Chapter Eighteen – Birth of the Crimson Yaksha
After the events at the Practice Field, Emma returned to her room, where she found Celine waiting for her on her bed.
"What is it? I could sense you were panicked," Celine sighed.
"Mercy and Redemption. They exist," Emma stated.
"What?!" Celine shrieked. "They were supposed to be a myth!"
"I just watched Cyrus summon both of them on the Practice Field. They both looked very real," Emma stated.
"Should we tell the Elder about this? Though something tells me she probably already knows they exist," Celine scowled.
"You don't think that…?" Emma began.
"Perhaps… How about I do a little investigating of my own? If I can't find any concrete evidence, we can contact Rose," Celine replied.
"Where will you go for this 'evidence'?" Emma asked as Celine hopped off her bed and started to glow.
"Why, Arteria, of course. I'm sure we'll find answers there," Celine purred, and in a flash of light, she was gone.
Mercy and Redemption. Two ancient firearms that had the power to wreak untold havoc in the hands of those with an affinity to wield them. If the stories about these two mystical guns were true, anyone could bind and use them, but only one being in existence could utilise them to their full potential; the Outlaw.
During her childhood, Emma had been told stories about this mysterious Outlaw; a 'demi-god' who had the power to warp reality to their will. Some of the stories suggested the Outlaw was created by Thanatos to continue his visions of chaos and destruction in the almighty god's stead, while others suggested that the Outlaw was Thanatos.
The guns themselves were supposed to be a part of the story of the Outlaw; a myth that was as old as the Great Collapse itself. A story more than a thousand years old that was probably more fiction than fact. Yet, the names on the two guns Cyrus possessed were unmistakable; they definitely said 'Mercy' and 'Redemption'.
If that was the case, then how did Cyrus find them? Emma knew he had travelled across most of Zemuria in his past, meeting with Yun Ka-Fai, becoming an Assassin, and no doubt having countless other adventures too. It was no secret to the Hexen Clan that a number of shrines and temples still exist from the world before the Great Collapse. The more Emma thought about it, the more Emma started to think that Cyrus had simply stumbled upon the temple or shrine that housed the weapons.
That said, it did leave Emma with one singular thought…
'If Mercy and Redemption are real, then what of Chaoseater, Harvester, and Scorn?'
When Cyrus and Sara returned to the dorm, everyone was sat waiting for them to return, which was something that surprised both of them.
"What are you guys doing?" Sara asked.
"Waiting for you… We… We wanted to…" Elliot mumbled, looking at Cyrus, then down at his feet.
"You don't need to worry about me, Elliot. I'm fine. I just… Well, you know how I get when someone spits on my family," Cyrus sighed.
"Don't think for a second that I'm condoning your actions, but… I guess I don't blame you for reacting the way you did. If someone, especially a Noble, said those sorts of things about my family… I don't know what I'd have done," Machias muttered.
"You showed great restraint. A lesser Noble would have probably pulled the trigger…" Jusis stated.
"Patrick's words were utterly foul, and yet… The mercy you showed him will probably make him think twice the next time he tries something like that. Like Jusis said; someone else would have probably followed through," Laura added.
"Though what was that ridiculous speech about everyone being a Noble? Even I cringed at that bit," Fie smirked.
"Well, it's somewhat true. If Patrick's suggestion that to be a Noble means having pride in one's family was all it took, then why can't anyone be a Noble? Elliot, are you proud of your family and where you come from?" Cyrus asked.
"Well, sure. My dad is a Lieutenant General in the Erebonian Army, and the Commander of the Fourth Armoured Division, and my mum was a great musician. Her talents managed to catch the eye of your mum, Cyrus. They even became great friends. So, yeah, of course I'm proud of my family and where I come from," Elliot nodded.
"Then, using Patrick's argument, why can't Elliot be considered a Noble? You see what I'm getting at? Nobles were just normal people too, until a ruler said they were better than the next person for whatever reason, and gave them land and power. A Noble is no different from a Commoner, and while the Nobility is an essential part of Erebonian culture, that doesn't make a Commoner a lesser being just because they don't hold land or a title," Cyrus explained.
"I see what you're saying. The Reinford Family are probably one of the richest Commoner families in Erebonia, ever wealthier than some minor Nobles. Even Machias' dad, being the Governor of Erebonia, holds more power than some of the Barons and Viscounts of the Noble Alliance. Power and fortune can be held by either Noble or Commoner; they aren't exclusive to one or the other," Rean stated.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't lump my family in with those self-serving Nobles," Machias muttered.
"Agreed, it's a distinct honour to be considered a Noble; one this nuisance isn't worthy of receiving," Jusis scoffed.
"What was that?!" Machias shouted.
"Sara, I fucking give up," Cyrus sighed as he turned around and walked out.
"Hey, wait a sec! Cyrus–!" Sara cried as Cyrus closed the door. "You two idiots really are slow, aren't you?"
"I beg your pardon?" Jusis blinked.
"You wanna repeat that?!" Machias snapped.
"You still don't get it, do you? Even when he explained it so clearly, you still can't grasp what Cyrus was trying to say! Let me spell it out for you; There's. No. Difference. Between. Nobles. And. Commoners!" Sara shouted, clapping her hands with each word.
"What absolute balderdash. Of course there's a difference, otherwise there wouldn't be Nobles and Commoners," Jusis sighed.
"Yeah, what a load of bullcrap! All that talk was nothing more than lip-service to make us Commoners feel better about ourselves because we weren't born into the easy life like he was!" Machias yelled.
"The 'easy life'? Do you even hear yourself?!" Alisa barked. "He and his mother nearly died at the hands of a Jäger Corps when he was younger. He left his home and travelled across Zemuria in order to get stronger and find those responsible! He's been marked for death by another, more dangerous Jäger Corps, and hasn't been home since he left almost six years ago! He even became an Assassin during that time! How is any of that the 'easy life'?!"
"Yeah, you would say that though, wouldn't you?" Machias muttered.
"Who here can say their life has been more difficult than his? None of us, that's who!" Alisa shouted.
"I mean, I can… Though, I guess I don't really care about that stuff anyway. It's not like it's a competition," Fie shrugged.
"Look, you guys… I can't claim to speak for Cyrus, but I think what he's saying is that here, at least in Class VII, it doesn't matter what our background is; Noble or Commoner, it makes no difference. We all need to be able to work together in order to succeed in this class, especially on our Field Studies, where working together is vital. Once we break down that barrier of 'Noble vs. Commoner', we'll realise that we're all the same; citizens of the Empire," Rean stated.
