Familia Myth: Heroes
Rated: Mature
Summary: The gears of Fate, the threads of destiny, have shifted with incredible force. This alteration would be a cascade of events that will undoubtedly shape the future of mortals and deities, but more so onto the Heroes that have yet to touch or glimpse at their Fate. Until it is altered or twisted by their choices or unbendable forces... their world.
Act I: The End Of The Beginning
They have been the ones who have cast most of the world's darkness away, especially recently, ever since the new era emerged. They have fought valiantly for years.
Much longer than any familia has been established in the center of the world— in history.
...And especially—
"No..!"
In the past, they would sprint and jump forward without delay in their stead, rushing ahead with a clear goal in mind— this is nothing like it.
The situation is vastly different, and they no longer exhibit such behavior.
This battle— if it could even be called one— is one no mortal would recover from, even with the aid of a god; such a miracle doesn't exist.
It doesn't matter whether a goddess of beauty uses their charm on them; a god of healing tends to all their wounds. It would require the intervention of one of the most omnipotent gods, with their unparalleled power and wisdom, to help these brave souls rid themselves of this burdensome history.
For those who haven't already lost their vision from the tainted flames, black dots swarm their sight, causing even further hindrance and discomfort from the throbbing it comes with; for a few among them, a couple of tears escape from the corner of their eyes.
The tears were a manifestation of an array of emotions. The mixture of sadness, anger, and frustration was palpable, but what was most evident was the deep-seated fear that gripped them. Their sobs were muffled, but the echoes of their distressed cries bounced off the walls, creating a chaotic symphony of sound that reverberated throughout the room. The fear that consumed them was all-encompassing, like a dark cloud that had descended upon them, suffocating their every thought and action.
If they didn't have ears or had turned deaf from the ear-splitting roar of a monster— if it could even be called one— the ground would alert them about how their Fate ends.
On the assumption they could feel anything other than pain, guilt, and regret.
Otherwise, why would the adventurers lay there and let death take them away?
"...No point... being alive... if this... is all we'll... feel..."
The noises surrounding them— whether they could hear it or decided not to— grow louder. Reverberating within the cavern as It walked farther away from them, closer to an exit, their comrades pleaded, screaming for help.
"..."
From the corner of her eye, she can see her sister crying profusely as daggers of death plunge into her abdomen.
His unmaimed ear can listen to things to a certain extent— he does nothing— not like he could either way— as his ear picks up on the scurried movements of his friend; he tries to remove the large rubble of debris off of him so they can escape.
For the crippled, the few who lost the ability to see and hear and move, they can't do anything but shout for aid as they feel more piles of despair coming from above.
As soon as the few from behind were out of their sight— the ones who made it out of the specified tomb— unable to move or shout, numerous heavy and distorted shapes of rocks fell upon them.
They have will that defy god ambitions...
However, one thing was clear...
"...Why...?"
...they waited for death to take them already.
Only a rare handful have challenged their Fate.
Many have failed. And others have managed, with intent or not unclear— have altered it.
No matter how difficult the scale ought to be, however, only a few have challenged it.
With great courage and support from their followers, those who challenged Fate have managed to course the path themselves, a feat the gods above deem worthy of them entering their chambers.
Pursuing a dream they longed for, they created history with their own hands.
Heroes: Whether for Justice, Honor, Revenge, Answers, or something as foolish as Peace, heroes are qualified to challenge Fate themselves.
…However, regardless of how mighty they deem, they are also the same person who can turn it into something traumatic, if not by their own hands, then by their own choices.
The ashes of the fallen were scattered everywhere.
The smell of blood outweighed the scent of charcoal; magic stones, varied weapons from knives to swords to spears to axes, and scattered through the seemingly endless dungeon floor were crisped limbs.
Even if they were lifeless, the proof of bravery was the wielded shattered and plunged weapons dug deep in the ground, visible almost anywhere around the surroundings he was.
I couldn't... have done this without... you all.
It's thanks to you guys... That we made it this far.
His face wore a grim expression, eyes filled with blame and pain.
Panting, he held a firmer grip on the handle of his longsword.
He felt the rumble from a distance, his feet sensing it first.
Due to the grotesque smell in the air, albeit a somewhat familiar aroma, the countless scents of monsters coming to remind him laboriously, he felt his inner intestine wanting to vomit. Perhaps till his throat burns from acid and his eyes sting from endless tears.
