The Eternal Dream

by null1101

Power holds great sway over Morals. What happens when a normal person becomes the vessel for the intricate conflict of the two? Will she overcome her nature, or will she be swallowed by it? To her, that's trivial and unimportant. She cares not. The ever extending World as their dance floor, all such doubts gone, only one question truly remains: should they Waltz or do the Salsa?

6. The Moonlit Dahlia

Several Years after YGGDRASIL's start…

Shortly before the happenings that would come but moments later, the prim white and golden streets of Asgard bustled with people of all kinds.

They laughed, joked—some lamented their loss to bosses and raids as they bought new gear—others were as happy as can be—celebrating their loot, some were embarrassed, some else annoyed for one reason or the other. In poorer and much more concise words, there was no proper way to describe the crowd, or none that would do it justice—at the least. If not, perhaps—human, for there was not a single other member of a different race in sight.

Their number itself was ever-changing, each moment a hundred might logout the server, and a thousand login, t'was truly an impossible endeavor to keep track of it.

In the middle of it all, laid a small stall, a wooden yet sturdy and ornate podium right beside it that contrasted greatly with all the metal and steel equipment surrounding it, even more so with the luxury of the area itself.

Yet atop it, for how poor and untasteful the podium's look may be, stood someone of somewhat great importance in the current state of Asgardian affairs. Their appearance was unremarkable, a woman wearing a hooded cape that shielded her entirely from view safe from the lower part of her face, where red lips and a pointy yet adorable nose sat. One could glimpse the slightest locks of unnatural pink hair sway as she spoke her piece, such conviction was laced in her voice that she kept walking from one end to the other of the podium without even noticing it.

"We cannot allow their existence!" She'd say with a flourish of her arm, "How can we? They're monsters, inhuman! We must fight. Take back our loot, our items, our rewards! They're unworthy of them! How can we let Asgard be soiled by their lot after what they did?!"

Small, yet meaningful pauses would accentuate her point. Eventually, the stall would be surrounded by people who'd listen intently. What she was referring to was an event that had taken place some time ago where a bunch of Heteromorphs had taken hostage a very small part of the realm. Their defenses and plan had crumbled of course, failing in the process—but it took much longer than expected and so they had impacted a lot of players.

"Vera Humani will take care of them, I promise! All we need is your support. We cannot do it without you!" She almost screamed, and the crowd of knights and wizards alike roared. "Seraphim… Brytania, Kingdom, Natura! All of them parade themselves as good! Their members all Angels or beings with high values of karma, but even them—and you know it,'' she held a finger up as if to make a point, "are monsters!"

''You're right!" Some would say.

"True, true! They stole from me a well!" One remarked.

"You too? Me too! They steal from all of us, from us Humans! Our resources!" Another responded.

"Thieves, all of them!" Was a common one among many.

"We should take them out!" or "Let's hunt them!" was also just as popular of an opinion.

Among the many people, however, towards the back side of the podium—despite it being surrounded on all sides by players, a bar laid—tables in front of it for whomever might wish to sit.

It was a fine establishment once upon time, 'The Veil' was its name, but it had been some time since it had seen the light of much business. Nowadays, it was more of a place where people who had deals to conduct would go, where one could talk and not be heard. For if the walls had ears, then the owner would rather have no walls at all. He was just that kind of person.

Atop one of the finely decorated chairs, memento from its glory days, just outside in the shadow of privacy, a man listened closely to each and every word, a frown on his unnaturally delicate lips. The otherworldly stars of silver he had as eyes glimmered as they rested on the leader of Vera Humani, Amanee—waiting like a predator for the right opportunity. In the hopes perhaps that the many players of the Guild disguised in the crowd—most likely on guard duty, would be distracted.

'They're not as slick as they think...'

The man in question was someone who had yet not gathered a following of any kind. As unknown as one could be.

At the very least, that's what it'd seem like. And that's what it needed to seem like, for this was their goal—what their operation needed. He, whose true name had long since become reason enough to retreat among a lot of YGGDRASIL's playerbase, would run no risk doing what he was told. Vera Humani on the other hand… They'd be too preoccupied looking into his mysterious figure to notice they were being attacked. Perhaps they might even send reinforcements to deal with him here, on the spot.

He couldn't call himself an elite player if he didn't give them at least some trouble, after all. Trouble that was well warranted, especially after he had to buy a separate hardware in other to run the game on his old account…

Also, he felt himself somewhat attacked by the words of Vera Humani's leader. Perhaps it was that his main account was a Heteromorph, or simply the fact that it didn't sit right with him to be ganged up on by so many players simply for the actions of a few.

Well, even the avatar of this account was no Human. The dim and broken halo that was hidden from sight by a hood, yet rested atop his head gently—ever-floating, unmoving—as well as the two small horns that protruded from the top of his head, was a clear indication. But even then, he was no mere member of the Angelic Host Amanee had talked about.

He was an Angel, yes. But one who had Fallen so low he might as well be a Demon of the worst kind. And yet, he was neither. He retained powers of both light and darkness, almost unheard of in those days of YGGDRASIL. He was quite proud of his alt, given it had also been his main for a long time, though he had relinquished it to a friend of his when he moved from a city to another—which was when, with the buying of new VR gear, he'd created his other, newer account.

Abruptly, his train of thought was interrupted.

A small yet intricate blue magic circle appeared near his ear, words were spoken—action had to be taken. The voice was unmistakable, after all.

All at a moment's notice, the black-haired Fallen of the Comets unfurled a pair of wings of the darkest kind lined with purples and blues, lighting up the shade all around him with glowing feathers as sharp as blades.

He got up—immediately, a blast of wind rattled Asgard as the man lunged at great speed and picked off Amanee by her collar.

"Wha—"

They flew high up in the skies, water sprouts emerged from the usually calm reservoir that surrounded the part of Asgard they were in, while the Fallen held the Human up by what was basically her throat.

The coat had long since been cast aside by the strong gales and Amanee's armor was revealed. "...What's this? Proving my point to the people, monster?" The smirk dancing on her lips in real life as she did her best to wrestle his grip away didn't last long, her gaze immediately was directed to the tag on top of the man in order to learn of his name, yet her eyes widened at noticing that nothing awaited her if not a single terrifying number, [#382 - ?].

'A player who peaked in the top 500?! Anonymous, no less!?'

"You were unlucky to have a Guild Base we require, on top of having picked a fight with the Heteromorphs." He said as her hands struggled to move his own away and her hair danced in the wind, "We'll give you two choices. Surrender and become a branch of Ainz Ooal Gown, as the much smaller Guild you are, or…" If the silence wasn't telling enough—then surely his other arm, raised up as it was, ready to bring down the fifteen swords of pure light he had just summoned with [Holy Conjuration V – Celestial Swords] would do the trick.

Immediately, in front of the impending threat and current circumstances, frustration—slight fear even one might say—became something much worse, anger that took over Amanee. "Of those Heteromorph trash?! I don't care who you are, never!" She all but roared in his face as a [Boost Maximize Magic: Greater Fireball] closed the distance between them and its caster, a Sacred Knight of Vera Humani.

He was caught blindsided, forced to cancel the spell and let go of her, who had no way to fly and started falling down, while Vera Humani's reinforcements of twenty to thirty mid-level players climbed the skies, fast.

"Adios, Idiot!" She exclaimed with all too much giddiness for someone who was plummeting to the ground from thousands of meters above.

"Oh, you're going nowhere!" He grew a somewhat anxious smile as he thrust his arm forward, palm open. He could only hope now—rely on his companion for what would come next. His halo, in pieces though it was, glowed the slightest bit. ''[Greater Seal – Valor of Apaosha]!''

Without missing a heartbeat, Amanee's eyes narrowed in recognition and her fall was stopped. Her body floated enclosed by a tridimensional white, star-shaped barrier she couldn't hope to destroy with her current equipment.

'What does he have in that head, air?! That's a spell that needs you to keep maintaining it, you can't counter my people's attacks if you cast it, in fact you can't cast anything at all if you do!' The irritation settled in her features below the VR gear, but she could find solace in knowing she'd won at least, given he would soon be killed by her guildmates. 'A spell like that is good only because of how absolute it is, I can take no damage in here, but neither can I get out. At the same time, you can't move or do anything. Curse yourself for having not done your research when you lose, Fallen.' She smirked.

A couple hundred meters above, arm still in the same position but palm closed in a tight fist, the Fallen closed his eyes as Sacred Knights upon Paladins of all kinds rushed toward him—a single blue magic circle near his ear.

'You better not miss, Pero!'

---

"I never miss a lady's heart, Momonga! Worry not!"

In the dense expanse of a forest thousands of meters below, and even more away from the place where the fight was taking place, a Birdman of exquisite armor with a bow that shone with the light of the Sun itself in hand took his aim with not one, but three arrows of different types.

"It's my first time shooting three of these!" He spoke in the magic circle, excitement clear in his voice.

"I didn't need to know that, thank you very much!" The other party responded before the spell collapsed, something both knew would happen as soon as the players around were acknowledged as enemies by the game itself. Their plan was so elaborate exactly because of that—they needed the game to know that it wasn't them who had attacked first, so it wouldn't be a PK.

He took in a deep breath in real life as he saw his hopefully soon-to-be kills ascending the skies towards where his guildmate was holding prisoner their leader, the focus of a lifetime all in this one shot…

'It's all or nothing, I suppose. I'm not letting you down, so get ready! Three… '

---

'Not yet,' The Fallen thought, 'They're too far still.'

He could see the horde of players approaching, each screaming a different thing, every one of their weapons gleaming with the intention to take him out, to save their leader. The Fallen of Comets' heartbeat quickened as his mind raced to find the perfect moment for his plan to unfold.

---

'Two… ' The bow began to flare with flames the size of small trees as a fiery aura enveloped Peroroncino himself.

---

'Maybe… '

'No, not yet.' He convinced himself, dying here would be far too embarrassing, and far too much of a loss for them. He had to trust Peroroncino and get the timing of the spell just right for the seal to be released as his arrow pierced and for it to be reinstated.

He could hear them coming…!

'Damn it! Not yet!''

---

'One…! ' The tip of the arrows began to glow—

---

As Amanee's guildmates launched their onslaught, a thunderous [Greater Thunderlance] came dangerously close. Holding his breath, the Fallen held firm to the seal, despite his growing anxiety. The spell couldn't falter; it was the linchpin of their operation!

A heartbeat passed and something clicked.

"—Now!" He let go of [Greater Seal - Valor of Apaosha], deactivating it for a split second before it was activated again, blind faith placed entirely in his friend. He wasn't able to move, and thus dodge anymore—even if he'd wanted to, all was out of his hands.

---

'Now!' The Archer of Ainz Ooal Gown released the masterfully aimed arrows all at once with a boom.

The vaguely recognizable white star in the sky of Asgard disappeared a slight moment later. He didn't dare say as much as a single celebratory word for now, however.

The arrows traveled as fast as light, no—faster if he had a say himself!

---

As soon as Amanee's screen was engulfed in an orange light and the milky white barrier around her vanished, she knew something was up. It was actually quite impressive, so much so she didn't even try to argue her frustration.

Something had flown towards her, she hadn't even seen it coming.

All she knew was that the moment the walls of the seal came back up, but half a second after they'd gone down, not enough to do anything—she had a golden arrow where the heart of her avatar was supposed to be, piercing right through her.

Her HP had not moved, but she recognized the arrow for what it was—[Peace and Prosperity], an event item that would not let her harm the player who had hit her with it, nor their Guild for the next thirty minutes. A small, prankster item created by the Devs on a whim, available only once a year, on this very day: Valentine's Day—yet an item that would make her completely useless for far too long a timeframe nonetheless.

It was even worse that the moment the seal was reactivated and she was under its absolute protection once again, all around her she could not see anything but the hue of a wave of light and fire that had reduced her reinforcements to nothing, almost mockingly sparing her.

All while the slightest instant before he was hit with his own ally's attack, the third non-damage arrow hit the Fallen who had captured her, and along with him she was teleported to someplace else.

Her anger dissipated amidst an awe of some kind, and despite her best attempts at being irritated at her loss, her mind could not help but wonder.

'The fact that they managed to coordinate the timing to shoot through the spell… And that whoever was the archer in question didn't miss is just…'

---

"…Amazing!" The Birdman exclaimed, "We did it! Ahaha!"

---

'Insane.'

Such a thing could also undoubtedly be said for what those very people, each and every one of them in Asgard, witnessed. Those few thousands who were privy to see a spectacle quite special if they but raised their eyes to the heavens above.

It's no surprise to say that the Winged King of Explosive Strikes would go on to hit many, many more targets with his trusty arrows.

Though for some reason, it was the first and last time a shot of his would land on a girl.

His sister would make fun of him for a long way to come about that…

---

ACT 1: CHAPTER 6 - "The Moonlit Dahlia."

---

12th - 13th Middle Wind Month

A Heavily Warded Clearing

During the final clock of the day, at the time when Today and Yesterday are separated—deep in the swamps beside a peak known to all in the region, a Dragon Lord met with witches. Three women, seen hundreds of times before—each encounter whilst wearing a different face than the last—who claimed to be Prophets, Librarians of Destiny without having walked even once in its gardens. They gave him the only prophecy witches could ever give under a moonless sky; one of hopelessness as dark as the lightless ether above.

With each step towards the clearing, a star was snuffed out—another lit up. ''The Heavenly One has roused," they greeted him all at once. "Have the skies become a dull domain, or has our message intrigued him?"

"I wonder?" The one on the foremost left spoke, much too young—still almost a child, true curiosity written all over her face. "I wonder! Do you know, sister?" The other said as well, a voice somewhat less delicate than the first—much less innocent as well, yet still in the prime of her years. "I wonder." The oldest one finished, with the mockery warranted of someone who already knew the answer, for the wisdom of age was nothing to scoff at.

Silence permeated the air for a second or two, an invisible weight settling upon the shoulders of the three in front of him—yet they held their gaze high, defiant nonetheless.

