword than let her unleash it on any of my Djinn. This battle would be over if a single one of them died. I would let Roland slip through instead.

"I am ignorant of your customs," I answered diplomatically. "This is true. But I am not ignorant in morality. Whatever your reasons, kidnapping an innocent is unjust. They have not wronged you. I have when I stole your supply of food, but, again, it was morally unjust to sell anyone like a materialistic device."

He sneered, he was the only one willing to talk, unlike Jeanne. "This was never a matter of morality, as you humans so decided what was right and wrong. This is a matter of survival. Do you think to be able to steal from a Lord of Shadows and not escape unharmed? Even if my master cannot pursue, the others will. The other Lords of Shadows will hunt you down. My master has kept Tristain in the dark for centuries and now you've stirred their curiosity, mage of sunlight. The Lords of Shadows will not let you live. They will come for you and those you protect. Stop now and speak with my master before this goes any further! There is a chance he is willing to forgive you and keep you a secret!"

For a moment, I almost believed him. Maybe he was telling the truth and was concerned with me. There was a possibility. But my actions cannot be dictated by possibilities, chances, hopes and wishes if the fallout will result in the death of so many. Not as a King, but as a human being am I tasked with a responsibility.

"Then tell them the Lord of Sunlight will vanquish them all," I rejected his proposal. "I am Godking Dalang, the Doll Maker! Tristain is now and forever under my protection!"

His eyes widened by my declaration. His disbelief turned into rage. His brows creased, his teeth gritted, and the grip on his sword tightened. He snarled, "You are a fool who understands nothing. Your power is great, but it is nothing compared to the Lords of Shadows."

I took in a deep breath of air, not necessarily needing it through the Godking's Armor. Perhaps one of these Lords of Shadows was something akin to a King of Ilyvander. Or perhaps it was more like a defense system of the World itself like the Predators of Earth. I severely hope the former. Having to face the planet's natural defense mechanism, nine out of ten being a killing machine, was pretty close on top to my DO NOT do list. Others included challenging an Original or a Primordial and walking into the Stranger's territory— the unknown King of Ilyvander all Kings fear… including Sir Rolan, who was a Predator of Earth, strangely and alarmingly enough.

"I would not be a King if I could not accept their challenge," I announced and readied the Fae sword for another round.

His eyes hardened in what he believed to be foolishness. I would not deny there was a bit of it on my part. But it was from ignorance more so. I had never heard of these Lords of Shadows since being in this world. I have no idea what to expect other than they being a group of powerful beings greater than the two standing before me. And since Guiles hasn't shown his cards yet, I don't have a point of reference on what the others could be like.

We sprang back into action in another pointless bout. Our swords clashed, they received wounds, I would spin my spells to kill them, and they would rejuvenate shortly after. And the cycle would continue.

*Scene*

The same sniper that had taken out his first construct viewed the battle nearly two miles away. His HUD vision displayed the weather conditions and variables of the shot he would take, should he decide to. His armor was designed not only as a cloaking device against the surveillance technology of his era and from Acolyte observation, but to notice its surroundings in a large radius. These observations were registered, anylized, and displayed for the sniper to see. It even gave the recommended point and angle to take the shot depending on which target was selected.

But there was more to the sniper than just machinery. Predator Philips did not select his Twilight Blades just because they were simply human. He selected only those he could use, those he knew would not fail in their mission. This Blade, a Dusk Blade for the purpose of stealth, was once an operative of the Special Intelligence Tactical Hunters just like Lance-Corporal Artemis James Philips. His job was to assassinate Acolytes from a distance beyond their superior eyesight could detect. Normally, he would never dream to kill a target as close as two miles. Most tech wouldn't even allow such a length either.

But his targets weren't Acolytes. Nor could they see him under the effects of Philips' Radiance of the Sun. And his tech was designed by the emperor himself, to which some would criticize was more on par of witchcraft than plausible.

The Dusk Blade checked his P-52 Longinus one final time. Everything was in order.