The dungeon floor's condition made it much more difficult to breathe for any mortal.
I'm sorry for what happened to you all...
Had I been prepared even further, no one would have died because of me...
None of this would have happened.
Propping himself back to his feet with a grunt, he felt shame heavier than anything he'd held and felt before, even this battle.
Nonetheless, as much as he wants to begin the loathsome, how much of a failure he was— especially when it came to this quest— he pushes those voices away.
Now was not the time for him to begin apologizing or abhorrence.
Not when the enemy glares at him, causing him to strengthen his will to bypass it.
No doubt about it; had he let his body faze into the feeling of dread and misery, he would've perished already.
Never letting his eyes roam off the monster from afar, he managed to lower his stance, his body battered with wounds, to prepare himself for what he was willing to do.
If anyone had read his mind, they would assume he was a suicidal man.
It's not like I have a say in this. Not now, and never.
Like a painting copying another, as he moved for the next attack— so did It.
Both visualizations were almost identical, except for their desired outcomes.
As if reading the human's mind— it appeared.
It raised the temperature on the floor; even from where his ground was, he could feel the sudden increase. Further beads of sweat rolled from his temple and the back of his neck, rolling onto his back. Discomforting him even more than already with scent.
The tainted crimson began to reveal itself once more from the maw.
Because of that terrible flame, the beauty of this floor displayed— born within the dungeon— was swallowed in complete ruin. Every single lifeform, from those with beating hearts to those without, regardless of land, air, or water— became a helpless casualty caught in the crossfire of a monstrous force aided by an immense web of supporters.
The scene was harrowing, and without distinguishing between friend or foe, innocent or guilty, it was a tragedy that left no lives unscathed.
Initially, he was supposed to be one of many standing. He and his comrades— his party, with help from a few particular Spirits on this floor were considered to have taken the frontline and fought it themselves.
Although a royal was in deep conversation with a particular Spirit, and the rest of the party scattered, information regarding the monster they were to take on— the dungeon awakened.
A distorted, eerie cry that sounded similar to a victim suffering from a flesh wound, one that can only be targeted so immoral that it can't be helped but screech out, boomed through the whole dungeon floor.
The moment the swarms of dragons— of mixed variants— opened their maws and began lighting trees, plants, buildings, and Spirits on fire, the battle against the enemy immediately commenced when the roar from The Soul Of Calamity reverberated throughout the floor.
Even with this, they quickly took charge, but not into the plans and preparations they'd made. Instead, they went with whatever unspoken part each had.
Fortunately for him, he was the closest to It. From the start, his part had been planned out without his comrades' thoughts and was given to him.
Unfortunately for the Spirits and his comrades, however, they had to fend off other deadly threats for which they weren't entirely ready. The calamity the dungeon sent when the walls broke apart was too much.
"But it was just enough..."
Stunning him for a second, the lone creature flew back into open space while forming its attack with a single flap of its wings.
Like the lone human, its sight was not leaving its target.
Although it was now in the air, an advantage he no longer has anymore— magic to flow takes a toll— his mind doesn't make changes. He sticks with what was planned and waits for the moment to arrive.
As he stared into the eyes of the creature who had slew his companions, he took a deep breath to calm his nerves. The feeling underneath his feet— the ground— became less apparent the longer he stood there; even his breaths weren't audible to his ears.
In the face of danger, he gathered his bravery and stood firm.
Courage led him here. The hundreds, if liable thousands, he's met— the ones who helped and sacrificed themselves for him— have driven him farther toward the goal he has to accomplish without fail.
The white lantern flame has to cast out the fathomless pit of darkness; He is the mantle.
His eyes widened, and his body moved with his soul. The longsword follows its wielder's movements.
A flash of silver appeared once the tainted crimson loomed the sole survivor.
Perfect.
The fire was his cover. He didn't need to worry about his unprotected rear, and the fire perfectly blocked the monster's view of him jumping in the air to grand heights.
The survivor twisted his body downwards with an arch.
A unique wind circled his body and blade, protecting and granting him the power to fight against beasts and foes similar to the one he was combating.
With a war cry mingled with numerous emotions, the human put all his willpower and strength into his strike.
It was an attack that was part of his party's strategy, but sadly, it couldn't happen.
The flash of silver with an aura of gold, his strike, successfully crossed with the red orb— its eye.