Cold, blue eyes pierced through the darkness, illuminating the night with a menacing glow. ''...I've no time for tricks, nor will I stand here to suffer the remarks of my lesser. We have a Contract, your Queen knows best not to upset me." He stated while the white locks of his medium's short hair fluttered in the nightly breeze, the slightest hints of irritation clear in his voice despite him trying to be reasonable. "Although you may not look the part, you are spirits nonetheless. Tainted, yes—but bound in my service by a rightful, fair deal." He took two steps forward as his gaze bore down on the human-looking trio, suddenly an imaginary burst of wind had them stumbling for their footing—a reminder that it wasn't them who called for his presence, but that this was him allowing them the privilege of an audience. "Moments ago, what should've been the blackened Heavens were exhilarated—aglow under the influence of a Lord that is not me. I have little patience left. Now speak or be gone from my sight."

Once his words were acknowledged, It was the third witch who answered; with the look of a rebel who had failed countless times, yet felt the taste of freedom still. "How mighty the King of the Sky is, revered and adored—clueless that he sits upon a false throne." Then the first witch chimed in, as she ran all around the Dragon Lord—his eyes darting around, searching for her amidst the fog that encircled them. "Why yes, sister! It's funny, is it not? Danbala, he who calls himself Lord, yet has no answers at all!" She laughed, an innocent giggle far too annoying for Danbala to bear.

He cared not for their antics. He'd grown accustomed to them a long, long time ago—but they were vexing still. "A false throne?" Orbs of sapphire narrowed, "I've no need for a throne. My power alone is testament enough to my position in the World's Order. It is foolishness to—"

"Danger awaits, Heavenly Dragon Lord." The older woman interrupted him, the veil of black she wore rising up and down at the wind's whim; her tone as serious as can be.

"It is our duty to warn you, as our covenant so requires." The woman with long black hair—of fair age—continued with a tinge of sorrow.

Overwhelming cheer followed, "And this time, you won't be able to avoid it! The danger shall come to you~" The child smirked—a crooked one, that showed just how genuine it was. Then they spoke in unison, a voice that reverberated through the forest itself with scorn, "But with that done, we need not stand in your presence any longer."

As her sentence ended and the Dragon Lord Danbala all but moved to cleave her head clean off for the disrespect—she wouldn't die, anyway—they were gone. Dissolved in the very air he breathed, hidden amidst the very fog he walked in. Reduced to nothing but a laugh echoing in the forest maniacally.

Irritation welled up within him, but centuries of life had blossomed into master-like control of his emotions. His leash over the three of them was loosening more and more with each year. With each prediction—but he'd never thought it would come to them being able to leave without his notice.

To defy him.

It was high time the Contract he'd agreed upon with Thaliea was revised.

"Those pesky creatures…" He eyed the spot they'd previously been in, "If they weren't so convenient and this medium of mine so pitifully weak and restricting, I'd have exterminated them myself. Too late now…" He sighed and took one last look at the starless sky above, before he too—in a gust of wind, was nowhere to be seen, leaving silence in his trail.

It was the dead of night, the ravens cawed amidst the branches, and the leaves on the ground rustled in the air's touch as always. But there was something more to the mana of Nature tonight—not that anybody would notice.

It wasn't stagnant anymore—passive, if one was willing to call it that. it felt alive and ready. As if a rusted blade recently sharpened—excited that its owner had come back from a long journey.

Change was coming, and Danbala wanted to be as far away from it as possible.

---

12th - 13th Middle Wind Month

Innermost Region of The Draconic Kingdom

A girl in her teens leaned over the well decorated rail of an ivory balcony, illuminated by a number of lanterns here and there. She wore worry on her young, tender visage like one would a pair of well-fitting gloves as she looked in the distance—the pots of colorful flowers all around her a stark opposition to her current mood.

Her unnaturally slit eyes rested on a small patch of land in the farthest reaches of the Capital's surroundings as she spoke. "...So you were here after all, Uncle." She inhaled deeply the cold air of night, a tonic well-needed.

She held an opened letter in hand, the envelope a dead giveaway—but he wasn't someone who'd just simply write you for idle chit-chat. Those were the ways of Humans, and as young as she might look, In her long, long life she had come to understand such was simply not his nature.

She gently appraised the golden wings that it had as a sigil, "You might be right, you know? I was struck by an ominous feeling myself little time ago—as if my position, my very existence itself was threatened somehow." She said, distress clear in her voice as her eyes slightly closed in contemplation. "But none have presented themselves to make good on that threat. And I have far too much to deal with to be worrying about such vague things, happenings that none of my people have felt—that only impact me and your kind." Finally, she slowly moved until she held the letter up at eye-level, inspecting it. "Unless trouble comes knocking at our door, I—as the Queen—nor the Kingdom shall acknowledge its existence—short-sighted though that may be. Your 'orders' of intervention on your behalf are denied by whatever shred of authority I still possess."

As the letter was kindled aflame by her magic, one last sentence appeared in messy ink. 'So you opt for the way of the fool, then. How regretful.' The words of the one person in the world who ever considered her worthy of the title of Dragon Lord despite her heritage—even for the twisted way he did—weren't a light burden. But even then, all she could do was throw the letter to the winds as it burnt to cinders—close her eyes and do her best to steel her resolve. She couldn't be dependent on someone else, nor could she do their bidding—as the Queen she was meant to be.

As she walked away, retreating to her chambers, the Draconic Kingdom's Monarch spoke but once under her breath.

"I will not be anybody's puppet, especially yours. If ruin is what shall come, I will face it head-on. If Death warrants me, it shall take me after a due struggle—strings-free and all, Uncle dearest."

Draudillion had no issues with dying, as long as it was a consequence of her own free will.

---

12th Dawn of the Middle Wind Month

Raiastra Holt

Wherever Ophis looked, trees emerged. The only sound accompanying their voyage was the soft rumbling of the wheels beneath, dutifully carrying them to their destination. The stars had long stopped singing of hidden truths and a foreign World's unknown concepts alike in her ears, their shine fading in the background as the golden King of Space took its rightful place in the sky of dawn—something she agreed with. In front of her, sitting on the opposite seats, lay a man whose friendly gaze lingered lightly on her frame with the hints of a smile.

"Time is most fickle when in the company of good friends, It is daybreak already." He spoke as he glanced outside, while his blonde hair—more messy than usual—dangled down his forehead unimpeded by his crown, a symbol of his status.

"Mhm, indeed." She beamed at him and her violet eyes glinted in the light playfully. "Are we long for Arwintar, still?"

"Not much. No." He responded by shaking his head the slightest bit. "The Imperial Palace is a ways off the city entrance—however. So it may take some time."

"Very well." She nodded minutely, in doing so letting a comfortable silence take over the cabin. It didn't last long though, as Jircniv soon spoke once again, this time whilst keeping eye contact, he complimented the landscape. His eyes had a similar shade to hers, she noticed—though in truth she couldn't help but also think of them as a pale imitation, he was a human after all; and it wasn't a comment borne of their outside appearance either, what she was disappointed in was what they withheld, Cunning, Regality—perhaps… But Power? In that aspect, she found them lacking.

"As far as I'm aware, a village known for its beautiful lake," he pointed to the bayou she had missed right outside the windows, "and flowerbeds is near here. If the journey proves too monotonous for you, we could make a stop?" Ophis eyed him for a moment, contemplating the choice in the privacy of her mind. On one hand, that would mean slowing down the progress towards why she was sent here, but on the other it'd mean getting precious info about the Empire, perhaps a chance to experiment as well. "Worry not. We won't stay long if you decide to, by the time we take a look at the flowers and whatever else you fancy we'll be gone. That way, we should arrive at the Capital before noon."

Her head tilted the slightest bit as she agreed. "What about you, would that not be improper?"

"Even the commonfolk need to see their Emperor at times."

She supposed the answer to be good enough. They stopped the carriage so they could enjoy the scenic walk, covering the remaining distance between them and the village that grew nearer with each step.

Time went by and she reached a conclusion regarding her temporary traveling companion. He was… amusing. Yes, the longer she thought about it, this man—no, this human was quite amusing indeed.

Surrounded on the left by crystalline waters and on the right by entire endless fields of flowers, Darkness itself smirked the slightest bit. The past hours in his company were… fun, in a way. Not the kind of a fun a human would ever understand, of course—but it remained fun nonetheless; that of playing with a new, unfamiliar toy, one that—at times—through pushing a button never pushed before, would emit a new voiceline once in a while.

"Do you like it?" He spoke as he led the way towards the town-like village, now close. "It's a good place, with good people—humble people. Farmers, merchants, sellers, mercenaries. They appreciate every facet of life here in Hertha Village, they see so little that they ought to, else being picky would lead to them enjoying little to nothing." He didn't turn back to check on her, nor what she thought about it. It was as if he was speaking to himself and himself alone—there was a certain pride in his voice when he talked of his people, the quality that made an everyday ruler a king for the ages.

Dirt under their feet soon became unpolished stone and they found themselves entering Hertha. Barely a few steps in, however, they were stopped. Not by guards or the like, but by something much, much more energetic and welcoming. The individual in question approached with a jump in their step, an innocent pinch of fun all around them.

A small red ribbon sat atop uneven yet cutesy short chestnut hair. "Hi there! Are you visitors? You don't like you're from here. And truuust me, I know everybody here! There's not many of us, so it's not hard. Mom said visitors are always good! So? So?! Are you visitors?" The little brown-haired girl in front of them was doing her utmost to keep her excitement down, but it seeped into her speech nonetheless.

At first, Ophis wasn't keen on getting involved in the interaction, but for some reason or the other the girl was intent on speaking to her—almost completely ignoring Jircniv, who after answering despite feeling as if he was talking to a wall—was smiling. "...Yes, we are." She stated in as sweet a voice her human alter ego could muster, "But you aren't, now are you? What's your name, little one?"

"Ellie! If anybody tells you it's Eleonor, they're wrong! That's way too long and not fun at all!" She responded with all the cheer of a kid her age as her arms flailed up and down.

"What a cute dress you have, Ellie. Did you need anything from us?" The black-haired woman spoke as she lowered down to Ellie's height.

"No, no! Not at all! I just wanted to come by and say hi!" Ellie twirled for some unknown reason, Ophis supposed the behavior of children was always erratic and unpredictable—even when it came to humans. Young dragonlings were such as well, give them a Village to raze while playing and they'd want two—such little troublemakers. "Your dress is even cuter miss, because of that—take this! Have a good stay!" She practically shoved in her grasp a handpicked flower from the bouquet she had in hand, before taking to running away while waving at the pair.

The interaction was drowned by the silence left behind by the little girl's departure. For a moment, it felt as if everything was alive—as if hundreds of things were happening all around them, and now—alone as they were, it had all stopped. "What a strange child…" She could not help but mutter under her breath.

Jircniv laughed out loud for the first time since they'd started their travels, which prompted Ophis to glance at him in genuine wonder, what could have prompted the ever courteous man to let out such an untasteful laugh? "I did tell you they were welcoming here, did I not?"

Perhaps, had she understood humans better, she would've come to the conclusion that a laugh coming from the very depths of one's heart had no match in elegance, but it wasn't the case. And so she shrugged, "I suppose."

They walked for a while longer, taking in the sights—mainly Jircniv, as Ophis—or Amelie, as was to be her new identity for now, was too preoccupied with sullenly staring at the flower she had received, spinning it between her fingers as she closely inspected it at random intervals.

'I guess she likes it?' Were the Emperor's fleeting thoughts, though his focus was soon averted. But much else was going on in the Evil Dragon's mind.

She had always been old, since her very creation—her birth, she had been blessed to never experience the ignorance of youth. But she'd also admit to have been uninformed for a time, but by choice, and so she couldn't be classified as ignorant—for she had the knowledge that, if she wanted to, she could grasp whatever.

And even then, unknowing of the ways of the world? Never, but of the small, insignificant aspects of things? Perhaps. But there was reason for it, exactly because they were insignificant in the grand scheme, in her mind they were useless to know the depths of.

Yet now, as she looked over that pure white flower again and again, she was faced with curiosity regarding one such thing she had considered unimportant.

So much curiosity… Yet so much she didn't know, that she couldn't comprehend—all about humanity.

Before departing once again, she'd take some time to plant the flower to her gifted in a lone spot. Magic and Nature would do their course, and influenced by close contact and a distressed mind that might've let some miniscule amounts of aura out, the flower would turn black and blossom into the first and last of its kind.

But even then, such an event—even if happening right in front of her eyes, was lost on her. For she was blinded entirely by the simple fact that for the first time in her countless years, the Ouroboros Dragon was—despite her struggles—truly ignorant.

---

12th Morning of the Middle Wind Month

Near OId Baum

Vines sprouted from the soil as elemental magic with the calibre of Authority the Great Spirit of Dendro would have over the Earth was invoked. They intertwined with one another until an ample tea table and three chairs were made—each one a different design, just for the fun of it. A moment later, a pair of eyes stopped glowing and the plant-life that composed them settled.

Now seated—within a peaceful glade, surrounded by ancient trees whispering of the forest's secrets, an unlikely assembly gathered. Resting around the well-appointed table were three extraordinary beings, each bearing an aura of mystique. Though it would be fair to say that if not for clever deception, only two out of three could be classified as such.

Asmoday was the first of the three, a Dragon—the only True Dragon to ever exist—her majestic form concealed in a human guise as she did her best to exude an air of wisdom and power. She regarded the one in front of her with eyes that held the secrets of ages despite having witnessed a mere two decades at most.

Beside the Dragon sat a black-haired Dryad, a figure of ethereal beauty that seemingly believed Asmoday to be Life itself. Clad in a gown of shimmering leaves and flowers, she emanated an otherworldly grace. The humans who dwelled in her domain apparently revered her as a divine presence, unaware of her true nature.

Opposite them sat the Overlord the True Dragon was most grateful to call best friend, yet a sinister figure draped in darkness nonetheless, one that to the Dryad was none other than Death itself. His skeletal form exuded an aura of malevolence, his intentions shrouded—if one could catch a glimpse of it however—an awkward smile curled upon his shadowed lips, betraying his exterior.

Upon the table, delicate porcelain teacups stood alongside plates of delectable treats. The teapot emitted tendrils of fragrant steam, its aroma enveloping the gathering in a comforting embrace.

It had been some time since their meeting had started, and after a bit of conversation and some clever excuse-making, an art Momonga was most proficient in despite his funny struggles which Asmoday made sure revel in, the True Dragon's mind had drifted off somewhere else—which had caused an idea to form.

Momonga raised his arm in a gesture that reiterated the no-buts tone he spoke in. "Indeed. We are here under the veil of humanity and do not wish our presence to be known."