"Yes! Thank you, Rean! Finally, someone who actually has a lick of common sense!" Sara cried in exasperation. "Gods above, I need a drink; you're all exhausting."
Meanwhile, over at the First Dormitory, Eric and Hans were tending to Patrick, who was still in shock over what had happened at the Practice Field.
"Are you alright, Your Lordship?" Eric asked as he fanned Patrick's face.
"You did a fine job, standing up for your principals like that, Your Lordship," Hans nodded.
"What sort of coward pulls a gun on someone who was speaking out for what he believed in?!" Eric cried.
Despite their words, Eric and Hans were inwardly torn. They knew that Patrick was a proud Noble, but they both knew his words had overstepped a mark that even they weren't sure they were comfortable with. They knew Nobles were supposed to be proud of their lineage, but even they thought that tearing down another person's family was wrong. Yet, who were they to tell Patrick he was wrong for what he said? Both of their families had served under the Hyarms Marquisdom for decades. They both knew their place, once graduating from Thors, would be to serve the next Marquis Hyarms, Ryan. They couldn't besmirch their own families by telling a son of House Hyarms he was wrong.
"I'll… I'll make him pay for what he did to me," Patrick whispered.
"H-how will you do that, Your Lordship?" Eric asked, somewhat hesitantly.
"Don't you worry… You'll find out," Patrick said darkly.
Despite Patrick's usual bravado, there was no way he was going to admit to anyone in the First Dormitory about what happened on the Practice Field. What kind of Noble is forced to their knees and begs for their life, whilst crying and praying to whatever god would listen? The embarrassment that would bring to both Patrick and his family was too much to bear, so he decided that he would say nothing, and instead put a new plan into action.
The following morning, Cyrus felt like he had stepped into the Twilight Zone. He was certain what he was seeing before him was false; some illusion created by a trickster in order to mess with him. Yet, despite his certainties, Cyrus knew that what he was seeing was definitely reality. There, at the breakfast table, sat all of Class VII, getting along with each other.
As he watched everyone in Class VII sitting down and chatting idly to one another whilst all having a shared breakfast of pancakes made by Sharon, Cyrus didn't notice Sara was standing beside him until she started speaking.
"It's weird, isn't it? Looks like you finally got through to them," Sara smirked.
"Hmph, but how long will it last though? Jusis and Machias are like rabid dogs; let them off their leashes and they'll go at one another until they have no energy left. Then, there's Laura…" Cyrus muttered, watching the three subjects with acute intrigue.
"You leave those two idiots to me. I'll figure something out, even if I have to enforce a punishment on them like I did you with Rean," Sara chuckled.
"I'm not getting out of that, am I?" Cyrus sighed.
"Not a chance," Sara smiled. "Laura though… She concerns me…"
"Why, because you know she can see what we can see, but chooses to ignore it?" Cyrus asked, staring at Laura.
"Of course she can see it. But pretending it doesn't exist isn't going to help things! Maybe I need to take a more direct approach," Sara muttered.
"What, don't tell me you're going to strap her down and scream at her 'acknowledge and accept the shadow that looms over you'? Hmph, anyone else will think you're insane," Cyrus snorted.
"Have you got a better idea?" Sara asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I might… Though it may cause a little…" Cyrus trailed off, looking at the floor.
"Cause a little what?" Sara encouraged.
"Strife," Cyrus responded wearily.
"My Lady, perhaps you should slow down a little? That's your fifth helping," Sharon commented as she watched Alisa stack more pancakes on her plate.
"Why? You know I love your pancakes, Sharon. They're delicious!" Alisa cried.
"While I appreciate the kind words, my Lady, you don't want to get fat, do you?" Sharon asked, which caused Alisa to choke on the food she was eating.
"F-FAT?! How dare you, Sharon?!" Alisa shrieked. "My weight is just fine, thank you very much!"
"Yes, but that's because I used my special low-calorie, low-fat recipe for these pancakes. If it were anyone else making them, I'm afraid what would happen to you," Sharon responded, a smile plastered across her face.
"Wow, Sharon doesn't like holding anything back, huh?" Elliot whispered.
"She has a point though; high-fat and high-calorie foods aren't good for one's health," Gaius nodded.
"I don't think that's the main concern here, Gaius…" Rean laughed sheepishly.
"Ah, apologies, pay me no mind, my Lady. It's just I have been tasked with looking after your health by Chairman Irina, and I would be remiss if I didn't at least point out that eating too much is bad for you," Sharon bowed as she handed Alisa another plate of pancakes as an apology.
"Hmm… You're lucky I have a thing for pancakes," Alisa muttered.
"Are we sure she's not the glutton here?" Sara whispered.
"Quite sure. I don't think a glutton would want to rip your head off for wanting to fuck me," Cyrus muttered.
"Excuse me, I wouldn't do that! That would be so unprofessional!" Sara cried, sounding flustered.
"Well, maybe not Sober Sara, but Drunk Sara definitely does," Cyrus shrugged.
"Ah, yeah… Drunk me is a biiiit of a slut, not gonna lie," Sara sighed, covering her face with a hand.
"As long as you don't try it on anyone else, you're probably not going to get reported to the school for being a drunken sex pest," Cyrus snorted. "So, you have that going for you, at least."
"I liked you better when you were pointing out everyone else's flaws," Sara scowled.
"Everyone gets a turn, I suppose," Cyrus shrugged.
On the way to school that morning, Cyrus ran into Ferris, who was also walking towards the Main Campus. Since he hadn't seen his cousin in some time, he decided to call out to her and walk to school with her.
"How are you doing, Ferrie? Feeling better, I hope?" Cyrus asked as the two crossed the bridge across Trista's river and saw Kenneth fishing, who waved out to them both.
"Fine, I suppose. Reginald has been watching me like a hawk, and it's getting tiresome," Ferris sighed.
"I'm sure, but Sariffa has her hands full with that numpty you call a brother, and after you fell ill, I decided you needed someone to care for you full-time, so I asked Reginald to do just that," Cyrus stated.
"Hmph, I wish you hadn't… He's too good at his job. He knows what I want, even before I do," Ferris huffed.
"Yeah… Yeah, Reginald is good at that. He needs to be, given how busy Mother gets when she travels. The man is a gift from Aidios, that's for sure," Cyrus laughed.
Obey…
The single word crept into Ferris' ear, chilling her to the bone. Letting out a small yelp, Ferris turned around and looked up at the window of her bedroom and started to whimper. That same black phantom was floating inside her room, watching her from the window, it's dead white eyes piercing her soul.