His weapon pierced within the orb, which caused him to falter numerous times before; he added more pressure to the silver blade, even if the handle was practically touching nothing but a now deformed eye.
His ear was ringing, almost turning deaf. The cry the creature unleashed was like the force of an earthquake, shattering every eardrum to those before falling into ash.
Before he could do anything else, however, his instincts screamed at him to make a move.
The dragon was gliding down— fast.
Removing his sword from the orb with a short ordeal— he lunged himself off the monster's head.
Had anyone witnessed his careless act, unaware of what was happening, they'd believe the human wouldn't survive his fall. Death would await him once he landed on the ground. There's no escape from bones and head; it's over.
It should've been over— at least right there or even before.
"Tempest!" Shouting with hints of pridefulness and fret, the magic that helped him be the man has granted him the strength he has now; he casts the Great Wind Spirit's power to come to his aid.
In a second, after calling its name, practically instinctively, the wind he utilizes in situations like these— against enemies he wants to defeat quicker. The human changes course to death's door when he creates contact with the ground floor.
"Ghh!" Having landed much safer and more stable than in previous attempts to take on the monster's red orbs, seconds after using the magic, he felt his mind beginning to drift from consciousness.
He bit his lip, tasting a trace of salt mingled with bitterness to keep his mind awake. He knows exactly what this feeling was.
"...Mind down."
His grip on the longsword's handle tightened, ensuring the rest of the body stayed intact.
Not now... Not when so close..!
His unoccupied hand instinctively went to his back mid-waist, where a tied sack always remains.
"..."
Unfortunately, though, to his short surprise, accompanied by a low audible chuckle filtered with bitter emotions, his hand grasped nothing but thin air. His hand in gloves didn't feel any weight on his palm, and it didn't make contact with anything in its angle.
Ah.
He needed a moment to register what his body had done before acknowledging it. It moved on instinct, eyes and mind focusing on other, much more important things simultaneously.
I'm out.
When a voice, not his, was about to reassure him of his earlier poor decisions— It stood back up again.
Immediately, both his hands went towards his ears, his palms tightly enclosing his hearing.
He could still hear the irritable ringing from earlier, but it was fading; however, to prevent turning completely deaf, he would need to protect his ears with all his might at this very moment.
As if that wasn't enough to disappoint his mindset further, It looked back at him with definite rage coursing through its blood. Most likely— rather definitely, because of the fresh, throbbing, irritating feeling from one of its eyes.
Or at least where one should be.
Blood, chunks of flesh, and a few scales of the monster were open for the world to see. Instead of being deformed, there was now nothing but an open wound.
The eye the brave adventurer struck with his sharp blade is destroyed.
Even with one of them gone, the weight that power carries, the pressure of emotions I can feel...
Once the monster's outcry to the world was dying down, rising from the ground, the adventurer grasped his weapon.
The battle wasn't over. Not now, not after taking one of its eyes.
As he was about to start chanting a spell so he could proceed further, despite the grace consequences it can bring—
"...Albert."
"?!?!"
The dragon— a monster that has roamed within the dungeon for thousands of years and the very one who participated in killing all of his friends and allies— spoke.
It spoke with clarity and with a visage of its annoyance.
Albert was stunned. Though only for a moment.
He was quick to remind himself what he was facing.
"Why... proceed... fighting..?"
Its accent was broken, making it virtually impossible for any mortal to understand what the creature was emitting.
The voice sounded inhuman yet human-like, emitting an awful clatter each time it attempted to speak the language of mortals.
While uttering mortal words, its remaining eye never left its sight on the human: the lone and standing survivor in the dungeon.
"Why... fight... can't... be killed?
"Are you... not... of... I'm... of??
"You... aware... what... I... am... right?"
"..."
The adventurer kept quiet to himself. His chest rose and fell.
Had Albert not been able to decipher what the monster was uttering, he would not have stood there listening.
Like any adventurer, he would have ignored its words and resumed the battle.
From what he can grasp, he's never heard of a creature like the one before him speak tongue— nothing even cults would mutter about.
...But you're not like any other monster from the dungeon.
"Yes... I am aware.
"I'm aware of what you are."
Albert swore it saw its remaining eye waver. In what form— he honestly would never know.
"...Why..??"
"..."
"Why... fight..?"
"…"
As man and monster exchanged words, the human's grip on his longsword handle began to slip, his eyes growing distant as he seemed to be phased by the daggers staring as at him.