"B-But, Lord Death! I… The villagers must know! They pray to me, but they have merely been led astray by their ancestors… If you—ones truly worthy of worship are here then it would the equivalent of a slight towards you! I-I cannot let that—"

With a solemn yet commanding voice, the True Dragon broke their conversation. "Vilyia." She called the Dryad's name until all eyes turned to her, their gazes held in rapt attention. "You have already inconvenienced us enough with what has happened in the town square. Someone worshiped as divine kneeling is no small thing, none would miss your actions. You do not wish to inconvenience us more, do you?" Orbs of rose narrowed.

"No! O-Of course not!" The Dryad exclaimed as she hit the table's surface with her palms, "Ah, pardon my outburst…"

"Forgiven." Asmoday spoke.

'Wow… she's really good at this.' Momonga couldn't help but notice. Asmoday had seemed dazed out for a while, yet had returned from said daze with quite the regality to her, unmatched acting skills too apparently—he knew that look of hers, what did she have in mind?

The True Dragon gracefully rose and approached the mystical barrier that shielded them on one side. They were at the very edge of the protection cast upon the entirety of Old Baum, where nobody would disturb them. She locked eyes with the Dryad, "I have a proposal for you, Vilyia." She spoke. "You love your people, do you not?"

"Of course." She spoke calmly.

Without any kind of intervention on the Dryad's side, Asmoday's hand reached out as she turned back to the barrier, gently tapping against its invisible surface. A resonating echo filled the glade, a testament to the fragility and strength of Vilyia's supposed sanctuary.

"Then this cannot possibly suffice." The Dragon's eyes blazed with a fierce determination.

'If this is what I think it is… Then it should be equivalent to a 4th tier spell, at best. But it's nowhere that complex, so technically, I could…'

The Overlord watched with expectant and curious eyes as the True Dragon readied an arm. With a flourish, an ear-shattering impact sounded as her hand struck the barrier, unleashing a torrent of energy. Cracks spread like fiery veins, snaking across its once impenetrable surface.

The Dryad gasped, her eyes widening as she witnessed the barrier's transformation. It crumbled before her very eyes, its enchantments dissolving into fragments of shimmering light. A small rush of mana swept through the glade, and the once-secluded realm was exposed to the boundless expanse beyond once more.

"I offer you protection, dear Dryad—true protection," the Dragon proclaimed, her voice tinged with both resolve and amusement. "Though this place may seem secure, danger lurks just beyond, people who might one day garner the means—if they do not possess them already, to harm Old Baum. Aside from that, it is clear to me that if the stories you've told us are true, this barrier has been but a golden cage you've been sitting in for a long time now. Am I wrong?" Ophis hadn't reported yet, but if even just Jircvniv's carriage was anything to go by, Old Baum had long since stagnated. This place had been cut off from the world entirely for centuries. That was beyond idiotic! Yes, to build a paradise such, it needs to be separated from the outside. 'But that doesn't mean it shouldn't interact with it at all!'

'Plus, what I have in mind is way more fun, and way more useful for us.'

The Dryad's eyes widened, a mix of astonishment and fearful trepidation shining within. She understood the weight of Life's offer. Left with no other choices and no shield from the outside world, there was hardly anything else she could say. Her lips curled in an uncertain smile, "I… Baum would be honored."

"Then we shall depart swiftly, as soon as tomorrow, and work out the details later. Will that much time suffice for you to convince the population to abandon their homes? The inside of the walls they grew so used to?" It wasn't a small thing to ask of them at all. If Asmoday was being honest with herself, she doubted they'd simply comply—but it was worth a try. As soon as her sentence ended she, of course, informed Momonga of what exactly she had in mind doing all this—unsurprisingly, he agreed with a light heart.

"...I'll do it. I will make it work somehow."

The True Dragon smiled as her red eyes lit up, amused. "Very well."

Meanwhile, the Overlord observed, his bony fingers clenching with great excitement—or as much as he could feel, anyway. In the company of Demiurge he had once talked of achieving World Domination, of conquering—as they were somewhat doing in this very moment, somehow. All without a true goal behind it of course, beneath it all during his conversation with Ulbert's creation, a flicker of uncertainty glimmered. And yet…here and now, even as they simply meant to visit the place, was that what Asmoday wanted? What would make his friend happiest?

If that was such, then…

Unluckily for Mankind, the Overlord couldn't find it in himself to exert the slightest hesitation.

---

12th Late Afternoon of the Middle Wind Month

Arwintar, Capital City of Baharuth

It was way past lunch, in fact, but it was of no matter. Deep within the sprawling city of Arwintar, in the Empire of Baharuth—Ophis, the Ouroboros Dragon and sister to the True Dragon, descended upon the Imperial Palace's grounds in her guise as Amelie Nocturne, accompanied by the Emperor himself. The Sun shone high above, casting its golden majesty upon the castle's gardens and walls as she stepped onto the cobblestone pathway that would lead to the main portal. She made sure to look its way high up in the sky and do a little bow, as if curtsying to her sister.

Her amethyst eyes, gleaming with knowledge of all kinds, observed the humans bustling about their daily lives with keen interest. Amusement danced upon her features as she witnessed their peculiar behaviors. Their intricate social dances, their expressions of joy and sorrow, fascinated her in their simplicity and complexity alike.

"Amelie?" She was distracted by the man to her right.

In a smooth fashion, she turned to him—any unnecessary emotion Amelie wouldn't have shown was gone. "Yes?"

"I shall be gone for now. As promised, I made sure the carriage led us here, where no Palace staff would bother us. Worry not, I shall deal with each and everyone of them and inform them of your visit—but it'll take time." A small smile sprouted on his slightly tired visage, "If you have need for me, don't hesitate to visit my chambers."

"Of course, It's of no issue. Have a pleasant afternoon and evening then." She responded kindly, to which his eyebrows raised.

"I won't be seeing you for dinner?"

"I don't think so. I wish to take a proper look at Arwintar in and of itself, will that cause trouble?" She asked in a worried tone.

"Of course not. I was merely wondering. Very well then, I shall see you tomorrow. Have a pleasant rest of the day, and enjoy the grounds to your heart's content." He slightly dipped his head as he closed his purple eyes. He and Ophis parted ways shortly after.

As she roamed the palace halls and hallways alike, curiosity guided her steps. She observed courtiers engaged in whispered conversations, their plots and intrigues hidden beneath feigned smiles. But Ophis, somewhat unbound by mortal trappings, saw through their facades—her amusement growing with each encounter. First it was a gardener, then the maids—a butler or two, a couple apprentices—each and every single one had their own fascinating ways of behaving, their expressions, words and tones all different from one another.

A group of children playing in a nearby courtyard caught her attention. Their laughter echoed through the air, a melody of innocence that resonated with her encounter at Hertha. As she approached, her presence seemed to cast a hushed stillness upon the scene. Sensing their awe, for curiosity's sake—she decided to gift them a glimpse into her realm:

The Ancient Night.

With a flick of her wrist, Ophis summoned an illusionary display, painting the sky with shimmering hues that danced and swirled like ribbons of radiant color. The vibrant colors melded with the azure expanse, forming an ever-changing tapestry that mirrored the beauty of the celestial heavens. The children, their eyes wide with wonder, gazed upward, captivated by the ethereal spectacle.

One child, a small girl with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, dared to approach the shadow in which Ophis lay, running as she spoke. "Are you a goddess, miss?" she asked, her voice filled with innocent curiosity, but the exact moment she finished, much before she could even come close to witnessing her visage or form—Ophis was one with the umbra, nowhere to be seen, and the sky was blue once again. Of course, to them, who had only caught the slightest glimpse of her—she might've been a wonder worthy of remembrance and dreams lasting years to come, but to Ophis, they were but a riskless captivating study of human nature, their intricacies a testament to the complex tapestry of mortal existence—who'd believe a couple children that a woman suddenly made the sky change, after all?

She continued exploring for a while, until it was far into the evening, approaching the end of the twelfth day of the month, into the thirteenth one—something she'd recently learned from Jircniv was the calendar system. Ophis made her way to the grand balcony of her room, perched high above the city. She moved the curtain to the side, and there she was—into the open.

The sun had set, and the night sky spread its majestic canvas above her, adorned with countless shimmering stars.

As Ophis gazed upon it, a serene sense of belonging washed over her. The stars, like distant companions, whispered secrets to her soul. Their soft luminescence danced in rhythm with her own essence, a reflection of the power she embodied.

Her eyes traced the constellations, their ancient forms telling stories of heroes and legends. The celestial chorus seemed to fill her ears, resonating with her very being. It was a symphony of the cosmos, a melody she alone could truly comprehend.

With each breath, Ophis felt the night air embrace her, its cool tendrils caressing her skin.

As she communed with the dark skies, Ophis's thoughts turned to humanity, a species both enigmatic and captivating. In so little a timeframe, she'd seen their struggles, their passions, their triumphs, and their failures. They were fragile creatures, bound by their mortality and morality alike, yet capable of profound beauty and ugliness. She pondered the intricate web of emotions that entangled them. Love, ambition, greed, and despair—they were the threads that wove the tapestry of their existence. And she, as the embodiment of darkness itself, understood their desires, their yearnings for power and meaning.

A gentle breeze whisked through the air, carrying echoes of distant voices, their dreams and wishes.

Lost in her musings, Ophis contemplated it all. For a moment, she entertained the thought of calling forth an item she'd left slumbering in the shadow not so long ago, though it was soon forsaken. In its stead, she raised an arm, slender fingers spreading wide, as if trying to grasp the shimmering orbs high above themselves.

''[Maximize Magic: Abbadon]." A moment later, her palm faced upwards and a phantom ringed hand as black as the void—almost see-through—appeared over her human one.

An arcane power manifested before her, in response to her whisper. To invoke the name was to borrow the Authority of Annihilation itself, as the use of [Uriel] was to do the same with the Authority of Sacred Flame.

A surge of dark energy swirled around her hand, like snakes dancing in the moonlight. The night itself seemed to come alive the moment her mana roused, as if acknowledging her presence. The stars above shimmered with an intensified brilliance, as though mirroring the potency of her impending action.

"It would be so easy," she murmured, her voice a haunting whisper carried by the wind. "To reduce this city to dust."

A profound stillness settled upon the city of Arwintar, the calm before the storm. The world seemed to hold its collective breath, caught in suspended anticipation. Her hand shimmered with an otherworldly brilliance, a tapestry of yin and yang swirling and coalescing right in front of her in a sphere. It almost made it seem as if both sides of the moon had fused and fallen right out of the sky. "To reduce all of their struggles, to end all of their suffering… It'd take just one moment."

Within the sphere, an array of mesmerizing colors danced and shifted, like an ever-changing kaleidoscope. Threads of shimmering moonlight wove through the structure, intertwining with the vibrant hues. It radiated a sense of ethereal beauty and untamed potential. And in a sense, it was potential. Within it, lay the decision to cut short so many destinies unfulfilled—grand and not alike.

It was at this time that something intricately intimate within Ophis had clicked, and she knew—as if an instinct deeply ingrained in her very core, "Twilight has finally settled in." With the world fully bathed in darkness, Ophis's powers would be at their peak and the link with The Great Beyond she personified at its strongest. She wouldn't even require a Super-Tier spell now, if she so wished it, wiping out Arwintar would take little to no effort…

As if to reattest her thoughts, the sphere glowed much brighter, casting a soft, silvery light upon the surroundings. It pulsed with a rhythmic cadence, as if synchronized with the heartbeat of the universe itself. "Magic would do it all. I'd hardly have to lift a finger after releasing the spell." With each pulse, the sphere grew more radiant, its luminescence seeping into the fabric of the night. "Magic… A hound worthy of a task I ought to perform myself…"

It wasn't hate which drove her actions—nor malice. Simple, unrelenting curiosity was at fault.

What would happen once they are gone? What would their last moments be like? Their expressions, their screams, their words, all of them. She wanted to know, to experience it all…

---

In the bustling City Plaza of Arwintar, the atmosphere hummed with more than enough activity for a business owner. Merchants and townsfolk, engaged in their evening routines, stopped abruptly as a radiant display unfolded in the sky above. Gasps of astonishment rippled through the crowd.

"What is…?" murmured Samuel Riviera, a jovial fruit vendor, as he glanced upward.

Elvieni—Elvie for short as she so liked to be called—a seamstress elf known for her impeccable craftsmanship, tilted her head in awe as she nudged him. "Look at those swirling lights Sam! It's like… It's like the sky's come alive entirely! Isn't that so cool?" She turned to him with sparkles in the orbs of chestnut she had as eyes.

Amidst the gathering crowd, a young child pointed towards the sky, tugging at her mother's sleeve. "Mom, what is happening up there? Are the stars dancing?"

The mother paused, gazing at the breathtaking sight. Up until she decided to quit because she now had a son to take care of, she'd been part of a worker group known as Brilliant Lamps, gone on plenty of missions along many others—Foresight, Pirani, Yellow Grass were just a few honorable mentions, but even she had never witnessed such a strange phenomenon. The night skies had suddenly lit up, countless stars had ignited out of nowhere like candles, and the Moon itself now dominated the up-above, larger than ever. "I'm not sure, my dear... It's an extraordinary sight, for sure..." She whispered with no little concern as she squeezed his small hand.

---

Inside a cozy home in Arwintar, the Ariels family sat around the table, their evening meal momentarily forgotten as they marveled at the display outside their window. Whispers of wonder filled the room.

Rikard, the father, leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the captivating sight. "It's as if the night sky has been imbued with magic. Do you think it's Paradyne's doing?"

Anna, the mother, set down her utensils, her voice filled with awe. "Maybe it is…"

Margaret, the grandmother, nodded in agreement. "I've lived through many years, but I've never witnessed such a spectacle. It reminds me of the stories passed down generations ago."

Emily, the youngest member of the family, eyes shining with curiosity, broke the silence. "Grandma, do you think the Moon herself is sending us a message? Maybe she wants to tell us something important!"

Her Grandmother smiled, touched by the innocence of youth. "Ah, the wisdom of a child's mind. It's possible, my dear. The mysteries of the world often reveal themselves in the most enchanting ways..."

---

Inside a dimly lit room with a single and open window, a man stood—leaning over it. He was right next to a wooden bed where a blanket covered the naked figure of an elven woman with purple hair sleeping soundly.