"LEAVE ME ALONE! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" Ferris screamed.
"Ferris?! What the hell is going on?!" Cyrus cried, as he watched Ferris curl up into a ball, and start crying.
Ferris' scream had been heard by half of Trista, both students and citizens alike. Some people rushed over to where the commotion was, as other looked on from afar. The town knew Ferris and Cyrus were related, so what had caused her to scream the way she did?
Growing concerned, Cyrus picked Ferris up and started to carry her. As she felt herself be picked up, Ferris opened her eyes and saw Cyrus was carrying her back towards the First Dormitory.
"Maybe it was too soon for you to start attending classes again… Let's get you back to your room," Cyrus frowned.
"No… NO! I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK! DON'T LEAVE ME THERE WITH IT! MONSTER! DEMON! PLEASE, STOP!" Ferris shrieked as she started to flail about in a panic.
Those who were present looked on in confusion. Of course, they couldn't see the phantom that was haunting Ferris, so when she screamed 'monster' and 'demon' they could only assume she was talking about Cyrus.
"Monster…? But isn't that…?" one citizen muttered.
"Yeah, but why is she so afraid of him? Do you think that…?" another citizen murmured, scowling at Cyrus.
"You both saw what happened that night a couple of weeks ago. That boy is a monster…" an old lady hissed.
"Master Cyrus, what's going on out here?" Sariffa asked as she opened the door to the First Dormitory to see what all the fuss was.
"I think Ferris is having a panic attack. Take her to her room, and let Reginald know so he can prepare her something to calm her nerves," Cyrus commanded, as he passed Ferris off to Sariffa.
"NO! DON'T LOCK ME IN THERE WITH THAT THING! CYRUS, I'M BEGGING YOU! PLEASE, DON'T DO THIS!" Ferris wailed as the onlookers began to whisper some more.
Sariffa hesitated for a second as she took the flailing Ferris into her arms. This was completely out of character for her, so what was causing her outburst? Sariffa knew now was not the time to play psychologist. It was clear that Ferris was disturbed by something, so making her calm down was paramount. With a small nod, Sariffa turned and took Ferris back to her room, all the while the young girl was still protesting.
"My Lady, please calm yourself. Father will be along shortly with some tea and a calming agent to help you relax. Everything is going to be alright," Sariffa whispered softly as she entered Ferris' room.
As Sariffa placed Ferris down on the bed, the young girl was still crying and screaming, clinging to Sariffa in order to make her stay.
"SARIFFA! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME IN HERE BY MYSELF! I'LL TELL MOTHER YOU ABANDONED ME, AND I'LL HAVE YOU FIRED!" Ferris screamed through sobs.
"I am sorry, my Lady… I have no choice. I don't know what's gotten you so worked up, but my father will make sure you're well looked after," Sariffa responded, trying her best to calm Ferris down.
"NO, WAIT! PLEASE! DON'T GO!" Ferris sobbed as Sariffa left the room.
Slowly, Ferris turned to the window to look at the black phantom, but found it was no longer there. With a look of confusion, Ferris rubbed her eyes and wiped the tears away, making sure she wasn't blinded by them. When she found that there was indeed no black phantom, she let out a huge sigh of relief and closed her eyes.
When she looked up and opened her eyes again, she found the tormented face and white soulless eyes of the phantom were mere inches away from her face, a spindly black hand gently stroking her face.
"Obey… Obey…!" the phantom rasped, it's voice strained and weak.
From outside, everyone could hear Ferris scream. It was so loud and blood-curdling that it managed to crack the window of her bedroom before everything went silent. Cyrus blinked in confusion and astonishment. He had never seen her act this way before, but he also knew there was no reason for her to be so manic. With eyes on him and whispers circulating, Cyrus sighed and made his way to school.
Meanwhile, in Ordis, Countess Ophelia Florald had been tending to some of her own problems. After her secret meeting with the international criminal, the Concierge of Crime, they had both struck an agreement to work together. Ophelia's reason for aligning herself with a criminal that her niece was so desperate to catch was simple; her daughter's life had been threatened by people who worked for Duke Cayenne, and that was something she could not abide.
The Concierge had grown tired of working for the Duke, as his whims and demands of the international criminal had worn the man's patience thin. But, unfortunately for him, a criminal of his standing did not have the luxury of time to deal with nuisances like Croire du Cayenne. He had many black-market deals to broker – weapons caches for Jägers and resistance forces, organs for those who desperately needed them and had the money to be able to afford an immediate replacement, fake ID's and travel documents for people who had committed crimes and were trying to escape from the consequences of those crimes – the list was endless, and that list was why he had summoned Countess Ophelia to meet with him.
"Good afternoon, Countess. I trust you are keeping well?" the Concierge asked as Ophelia marched into the dingy catacombs underneath Ordis.
"Dispense with the pleasantries, Mr. Concierge, I want to know what is so important that you deign to summon me to this dank, festering, petri dish of a hideout," Ophelia snapped.
"My, my… Come now, my dear Countess… This is not a hideout; merely a place where I conduct business with my clients. Now, I can appreciate you want to get down to business, and that's exactly why I've called you here today," the Concierge laughed before becoming serious. "Someone in your city is interfering with my shipments."
"Ok, and why is that my problem?" Ophelia scoffed.
"Because you now work for me, or do you not want to stop Duke Cayenne's attack dogs from harming your beloved daughter?" the Concierge countered, the shadows hiding the man's face, leaving a single amber eye visible to Ophelia.
"Fine. What do you know?" Ophelia asked.
"The Reaper Drone I left in your care picked up some most amusing images when my latest shipment was due to enter Ordis… Tell me, Countess, who are these rapscallions?" the Concierge queried as he waved a hand and a man stepped out from the shadows and handed Ophelia a folder.
In the folder were a collection of pictures. More specifically, pictures of the barge that was supposedly carrying a load of contraband that the Concierge was planning to sell to someone in the city. In the pictures, Ophelia could see the barge traveling down a waterway towards the city. As she flicked through, the pictures revealed the barge being halted in the waterway by a large chain before a group of boys climbed on board.
The high-definition images the Concierge's drone had captured were so clear that Ophelia instantly knew who the group of boys were. With a heavy sigh, she closed the folder and raised them to the shadows, where the same man took the folder back.
"That would be Oscar Dragonia and his group of friends…" Ophelia stated.
"Quite right… Very good," the Concierge nodded. "Can you tell me why this little parasite is targeting my shipments?"