*Scene*

Guiles showed up, as theatrically as was possible. The white moon in the background turned crimson red. My eyes picked up dense weaves of magic in the works, beyond my means to pull off normally. Guiles hadn't been sulking in his lair doing nothing. He had conjured a great zeal of dark spirits from who knows where.

When he appeared on the rooftops beside us, I didn't recognize him. He was a shadow, literally. A black void made up his figure and my eyes could hardly register him. His form wasn't magical, but a literal void in space.

"Do you think I will forgive this sin, boy?!" his voice wasn't a physical sound, but something that had invaded my mind.

He spread his arms out. The spirits were unleashed. They weren't anything like the ones of vengeance that had previously guarded his fortress. These were souls of the damned, sinners who had crossed into the next life but dragged down into the darkest of pits. Their malevolent presence was so great you could see them in the physical realm. Twisted, contorted, malformed faces and bodies flew through the air as horrors impossible to describe.

"Twenty!" I commanded and activated another set of ten Gears. My Spirit flared, igniting my armor into a miniature sun. The Sun Sphere in my chest only amplified that. The light drove the spirits back; their howls of defiance cursed me. But I could only stop so many with this method. There were far too many spirits and they were cycling around me.

They were going for the Djinn and the girls.

The Gift of Craft blazed on my hands. I made the mistake of turning my back while trying to spin a weave of light to ward them off.

"Partner, behind you!"

I obeyed the raspy voice without a thought, only acting upon instinct. Jeanne crashed into me with more force than she had been able to apply before. And I could see why. Dark spirits were being drawn into her blade, giving it more power, and coursing it through her. Black veins ran up her arms and crawled throughout her body.

Behind me, magician Djinn were erecting barriers to prevent the advancement of the spirits. Their nets were strong, but the ridiculous numbers of spirits would tear through in time. The crimson moon was giving them Spirit, still, but not nearly enough. It was impure and needed more considerable amounts of time for their cores to purify it into useable Spirit. But while they did this, none of the other Djinn could escape. They were trapped.

"Twenty-three!" I commanded and activated the remainder of my Gears.

She may have been able to amplify her strength and speed, but so had I. She had fought me with ten Gears, and now I displayed twenty-three. My power was equivalent to a small army.

I pushed her away with the Fae sword, brought it around in the same swing, and brought the back of it towards her head. She lifted her blade to divert the damage, but was far too slow and instead turned it into a block. That block was fruitless. The power behind my swing shook her world as I watched her eyes widened a split second before the impact fully registered. A thunderous boom cracked the ground below us as she was sent rocketing away.

The wings of my Gift of Craft continued to blaze, never deactivating. During our engagement, I mentally wove the strings together with my Spirit. It was a lot slower than when I do it manually, but it could at least get me started. A single foot ahead of the rest can still win the race, after all.

My hands raved around another as I channeled Spirit directly from the Sun Sphere. The fragment of time to draw it from my own reserves would have been too long. At twenty-three Gears, this was the fastest I could spin and knot. But I needed to be faster.

The Djinn's barrier was starting to curve from the pressure of the spirits continuously pressing their selves against it. They were biting at the netting, trying to tear at the metaphysical ropes of sunlight despite being burned in the process.

To my astonishment, or perhaps horror, none of the others tried to stop me. As Jeanne was still recovering from my blow, Roland was just watching me work. Guiles in his shadow form watched me as well, I knew, even if I couldn't see whichever direction he was looking at. I wanted to know why he was allowing me to do this. But I could not afford to stop working all the same.

The last string was pulled; a weave of nine thousand, four hundred and seventy-two commands was finished.

Light equal to the rising sun pierced the area. Arrows— no, more so lances by their fullness pierced through the skies. As if the stars themselves were falling, projectiles of pure sunlight rained down from the heavens. They were harmless to those who bathed in the light— the Djinn, the humans, and myself— but condemned those who lived in the dark— the dark spirits and the vampires.