On the chair in front of the bed, lay his clothes—the fashion of an adventurer apparent, a small half-empty bag of coins on top of them.

His name was Hekkeran, of the Foresight worker group—and his eyes too, were directed towards the endless expanse above.

---

Inside the Observatory section of the Minister of Magic in Arwintar, scholars and astronomers gathered, their eyes fixed upon the celestial spectacle. As they peered through telescopes and exchanged fervent discussions, the air was filled with intellectual curiosity.

"This intricate display of radiant lights suggests a complex interplay of celestial forces," Professor William of the Common House of Matthes stated, his voice filled with fascination.

Olivia of the Noble House of Mitchell nodded, her eyes glued to the telescope. "Indeed, Professor. This event defies our conventional understanding. We must meticulously document every detail. It has the potential to reshape our understanding of the skies, if we could analyze it thoroughly, surely we'll surpass the likes of Roble and be on par with the Theocracy—one day, we might even be able to use the knowledge to advance Astrological-Divination Magic! Surely Lord Paradyne will not hesitate to help!"

Amidst the fervor, Alexander of the Noble and Knightly House of Wilson, a seasoned astronomer, noticed an intriguing alignment among the celestial bodies. "Wait, look! The stars themselves seem to be responding to the power in the sky. It's as if… they're in perfect harmony with it. And… It can't be, if the Moon is there then… is the Sun…? No… are they aligned? Can't be…"

The observatory buzzed with spirited discussions, blending the excitement of the scholars with the awe-inspiring celestial phenomenon. The mysterious power summoned by a certain Dragon had kindled a fervor of wonder and intellectual inquiry among the esteemed minds of Arwintar—forever unknowing that they'd been marveling straight at the tip of an oncoming arrow.

---

Ophis remained there, on that very balcony that protracted from her lavish room—a black and white sun in her hand, ready to be unleashed at any moment.

As her thoughts drifted however, her sister's voice echoed within her mind. A second later or before and it all would've been meaningless, but the words of the True Dragon resounded true, reminding her of the task at hand—to conquer, not to destroy. In that moment, [Abbadon] wavered, a testament to the internal struggle that waged within her heart.

''They're so interesting…" The words came out of her mouth without her even noticing, guided by the flashing memories of all the encounters she'd had today, and a realization hit her. "Ah… I see. So that's why then, isn't it?"

Without a second thought, the power before her began to dissipate, wisps of shadow and moonlight fading into the night as the blinding beacon subsided and Airwanter lived to see another day.

As the night embraced her, Ophis stood tall, the moonlight casting a halo around her form.

She wasn't ashamed to admit she couldn't understand at first. 'Why would Sister conquer them? If they're pesky enough to require dealing with, then destroying them outright would surely spare her the time…" But once again, she knew was about to make a mistake. She was about to disobey her sister's orders and for what? Curiosity? It all seemed so absurd.

Her sister always knew best. In the end, Ophis was the Moon—the light that illuminated her but a lesser reflection of the real Sun, and yet—that's where she found her reason to exist, where she could always look when confused, to her sister.

With renewed purpose, she retreated to her chambers from the balcony, ready to engage with the humans who danced unknowingly beneath her watchful gaze on the next day. Darkness would guide her steps, shaping the destiny of Baharuth and Moonlight would have the sacred duty of illuminating the path she must tread in her sister's name.

Arwintar would survive today, but that is not to say it wouldn't be erased if troublesome tomorrow. Dragons were whimsical creatures after all, but as long as humanity entertained her—unless told otherwise by a certain someone, she'd grace them with neutrality…

—Perhaps.

---

12th Afternoon of the Middle Wind Month

Somewhere Along the Empire Mountain Ranges

Tiamat sat at the edge of Nazarick's outer temple. Perched upon a majestic mountain as it was, its peak piercing the clouds themselves, it was truly a sanctuary. The temple's pristine white pillars stood as timeless sentinels against the cerulean sky, invoking a sense of divinity and grandeur. The air was crisp and carried a hint of tranquility, mingling with the gentle melodies of distant birds.

As she contemplated the vastness before her, her fingers traced delicate patterns upon the marble ledge, feeling the cool smoothness beneath her touch. She marveled at the panoramic view that unfolded, the rolling valleys stretching out like a verdant tapestry below. Forests of emerald green, kissed by the golden sunlight, undulated in harmony with the gentle breeze.

A symphony of nature played out before her eyes, orchestrated by the ancient trees that swayed with elegant grace. Their leaves whispered secrets passed down through the ages, their branches reaching skyward in an eternal dance of life and growth, but she was deaf to it all. Perhaps her Mother would be able to hear their voice, but this wasn't her Domain—and yet, she had to admit its beauty.

From the verdant valleys, crystal-clear rivers meandered, their cascading waters glimmering like liquid diamonds—now that was closer to her essence. They weaved through the landscape, carving paths of serenity and nourishing the land with their life-giving touch.

A lazy gesture of hers idly conjured a shimmering orb of water in her palm, the liquid swirling and rippling in a mesmerizing dance. With a deft flick of her wrist, she manipulated the water, shaping it into intricate forms—a miniature waterfall, a school of silver fish, and delicate droplets that sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight—being a creature of the depths had its advantages.

As she continued her playful manipulation of the element, a voice broke the serene silence. Fafnir approached, his presence marked by the sound of light footsteps on the marble floor—footsteps he meant for her to hear, else she wouldn't have sensed him at all, this much she knew.

"Fascinating as always, dear Sister," The Gilded Serpent remarked with a warm smile, his voice carrying a hint of joy. He currently wore quite the modest magic-made garments—a gift given to him by his Mother before she departed for the outside world out of concern for his comfort. Of course, he put them on immediately and was immensely jealous of them.

Tiamat turned to face him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Ah, Fafnir, always the observer. Care to join me in some aquatic reverie?" The small creatures of water—so delicate before, became one as she smirked, and turned into a miniature Dragonling baring his fangs challengingly.

Fafnir chuckled, eyes alight with shared amusement as he snapped his fingers—casting his innate ability,『Dissonance』. Immediately, the whelp dissipated to nothing as the magical structure behind the water's unnatural existence itself crumbled. "Perhaps another time. For now, I come bearing news from our Mother."

Tiamat's playful expression vanished, her focus shifting from Fafnir's little stunt to her brother's words. "Mother, you say?"

Fafnir nodded solemnly. "Indeed. Lord Momonga and Lady Asmoday have deemed the outside world fit to be under Nazarick's influence. Some of us are now free to roam its grounds under orders to us assigned—our powers are needed, now more than ever. Mother has instructed us along with a Floor Guardian I've yet to know the identity of to descend the mountain, where we'll meet a Dryad."

Tiamat's eyes sparkled with determination as she nodded in agreement. "Hold on a minute, a lesser-spirit?"

"Not so much. She is apparently unlike any of her kind, unique. And much more powerful than the average forest-bound. Not a threat to us, or Mother—for that matter."

She nodded solemnly. "What's the goal?"

"Expand Nazarick's sacred grounds." A smile escaped the ever-serious Dragon, he could not help but admit that going about something other than sitting in Elysium seemed fun indeed. It had been such a long time since their Mother had brought him along to participate in a single War… he felt he was getting rusty nowadays—although even his current task was no War alongside the Progenitor, better than idling about though. "Building a town, to be more precise."

A moment later Tiamat layed back down on the marble surface with a pleased look on her face. She paused for a few seconds, before out of nowhere— "Very well, then. Let's get going," the Leviathan suddenly rolled to her left, the world blurred, and soon enough she was falling down the reaches of the ground below with no little amount of adrenaline pumping through her veins as she soared.

A second past, Fafnir followed by elegantly diving down.

---

13th Morning of the Middle Wind Month

Imperial Palace, Ruby Chamber

Ophis walked from one end of the far too luxurious room to the other, slowly—waiting, thinking. She hadn't slept, for she was incapable of it, but had instead taken the time to mull over what to do today and had come up with a decent itinerary.

All that was left was for Delta to arrive.

'She sure is taking her sweet time.' They were in no rush, that much was true—so she wouldn't begrudge the little maid for it.

A moment passed, a beep rang in her mind as she received the [Message] she'd been waiting on. A gesture she was most comfortable with later and a swirling vortex of oval shape, slightly detached from the ground, opened as she cast a [Gate] connected to a place near Nazarick—not exactly in the Tomb, lest in the worst of cases someone managed to locate it. They still had too little information—which was hopefully going to change today.

From the portal emerged a girl with long red-gold straight hair—one might confuse it with orange, but they'd be wrong—as an Automaton, her expression betrayed nothing and Ophis could not help but notice that she wore the usual eyepatch she'd always have on.

Immediately, she kneeled without question. "Lady Ophis," she spoke without much emotion at all, but there was—for those that truly knew her, a little uptilt in her voice that indicated she was extremely happy. Despite accompanying Ophis not being quite as much of an honor as accompanying a Supreme Being would be, she was still very much respected given her relationship with Lady Asmoday among the denizens of Nazarick.

Delta was greeted in turn by the Ouroboros and the two exchanged a few words. "Welcome to the Empire of Baharuth, Delta," she spoke as she gestured around her with arms wide, "we have much to do today. Shall I assume you're ready?"

"As always, My Lady." The golden crosshair in her eye glinted along with the enchanted Magic Gun she carried on her hip, as if in sync.

The Evil Dragon moved to open the double doors to her left, once she'd exited, no trace of Ophis was left—and Amelie came to life. A small delicate smile was plastered on her visage, her steps were a touch lighter. On the other hand, Delta was told to go invisible for now—which she did.

The two continued communicating in whispers—not bothering to cast [Message], foolishly—perhaps, but given no one was around Ophis couldn't be bothered and if that was so for her superior, neither could Delta. "The orders issued by Lady Asmoday and Lord Momonga are simple: we are to conquer the nation, the means are unspecified—do not be afraid to use your strength if you judge it needed, but do know that humans as a whole will fall for the allure of diplomacy pretty easily from what I've gathered." For a moment, despite the stealth protection the military scarf she wore provided, as she turned towards her and halted, Delta could feel the piercing eyes of Ophis on her frame. "As soon as we're out of the Imperial Palace you'll no longer be Delta, loyal Battle Maid of Nazarick—but my attendant, Amelie Nocturne's attendant, remember that. You'll need a robe, humans find your kind of attire unusual. Is that clear?" The Automaton nodded.

Despite what Delta thought to be a leisurely walk, Ophis wasn't keen on wasting time by unnecessarily strolling for no reason, her intention was for the Battle Maid of Stealth to get to know the Imperial Palace as soon as possible, so that she may be able to act if need be by putting to use her entire arsenal of skills. The moment the essential chambers and halls were memorized, they'd be gone.

"...This is as good a place as any." She abruptly stopped on the utmost top floor of the Palace after a while of walking, near a great window from which one could view the entirety of the city. Ophis stared at it for a moment, before deciding where they would be headed. "[Gate]." The spell answered, "Come, Delta," she waved the smaller girl forward as she turned visible once more.

Ophis went over the details once more before departing, although it might be more proper to call her Amelie by now. "So, what is my name?"

"Lady Amelie Nocturne."

"And who are you?" She spoke in a delicate voice.

"Your attendant, My Lady. A commoner, Demi." Delta nodded to herself minutely, proud of having remembered the identities they'd decided on—a gesture replicated by Amelie.

"Very well then, I believe you're ready." Amelie spoke as the pair crossed through the portal. They immediately found themselves in a dark alley situated somewhere in a completely different part of Arwintar. She could hear a faint commotion in the distance, outside of the corridor, but before the two could make even a single step towards the sunlight, they were greeted by the sight of two men and a bound person.

One of the pair kicked the supposed hostage before he revealed his distorted visage to both Amelie and Demi by turning towards them—his neck cracking in the process. "You! Who are you? Whatever you're up to, get lost!" Barely two seconds into the conversation, Ophis figured this guy was not exactly going to be friendly.

Ah, where had his accomplice gone? She couldn't be bothered to pay them much attention so he must've slipped away as soon as he saw witnesses. "Where's your friend?"

"I said get lost, little girl! Else I'll make you. Don't stick your nose into business that ain't yours." The man drew a knife from the low quality cloth that covered him.

It was starting to quickly become boring and as it clearly seemed, the man was in no mood to answer her questions. Whilst Delta observed from behind her, Ophis sighed. She didn't have it in her to waste her precious time with this particularly annoying human's antics. "If you'll move and let us through, you may resume whatever kidnapping it is you are in the middle of." Fortunately, the kidnapped man in question was knocked out and bound in all kinds of rope, so he probably would be none the wiser the encounter ever even happened.

Unfortunately for the kidnapper—Greed was a pesky thing, and he had decided to indulge it just on the wrong day of all days. "No…" he laid the bound man down on the floor, "actually, I think you girls will make a fine addition to this hit." He approached the pair, "You've got frillies all over," oh, he was referring to their clothing? From what Jircniv had spoken of, Ophis had thought it appropriate, perhaps she was wrong. "Oriana will surely pay some good money for two noble hostages, if not he—then your families will do." He sported a wicked grin as he spoke.

Ophis raised a hand, as if to indicate: 'A moment, please.'

"I must ask you to enlighten me, sir. What is so odd about our clothing?" If there was something off, they ought to fix it, otherwise it could cause unnecessary issues in the future.

"Huh? I don't know what noble fanciness you're spouting, but I don't give a shit. Now get down by yourself and don't resist..." Was that rope he was holding in his hand?

"Surely we can resolve this conflict through the use of words, as would be humane, no? Let us not be uncivilized." Ophis tried to reason, she had contacted Asmoday early in the morning and asked about directives—one was that, if completely optional, killing any humans was better avoided, as it would draw attention.

"Are you insane, little girl?" In all his years, never had someone seemed so calm in front of him. She wasn't carrying any weapons, nor was her friend—so where was the source of such confidence?

The only response he could come up was, madness. Ah, the poor girl had probably already gone mad at the prospect that she'd be captured! That was beyond hilarious! He couldn't help but let out a self-satisfied laugh. Though if she were to go completely mad, that'd be damage to the merchandise, which was not sustainable, so instead of entertaining her with any more chatting, he decided to merely charge towards her; knife in hand. He'd bind her hands, then kick the other girl behind and knock both out. Indeed, this would go swimmingly as long as he was fast enough to get out of the Capital.