"His father runs the Port of Ordis, a fact I'm sure you're already aware of. However, in order to keep you up-to-date on the situation in Ordis, Marquis Dragonia has been letting his spawn freely interfere with any shipments that enter Ordis, and Oscar has invited his moron friends to help him. Anything they take becomes rightfully theirs, and only an appeal to Marquis Dragonia can change that. However, since Oscar is only targeting Commoner vessels, the Marquis ignores any and all appeals about stolen or missing merchandise," Ophelia explained.
"I see… I'll have to let Captain Beidou know about this unfortunate road block…" the Concierge muttered. "The stolen merchandise; what does the boy do with it?"
"He sells it for his own gain. Though, if he finds some trinket that he likes, he'll keep it for himself and give it to his fiancée, a girl known as Amelia Gainsborough," Ophelia responded.
"Good. At least I know you're not lying to me," the Concierge grinned.
"Excuse me?" Ophelia blinked.
"Countess, let me explain something to you; there is nothing I don't know about the Zemurian Black Market. Hell, I built the fucking thing into what it is today; before me, it was just a bunch of Jägers and criminals trying to make some easy money. Yet, dealing with criminals, I'm sure it'll come as no surprise to you that I deal with dishonesty on the regular. In order to check whether or not someone can be trusted, I ask them something that I already know the answer to. They, of course, don't know that, which makes it easier to root out the liars and those who wish to disrupt my empire. We might be working together, but that doesn't mean I have a reason to trust you. So, I decided to use this situation to test your loyalty to our agreement," the Concierge explained.
"Why?" Ophelia asked through gritted teeth.
"What's stopping you from telling General Le Guin about me? You could spin her a tale that you sought me out with the premise of working together to stop Duke Cayenne in order to catch me and have me imprisoned. As her aunt, you would most likely avoid criminal charges, meaning you could keep your hands clean whilst handing your niece's greatest adversary to her on a silver platter; kill two birds with one bullet, as it were… Now you know how deep my connections go, I believe you'll have no reason to betray me, as if you do, I'll know, and your darling Ferris being targeted by C and his Imperial Liberation Front will look like a picnic by the shore," the Concierge stated menacingly.
"My daughter's safety is my only priority as this point, and will not do anything to jeopardise that," Ophelia responded.
"Very good… Then I want you to bring this snivelling little bastard and his friends to me," the Concierge commanded as he stood up.
"Why? What are you going to do?" Ophelia asked, despite already knowing the answer.
"I would like to have a little chat with the boy…" the Concierge muttered, standing in the half-light in such a way that Ophelia could see a single firearm tucked into the man's waistband.
"Would you like me to seek him out for you now?" Ophelia questioned.
"Oh, heaven's no! I'm due in North Ambria tomorrow to meet with a Miss Jayna Storm. Apparently, she and her allies are interested in procuring my services to help them start a revolution in the North… Ah, but I digress. You bring the boy and his lackeys to your home this Sunday evening. I will be there to deal with them then," the Concierge stated. "That is all, you may go."
With a wave of his hand, the Concierge dismissed Ophelia, who growled at being treated like a mere servant. Even she didn't treat her servants with such disrespect, but she knew she couldn't cause a fuss over something so trivial. The man was a wanted criminal; he wouldn't think twice about unloading a clip from his firearm into her chest. Without a word, Ophelia turned and made her way out of the catacombs.
"Hi Cyrus, I hope you don't mind me calling you here on such short notice," Towa smiled as Cyrus entered her office.
"It's fine. I haven't seen you in a while; you must be very busy," Cyrus commented, looking at the small Student Council President.
"Hehe, yup. Such is the life of the Student Council President. It's alright though. I manage," Towa chuckled. "Look, Cyrus, I wanted to talk to you about Ferris."
"So, you heard about what happened this morning too, huh?" Cyrus frowned. He wasn't surprised; almost all of Trista would have heard of that commotion by now.
"As your Student… No, as your friend, I would be remiss if I didn't talk to you about Ferris and her current state of mind. It's really concerning, Cyrus. It's obvious she's not coping well with all the stress she's under. Instructor Beatrix has even mentioned her recent visit to the infirmary during the Midterms. Did… Did she really try to poison herself?" Towa asked.
Cyrus stood and looked at Towa for a good minute. It was obvious that Towa cared, but it would be unfair of him to tell Towa everything that's been plaguing Ferris; especially when a lot of, if not all of it was because of him and his past. While he wasn't prepared to lie to Towa, he knew skirting the issue would make things worse in the long run.
"She… There's been a lot going on for her as of late. My little rivalry with Patrick being one of the main problems for her. Since she resides in the First Dormitory with the other Nobles, unlike myself, she's no doubt been subjected to a great deal of stress from Patrick and his bootlickers, since they don't have the balls to confront me directly. That's not fair on her, and I know that," Cyrus began.
"Hmm, yes… That little feud you have going on with Patrick is definitely concerning in and of itself… Especially what happened between you two yesterday," Towa frowned.
"Yesterday?" Cyrus raised an eyebrow.
"Take a look out the window behind me, Cyrus. What do you see?" Towa asked as she motioned for Cyrus to stand next to her.
As Cyrus walked over and looked out of the window in Towa's office, he could see the entire campus, and Trista in the background. More specifically, he could see…
"The Practice Field," Cyrus sighed.
"Yes… Both Angelica and I saw your little 'altercation' with Patrick and his friends from here yesterday. Cyrus, I hate to be the one to say this, but… Are you sure it's not you that's causing Ferris' state of mind to be the way it is? You act so rashly at times, and don't seem to consider what happens to those around you as a consequence. Angelica said it best yesterday; 'people like Patrick are weak little foxes. They know they can't take down a wolf, so they choose to go after the pups instead'. You hold immense power, that much was made obvious to those of us you met in Ordis last year, but for all that power, I'm worried that it's making you very short-sighted," Towa responded.
"It's no secret that I have enemies, Towa. I mean, someone tried to have me and my mother killed at the hands of a Jäger Corps six years ago. There are plenty of people who want to kill me, and I've made my peace with that. Yet Ferris… She's just an innocent little girl in the grand scheme of things. She shouldn't be getting dragged into my messes, yet she does. It's not like I intend for her to get involved but… Well, it's like you and Angelica have said; if you can't take down a wolf, go for its pups. Somebody out there wants to take me down, and will target those I care about to do it. I just… I don't know who that someone is," Cyrus sighed.
"Well, perhaps I can be of some help to you there," a husky voice spoke from the doorway.
When Cyrus and Towa turned around, they were both looking at none other than Angelica Rogner, who was dressed in her usual black leather jumpsuit.