Jeanne stood just as the rain of light began to fall towards her master. Guiles stood still, watching the onslaught as the rain continued to fall and spread out towards his reach. He watched the spirits he conjured dissolve into nothingness. But instead of worrying, he reached into his fabrics…

…And pulled out the Founder's Prayer Book.

Louise. God, I hadn't even though of her! Seeing the Prayer Book in his hands meant Louise was also captured in the raid.

I couldn't worry about it. Jeanne was running with her sword down low. The silver blade turned black as her tainted veins retracted back into the sword.

"Quick!" came the raspy voice— coming directly from the sword in my hands! "Use me!"

She swung her blade. A wave of darkness was unleashed by her swing, blanketing the area in a sinister shadow of corruption. I watched as the rain of light shattered into dust at the touch… and the darkness continued to spread like a fabric being whipped out.

I brought the sword up to my front in a guard. Her attack met the blunt of my sword… and miraculously, impossibly so, held.

"Hot!" shouted the sword. "Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, yyeeeeoooouuuuuucchhhhh it burns!"

The darkness was being absorbed into the blade. All of the malevolent energies of the spirits and of the wrongs I had inflicted on her and Roland were being devoured by this Fae blade. But I didn't know how much it could withstand. Instruments of the Fae were far better than anything humanity could ever hope to forge, as they were one of the few beings in the omniverse who had achieved a true perfect civilization. But the fault in this was… the weapon in my hands was a weapon. Meaning this had been made either before they were perfect beings or after they chose to restart from scratch. As such, this weapon was designed to have flaws.

My biggest concern: did it have enough capacity to store this much malevolence?

I sure as hell wasn't going to find out the hard way.

"Spirits of sunlight, moonlight, and all that reside over good, purge this wickedness!"

I found it easier to push back. Like a second hand helping me, a force I could not see doubling my strength. The light around me glowed brighter until even I had difficulty seeing inches in front of me. There was just a layer of white and a layer of black. But in that short instance, reinforced by the spirits I pleaded with, it was just enough for me to repel Jeanne's attack.

The black fabric tore in half, and then dissipated into nothing.

My eyes widened as I saw what was revealed underneath. Guiles de Rais held a similar sword in his hand. One of silver that glistened red. But the level of malevolence in that blade was… true. As if the blade Jeanne had this entire time was nothing but a forgery while the real one was in his hands the entire time. The amount of black in its core was like a grand abyss compared to her shadow.

But that's not what frightened me. He still stood as a shadowy figure, and yet I could see his mouth moving. His lips were but a blur as his teeth clacked. Words came out of his mouth at speeds that sounded like a singular vocalization.

There was fire on his tongue, lit in a myriad of colors so very much like my Gift of Craft. No, exactly like my Gift of Craft.

Guiles de Rais possessed a Gift of his own.

"Explosion!"

Something struck me squarely in the chest. I was thrown off my feet as blood— blood!— forced its way out of my throat. It was only by the time my back hit the floor did I realize the Godking's Armor had shattered upon the impact. That should have been impossible. Impossible! The Godking's Armor was made my by father, who could withstand the full brunt of even the Storm King's Apocalyptic Miracles!It was the crystallization of all fifty of his Gears, entering the Triumph cycle. It was his legend made real.

And Guiles destroyed it as if it were made out of cheap glass. With a cheap spell no less. A titanic spell strong enough to destroy the armor should have obliterated me to the point where not even Reverse could bring me back.

The sword fell out of my grip and skidded across the floor fifteen feet away from me. Worse, and my heart nearly stopped, I could hear the Sun Sphere bouncing and then rolling away from me. Pain surged through me as I forced myself to flip over. The threatened death of my loved ones couldn't even force me to react this way. I watched with aghast horror as the Sun Sphere moved further away from me.

…Straight towards the edge of the fortress, wobbled once, and then fell to the bottom.

That Sun Sphere, a literal sun in itself, was more valuable than everything on this planet, Earth, and Ilyvander held combined.