It paused to confirm its belief. It only needed a single flap of its wings after rising from the ground and clearing the dust and debris collected during its crash landing. It then walked in a circle while communicating, like a predator guarding all possible areas to prevent its prey from escaping.
As it would drag its eyes on him for a quick second— the human finally responded, much to its displeasure.
The dragon instinctively lowered its body when it saw the human— even if it was a body reflex— take a single step forward from where he was standing.
When he spoke, the drained look on his face vanished, his grip became firm, and his eyes sparkled with life.
It was as if something snapped him from the horrid daze the dragon slinked onto him.
"Albert!"
"Father!"
...Thank you for reminding me.
Ignoring the gaze on him for a moment, Albert began to replay some of his memories in his head a second after he heard the question.
When the dragon started to move, he had to stop the fond memories he'd created and shared with the two precious people he adored. His teacher and friends after them.
His wife and daughter are the ones who saved him from falling into despair. Without them, he would have lost this fight and arrived at death's doorway sooner than the others.
"I keep fighting because it's something no one is willing to step up for.
"Not all humans, elves, dwarfs, amazons, prums, fairies, and demi-humans are brave and stupid enough to rush in and save a life.
"No."
"..."
"They're the ones who rely on and expect others to do it, so they can keep going with their day and not look back on it.
"This world... It has stayed the same.
"Has it progressed? Yes. It has evolved into something much better.
"But changed? No..."
"...Ghhhhh..!"
"This world... My wife and I have said it many times, and I'll tell it again.
"This world, no matter what part of it, needs a light to rely on—"
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo!!"
It glared at the adventurer with inexplicable rage, roaring with power and demand, even causing the dungeon's ceiling and floor to split.
Even so, with his unprotected hearing now damaged from the dragon's roar, Albert didn't stop speaking; instead, he voiced louder, calmer, and positively.
"...It needs a light to rely on, hopes to give, courage to pass.
"This world may not be perfect, not that it could, nor would it ever be. But it can change into something better.
"...I carry with me the hopes of my brothers, my sisters. And they will give me the strength to end the misery.
"...It is they who aid me... in ending these nightmare...
"This world... It needs—"
It was a quote, words spoken from the past. However, it wasn't uttered first, not in years, since humanity has finally decided to strike back.
It wasn't him— Albert Waldstein— who said these words first. Nor was it his wife— Aria— either.
He spared no effort to ensure that every citizen had access to necessities and lived a life of dignity. Although he knew that his noble mission could cost him his life, many included, he persevered with unwavering determination, leaving behind a legacy that would inspire generations to come.
It was from a hero, one of the great legends, who had fought valiantly and just as bravely as the one repeating the words— or was about to.
Hate, anger, contempt, and sadness cracked through the inviolable wall. It leaked through like thin air passing by.
Not even a full second when it happened.
It was a small portion, not visible from one's perspective, nor could it be recognized or acknowledged immediately.
However, that orb can do just that.
If only it had detected it sooner before metal struck.
It witnessed a small crack on the inviolable wall, the speck of disdain. At that moment, it appeared on the clear, limpid silver soul.
It may be small, but it's just enough.
Albert was about to finish the words of a hero lost from the past, but he was interrupted again by the raging monster.
However, unlike before, accompanied by the orb of agony, the words finally have meaning. The wall blocking light from the darkness has broken— black hovering over silver.
The voices from before, when the enormous clash between man and monster— It seized it.
The voices were mute: the cries weren't strong, loud enough for the hero to pay any heed.
The voices, vision, and emotions he felt. It was more than what he could manage— silver wasn't strong enough to push away the blackness invading the tiny split.
It crept further, ignoring the flush of voices and faces it had encountered over the years. The memories it had created and shared were meaningless.
However, it stayed colorless when it touched the ones that had never kindled. It immediately went to the side with less dullness but also more familiarity.
"...A ...A ...A ..!"
Nonetheless, no matter how powerful the agony was, how corrupt it was, once it made contact with that beacon.
"Albert!!!"
"Father!!!"
"Albert!!"
"Father!!"
"Al...t!"
"Fa...r!"
"..."
"..."
Never has the hero felt this amount of anger. Once or twice, he's had to pulverize thoughts of his own decisions and acts of others. But never has he yearned to do something about it.
To end it.