"Angie!" Towa smiled.
"Hello there, my darling kitten," Angelica purred. "Nice to see you too, Cyrus. I'm glad you chose not to splatter Patrick's brains all over the Practice Field yesterday. That could have gotten messy in more ways than one."
"Hello to you as well, Angelica. What's this about you being able to help me?" Cyrus asked.
"I know all about your little cousin's problems first hand. Aidios knows I've heard most of her arguments with Marquis Hyarms' son personally. I take it you know about the man who's been threatening her?" Angelica asked.
"I do. Some arsehole who's a part of this 'Imperial Liberation Front'. Apparently, this group works with the Noble Alliance…" Cyrus muttered.
"That's right. On the rare occasion I've gone back to Roer the last few months, I've overheard my father and uncle talking about the 'Le Guin threat'. At first, I thought it was your sister, which didn't make sense, since she serves as the General of Duke Cayenne's army. Now, I'm starting to think they were talking about you," Angelica stated.
"That doesn't make any sense though; isn't Cyrus a part of the Noble Alliance? Why would they consider him a threat?" Towa asked.
"Someone is puppeting them from behind the scenes…" Cyrus frowned.
"That's my conclusion as well. Someone must have the ear of Duke Cayenne, and has made him believe that you're a threat to him and his plans," Angelica nodded.
"Fucking hell… I have a feeling I know exactly who it is…" Cyrus sighed.
"The Dragonia Family?" Angelica asked with a smirk.
"The Dragonia Family?" Towa repeated.
"Yeah, they're a high-ranking Noble family from Ordis; basically the right hand of the Duke. If the Le Guin Family is the Sword of Lamare, then the Dragonia Family is the Shield. They protect House Cayenne, and all their interests, and anyone they deem a threat to those interests is considered an enemy," Angelica explained. "You've never met them before, Towa, so it's understandable why you don't know them."
"Are you alright, Cyrus?" Towa asked as she looked at the Le Guin boy.
The confirmation that Duke Cayenne was being puppeted by someone from the shadows was concerning; Angelica's declaration of it being the Dragonia Family even more so. It was no secret that the Dragonia hated the Le Guin, but even then, Cyrus knew that…
"Hello? Earth to Cyrus?" Angelia droned, waving a hand in front of Cyrus' face.
"I'm sorry, I lost myself in my thoughts. Look, don't worry about me. I'll deal with this problem myself. Can I ask that you look after Ferris for me, Angelica? I know it's unfair of me to put that responsibility on you, but for now…" Cyrus began.
"Psh, don't even worry about it. I'd be happy to look after your adorable little cousin," Angelica smirked.
"Please don't try and sleep with her," Cyrus scowled.
"Ah, perish the thought! Though, if she wants to sleep in my bed with me at night, I won't turn her away. I've been hearing she's been seeing something horrible in her room as of late too… She won't say what it is, only that it's a monster of some kind, but whenever Reginald or Sariffa go and check, they can't see anything," Angelica frowned.
"Yeah… About that…" Cyrus trailed off.
"Don't you worry about a thing; I'll make sure no ghosts or monsters harm Ferris. You have my word," Angelica smiled.
"I'm not worried about this ghost Ferris can see, my concerns are more tangible," Cyrus muttered.
"Patrick won't do anything to Ferris if I'm around. After all, House Rogner is higher up the ladder of the Noble Alliance than House Hyarms. Patrick wouldn't dare try and cross me," Angelica smirked.
"Thank you… Now, as for this C person…" Cyrus began.
"What are you going to do about him? Do you even know where to start looking?" Angelica asked.
"Well, that's the thing; why bother looking for him?" Cyrus responded.
"Huh? I don't follow," Towa blinked.
"I see… Actively looking for him will only make him harder to find. After all, when you stop looking for something, you always end up finding it," Angelica smirked.
"For now, I think it's best to… How does Crow say it; 'let him cook'? Such a nonsensical thing to say…" Cyrus laughed.
"That's Crow for you. Always coming up with ridiculous words and sayings," Towa chuckled.
After Angelica had agreed to look after Ferris in his stead, Cyrus felt somewhat liberated from his troubles regarding his cousin and her current state of mind. It was now Saturday, and the rest of Class VII had already left via train to their respective Field Study locations, but Cyrus was still back at the dorm, getting ready for his own mission.
"Are you sure about this?" Sara asked.
"For the third time, Sara, I don't have a choice. I've already made my peace with the fact I'm going to be slaughtering a group of people, but if they're a branch of the Cult, then they need to be stopped… That includes the children they have indoctrinated. I don't have to like it, I just have to do it," Cyrus sighed.
"I'm still worried about you, Cyrus. I know you said you're ready to do this, but I don't think you understand the toll it's going to take on you…" Sara responded.
"So I'll have to repress a few memories… That doesn't mean I'm going to allow myself to work for the Chancellor at his beck and call. I do this mission, the he and his Ironblood dogs can go fuck themselves," Cyrus grunted.
Sara knew that she wasn't going to get through to Cyrus. No matter how hard she tried, she knew that Cyrus wasn't going to reconsider. In his mind, all he had to do was complete this one assassination contract for Chancellor Osborne, and that was it. Sara, however, knew that the Chancellor didn't work like that.
"Very well… Do you want me to go with you to the station? I know it's not far, but…" Sara asked.
"No need. I branded Claire with a Raijin Mark the last time I saw her, though she doesn't know it. I'll just use that to jump to her position freely," Cyrus shrugged.
"Then I hope for your sake she's not in the bath, or getting dressed…" Sara smirked.
"Please, that woman lives and breathes her job. I'll be surprised if I find her anywhere other than her office or with the Chancellor," Cyrus snorted.
With that final comment, Cyrus vanished, and as he left, a wave of unease hit Sara hard. She was genuinely worried about Cyrus, and what the Chancellor had up his sleeve.
Unsurprisingly, Cyrus had been right about Claire's whereabouts. When he jumped to her location, she was in her office, going over the finer details of the mission with her fellow Ironblood, Lechter 'Scarecrow' Arundel.
"So, everything is in place?" Lechter asked.
"Yes… We're ready to move on to the next stage of the operation," Claire nodded, though she looked visibly upset.
"Hey… I know this isn't easy Claire, but His Excellency knows what he's doing. If he didn't, he wouldn't be where he is now," Lechter stated, trying his best to comfort Claire.
"That's true, but… Are you seriously telling me you're alright with this, Lechter? Even for His Excellency, this is too much," Claire frowned.