My first thought was to abandon my battle against these vampires. To abandon the girls I came here for. To command my Djinn to search for the Sun Sphere with utmost haste.

But, in this moment, I realized how terrible those thoughts were. I didn't become Godking for the power. I became Godking to protect those I love. The power simply came with it.

This battle came first. The Sun Sphere can wait after.

I flipped back over, only to have Jeanne place the point of her blade to my neck. My Gears were deactivated. Not even Craven magic could come to me. My Spirit was there, but something within me was blocking its access, like something had been jammed by the impact of his spell. Whatever spell Guiles had used had depleted me of everything mystical in my arsenal.

"You lose, Godking," Guiles said as he turned his silver sword towards the extraction crew.

A legion of shielders gathered into a wall, lining their arms over the other and forming a barricade to protect those behind them.

He began to recite from the book again, his words too fast to be heard under the influence of his activated Gift. It only took three seconds.

"Explosion!"

There was a flash of white followed by a concussion blast. The sound of metal and glass shattering reached deep into my soul. I saw as twenty shielders simply decimated.

Panic surged through me. I knew what was to come next. Their deaths, all twenty of them, would come back towards me. All of their memories, experiences, and thoughts would come rushing into my head simultaneously. There would be no filtration, no warning, no preparation.

But it didn't come. The effect was always instantaneous. A second flew by. Quite possibly the longest second in my entire existence.

Nothing came my way.

It was then I understood what this fifth element truly was. The Founder was a Void mage, who wrote all of his secrets into his Prayer Book. Guiles' de Rais now has possession of the book and was using his Gift to recite its arias.

Void wasn't an anti-magic element. While my Djinn were creatures that thrived off of sunlight energy, they were still materialistic beings forged through Sorcery. The Sorcery of Doll Maker creates matter and gives that matter life. The spell of Void shouldn't have been able to touch either of those two. It should have only removed the resources of Spirit within their cores.

It shouldn't have destroyed the Godking's Armor, for that matter.

Instead, there was nothing left of my Djinn. Nothing. As if they never existed in the first place.

The Void was anything but an actual element. It resembled nothing like the real fifth element: ether. This mockery was taking place of the real element.

The Void was an instrument of the Abyss.

And these people worship it as if it were the most holy of things!

Guiles paid me no mind. His shadowy visage flickered as if he was losing the strength to keep it up. Perhaps there was a large tax on him to chain this spell. The World must be going haywire trying to figure out where this glitch in its Laws was coming from. It was more than likely trying to use all its resources to stamp it out. Meaning each use immediately afterwards would be much more costly. And using it too much would get the World's attention, perhaps its natural defense system, or, God forbid, the attention of the Guardians.

God! If he managed to get Guardians to look this way!

"Guiles! Stop!" I shouted. Jeanne pressed her weapon harder against my neck, drawing blood. I almost didn't care; just enough to not have her splice open my windpipe. "You'll kill everyone here if you use that!"

"That's exactly my intentions," he cackled with a sneer into the mix. He had missed my intentions by a long shot.

The radiant flames sprouted from his tongue once more. His aria chanted again. Magicians this time erected a defense barrier and linked their hands together to be a secondary wall. But it would be pointless. He would break them down and more than likely get others in the concussion.

3… 2… 1—

Jeanne was thrown to the side as her head simply… exploded. And then, the sound of a sonic boom pierced through the night. A gunshot from such a grand distance.

It managed to get Guiles from reciting the last line of his spell. His shadowy form shifted in what I suspect to be him turning towards the fallen vampire. His head tilted in what I could only guess to be curiosity.

…Because Jeanne wasn't getting up.

"…Jeanne?" he called in a low voice. His body glided towards her fallen form. He knelt down, taking the form of a shadowy blob, and reached for the bleeding wound at the side of her head. Her eyes stared up at him, vacant of any life.

"Jeanne, get up," he commanded in a firm voice.

She did not move. Her sword did not devour her wound.