Fighting against it while relying on the beacon helps him be level-headed; it'll be why he fails to keep his promise.
As the sharp claws of despair pierced through the hero's chest— his battle's final outcome was sealed.
It was a dreadful moment that marked the end of Albert Waldstein's incredible journey as a loyal friend, courageous adventurer, devoted husband, caring father, and valiant hero.
With his Fate now sealed— his legacy will be a source of inspiration and admiration for future generations.
Throughout her journey in the mortal world, she has witnessed countless epic clashes between the forces of righteousness and malevolence. She has seen brave Spirits take on savage foes, intrepid adventurers confront unfathomable calamities, maidens beseech divine light to pierce the darkness, and valiant heroes wage war against sinister nightmares.
Each battle has left an indelible mark on her memory, forever in the annals of her incredible adventures.
In other words, her recollections possess the power to inspire and guide those who seek to elude the inescapable. They contain wisdom and insight that can assist in navigating through life's challenges and obstacles.
She witnessed almost all of it.
Of those spectacles she witnessed, partly were created with her beloved, Albert Waldstein.
Sometimes, he would defeat an enemy so quickly and— half the times unintentionally— badly that he would rethink whether he was a threat himself; however, she would reassure him of his despised thoughts.
There were also times when he was fighting for his life; he and his party risked their sacred lives for the common good, even if it were for an unimportant matter to the world— or rather to them.
She would even consider thoughts of herself used as a shield for him, whether he asked for it or not. She doesn't want to see him in such a state any longer.
Nevertheless, with the times his injuries needed to heal, he needed to recover; he reassured her as quickly as she worried when the battle was over.
He stood tall, with a smile, most times proud that the challenge was over. For those who worry, at day's end, a feeling would flourish within her; she couldn't describe it.
It's just a sight she'll never tire of seeing; as she watches him wield his sword with grace and precision, her heart swells with admiration and love.
Whether she is standing by his side as a loyal follower, collaborating with him as a trusted partner, or entwined in his arms as his beloved lover, the sight never fails to take her breath away. The glint of the steel, the fluidity of his movements, and the fierce determination in his eyes all combine to create a mesmerizing display of skill and strength.
For her, it is a moment of pure enchantment that she will cherish forever.
"Albert has a big heart and a soft soul, something rare in such times, and extends his care to almost anyone who pleads, silently or not."
In this particular battle...Fate will favor the true victor the second the climax sparks.
His life...on a thin thread between life and death.
She knew the possible outcome of the battle. She understood the difficulty the adventurers would have to go through; she was aware of the consequences after.
Yet... why..?
The second the contract between Spirit and Hero is complete— or rather, forcefully put to an end. The Spirit knew what she had to do next, (not) acknowledging the piece of information she had received when a sound quieter than a whisper echoed within her head.
The Inklings palpitated her for most of the month. The Wind Spirit was the only one who could tell whether the world was doomed or saved.
Hence—
"M-Mother?!"
why she ran.
As It rose higher to the surface, completely ignoring everything it collided with— even if a shrieking cry reached its ears, it kept going.
Not given a chance to escape, poor victims in its path got beheaded by death's scythe. The malignant weapon cut through all necks and bones as it rushed to the blinding light.
It didn't matter— care— if it was to face punishment for leaving its "home." It didn't bother attempting to maneuver its direction when it saw it would ram into Mother.
It cared for nothing; Only one thing was in its mind.
...Ghhh!
It was going to get it. No matter how difficult it was, it would accomplish its goal.
...Even if it meant to...
"...No.
"...Never... again..!"
It was going to make sure the world suffered.
The young girl and her mother stood by the balcony of their home, a castle. Behind them, a table was adorned with plates of food and drinks.
They had yet to start feasting; they came to enjoy the view of the city, basking in the sun with the support of a gentle breeze.
On almost all occasions such as this, naturally, the two would be accompanied by the hero; however, because he was on a Great Quest within the dungeon, it would take months for him to return.
If only the others were as fast as him!
She leaned over slightly, raising herself by the tips of her toes in her shoes while her small hands held a firm grip on the edge of the smooth stone slab.
When her mother glanced in her direction, she was amazed. Unbeknownst to her, the young girl was floating, her feet suspended mid-air, hovering over an absence of ground.
The girl's Spirit wind powers spontaneously awakened again; fortunately, it wasn't a decisive eruption, and citizens weren't around them.