"You're thinking about your brother again, aren't you?" Lechter muttered. "Both myself, and His Excellency have complete faith in you, Claire. If Emil were still here, he'd understand."
"Don't you dare think for one second that my brother would be ok with this!" Claire cried, slapping Lechter across the face. "You expect Cyrus to kill children and shrug it off like it doesn't matter!"
"Ah… I forget he and your brother are similar in age… I guess you see a lot of Emil in Cyrus, don't you? I can understand why you want to protect him, Claire, but he's a trained Assassin; killing is as easy as breathing for him," Lechter sighed, rubbing his cheek.
"That's not the point, Lechter, and you know it. If he ever finds out about this…" Claire whispered.
"Finds out about what?" Cyrus asked.
Startled, Claire and Lechter both turned around to find Cyrus sitting in Claire's seat behind her desk, feet up on the desk itself.
"How the hell did you get in here? This door is only able to be opened from the inside, and you need a keycard and fingerprint scan to unlock the door from the outside," Lechter blinked.
"Scarecrow, please… If a locked door could stop me, I wouldn't make for a very good Assassin, now would I?" Cyrus muttered, glaring at the red-haired man. "When do I get to speak to the Chancellor?"
"You don't. All information about your mission will be relayed to you through Claire and I. Here, take this," Lechter responded, handing Cyrus a small ear-piece. "We'll use this to keep in contact with you while you're on mission. It loops directly into your ARCUS, and it completely wireless. You'll be able to keep us updated on your progress, whilst being completely hands-free."
Claire stiffened as Cyrus took the ear-piece and placed it into his ear. This action didn't go unnoticed by Cyrus, but he chose to ignore it and continue his conversation.
"Tch, you don't trust I'll get the job done?" Cyrus snorted.
"No, it's not that… We just want to make sure you don't get… distracted by anything," Lechter responded, choosing his words carefully.
"Are you two hiding something from me?" Cyrus asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Don't you trust us, Cyrus?" Lechter asked casually, placing an arm around Claire's shoulder and pulling her in close, smiling widely.
"I wouldn't trust you if you two were the last people on this earth," Cyrus grunted.
"Can't say I blame you…" Clare muttered.
"Ah, well, anyway, I think it's time we get down to business. I have to go meet Lieutenant General Vander at Zender Gate, so I'll leave you in Claire's capable hands!" Lechter waved as he quickly left the office.
"Claire… What the fuck is going on? You're both acting weird," Cyrus scowled.
"It… It's nothing. We… I'm sure you can understand, Cyrus, we've never worked with an Assassin on a job before. It… We don't really feel comfortable knowing that a large group of people are going to die, when our job is to protect people," Claire stated, playing with the clipboard in her hands.
"The military run covert ops like this all the time though. There are missions that require a squad to eliminate an entire group of enemy insurgents. Granted, there aren't usually children amongst the insurgent forces, but you should be used to these kinds of missions by now," Cyrus responded.
"I know, but this is different, Cyrus. Just… Please, go carry out the mission, and when you're finished, you can report back in here," Claire commanded, turning away from Cyrus.
"Fine. I'll be back when the job is finished," Cyrus growled as he walked out of the office.
The moment Cyrus slammed the door, Claire started to cry. She knew what awaited Cyrus at the end of his task, and it was pure evil. All she could do was pray that he never finds out the truth.
Cyrus had spent the day wandering around the Vermillion Capital, looking for signs of where this group of zealots were operating from. While he had already been told where they were by Claire, Cyrus knew it'd be better for him to find out where they operate throughout the city, and how they go about luring their victims in. He also knew that they would all return to their hideout at the end of the night as well, meaning that even if he found no traces of them during the day, he knew they'd all be together at night, making it easier to carry out his mission of death-dealing.
It didn't take long for Cyrus to find what appeared to be children begging in the streets, dressed in rags, and asking the throng of passers-by for some sympathy. Most people ignored the children, giving them disgusted looks and muttering under their breath. Some did stop to give the children some loose change they had in their pockets, but Cyrus could see no evidence of them luring in children and taking them away.
"Hey, Ashley, Papa says it's our turn to work here," a small boy said to the girl who was in the street.
"Ok, Andy, make sure you do your best sad face. Papa says that really pulls people in," the girl smiled as she and two other children scurried off.
"So, it looks like they are here… Well, that's progress, I suppose. Perhaps I should follow those kids; they might take me to a large group of them," Cyrus whispered, stepping back into the shadow of a nearby alleyway and disappearing completely.
By the end of the night, Cyrus had managed to uncover a large group of adults and children who had been working all across the city. While no innocent people had been taken by the group, they had spent the day begging for food and money. Cyrus reasoned that they were trying to keep a low profile, begging for money and food so they could stay under the HMP's radar.
He was now standing on top of a warehouse, looking down through a skylight, watching the group of people count up all the money and portion out any food they had been given. All the people present were wearing tattered cloaks and dirty clothes. That observation did not go unnoticed by Cyrus, but if a supposedly eradicated cult was looking to reestablish itself, they wouldn't have the money to buy the opulent robes they once wore, so Cyrus pushed that thought to the back of his mind.
"This is fantastic! There's fifty thousand Mira here! If we keep this up, we should have enough money to finally realise our goal!" a man gasped.
"Psst, hey! Cyrus! Can you hear me?" Lechter's voice crackled through the earpiece.
"What do you want, Scarecrow? I'm busy!" Cyrus hissed.
"Give me a sitrep," Lechter commanded.
"I've found the targets and I'm ready to engage," Cyrus responded. "There's gotta be over a hundred people in this warehouse, Scarecrow. Why didn't you tell me there were so many?"
"That was supposed to be Claire's job. Didn't she tell you?" Lechter asked.
"No, she didn't. She seemed to have more interest in trying to evade eye contact with me and dodging my questions," Cyrus muttered.
"Damn it, Claire… Alright, look, just go in, eliminate all targets and get out. The Intelligence Division will deal with the clean-up portion of this mission. Just… Make sure there are no survivors, alright?" Lechter stated before cutting communications.
"Fuck you, Scarecrow… Fine, let's do this…" Cyrus sighed as he pulled his hood up and lifted the cloth mask up and covered the lower half of his face, leaving only his eyes and forehead exposed.
Gently, he opened up the skylight and dropped down into the warehouse, making absolutely no sound at all. He knew he had to be quick, as the moment someone spots him, things could get ugly. With one final sigh to ready himself, he unsheathed his kukri and started his dark work.