"Jeanne!" he grabbed her shoulders and shook violently. A shadowy face formed through his mystery, almost like a black cloth smothering his face. It was an expression of ferocity. "Jeanne! Jeanne! Jeanne! JEANNE! JEANNE! JEANNE!"

She did not move. Her head bobbled with every shake and nothing more.

I could almost say I pitied him. I could almost sympathize with him. But I couldn't. At least not now, not while he was my enemy. I could not afford to show emotions for him until either one of us was dead. But I understood what it meant to have someone you loved die.

I was seeing myself in this picture. I was holding Terah, trying to stop the bleeding from her heart even after she had long stopped breathing.

He screamed. A soul-wrenching scream of anguish I had been expecting to hear. It shook the air with his vampiric nature and his authority over the Firstborn magic. Spirits of all kinds shivered at his rage. Spirits of rage themselves quivered before him.

And all that anger was directed towards me.

He could not say words. Words were simply too human of a concept for someone like him at this moment. Now, he was nothing more than a beast, driven solemnly by his need to hunt. His rage had consumed him and I was the closest thing for him to vent it out on.

"Sorry Guiche," I said more to myself than to him, not like the blonde fop could even hear me.

The shadow lunged at me at an impossible speed. Solstice appeared in my grip with Equinox at my back. Its surge of Spirit started to heal my body, but not in a speed to help me. Without any Gears or Craven magic, I was nothing more than a regular human being. And Guiles would be considered an elder vampire, more so a force of nature by this point in time.

Solstice was up between us, but he easily swatted it away. The metal cut into his shadowy skin and burned all the way towards the flesh underneath. But such things don't matter to a creature driven only by rage. His hand was back around, grabbing at my throat, lifting me up—

A spear of light was fired into his side from a magician Sentinel. But all it did was shove him away from me. There was hardly any damage onto his self and any wound inflicted onto him was devoured by his true unholy weapon. The real-deal was even faster than Jeanne's, almost instant.

Fuck.

Sentinels rushed to my side, one trying to ram their shoulder into Guiles, who became black mist and had the Sentinel phasing through him. He slashed shadowy claws at its back, but only lit up sparks as the Djinn metal repelled his attack. But, at the same time, the Sentinel spun and thrust its spear into his chest, which resulted in nothing happening.

Nothing would happen at this rate. But I had seen what could hurt Guiles.

I gave a mental command to every available Djinn. Magicians obeyed without hesitation, already working their wonders before my thought could be fully expressed. They spun weaves of Spirit directly from their cores as they could not fully gain the sources due to the crimson moon still in effect.

The Djinn surrounding me had their weapons and armor glow as Spirit coated their armor like a polish. Now, they could touch him.

For however inhumanly fast Guiles was as a rampaging beast, the Djinn were superior, especially united. Their resonance amplified their prowess. They cut into him when he thought he had dodged, had riposted when he thought he lunged in for the kill, had cycled around him when he thought he was giving chase. But for no matter how many times they carved into him, he was always back to his full might less than the blink of an eye. Cut off his head and a new one sprouted in a fragment of time. And the darkness surrounding his silver sword was growing more potent. It was becoming strong enough to leave scratches onto the Djinn armor, which soon became tears, which would continue to grow the longer this stretched out.

I sheathed Solstice into Equinox, letting both work their Defiant Works onto my body while I prepared for what was to come next. As it was meant to be made for, Solstice repaired any and all of the flaws within me. I could now reach into my Spirit, channel Craven magic, or even reactivate my Gears.

I chose none of them. I commanded my Djinn once more, who obeyed me without question but did get a feedback of concern nonetheless.

The continued to carve into him. Pushing and pressing him into tight corners, making him more desperate as he dove deeper into his carnal instincts. The more he was pushed, the less he used his sword and began to lash out with kicks, with claws, with his teeth. They continued to push him until he abandoned his sword on the floor to use both his claws. But no matter how many times the continued to wound him, his blade still continued to receive his wounds. Still resonating with him, the blade continued to amplify his powers.