It just so happened, that as the man's mental gymnastics continued, Ophis's mood had worsened considerably during the exchange—and time was ticking. She sighed as the man finally decided to rush towards her and she unusually gestured with her arm as she spoke, "Diplomacy has failed, I see."

"My Lady, shall I dispose of him?"

"No need," Ophis responded as she wholly turned towards Delta. Wouldn't that expose her back? "The man is already dead." The calm answer and most definitely sure tone puzzled Delta. Clearly the man was standing upright and Life still coursed through his veins, if it wasn't for the fact that—when she turned to look, but an instant after she'd had her eyes on Ophis to ask the question, as if on cue the man's upright posture crumbled and he lay headless on the cold stone floor.

"A fitting end." The Dragon spoke as she glanced at the human male, before noticing Delta intensely staring at his corpse. "I merely cast a silent [Aerial Slash] as I moved my arm while I spoke, Delta." Her superior answered the unspoken query.

She hadn't seen it nor picked up any trace of a spell; then again, Magic wasn't her area of expertise so it wasn't too surprising. Immediately, her head bowed. "Thank you for your wisdom, My Lady."

"Think nothing of it." Her actions were meant to show her the preferred way to take care of humans such. The less noise—the less they'd be noticed, and the less they'd be noticed—the better. Humans tended to make a commotion out of the silliest things, after all—even a death or two would create problems.

Moments later—Delta was ordered to take the hostage in tow and the pair left the city just as fast as they'd arrived. But there was one thing they forgot—the man known as Bolom Pikan, long time servant of House Oriana, was a figure many wanted dead amidst Baharuth's political landscape. It just so happened that his most recent victim was apprentice to a watchful wizard who'd discovered his death and missed the perpetrators by a hair's breadth, something on which—with his apprentice gone, he would not give up.

As he gazed at the bloodied man, he knew, though. Trouble was brewing, and it was a potion Fluder Paradyne very much disliked when made in the Empire he just so happened to call home.

---

13th Lunchtime of the Middle Wind Month

Nameless Territory South of Raiastra Holt

''Hey! Don't dwindle, damn it!" A small Dark Elf spoke as she tore through the flesh of a green Giant Snake with a flashing strike of whip, the leaves above rustling in its wake as the monster hissed in pain. "Shalltear! What are you doing standing there?!" The surface of her weapon soon made contact once more, this time with a Forest Orc—splitting it in half as the whip burned through skin and bone alike—all thanks to friction turning the kinetic energy it had accumulated into heat.

Despite the ruckus, the individual in question showed no sign of intending to respond, "..."

"Hey! Shalltear!" She repeated herself, slightly irritated.

A couple more moments passed, and Aura was on the edge of going right. Up. To. Her. And shaking the damned woman like a—"...Aahh! Wait a moment, shrimp!" Shalltear spoke with a small scowl. Couldn't Aura see she was busy? Lord Momonga had sent her a [Message], it was of utmost importance she put her whole being into listening to it and computing the information—she couldn't be distracted with anything else at the moment! ''And can't you make less noise while you take care of the small fries?! I can't focus!"

As her fellow Floor Guardian spoke, Aura deflected an incoming charge from the serpentine creature in front of her without much effort, before a swift beheading took place and the massive beast was no more, its corpse piling up among the fresh others. "You are so, so, so, so—so annoying!" She spoke as the Vampire to her left eyed her with a flat stare. "You should be mor—"

"Shut it!" Before Aura could retort, Shalltear continued, "The Supreme Ones will be on their way ahead of schedule."

"The Supreme Ones?! Both?! " Astonishment and surprise colored her tone. The only reason why Aura hadn't commented on how rude Shalltear had been to her was that she'd been acting a bit weird, but if the matter at hand was such then she supposed she could be more understanding.

"Yes, both. And you say I'm the one idling about! GO!—I don't know, do something! This is no time to stay put. We need to raze this place of trees, and… and beasts! Are those taken care of?"

"Yeah, I've got that covered." She said with a slightly anxious frown.

"Then start chopping trees! Come on!"

"I'm not some lumberjack you order around Shalltear!" Yet, despite her words, the blue and green eyed Elf wasted no time in following Shalltear's directive. With each resounding thud borne of a whip's clash with wood, towering trunks crashed to the ground, creating a cleared space at the foot of the mountain. Mare's assistance aided in the swift progress—despite him being late—leaving a level expanse in their wake.

After an hour of tireless work, Aura surveyed the cleared area and found it satisfactory. "Okay, this seems good enough," she announced, and though 'good enough' was definitely not enough for her Lord and Lady's satisfaction, because of how insane the standards of all servants of Nazarick were when it came to serving the Supreme Ones, she had called 'good enough' the best she could do—and thus there was nothing more to do about it. "Did the Supreme Beings mention the exact time of their arrival?"

Shalltear shook her head. "No, as is only right. They should grace us with their presence whenever it is they find the time fitting, but it should not be much longer until then," she paused, her voice filled with a sense of foreboding, "Lord Momonga mentioned they would make a stop here before... before Walpurgis."

The mention of Walpurgis sent a shiver down Aura's spine, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The Great Banquet, a momentous event where they would bear witness to the decisions that would shape their destiny and Nazarick's, was about to unfold before their eyes. Announced seemingly out of nowhere less than a day ago, to be held as soon as possible by word of Lord Momonga. The anticipation surged within her, intertwining with a sense of dread.

The last time a Great Banquet was held by the Supreme Beings was one she did not personally remember, but she'd heard stories, whispers of it. All forty-one Lords and Ladies were present and the whole of Nazarick's upper echelon spectated from the sidelines as they sat around a roundtable and spoke, each word a Law in and of itself from then on.

It was said that such an occasion would get so intense, the Supreme Ones would have to settle disagreements through encounters of sheer might, 'uan vi uans'—though she was under the impression that the practice had been abolished by Lord Momonga himself later on, and so it should not be the case during the most recent Great Banquet.

"Before Walpurgis huh…" Aura echoed, her voice barely a whisper, tinged with awe. "So it will be held after all. With us having front-row seats. I cannot wait!" Her voice trailed off dreamily, lost in the magnitude of the impending event.

"I agree," Shalltear murmured, her voice filled with an equal blend of anticipation and uncertainty. "But before that, is there anything else that needs attending to?"

"Nope," The Amphitheathre's Floor Guardian popped the 'p' as she spoke "Mare's taking care of building a few wooden houses, while the map of the future town is being drawn by Albedo inside Nazarick." Aura mused with a finger on her chin—in doing this, the golden necklace she wore ever so often glinted in the sun.

As soon as she finished her sentence, she could not help but be slightly surprised at two familiar presences she detected nearby through her Ranger-class skills. They were quickly plummeting to the ground from a great height and both possessed an unusually strong magical signature. Moments before she could say anything out loud, they vanished—and by means of [Greater Teleportation], they made themselves known as the ones coming out of what was left of the green in front of them.

"Oh, it's you guys. What are you up to here?" She spoke as both creations of Lady Asmoday made their way towards them—Tiamat with her usual warm demeanor, smiling as she waved, whilst her brother wore a more stoic look while he surveyed Aura and Shalltear's work for a couple moments.

"Aura, Shalltear." The azure-eyed girl replied in greeting.

"Floor six, Floor one, two and thr—o-ouch, ow, Tia!" Tiamat nudged her brother in the side—quite the strong nudge, one might add—and pinched his cheek.

"It's not nice to call them by their Floors, even as a joke, Brother. I don't recall Mother teaching you that." A small glare was sent Fafnir's way. The two siblings waged an unseen battle as Fafnir backed himself up with his very own look, but even then—the ever so powerful Gilded Serpent, was crushed under the weight of sisterly authority.

He sighed, before noticing Tiamat's glare was going nowhere and begrudgingly apologized, cutting the joking, as she had defined it, short—but not before shooting a small dirty look of his own at his sister, who looked far too smug after both Floor Guardians had laughed at their interaction. "...Our presence was requested by our Lord and Lady for assisting with the New Town operation and the introduction of the incoming guests to it."

Both Shalltear and Aura took a long look at each other, before the True Vampire was the one who spoke. "That's… exactly the same for us."

"That's unexpected. Well, we were told by Lady Asmoday that while meeting a Dryad was part of it, the main reason we'd be here was different, though no specifics were mentioned. Is that the same for you?" Fafnir grew slightly curious. What could they possibly be here for?

The pale haired Vampire was the one to answer after a moment of thought. "Lord Momonga wasn't as vague, but there's hardly much difference. We were ordered to descend the Tomb to make space for the New Town and that we'd have a brief encounter with the citizens, but we should not worry about interacting with them for much."

'Is this more serious than I had thought? Is there something I'm missing? If it was a mere encounter with the likes of humans and a Dryad… No matter. I must make the best impression on Lord Momonga regardless… should I get ready for a fight? Or a test? In his infinite wisdom, he must be planning something aside from this… but what?' Shalltear wondered.

Eventually, some time passed as both parties discarded their concern over matters they had no sway upon—the conversation shifting towards idle chit-chatter between the four of them.

"Ah, speaking of," started Tiamat, "I'm pretty sure I saw your brother as we left the mountain, Aura. It's good to see the both of you. Is he well? It has been some time since we've talked despite how nice our book-reading sessions tended to be. What's he up to?"

The little Elf tilted her head for a moment, in thought. "Mhmm… He should be fine? I think he'd call if he wasn't. He was ordered by Lord Momonga to transplant a pink tree from somewhere for what little I know, being a Druid and all."

Before they could continue with their conversation, a soft rumble sounded from beneath the Earth and Fafnir rushedly pushed Aura aside, eyes wide. The very next moment, as she took to looking at him to search for an explanation, all of them were forced to move out of the way as enormous tree roots suddenly sprouted from beneath them, piercing the soil clean starting from where Aura stood an instant before.

Despite all four being able to swiftly evade their lashing out, given their individual speeds—as they kept on coming, it was starting to become a hassle to do. Thankfully, soon—the wood composed a trunk, and as it branched, it bloomed beautifully.

"Is this—" Fafnir gracefully dodged an incoming root, "Is this the tree you were talking about?"

"Yup!" Aura spoke after thanking him, delighted at the sight of her brother's work. "It sure is! I… think?"

Meanwhile, moments later—the chaos had subsided, and the tree sprouted fully. As she stood on one of its countless branches, Tiamat addressed the trio. "If this is the tree Aura was talking about, then I'd imagine Mother and Lord Momonga are just about—!"

"—Here?"

Suddenly, Gravity itself felt as if it had tripled—their hearts sinking. All heads turned at the sound of the new voice, each and everyone putting their entire soul into bowing as low as they could immediately.

Standing before them were the pillars of Ainz Ooal Gown in all their glory. Though both looked surprisingly human, Lord Momonga's skeletal form was nowhere to be seen—for one, and Lady Asmoday's ethereal glow was gone, there was no denying it. First, a wave of heat so intense that all four thought Death a mercy in comparison to melting engulfed them—and then, as The Reaper spoke next, a creeping cold that seeped into their bones, that reached their very souls—were proof of it.

"...I speak for the both of us when I say it is good to see you all." Momonga's human form vanished as the illusion that covered him flickered, turning to wisps of mana. Why didn't he think to cancel the illusion on them earlier?! It wasn't fitting of them to greet their subordinates like that, that would be like a CEO greeting their salary-men dressed up in a Halloween costume, ridiculous! He sighed internally.

"My Lord! My Lady! We are most honored!" Shalltear was eager to speak up.

"We gladly welcome you back, My Lord and Lady." Tiamat and Fafnir continued in unison.

Aura nodded at both, before she too greeted them respectfully. "Yeah! It's been so long already, the whole of Nazarick has missed you a lot! I hope your journey was fruitful."

The Overlord patted Aura's head a couple times, ruffling her hair before telling them all they could stand at ease. "It was, Aura. Now, Asmoday will… Ahm," he looked around for a moment, "eh? Where… Where is she?"

"I'm here, I'm here." The True Dragon materialized next to him once more, "I was just checking up on Vilyia and her people." She said, mischievous.

The Overlord looked at her for a moment, before noticing she had a mid-level bland-looking sword in hand. Had something happened? Was the question in his gaze.

"Nothing to worry about. Someone wasn't very compliant, so after taking it up in a more private place, a head had to roll."

If Momonga had eyebrows to raise, he would. "Ah, was it him?"

"The man Vilyia warned us about, yes. That's why I disposed of him instead of risking him doing something stupid that could damage his fellow citizens out of anger." Asmoday's clawed hand motioned a 'there was nothing to do about it' gesture.

The Overlord was unrelenting in his stare. "You could've—" he started, before he noticed the focus in the eyes of the other four in their presence, "Ah, put your hands on your ears for a little, would you?" He spoke gently, to which all immediately complied. "You could've let the man live. Why kill him?" Momonga pressed on.

"I could've. I didn't." Was the answer he got before his friend sighed, "Listen… the man was not worth the risk, he just wasn't. If you want to talk about it, there'll be plenty of time later, no?"

"…Fine." He motioned for the Floor Guardians to take their hands off their ears, "Back to the main topic, how are preparations for Walpurgis coming along?"

Shalltear locked gazes with the Overlord, "I hear from Albedo that the Hexenzirkel is ready, we stand prepared at any moment you so choose, My Lord."

'The Hexenzirkel, huh.'' It had been a long time since the place had been last in use. Though one had to recite a phrase to enter it, something that was rarely done if not on special occasions—Momonga still remembered vividly the interior, the towering pillars descending from above seemingly endlessly, the alit candles floating—the ruby and sapphire roses, the vines, and most of all—the dais. The dais in the middle of it all, atop which lay the roundtable and throne-like seats of marble, each different in both carvings and designs, each unique—all of it surrounded by an endless darkness that separated the dais from the spectator seats. He recalled it all. From the finest details to the most general ones—as he did with all of Nazarick, or most of it, anyways.

"Very well. Then let us not waste any time with what we came here for—[Gate]!" The massive portal was opened at his whim—a swirling void right behind him. From it, tens upon tens of people emerged, but they could hear nothing—as he'd cast [Cancel Sound] around them already. "Some are still resilient and have decided not to move for now. But Vilyia was able to convince a good amount of the population to come along with her all the way here."