"Ais."
"A-Ah!"
Sensing the danger she was putting herself in, Ais stopped unintentionally titling herself over the slab to better view the kingdom. She did not feel the gust of wind she was stepping on or even when her shoe touched the ground.
When she decided to take a few steps back, she felt her mother's hand on her head, caressing her hair.
As she caught her breath, feeling her heart pounding in her chest and heat rising to her face, she looked up to see her mother looking down at her.
Her eyes were gentle, and she had a massive smile on her lips.
Aside from the wind powers, both shared similar features, but the one they shared precisely the same was the hair and eyes.
If anyone had found this lost girl and seen the older woman, undoubtedly, they would have given her to them. No question about them being related.
"If your father were here, he would've had a panic attack seeing his daughter going over an edge to better view the kingdom."
"Y-Yes ma'am..!"
Teasing her daughter successfully while silently lecturing her, the older woman let out a chuckle, witnessing the young girl pout, a red hue on each side of her face.
"I'm playing, Ais.
"...Although, your father truly would have fallen into a state of panic."
Releasing her grip on Ais' head, the mother stepped away from the city view, her hands behind her, and sauntered until she reached the table with food and drinks.
When she turned around quickly, she crouched to the girl's level and had a look of distress on her face. Her lips quivered as her eyes were wide open.
"Ais!! What in the gods' names are you doing?! S-Step away from there and let your father show y-you a view without being in d-danger!"
The mother mimicked her beloved's voice best while playing a stressed hero, gently pressing her fingers on her face and dragging it comically as she conveyed a worry to death Albert Waldstein.
He may be the strongest adventurer in the world, overcoming countless challenges and miseries. However, only a few adventurers, such as his party, could; Albert's anxiety for Ais' safety knew no bounds.
Albert would panic endlessly for Ais' protection. When witnessing the rare moments, his party even questioned whether Albert was the Sword Champion they knew all too well.
"Geez."
"It's not like she'll die that easily."
"Calm yourself before you have a panic attack."
"You'll be hairless soon if you keep being that anxious."
The three once strolled outside near the kingdom, enjoying the view of a pond with numerous lilies surrounding it. Everything was peaceful until Ais, curious as ever at her age like any average child, stepped into a part of the pond above her height. However, before the upper half would sink, Albert reached his daughter at blinding speed before she could struggle to float, refusing that his daughter would suffer traumas for not knowing how to swim. Upon seeing Albert's soaking attire, head to toe, the gatekeepers couldn't resist asking the formidable adventurer what had gone wrong. While explaining with a shamed expression, Ais and her mother laughed to themselves while the gatekeepers were perplexed.
Stifling the laughter down her throat, she cheered up Ais by printing a laughable image in both their heads.
As soon as the image began to piece together, Ais' pout dropped, and she started laughing in the spot of her mother, who had difficulty dying the choking laugh when her daughter began to. It was a fond scenario to think about for both of them.
While you weren't too over the edge, knowing you, Ais, it would've happened.
Ais had utterly lost control of her legs as she continued to laugh, her knees and clothes hitting the smooth cobblestone ground.
The longer she looked at Ais, the less strength she had to control the bottled laughter. It was only until Ais mentioned a similar situation, such as the one she mimicked, that the woman laughed without caring in the world.
The sound of two feminine voices chortling filled the air, yet no one within the castle seemed to take notice. The castle rooftops provided a sense of seclusion; even when weapons collided, it wouldn't be heard from the streets deep below.
Ah, Albert, if only you were here to...
"Tehehehe! M-Mother! I remember when father was scared when I-I almost fell into the water in the caves!!
"T-That was too funny, m-mother!!"
As the laughter intensified, Ais's whole body doubled over and fell to the floor, her limp uncontrollable as the waves of amusement overtook her. The wave of amusement seemed to last forever.
However, Ais was so engrossed in her world that she didn't notice her mother's laughter stopping well before her whole body touched the ground.
H-Huh?
When Ais felt a sudden rumble underneath her, which grew more fierce and powerful as seconds passed, she noticed something odd.
Why is... Why is everything so quiet..?