His speed was incredible, and his ability to kill silently was second to none. He moved from one person to the next, slitting their throat or stabbing them in the heart, giving them an instant death. Unfortunately for Cyrus, this job was never going to go smoothly.
"ALARM! ALARM! EVERYONE WAKE UP! I have received word that someone is here to kill us!" a man cried as he charged into the warehouse.
Immediately, everyone jumped up in a panic. Lights were turned on, and as they scanned the room, they screamed in horror as they uncovered the bodies of the people Cyrus had already reaped. Then, a light was shone directly on Cyrus as he was killing another person.
"Ah, fuck…" Cyrus sighed as he pulled the blade out of the victim's chest and flicked some of the blood off.
Immediately, the place erupted into chaos, with people screaming and trying to flee. Cyrus knew he couldn't let a single person escape, so he used an Art to buff his movement speed and started to kill faster.
Cyrus was an exceptional Assassin, and always made sure to take steps to ensure that he could complete his contract, even if things went awry. He wasn't arrogant enough to think he could perfectly execute any job, so before he made his move, he managed to seal any and all exits from the warehouse, with the door the man who had alerted everyone had used being the only way out.
When the people inside realised this, they all started to push and shove their way out of the small doorway, trying to escape. At that point, carrying out his task was as easy as shooting fish in a barrel. Swiftly, dozens of people started to fall to the deep black blade in Cyrus' hand. Man, woman, child; it mattered not to the weapon, as all it cared for was to be bathed in blood.
Eventually, the screams began to subside until there was only one man left alive, it was the man Cyrus had seen counting the money earlier, and assumed he was the leader of this group of people. Covered in the blood of his comrades, the man collapsed to the floor and started shuffling backwards.
"Away with you, demon! We have done nothing!" the man cried, his tears mixing with the blood on his face.
"You cultists are all the same… You commit unspeakable acts, and then play the victims when you are sent to Thanatos to be judged," Cyrus growled, stomping the man into the concrete floor.
"Cu-cultists? What are you talking about?" the man gasped as the air was kicked out of him.
"Don't think playing innocent will save you. I know all about your desires to revive the D∴G Cult," Cyrus growled, crouching down and pressing his kukri to the man's throat.
"I… I have no idea what you're talking about. We… We're all refugees from North Ambria!" the man cried. "Here… Look! It's my family's travel documents! All of us here, we were granted asylum in Erebonia by your Chancellor Osborne due to the worsening conditions in the North."
The man scrambled for something in his pocket, but Cyrus wasn't about to fall for such an obvious trick. By the time the man had stuck a hand into his pocket, Cyrus cut his throat and watched him bleed out. A small gurgle came from the man as he died in a pool of his own blood.
The hand that was in his pocket had fell out, and along with it, a small cylindrical container. At this point, Cyrus should have chosen to simply walk away and report back to Claire, but after the claims the man made, Cyrus was curious.
He unscrewed the cap on the container and held out his free hand and watched a piece of paper fall out and into his palm. Dropping the container, Cyrus opened the piece of paper and read the contents. As he read the words on the paper, the devastating horror of his actions came crashing down on him.
The man was telling the truth. The people in this warehouse were innocent refugees from North Ambria.
Dropping the piece of paper, Cyrus ran over to the other corpses and started to search them and their belongings. One by one, he found each and every person had identity papers, and a document from the Erebonian Office of Immigration that granted every single person present asylum status to enter the country. All of them personally signed by Chancellor Giliath Osborne.
"No… No, no, no, no…" Cyrus whispered, a choking feeling welling up inside of him as he realised what he had done.
He now understood why Claire was acting so strangely during his interactions with her. She knew Cyrus was being sent to murder innocent people by the Chancellor.
A multitude of emotions swamped Cyrus as he vanished from the building. He used his Flying Raijin to take him to Claire's office in the Heimdallr Railway Station and left his bloodied knife on her desk with a bloodstained note that contained only two words.
I know.
It was midnight in Heimdallr, and at her hotel in the Garnier District, Sophie Dragonia was just about ready to go to bed. She had just about finished brushing her teeth when she head a sound coming from her room. Out of curiosity, Sophie popped her head out of the bathroom and the sight that greeted her made her toothbrush fall from her mouth.
In her room stood a blood-soaked Cyrus, covered head to toe in black robes that were dripping blood onto the floor.
"By Aidios, Cyrus! What the hell happened to you?!" Sophie exclaimed as she ran over to him.
The sound of Sophie's panicked voice added to the torrent of emotions that he was feeling, and the only response he was able to give her, was to drop to his knees and cry.
Sophie knelt down and held Cyrus' head on her thighs, saying nothing as she gently ran a hand through his hair as he cried into her legs. Whatever had happened to him must have been serious, as Sophie had never seen him like this. The usually cool, calm, and collected Cyrus Le Guin now lay on the floor of her hotel room, utterly broken.
For what felt like an age, Sophie sat there with Cyrus, trying her best to comfort him, despite not knowing what had happened. After about fifteen minutes, Cyrus grew silent, and Sophie took this opportunity to look at him.
"My love, I don't know what's happened to you, but right now, let's get you out of these clothes and get you cleaned up," Sophie whispered, offering Cyrus a comforting smile.
Cyrus said nothing as he sat up and took Sophie's hand as she stood up, inadvertently getting some blood on her legs and hands. In silence, the pair of them removed the bloodied robes Cyrus had on and entered the shower together. The sound of the running water was all that was present in the bathroom as Cyrus stood under the stream of water, watching the blood that had soaked through his robes and onto his skin trickle down the drain and vanish.
Sophie stood behind Cyrus, holding him from behind, saying nothing as her hands felt the steady beating of his heart. She desperately wanted to know what had happened to the man she loved, but after seeing his reaction, she knew she should wait until he was ready to talk to her.
Once Cyrus had been cleaned up, the pair left the shower and started to put some clean clothes on. Since Sophie had planned to see Cyrus in Heimdallr, thanks to Mildine's help, she had a change of clothes packed away for him, something that Cyrus did not forget to notice.
Sophie had changed into a pale-yellow nightgown and climbed into bed, pulling Cyrus in along with her. The pair lay there in bed, holding each other in silence, listening to the sound of each other's breathing as they held hands, both finding comfort in each other's embrace.
Eventually, Cyrus opened up to Sophie and told her exactly what had happened, and how Chancellor Osborne had planned the whole thing.
"That Chancellor is an evil, evil man. How could he do something so depraved?" Sophie whispered after the initial shock of Cyrus' story had worn off.