There was a gap in their formation. Guiles took it, slithering out of the smallest crack that shouldn't have been there. He charged directly at me.

I did not draw Solstice. I ran towards him instead.

Pain shot through me as his claws pierced through my torso. Lungs, intestines, and my heart were pierced with utmost ease. Blood escaped my lips.

My Djinn did not move. Their programming demanded they avenge their Godking but while I was still alive my command to keep them at bay would do such.

At the sweet temptation of my blood splattering over his face, and at the sign of my defeat and inevitable death, Guiles brought his head down in the final sign of conquest those of his kind knew. New pain surged through me as his fangs dug into my neck and tore a large chunk of my flesh. More blood gushed out in alarming quantities, enough for me to see white spots. Only the regeneration of my Spirit was keeping me alive, but it would not protect me from the death of having my organs impaled.

Guiles drank my blood gratuitously. His rage had been quenched as his breathing lowered to a more controlled rate. Instead of drinking like a thirsty man, he sipped softly like how one tasted fine wine. He even smacked his lips.

"As I was saying…" his suave voice returned. "You lose, Godking. And now, you are mine."

I would retort with something. But having a lung pierced made me only cough more blood.

"That's what they always say…" he drifted off. He blinked. He blinked again, this time furiously as if he was seeing white spots as well.

He took a step back, releasing me in his grasp. Sentinels were at my side immediately with their weapons drawn. But they wouldn't need them.

Guiles' shadowy form began to fall apart until his corporeal form was revealed. Thick veins were all over his skin, threatening to break out of his body. His hand shot towards his heart and then another to wrap around his neck. He was breathing heavily, almost with difficulty.

He took another step back, this time wobbling.

"Why…?" he asked through a hoarse voice. "Sunlight… in blood… as well?!"

He fumbled to his knees. He coughed up blood, or at least some dark liquid that resembled blood. It was black with a tint of gelatinous silver. He gasped as if he hadn't drawn a breath his entire life. His mouth hung open like a gaping fish. His eyes grew wide, unfocused. He tried to crawl, but instead fumbled. His hand reached over towards the silver sword lodged onto the rooftop.

Footsteps clacked against the bricks. Roland walked up towards his fallen master. He had stayed out of the second half of the fight. His sword had been sheathed, but now he drew it out.

A smile crept over Guiles. "My… boy. Hand… my sword…"

"I am no longer yours," Roland returned with a cold voice. "I serve only the Lord of Shadows of Tristain. I serve Godking Dalang."

Guiles' eyes widened at the proclamation. But there was nothing further. His body gave a spasm before he fell flat on the ground. And yet, he still lived. His mouth opened and closed, still trying to breathe.

Roland brought his blade down, decapitating the defeated vampire.

With a flick, the blood flew off his blade, leaving it as immaculate as it had ever been.

With Guiles dead, the spirits lingering dispersed. The crimson moon washed away, leaving the second moon back to its blue beauty.

Roland approached me, undid the strap of his sword, knelt before me, and placed his sword down between us. He bowed his head in fealty.

I couldn't stay any longer. Regeneration could only help so much and mine isn't absolute. The world was turning cold and dark. I couldn't maintain my focus as I was passing away onto death. But, soon, Reverse would activate and I would be back to my prime.

Yet, in this moment of darkness, before Reverse would bring me back, I heard a voice. A woman's, clearly, but one filled to the brim with power. She spoke in a Voice of Power. She was an authority of the World. A Ruler, or perhaps a defender of the planet. But someone who had the backing of the World to do her bidding.

"Born of nothing, we are given something. Here and now, as we return to nothing, we return that something.

"But we, who remain, are born of something, and are given nothing. Here and now, as we remain, we breed nothing and steal something.

"You, Doll Maker, have bred nothing. Your dolls are nothing.

"You, Doll Maker, have stolen something. The sun welcomes you, creature of the dark.

"The Shadows welcome you, oh dear Sunwalker.

"Oh dear Gandálfr, will you protect the Shadows from the dark?"