When the Overlord stopped—though he had not finished—it was Aura who spoke up, which gave him some time to think of what to say later. "Is that not risky, My Lord?" Momonga gestured for her to elaborate. "I mean. If these humans were to betray their location to someone from the outside… as close as the New Town is to Nazarick, wouldn't that cause unwanted attention?"

It would. Aura had a point, but they had thought of such an occurrence a long time before even considering to build anything remotely close to Nazarick. "Indeed. There is no need to worry—however, Aura." He reassured her before a small pause took place as he turned to his friend, "Asmoday, will you do the honors?"

The True Dragon nodded, before her eyes blazed red and she started floating the slightest bit.

"I do think deceit to be quite poor after that whole grand speech about their barrier being a prison, but we cannot have anything problematic happen so early on," She snapped her fingers, ''[Ensnarement of Al-Khayma]." Immediately, the cast tenth-tier Labyrinthine Curse took effect; its name was derived from the Arabian folklore of the last century—Al-Khayma, A Palace said to be created by a powerful Jinn, where those who entered would lose their way amidst the enchanting architecture. Of course, there were many other options to accomplish the same or a similar goal, but this felt best.

With that done, Momonga took to talking once more. "As you can imagine, now no humans will be able to get out of here without permission. They'll lose their way and wander forever, lost. At best they'll return to their starting point." He found the spell to be quite nifty indeed. There was hardly any indication it was in place, either—so no one would know.

Aura nodded, a tinge of shame at her foolishness present in her slightly flushed face.

'Now,' The Overlord thought, 'I'm afraid Walpurgis will have to wait just a bit, as this is a far more pressing matter.'

"Shalltear, Aura. I want you two to follow the orders previously given to you and introduce these people to their new home best you can. You will soon meet a suitable helper in the form of a Dryad. Make her acquaintance as well, as she is sure to serve Nazarick well in the future." The pair swiftly departed to go carry out their orders after bowing to both their Lord and Lady. "As for you, Tiamat, Fafnir—" he addressed the two Dragons, "you are to come with us to pick up a certain someone essential to holding the Great Banquet. Are you up to the task?"

"Of course, My Lord."

"As my brother has said, Lord."

He nodded, "Very well. I shall go ahead, you may greet your Creator if you so wish, I believe Asmoday has missed you."

The pair of Dragons smiled, before—as Momonga disappeared through another [Gate] towards the Treasury—they threw themselves in the embrace of Asmoday, who was a little further back—watching as most inhabitants of Old Baum settled in their new home from afar while Momonga gave the Floor Guardians the directives they'd agreed upon.

---

She had now walked for the past two days. Or so she believed, anyway—what was she to know? In a forest where there is no start or beginning, no 'right path', all she could do was watch helplessly as the sun set and rose for the second time, which was the only reason she was so convinced of knowing how long she'd been in there.

Helplessness. It had become a staple in her life. Savielle was no one interesting, a poor, orphan child in her farthest youth, your average citizen in her teens—and though the sword she proudly displayed at her hip would beg to disagree, she truly thought of herself as nobody special.

She was humble, she was told. She was modest, she was told. She was strong, she was told. And so why was all of this, why had so many misfortunes befallen her and her alone? Was the world she sought to protect truly so cruel?

Savielle had no way of knowing. For she couldn't even say she knew the world at all outside the Roble Holy Kingdom to whom she had been forced to pledge her blade. The very kingdom that had led her astray for years.

But of all things Savielle was told she was—of all characteristics she knew she possessed, Innocence was not one of them. Yes, she had been an orphan—but not a single child in this wretched world is born fatherless and motherless. At first, all have parents—loving or not. And she did too.

A carefree mother, she was. All she knew of her was the few remaining memories she carried in her heart, growing up—each and every single one of the people around them—always told her the same thing when she asked of her.

'The knowledge you want is not worth paying with your life.' Those weren't the words of friends. They weren't the words of family, either—nor comrades. And she hated them for having left her in the dark, stumbling in an endless, lightless hallway known as wishful thinking—the hope that someone would speak up. But she remembered. She knew people thought she didn't but she remembered. She recalled exactly how the beautiful smile always on her mother's visage was dim that day. How the steel decorated longsword of a cruel, armored man bearing the crest of the current Royal family, pierced right through her mother's gentle heart without the slightest hint of mercy as he stripped her eyes of light.

But even then, memories were memories, and the past was the past. She was no longer Savielle, the Paladin—she had long come to call herself Viev or Savi, whatever nicknames and wordplays would get her to survive another night outside the walls of Roble—and yet, even if she changed her name, her identity would remain the same as ever. She had still not shed the glimmering armor and sword she had been given by the bloodied hands of her family's murderers—it was her way of atoning for having failed to avenge those dear to her. Old anger festered in her soul.

'… I thought I had left that behind me. Guess I was wrong...'

She supposed the thought that at some point the food she carried, the water she drank—would run out tended to make one in the mood to reminisce even on the worst of days.

"This is going nowhere." She couldn't help but punch the trunk in front of her out of sheer annoyance. She cascaded towards the flowery grass below as she laid completely on her back, hands atop her belly, where locks of dark-brown hair rested. She then trailed her fingers through the vegetation all around her. "If I'm gonna die, I at least would've wanted a fast end. Nothing's worse than dying of boredom." A momentary glance went to her trusty blade, if she so wished it, she thought that it surely would do the dirty work well enough to…No, she couldn't. She wouldn't defile the gift of Life such, even if starvation was to take her.

But then again, she wasn't so keen on evading Death's embrace either if it was salvation from her current predicament. To think that the forest was so normal mere days ago, as she traveled through it, yet now had become an inescapable maze of some kind…

She thought back on it, it had been but a moment. First, she saw trees of all kinds and a lake in front of her, then she stepped forward—walking for some time, until the same twenty trees were in her vision each and every single time she looked, again and again, and again. Eventually, her supplies ran out—and that day was today.

To break her train of thought was an unusual occurrence, or a new one at the least. For the first time in quite the while, as she was busy reminiscing—a rustle of leaves and grass was heard—one she did not make. "...Well, you seem awfully in the mood to surrender." The sweet voice cut through the silence and sounds of Nature all around Savielle like a knife would butter—leaving an eerie quiet as soon as the sentence ended. Immediately, her eyes shot wide as the face of a white-haired, red-eyed woman leaning forward covered the entire center of her vision, where leaves and branches would normally reside. An intricate net of emotions surging as soon as that happened.

Finally, company! Was one of them.

Was this woman stuck here too? Was another stray thought.

Perhaps, Savielle was hallucinating? Ah, yes that would be funny indeed.

In the end, she had settled for nothing more or less than—Oh, it's Death. Finally it had come for her poor soul, what a latecomer.

Regardless of her willingness to perish, her instinct prevailed and the honed combat-reactions of a Paladin prompted her to immediately grip her sword and—even in the disadvantageous position she was in—strike. As that happened, she braced herself for the feeling of wounded flesh, for a cry of help. Why had she done that? Why had she struck the only person that might give her an answer or help?!

But it would not come. Thankfully—which was not something often thought by someone wielding a weapon—her sword met nothing but air, as it swung to no true target. "Rude. I merely commented on the sorry state you're in, you know? Attacking out of nowhere, what was that for?" The woman wore incredibly minimalistic clothes, a tunic… or, was that a dress? The same color of her hair—but what her mind registered even before that was, she was fast, and unharmed.

Savielle immediately got up from the vulnerable position she was in,"W-Who are you?" The words came out a little more shaky than she'd have liked, and though she'd have loved to blame the 'not eating for a long period of time' side of things for it, she knew deep in her heart that it was not the case.

"Quite audacious. You barge into my home's garden, make a ruckus by yelling—force me to come check, attack me, and then ask for my name only after. Quite audacious indeed." She sighed airily.

"Are you an enemy?" The young Paladin's eyes narrowed.

"Depends." The woman answered the query light-heartedly. An uncertain enemy was always better than a sure enemy, though.

Nonetheless, Savielle kept her eyes on her. There was something strange about the white-haired girl, she couldn't quite grasp her age from appearances alone and yet she spoke with a certain gravity she was sure didn't fit her youthful looks. Besides, what was up with the hair? And the eyes? Was this person even a human?

"Are you a Vampire?" If she was, the situation might go south, quickly too. Lesser Vampires tended to be not as intelligent, they'd get straight to the point when hunting prey, as they resembled Zombies more than they did anything else—but if the woman's demeanor was anything to go by, she'd be something akin to a Vampiric Elder or a Vampire Lord, even—which would mean Savielle's end was not far.

"No." She shook her head, "But you're Human, yes? The mana around you is peculiar." What Asmoday sensed was dubious—at most—but it felt like there was a hint of sacredness about her.

Savielle nodded, gripping her sword ever more tightly.

"That thing won't be any good against me, I assure you. I've not come all the way here to necessarily harm you, but it would be extremely saddening to see you dead out of ignorance." The crimson eyed woman spoke, surprisingly genuine. She ought to be lying, of course—or bluffing. Despite what her words were, Savielle's sword was a Blessed Sword—one that had been soaked and sanctified in the waters of the Holy Temple, above any of your average weapons, it was one of the incredibly few pieces of weaponry that consisted of the efforts of both the Theocracy and Roble. That's why—despite her hate for it, she had kept it for so long.

As if to reattest her words and prove their truthfulness, however, a wave of winds engulfed Savielle and the woman… or girl, whatever of the two—had closed the distance between them. She stood with the tip of Savielle's sword lying exactly on her torso, if she as much as moved her wrist the slightest bit—it would pierce the woman clean through, and so she was frozen stiff. Was the forest-found stranger insane or something?!

"H-Hey! Get off—"

"—As you said, this is going nowhere." Asmoday smiled, an amused one. "I want information. Who are you, and why are you here? What do you know? Shall we do this the easy way, or the hard way, miss intruder?"

Neither. Was the fleeting thought that came to Savielle's mind. It must've shown on her face without her noticing, because next thing she knew, the woman had grabbed her sword's blade with her full hand—even then, no signs of blood or a cut showed—and a smirk and blue glow later, she found herself high up above the clouds. Her newfound acquaintance floated comfortably as she held onto her hand for dear life, dangling kilometers above the ground. Needless to say, she felt fearful of what was to come—she even let out quite the inelegant screech.

"This, is the hard way." [Greater Teleportation] truly was quite the useful spell. "It is usually quite convincing. Have you changed your mind?" The voice of the female stranger reached Savielle loud and clear despite the great winds that blowed through the high skies, promising nothing if not a quick and unpleasantly deadly nosedive.

"Y-Yes! Yes! Please, put me down!"

The thought of messing with her at the phrasing of her words crossed Asmoday's mind, perhaps letting her go and only saving her at the very end with [Falling Control]—but it was not to be, and so with another cast of [Greater Teleportation] they were back on the soil, though in a different location Asmoday had memorized moments ago, above a small hill where [Ensnarement of Al-Khayma] didn't reach.

The usually composed Savielle had been gasping for a while now, without speaking. Could it be that she was afraid of heights, perhaps? Asmoday's own internal musing asides, eventually the girl managed to recover somewhat. "I'm… I'm Savielle—just Savielle, no family name."

Oh, was she opening up? Asmoday wondered.

"I'm from the Roble Holy Kingdom." Asmoday hadn't heard of it, which promptly made Savielle jump on her importance meter from 'invader, plaything' to 'sack of information'—which was quite the leap.

''You're not dying, are you?" At the sight of Savielle's unusual fatigue, she couldn't help but ask. What was she to know? It hadn't been long since she'd become a True Dragon, but being Human felt as if such a detached concept, it might as well have been possible.

''What? No…" A beat passed, "I just am... I'm really hungry, is all…''—a hint of defiance, or rather confidence was still visible in Savielle's eyes as she spoke, braving both the upturn of her stomach at the hunger and the one caused by the sudden change of locations. Asmoday found she quite liked this girl after all. She figured she had been somewhat discourteous, letting her wander around for so long and threatening her right after—but it was to be the expected treatment someone that tried to get too close to Nazarick or the New Town they were building would receive. So, without a moment to spare, she decided to provide what little goodwill she could. She cast a a [Create Greater Item] and a long obsidian table appeared, on top of which she laid a few non-buffing foods retrieved from her inventory.

"...You may partake. I'm not that cruel." The look in the human girl's eyes really was quite pitiful as she surveyed the delicacies, most likely thinking none of it was meant for her.

It took a moment for the incredulity laced in Savielle's gaze to vanish, but eventually she indeed partook in the feast, silent yet wary—not that it would do her much good, what if the food was poisoned? She really was careless, just as Asmoday had deduced. "Were you too busy catching your breath, or have you noticed yet that I've freed you from the forest?"

Savielle looked around for a moment. She hadn't noticed, in fact—but it was true.

"...In exchange, mind if I take a look at this?" The red-eyed woman asked as she held up the once Paladin's sword, tracing her fingers on the cool metal with a grin—something that made Savielle's eyes momentarily widen as she struggled to believe what she was seeing. Her weapon—her one and only weapon, had vanished from her side. Not only that, but she was completely clueless as to when or how.

To her surprise, the woman laughed. "Ahah~! You should see your face, really it's quite hilarious… Here, catch." Savielle promptly did as told with the sword she was thrown by the handle.

A couple of moments went by as she munched on the food to her given and pondered on what to say. "...You're giving it back? Just like that?"

"I guess." The woman shrugged.

What kind of answer was that? Wasn't that too carefree?! 'That's a Blessed Sword, you know! They're rare, damn it—don't just shrug it off!'

What was even happening anymore...Savielle had long lost her sense of things. "Just what do you want…?"

"You wanna live?" Suddenly, at the topic's mention, the food seemed just a tiny bit too bitter for Savielle's tastes. The look in her eyes was deceiving, however. She might've seemed as if she did not care—but Asmoday could somehow tell she did, and the frown on her face was proof enough. "Be my subordinate."

"Huh?!" What kind of absurd offer was that? It hadn't even been ten minutes since she'd threatened to kill the woman, and even less since the woman had threatened to kill her by letting her fall to her death!