"It's obvious this was all a part of his plan, but to what end it serves, I do not know. I knew something was amiss when Claire was acting strangely, but I lacked to foresight to understand the kind of evil I was being asked to commit," Cyrus muttered.
"You were forced to do this! Those Ironbloods are no better than the Master they serve! As for Claire… She sounds like she's just as evil as Osborne!" Sophie cried.
"Forty-eight men and women… Thirty-four girls, and twenty boys… One hundred and sixty innocent lives, and I never questioned any of it until it was too late…" Cyrus whispered.
"You are an Assassin, Cyrus! You told me that Assassins don't question their orders, they simply carry them out," Sophie reasoned.
"That's a poor excuse and you know it! That bastard Osborne knew I had a special desire to make sure the cult could never be reborn, and he exploited that! There is no-one else to blame but myself," Cyrus mumbled.
"Please, my darling, don't dwell on this… I can see how it has affected you, but there's nothing you can do to change things now. Please, just try and forgive yourself and move on…" Sophie begged.
"No, there is one thing I can do…" Cyrus whispered.
"What's that?" Sophie asked hesitantly.
"Kill Chancellor Osborne."
The next morning, Cyrus left a sleeping Sophie behind in her room and returned to Trista. He had quietly cleaned up the dried blood that he tracked into Sophie's room, and took his black robes and incinerated them before heading back to Trista.
He landed directly in his room, and instantly opened his ARCUS and placed it on the edge of the bed as he opened the chest at the foot of the bed and began to rummage through it.
"What is so urgent that you would summon me at this hour, Dragon?" the individual asked.
Cyrus explained what had happened with his mission the night before, and after everything, even the individual was speechless.
"Dragon, I… For the first time in my long life, words fail me," the individual muttered.
"Yeah, well, if the Chancellor wanted to turn Yang into a monster, he failed. As of last night, Yang is dead," Cyrus muttered, as he removed a familiar object out of the chest.
"Oh? How will that help?" the individual asked.
"As you know, I wear many hats, with Yang being one of them. I will not allow anyone to make a mockery of me, or those I choose to act as. Yang, Ishkur, Thunder Emperor, Class VII Student, Overseer, Alpha Prime… Dragon… I choose what persona I equip at any given time, and the weight of Yang's actions last night will weigh heavily upon all of them… So, I shall don a new persona, and give the Chancellor the monster he so craves…" Cyrus whispered, looking at the demon mask that was given to him by Walter Kron a month ago.
"The idea of creating a new identity to commit unspeakable acts seems like a desperate desire to cling to one's own humanity. Why now?" the individual queried.
"I have done some truly awful things in the past; that is not something I will deny… But I will not allow others to manipulate me into doing evil acts for them. So, with this new persona, I shall bear the weight of every evil act I have committed, and will commit in the future, all so I don't let what happened last night distract me from my goals," Cyrus explained.
"Then what shall you call this one? This new identity of yours?" the individual asked quietly.
"The Crimson Yaksha," Cyrus responded, as he put the demon mask on.
"So then… Will you go and kill the Chancellor now, and put this matter to bed?" the individual inquired.
"No… No, I have something else in mind…" Cyrus breathed, his voice sounding twisted and distorted.
In a snap, he gathered up his ARCUS and vanished.
On Bryonia Island, Class VII's Group B were hard at work on their Field Study. Today, they had been tasked with entering a shrine they had uncovered the day before, and they found a mural on the wall at the end of the shrine that was very interesting.
The mural depicted four people on what appeared to be horses, charging forward, following a robed individual, carrying a large spear as they rushed to face a large wave of enemies that were on the opposite side of the mural.
In the centre of the mural were a set of scales that were unbalanced on the side of the horde that the five warriors were charging towards. As Group B inspected the murals, the next one they came across depicted a bloody battle between the five, slaughtering the horde mercilessly, using a sword, a scythe, a whip, and guns to cull the beasts. In this mural, the scales in the middle began to tip back towards the five warriors.
In the final mural, the five warriors stood atop a pile of corpses, clearly victorious, raising their weapons into the sky, pointing towards the scale that was now perfectly balanced. As Group B investigated the murals, Machias came to an interesting conclusion.
"Hey, don't these murals remind you of that passage Instructor Thomas read out in History class the other month?" Machias asked.
"Hey, yeah… How did that story go again?" Fie asked, acting like she knew exactly what Machias was talking about, but actually had no idea.
"These must be the enforcers Thanatos created to maintain balance in the world. Look at the scales; they are unbalanced in the first mural, but by the end, when all the monsters are dead, they're balanced," Emma stated.
"So, this shrine is… What? A shrine to honour those enforcers? What do these words here say?" Machias asked, pointing to the scratchings at the bottom of the murals.
The markings clearly looked like some ancient language, all consisting of dots and marks. It looked nothing like any dialect that existed in Zemuria in the current period.
"Kein… Dinok… Nah… Straan…" Laura muttered.
"Wait… You can read this?!" Machias cried.
"N-no… I just… I don't know… I can see what it says, but I don't know what it means," Laura murmured.
"That's weird… I'm gonna go take a look somewhere else now," Fie muttered, starting to feel uncomfortable around Laura.
Fie wandered off, exploring other parts of the ruins, trying to see if it still held any secrets. She knelt down and began to inspect a small mural, which depicted seven robed priests, all bowing to a being that looked like a god. There were more scratchings on the mural, but Fie couldn't made heads or tails of them.
As she was inspecting the murals, Fie felt a dark presence standing over her. Tensing up, she slowly turned around and found herself looking up at a monster. She tried to cry out, but the monster clasped a hand over her mouth to stop her from screaming out. Flailing about, trying to break free from the vice-like grip, Fie realised struggling was useless as the monster lifted her up into the air with one hand.
Fie felt a searing pain in her stomach and she grasped what was happening; she had been stabbed with a blade. She could feel herself growing weaker as her life force flowed away. Slowly, the monster lowered her to the ground, grabbed her hand and whispered into her ear.
"Sleep now, Sylphid… Don't fight it, everything is going to be alright," the monster hissed as Fie completely lost consciousness on the floor inside a shrine on Bryonia Island.
"Fie? Fie, are you over here?" Emma called out as she wandered the corridor looking for her friend.
When Emma turned the corner and saw Fie lying on the floor, she sighed and assumed the young girl had decided to take a nap right there. It wasn't until she saw Fie's pale skin and the white blouse she was supposed to be wearing had turned red that she realised what she was looking at.
The sight of Fie's corpse on the floor was enough to make Emma scream in horror.
The first victim of the Crimson Yaksha had been claimed.