"There's no way I can let you live after seeing the real me." That was a far too selfish way of thinking, wouldn't that be her fault in the first place? So—she came up to her, just for curiosity's sake, knowing she'd have to kill Savielle? "That is, unless you're involved with me." Despite how much she would've liked to retort, she couldn't find it in her to say any of the things that were going through her mind at the moment, and so Savielle did not interrupt her. "Clearly the Roble Kingdom or whatever it's called, isn't close to anywhere here. Trust me, I've surveyed the entire surrounding area as we flew, I'd know if there was any other civilization beside the Village near that lake, down the hill. And you were in a forest, half starved and ready to die whilst lying on the grass. Also—the fact that that sword of yours hasn't been taken care of in forever tells me that whatever kind of sacred profession you had, you no longer practice. In other words, you look just like a fugitive who's close to giving up." Asmoday felt quite proud of her investigation skills—though not everything she'd said was right.

'And besides, you say you've been in that forest wandering under my spell for two days, but it's been no more than two hours since I cast it and left Fafnir and Tiamat to get ready for Walpurgis, you're lying to me, little girl.' Either that—or she truly had been lost of her own fault for that long and had simply accepted her fate, which would mean just about the same thing in the end.

"What's in it for me?" Savielle tried to stand her ground.

"Your life?" Yeah, that seemed...Just about right. Still, she made a face. That wasn't something you were supposed to say to someone you wanted to be your follower—or disciple, whatever! How was this woman so dense?!

"You're not Human." Savielle remarked.

"Aren't you Sherlock." She deadpanned as the other party raised her brow in question. "Nevermind. So what? Ah, you've found me out. Whatever shall I do?"

The Paladin frowned, "Now you're making fun of me."

"Am I, now? Have people ever told you that you're not meant to put into words everything? Hah..." She sighed as she sat on the edge of the table—as she spoke, she looked into the distance, a certain somber look in her eyes. "What's so good about being Human, anyways? It's overrated. And if you're worried about that, why are you eating the food I gave you in the first place? I've had no shortage of chances to kill you, even if I were too weak and unable to do it directly, which I am not."

For once, there wasn't much to argue in what she said. "If you're not Human, what are you?" Savielle had lost her will to fight, add that to the fact that the being in front of her had showed vested interest in her and the result was simple, she'd become bold.

"If I told you, would you attack me?"

"Depends." She mirrored the woman's previous response, which did not go unnoticed to Asmoday. "Would you attack me?"

Once more, the snow-haired woman laughed. "I just love that's your response. Hey, do you think all monsters are evil?"

Where did that come from? "There's good ones," Savielle reasoned, "like people. There's good humans, and evil humans. It's just how the world works."

The grass below her feet rustled in the breeze, the sapphire sky shining. "That's not something a Paladin should say, you know." Ah, so she knew she was Paladin. Figures, the sword must've been a dead giveaway. "It was the mana around you. Not the sword." Asmoday shot her a knowing look. "What if someone carried out evil deeds for the sake of their closed one's happiness? Do you think that would make them evil as well?"

Wherever she was going with this, Savielle had no idea. "That's debatable. They'd be evil to those on the receiving end, but to their closed one—they'd be good."

The crimson-eyed woman smiled, "That's all that somebody could ever wish for. I don't see them caring for others as much." She giggled, a melodious sound—Savielle had to admit. " 'Kay, then." She hopped off her makeshift seat, "What are you gonna choose then? Are you eager to keep your—"

"—Uh-uh." Savielle shook her head, a bitter smile plastered on her delicate visage. "I can't become your subordinate."

"How so?"

"I escaped during a formal peacekeeping mission towards a not so place in this nation—in the Empire. The platoon has surely noticed by now, and knowing Grandmaster Custodio, someone will eventually come 'retrieve' me."

The woman locked gazes with her. She expected to see some kind of fear—perhaps, at the mention of the Strongest Paladin, Remedios Custodio of the Holy Kingdom, but what she found instead was much different. It was the kind of look one would give a child who spoke naively of things they didn't understand, despite how sure they might sound.

"Then let's bind a contract." As soon as her sentence ended, as if out of nowhere—a piece of parchment was carried on the wind to her grasp, the woman offered it to her. Of course, Savielle read it. What it entailed was simple, she would be assured protection and in exchange she'd become her follower, just as she had asked of her. Of course, there were many other minor stipulations, but they were not worth mentioning, so she mostly glossed over them. The most interesting part of it all was that as the penalty was written simply that, should Asmoday—and she'd finally learned the woman's name, though it was a strange one for sure—fail to uphold the contract, then it would fall to her to 'keep Savielle from death by any means decided and free her, or create conditions where she could be free'.

When asked about what would happen should Savielle somehow succumb to her demise before the contract was fulfilled, the newly-named Asmoday saw no issue and explained that, if it happened—which was quite the unlikely scenario—she would gain another life just like the one she currently lived, but with a tinge of freedom once more. She even went on ahead to say that she would never allow anyone she cared for to depart this world—somehow, with what powers she had displayed so far, Savielle didn't doubt it.

Which begged the question, could the woman resurrect the dead—or was she simply that confident it would never happen?

As for the fulfillment condition, it was to wipe out whatever danger she was in at this point in time—and so that meant getting rid of the fellow Paladins coming for her.

"What do you think? It's pretty generous, is it not?" Savielle couldn't disagree. Despite the unusual calmness with which she had been considering her options so far, borne out of her dim will to carry on, there wasn't much choice at all, in truth. Either she died, here—alone, on a random hill in the territory of Baharuth, or she opted for being under the wings of a peculiar, powerful—weird—stranger. If the food and quality of the table was anything to go by, surely it would be an improvement from her current conditions of life, going from village to village, town to town—running...

Savielle nodded. "A Contract huh…" She was familiar with the practice, since she'd read of it in books. "Okay, then. I'll... I'll do it." Her eyes finally had regained some amount of spark, "Ah... but, how do I do it?"

"Hm?" Asmoday eyed her for a moment, confused. "Oh. Say 'I accept' after I chant the spell, that'll bind the contract." Savielle nodded, "[Geas]."

The text on the parchment glowed, but not much else happened. As expected of a mid-level contract, one that—while it did mean something for Asmoday—wasn't really a spell that could enforce any of the agreement past a certain point, depending on the level of someone—not that Savielle knew any of that.

"I acce—" before she could finish her sentence, a familiar sinking feeling tugged at her and she turned towards what lay below them, some distance away. Sandwiched between a lake and a forest, was what seemed to be a Village, not so far at all. The houses seemed pretty and the farmland around it prosperous, if not for the fact that—it was on fire.

Something moved in the corner of her vision, and she noticed a horde of monsters advancing from within the greenery towards where people—innocent people—were.

Whatever her previous intentions were, they were set on hold. "I need to go." She spoke nervously, more to herself than she did Asmoday.

"What?"

Savielle turned to the girl—monster—woman, whatever the hell she was! "I. Need. To. Go! Those people are gonna die!"

"Huh? Hey! Where do you think you're sprinting off to? [Hold Species]!" Asmoday chanted as soon as she saw the girl try to make a run for it. Despite Saviele's will, she found her body would not move. An incorporeal rope tied her still.

"What is..." She searched for the reason with a couple quick glances, "You, it's you—please, let me go!" She pleaded her captor, "Please!"

"You won't make it in time."

"Then—" She visibly shook as she spoke, anxious to speak her next few words. "Then, y-you can send me there." She had seen her do it before, surely it was possible!

And gain what? Was the clear question not so concealed in her irises. It was obvious to Savielle now, that clearly this creature was no human, it was a monster—if her powers and appearance weren't telling enough before, with however small a glimpse she had taken of her heart, she was sure of it now. Despite it, Savielle was willing to sacrifice herself if it meant she could save someone else one last time—to do her duty one last time.

In the past few weeks of running away from the very life she'd conducted so far, she had been witness to much struggle. People, some less fortunate than ever her—who did not deserve the harsh hand life dealt them—were a usual sight if one visited the slums of just about any city, or more populated town. Being on the run meant staying hidden—and staying hidden meant that the slums are to become one's favorite place in turn. As such, strife was not an unusual sight.

Despite that... Despite that, she hadn't helped a single one of them so far. She hadn't managed to, for she too was struggling and had not a single kindness to spare. It was true her clothing was clean now, that she carried a priceless sword, that her hair wasn't muddy—and so on. But such were the consequences of a mere few lucky encounters, nothing more.

If in this world, this cruel—terrible world, yet so wonderful for some—existed anybody that could truly peer at one's true self, then what they'd see looking at Savielle consisted of no less poverty of self than any one man or woman without a single possession to her name, despite the clothes she wore and objects she carried.

And that's exactly why she had lost her will to move on, because she had failed. So far, Life had failed Savielle aplenty, but never—ever—had Savielle failed Life, so she could feel content. And yet, things were not to endure, for it was without doubt that she'd not adhered to her pledge—however forceful, and manipulative, and awful it might have been.

And so, If she could do it one last time, just one last time...!

"I'll..."

"You'll?"

"I'll follow you of my own volition!" She was willing to sacrifice just about anything. "I-I'll pledge my sword to you! I swear! No contract needed. But please let me go help them!" She begged her as she struggled to get out of the magical binding that constricted her. Why was she so desperate to save a few stray humans? Asmoday wondered.

The True Dragon sighed. What was she to say? No? That'd make the girl hate her! And then, she'd be useless. And dead? She'd be useless as well. So she couldn't even send her on her lonesome.

'Damn it. This is proving more tedious than it is worth. Though I suppose further investigation regarding this World's level isn't too unwarranted…'

"Fine." She spoke as she released the spell. "But it won't be any good if you perish there. So I'll..."

What was the woman going to say? Savielle's heart trembled in anticipation, the more time passed, the more people were dying, "—Be coming with you. Come, hold my hand if you want a chance to do this—but you will fulfill your obligations after I've granted you this boon."

Savielle gulped, but nonetheless, she ran towards her and grasped her hand. In a flash—they were gone once more.

The young girl wouldn't regret her decision. Her one, single encounter with Asmoday would delay Walpurgis by six days, all whilst triggering a chain of disastrous, benevolent and peculiar events for both the Roble Holy Kingdom and Baharuth Empire without match in the course of both histories.

It wasn't kindness Asmoday had offered her. Merely a whimsical interest, and yet—for the first time in quite the while, as she vanished under the influence of teleportation, Savielle had a smile on her face borne of gratitude.

---

13th Afternoon of the Middle Wind Month

Hertha Village

Behind her tightly closed eyelids, through the few curtains present in the room, she could feel the gentle touch of the sun's rays, warming her—hugging her like a long lost friend. It was for this very reason that she was now half-awake.

Despite drifting in and out of slumber, a few muffled steps gave away the presence of someone in the room—only then for a small, gentle hand on the shoulder to confirm it, they had walked over to her—as she lay head on the table.

"You should sleep at night, not while the weather's good, Ellie."

"Mhmu, mhumm, mmh..."

Her tiny eyes opened slowly, slightly annoyed at the amount of light in the room—and the kind smile of her Mom, Nelia, came into view. She wasn't always happy, as nobody was, but with Ellie's father out on work duties for the past weeks in the Capital, she had been somewhat more sad than usual.

Ellie didn't consider herself the smartest, but if anyone were to ask her—she'd say it was because her mother had abandoned adventuring. Once again, a consequence of her father's involuntary absence.

"Go out and play, have fun—don't waste your time lazying around. The kids are just here," Nelia spoke as she pat her head with a smile.

Despite the urge to refuse and return to the ever so comfortable sleep she so loved, Ellie decided it was worth the effort of waking up if she could enjoy the company of her friends. Seeing her mother had already returned to tending to the household's chores, she decided to get moving after a small greeting and hug, which were always well-received.

The door to the outside, the one that gave her so much energy whenever she saw it, opened—and the world gained a whole other hue of vibrance.

She met up with a few other kids and together they played with a ball in the street in front of Olivia's house, a friend of hers, where her mom could survey them. Eventually, the ball was kicked a teeny bit too strongly and was sent rolling.

Olivia's mom had taken but a minute of reprieve to make tea and take the biscuits she'd made out of the oven, so as to offer them to the kids—but it had been enough to lose sight of them.

Meanwhile, the band of troublemakers ran. They could not lose the ball, it was the only one they had!

They chased, and chased, and chased—until it was nowhere to be seen.

They stopped. A tree split the street as it lay in the middle, a line of houses behind it stretching diagonally. Seeing two different paths, and given there were four of them, the dilemma was simple to solve, they merely needed to split up and eventually they would be successful. And so they did, team brown hair—Olivia and Ellie—would go to the right, team blue eyes, sister and brother—Mitch and Miria—to the left.

"See you later then. Run fast, I don't wanna get scolded again by Mom!"

"Yeah, yeah. We know that, Mitchy. Wasn't it your fault in the first place the ball got sent so far? Why'd you have to kick it so hard?"

"I... just go, Olivia! Don't waste time, look, Ellie's already going. The last to get back at your house is the silliest! Bye-bye!"

Finally, after quite some time, it had stopped; Olivia and Ellie could see as much in the distance as they caught up with it. They had to spend at the very least ten minutes, simply searching for it in the tall grass of the terrain around the Village. How the ball rolled so far towards the outskirts of town was anybody's guess, but as she surveyed what lay at her feet without looking up even once out of sheer concentration, Ellie found it. A few steps on the grass, and she'd have it in hand.

"Oh, it's here!"

Olivia stood behind her as she reached out to grab it with her tiny hands, the sun shining overhead. Except, shadow crept up above her once her eyes were set on the ball. Was there a tree here she hadn't seen before covering them?

There wasn't. Once she looked up, ball in hand—something much worse was there. Something her mother had told her stories of, something that she knew from her adventure books.

A green—ugly—angry, Ogre. Bat of wood in hand.

Naturally, she froze. Olivia, who had been but ten or so steps back—tried to warn her, but even she could not speak out of sheer fear, and was thus immobilized.

"RUUUNNN!" A voice in the distance she recognized to be Olivia's mother screamed, "CHILDREN, GET AWAY!" She zoomed towards them, but she was too far.

Ellie's last sight, before she closed her eyes, was the Ogre's weapon speeding up towards her and its sharp teeth. She clenched her fists as they balled, and her eyelids were far more tightly closed than when she slept.

All she could wish for, in that small, short moment, was to have not woken up from her sleep. To have decided not to go out and play.

A thunderous boom echoed, as the bat struck and hit the ground, Ellie's small body nowhere to be seen—likely splattered under the high grass. Olivia had closed her eyes, and so hadn't seen—but a gasp of despair and a daunting scream escaped her mother, that much, she had heard.

However, the moment her world came crashing down on her and Ellie died, Olivia's mother froze. Ellie stood upright, still alive next to two other young girls—who looked no older than her firstborn, Olivia's sister. One had hair of snow, and held Ellie by the arm—whilst the other's locks were a darker shade of her daughter's own.

"Savielle, you take care of this one." The melodious sound reached her ears as if the sweetest of symphonies. Savielle? Who was Savielle? Was that the name of the other girl?

Blood. That was all she could see as the Ogre's severed limbs came falling down on the ground at the behest of a gleaming sword's cut. It fell to its knees, before, with a thud, it lay face-first on the ground with no arms nor legs attached.

It was then that she raised her gaze and noticed what truly was happening. Tens of its kin were behind it. Marching unsolicited, fearless towards Hertha. Her relief was quick to be drained to despair—but then she was saved once more.

The less peculiar-looking girl spoke something and the other one sighed.

Next thing anybody knew—with a flourish of her arm, the white-haired girl unleashed a flaming bird. It flapped its wings as it grew in size exponentially in but instants, before it reduced every enemy in front of her to ash, engulfing them in scorching fire that tore through their very flesh.

Olivia's mother had been an adventurer too once upon a time. Luel, 'The Silver'—because of her armor. She even still retained whatever knowledge of Magic she had acquired when she had studied at the Capital. But whatever that had been, was no Magic. It was slaughter incarnate, plain and simple. How could anybody, much less a young girl be capable of such horrendous destruction?

In the wake of its flight, the flaming bird had left naught but a wasteland where once a field of greenery lay—and not even a single bone of Ogre remained, much less their flesh nor weapons.

Relief. Salvation. Awe.

All were quick to become something else as the figure that had caught her attention met her gaze with crimson eyes lit with ruby flame.

Visions of men, women, noble and not—good and evil—wearing smiling masks, dancing at a masquerade. They died horribly, burned by cursed fires, their flesh melting off their bones as even they were consumed in the end.

She saw creatures of Heaven and Hell alike—massive, majestic and some disgusting even—beings of Legend, of Myth—not meant to exist within the confines of the Garden of Man, slaughtered in instants by 41 shadows, mercilessly—their very organs and bodies re-used to create weaponry to slay their own kin.

And then a Throne. A Throne of Apocalypse, built by the bloodied weapons of fallen warriors atop a mountain of corpses. She watched as they butchered one another in an endless War with themselves, brother killed brother, sister felled sister under an amber sky. She watched, as one of the shadows seen before sat on that Throne and laughed merrily at the sight, three enormous beasts behind her seat.

Except this time, the shadow hid nothing—for she recognized it. It was her...

It was that young girl.

No, not a girl.

A God.

---

ACT 1 BONUS: INTERMISSION - "A Prophecy of Winternight, A Sinner's Frozen Plight."

---

Several Centuries Ago

An Unknown Location

Amidst the snow that enveloped the world outside, a man found solace within the confines of his tree-bound abode. Through the frosted window a dimly lit chamber was revealed, suffused with an enigmatic aura. Shadows swirled like specters, casting an eerie dance across timeworn bookshelves and arcane artifacts.

The old wizard's chamber lay nestled within the ancient hollow of a towering oak tree, its gnarled branches reaching uselessly towards the heavens. Here, even the air seemed heavier, as if secrets not meant for the average Child of Man were whispered among the shelves of leather-bound tomes.

Through a small, frosted windowpane, the pale light of a waning moon cast an ethereal glow upon the room. Snowflakes danced outside, swirling in a frenzied ballet, their delicate forms illuminated by the flickering candlelight within.

At the heart of the chamber stood a solitary figure, his robes of deep blue embroidered with threads of silver. His long white beard flowed like a river of snow as he paced with measured steps, his weathered face etched with lines of wisdom and time. Slightly off the center of the room, a crackling fire burned in a stone hearth, casting dancing shapes upon the ancient walls. The fire's warm embrace lent an air of comfort, contrasting the chill beyond the confines of the wizard's abode.

The old wizard paused, his gaze drifting towards a wooden chair near the hearth. With a sense of purpose, he approached and climbed onto the seat, its worn surface groaning in protest. From a pocket within his robe, he withdrew a small leather pouch, its contents glowing with a faint luminescence.

Drawing a handful of shimmering powder from the pouch, the wizard scattered it into the air, where it wove through invisible currents. A soft incantation escaped his lips, words older than he himself, taught to him by his Master—who was in turn taught them by hers, and many generations more followed suit.

Within the heart of the hearth's fire, sparks ignited and swirled in a hypnotic waltz. The flames grew brighter and more intense, their flickering tongues reaching higher, as if seeking to touch the heavens themselves—but that would be a very wrong assumption, for if anything, those flames could be called a quick gateway to hell.

Amidst the mesmerizing display, a surge of magic coalesced within the inferno's heart. It twisted and turned, taking on the form of a mystical vortex, its edges a halo of light that illuminated the chamber.

From the depths of the vortex, as if conjured from the very fabric of the arcane, a parchment emerged. It glided gracefully, as if carried by an invisible hand, before coming to rest in the wizard's outstretched palm.

The parchment seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow, its surface inscribed with ancient symbols and intricate patterns. It emanated a sense of wisdom, as if the parchment itself held the stories of countless generations before, and just as many to come.

With bated breath, the old wizard opened it, his eyes scanning the script that seemed to dance upon its surface. His lips moved silently, murmuring the words as if unlocking a forgotten language, their meaning taking shape within his mind.

"Separated they stand, distant worlds apart," the wizard mumbled, his voice laced with a mixture of intrigue and concern. "One yearning to blend with the human heart."

As he delved deeper into the prophecy, the sorcerer's gaze turned inward, his thoughts unrelentingly quick to come. He found solace in the Night Sister the parchment spoke of, cloaked in celestial beauty, whispering in dreams as stardust illuminated her path.

"Learning of their fragile kin, as stars guide her steps, where destinies begin," the wizard recited, his voice tinged with a sense of wonder. The Night Sister's wisdom flowed like a river of might, seeking to blend the day with the night, to find harmony in the tapestry of existence.

But there was another, the Dawn Sister, untamed and wild, craving the dance of war and chaos. The wizard's voice grew solemn as he spoke of her role in the prophecy.

"In darkness she dances, amidst war's grim ballet," he whispered, his eyes clouded with both trepidation and loyalty to his kingdom. The Dawn Sister held within her the potential for destruction, her power an unruly force longing to be tamed. Yet, despite the tempest that brewed within her, her bond with her kin remained unbroken, a force of reckoning yet to be unleashed.

A third figure emerged from the shadows of the prophecy—a King, shrouded in darkness and manipulation. The wizard's voice grew colder as he described his twisted desires, whose only role was to weave a malevolent tapestry that ensnared the hearts of humanity.

"A puppeteer of souls, sowing seeds of malice, human hearts drowning in apathy," the sorcerer's voice dripped with disdain. In this scenario, The King represented the flaws of humanity, their greed and arrogance leading them astray from the path of harmony and light.

The wizard's eyes widened as he reached the crux of the prophecy, where the two sisters, united by fate's hand, would bring about an omen that would pierce the darkest night. It was a union of forces, a catalyst for change that would shape the destiny of their realms.

"When the two sisters, by fate's hand, unite, an omen shall shimmer, piercing darkest night," he spoke with a sense of awe. The Night's radiant glow would darken and dim, and Destruction's fire would surge from within. Allies would collide in a cataclysmic clash, a symphony of chaos, a decree of fate that could not be hidden.

The old wizard's breath caught in his throat as he continued. From this union, an awakening would rise, a dormant power defying all expectations. Balance would be restored, or, if they willed it, the world's light—

"—Could be snuffed out forever."

Silence settled in the chamber, the weight of the prophecy hanging in the air. The old wizard's mind whirled with questions and uncertainty, the echoes of the words resonating within his very being. He knew that he finally held within his hands a glimpse of the future, a glimpse that demanded his unwavering attention. So he had been right, after all. What he'd felt back then, it had indeed been omen…

"But if I've finally succeeded… If this truly is the future, then… " A sense of urgency gripped his soul. His eyes widened, filled with an unspoken knowledge that demanded immediate action. The flickering candlelight reflected the fear etched upon his weathered face as he realized the grave consequences that awaited his Sin.

Without hesitation, the wizard rushed towards the chamber's oak door, "[Wind Gust]!" Its ancient wood groaned in protest as he flung it open with the third-tier spell. When he did, however—the light snowfall he should've found outside was no longer there. The flow of mana had changed, the Sky itself raged with newfound fury in the form of a relentless blizzard, its icy tendrils reaching towards the haven of his abode with untended hunger.

The wind howled as the wizard forged a path through the swirling snow, his footsteps a hurried cadence against the frozen ground. His cloak billowed behind him, a tattered flag of determination fluttering in the tempest.

Every breath was a gasp of icy air, each exhalation a tangible reminder of the urgency that coursed through his veins. His heart pounded in his chest, its rhythm synchronized with the desperate pulse of time.

When he looked back, snow greeted him.

When he looked forward, snow greeted him.

When he looked right, snow greeted him.

When he looked left, snow greeted him…

Through the treacherous blizzard, the old wizard navigated the labyrinthine paths, his mind focused on reaching his destination. The winds whispered haunting secrets, carrying fragments of the prophecy's words that tugged at his consciousness, but he could not falter…

"[Burning Lance]!" The fiery construct made way for him, but even that lasted little. He screamed, again and again—anything that might help, he cast. "[Sunlight]! [Fireball]! [Grand Fireball]!" All the mana he expended served for but a momentary reprieve, as each and every bit of it slowly but surely returned to the reserves of Nature, and as that happened—the blizzard intensified, the cold grew cold-er.

Despite his efforts…

When he looked back, snow greeted him.

When he looked forward, snow greeted him.

When he looked right—snow greeted him.

When he looked left—snow greeted him…

As more and more time went by, It was starting to become hard to think… Impossible to speak, let alone cast a spell—but he had to press on, the information he carried held such value and much more…

Eventually it felt like forever was an ever so close concept. Reality itself, all that surrounded him, seemed as if it had run a marathon and had now slowed down to the pace of a snail.

'How much longer… must I travel?' Was the haunting thought that he'd now heard more than ten times reverberate in his mind.

When he looked back—snow greeted him…

When he lookedforward—snowgreeted him…

Was he traveling? When he tried checking by feeling the mana around him, he could feel nothing. It was as if Nature itself was denying him. Why was this happening to him?

When he lookedrightsnow greeted him…

Now that he thought about it, had he even moved a step from where he was?

Whenhe lookedleftsnow greetedhim…

Whenhelookedbacksnowgreetedhim…

Everything was white… The world was white. Had it always been white? He did not remember. It was so hard to think now, he just felt like falling asleep…

Whenhelookedbacksno…

Whenhelooked…

Like falling asleep… forevermore.

Whenhe…

Ah, yes… that would be…

Wh…

…

…

He did not look anymore.

Days passed. Weeks went by. Months elapsed. Years felt like minutes when one was blind to the world, until a day a woman walked through a frozen wasteland that had come to be known as the White Death. She had lustrous wings the color of the rainbow itself and eyes that spoke of countless years. Her demeanor was calm, each step measured to the utmost.

She wandered amidst the endless white plains as if in search of something, until finally she approached a piece of ice about her height that particularly stood out. She gasped—gone was the composed look on her face, the surprise of finding something once having given up the search replacing it. "It's been so long…" Her palm rested on the surface of the ice. "To think you'd end up in such a sorry state, Alistier—my dear friend…"

Alistier tried his best to speak—to express the joy he felt at hearing the Faerie, the Queen of Verdure herself. Even if this was another trick his mind was playing on him, one of the hundreds he had grown accustomed to. But at last, a creeping cold consumed him, crawling and snaking around his body, and—as always, he was unable to.

She looked him up and down. His limbs were entirely stiff, his skin pale and translucent. His voice was silenced, his desperate warning forever locked within his throat. His gaze pleaded for an understanding that would sadly never come, for someone to carry the burden of his unspoken words.

But there was no way for that to happen.

Thaelia's head had long since bowed and tears streamed across her beautiful face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't help you… I'm sorry it took so long, it must've been torture…all these years, alone.'' She spoke with sorrow as she stared at the eternally frozen visage of an old friend, a wizard most powerful and wise. He had gone against something even she didn't understand, and in doing so—had payed the price. Something she would've gladly done along with him had he not completely vanished the moment he'd set foot out of the home she'd placed her protection on.

The Past might not have been meant meant to be seen by mortal eyes, the Future might not have been meant to be known, but Fate was not meant to be glimpsed at all, never. Perhaps he wasn't as wise as she was more inclined to believe if he had disobeyed her advice so…

What was ever more hurtful was, even after all this time—she couldn't help her old friend in any way. A hand outstretched, palm facing forward, all she could do was free him.

Thaelia got up from the kneeling position she was in, the sound of an impact later—his body, long transformed into an ice statue, soon crumbled to the ground in a shower of shards.

A chilling whisper echoed throughout the White Death on that day, a voice lost to the depths of despair. The old wizard's spirit, forever trapped within the icy confines of his shattered form, whispered a warning to those who would dare to follow in his ill-fated footsteps. A frozen testament that Destiny was not a burden for Mankind to bear.

And so the Queen of the Fae would cry bitter tears once more, mourning the passing of a dear friend twice, once two hundred years ago—once again presently.

As the white was drained from her hair, replaced by coal black—and her wings's light stripped from them, all she could think about was how she'd failed her Contractee.

---

A/N: I suppose I'm back from the dead with a super XL sized gift of a chapter, shall we call a celebration? Jokes aside, this chapter has been a lot of fun to write too. Both Ophis and our young Paladin have a lot of hidden sides to their characters, ones I'm sure I'm going to have fun exploring. And...what's up with the Faerie, the Wizard? Asmoday even, eh? I'm sure some are wondering what that convo with Momonga was all about, no worries though, all will be revealed in due time. Ah also, this chapter has sadly not been beta-read, not as a whole at least. Once again, if anybody likes the story enough and is willing to help in that regard, shoot me a private message—it'd surely speed up the rate at which chapters come out.

Reviews are much appreciated.

See ya on the next one~