Nevertheless, anyone at their home can hear the bustling sounds of adventurers and citizens from the streets below. The sound of adventurers and residents mingling together fills the air. The aroma of foods sold by various vendors can fill one's nostrils; one can't help but imagine what the flavor could be. Businesses sell products for adventurers, providing them the best in their market at notable prices. The youth run around recreating tales together or among themselves, everyone feeling secure knowing that they are under the protection of many mercenaries, with the strongest among them residing with them in the center of the world.
It's a lively and dynamic scene; unsurprisingly, many want to be a part of it.
"Ais."
"M-Mother?!"
When Ais was seconds from turning around to see the cause of the sudden silence, she wanted to view the vast cityscape, not to gaze at it but to get a clue as to why everything seemed to...cease.
Aria, her mother, gripped Ais on her arm rather roughly, startling the young girl with the sudden force. Further startling her by the tone she conveyed, when Ais turned to view her mother, she had a completely different look than she had moments prior.
Gone was the comical, delighted, jovial— it was replaced by a more serious, dismayed, and stressed expression on Aria.
The inkling she felt— she ignored hours ago; however, the string she felt to her beloved seemed to lose its grip.
Fear.
She felt fear once more in many years.
Nevertheless, with a child in her hands— her child— and a kingdom to keep calm, Aria hid her dread and fear with a sensible head. She believed that even a single mention of the opposing information to the castle's servants or even to the strongest adventurer roaming in the city— that is, if she could even find her to begin with, that woman loved to walk through the shadiest parts of the city— would have caused them to panic.
Such information should be kept from residents.
She knew that the people's hearts relied on one individual— Albert, her beloved hero and father to their daughter.
Ignoring the look on her daughter's face, Aria gripped a hold of her and looked her straight in the eye.
"...Listen closely to what I'm about to say."
"M-Mother, what's going on? W-Why is everything so—"
"Ais."
With steely determination, Aria pushed aside the voices in Ais' head by forcing her voice to be one of rigid authority; she hadn't used this attitude in decades as she spoke to Ais with heedfulness but swiftly.
Aria only hoped that Ais' Spirit powers wouldn't awaken here and now.
The young girl was beginning to quiver from overwhelming emotions from her mother and her own; anything could happen to her, as the power within her could suddenly burst from those very feelings and thoughts.
Even she, a being who had lived many years since arriving in the mortal world, didn't have the full functionality of information about their races' powers. In Tenkai, heaven, her patron deity taught her the ways and uses of her powers, including how to form pacts with mortals while ensuring a balance in the contract.
Goddess Aurai...please aid me here.
Her heart weighed heavily with remorse.
The Wind Spirit was feeling the weight of the events.
The memory of her servants' desperate pleas and the citizens' frantic inquiries echoes in her mind. She regrets and feels guilty for brushing aside their calls for help. She regretted her decision to prioritize the orders she had given to the city adventurers over her people's pressing needs.
As her beloved, she too was looked at as a ray of hope— a hero.
The enormity of her failures dawned on her, and she wished she could turn back time to correct them.
...Moreover, Aria regretted sending her daughter to a place she wasn't aware of; her dread for her daughter knew no bounds.
The memories painted with maroon and raven fluttered back in her mind.
It all happened years back— thousands of years have passed since then.
Laying dormant within a void, shrouded in impenetrable darkness, Aria couldn't do anything but hear— even with how much force she coursed in her hands covering her ears— the onslaught massacre the dragon was laying to the adventurers.
These adventurers' cries and pleas reminded her of those years ago.
The deafening roar of the dragon echoed through the emptiness.
Aria could feel her core pounding as she listened helplessly to the sounds of butchery. The dragon's attacks were relentless, each collision landing with a sickening thud as the adventurers fought desperately to defend themselves.
Her mind raced with fear and uncertainty.
Moments before the bloodbath, Aria had managed to withdraw the creature's carnage once more— lending the adventurers time to escape their impending descent even when it would only resume once the control on her chains was too much for her.
...When Aria sacrificed herself to the storm of calamity, she inaugurated relentless administrations to her power when it forced a pact with her— no matter how strong her attacks were, they didn't affect the creature.
While initially, she didn't know what to do, the threads were replaced by chains with thorns; as years passed within the void she was held captive— to her, it feels like endless waterfalls— she later found a way to aid following victims had they ever encountered the wave of casualty.
Whatever it seemed to want to act upon— utilizing the administrations before it was sealed by a pen of shadow, Aria held the monster by the neck with the chains she was punctured by and exerted all the pressure she could to maintain the monster in a bottomless pit, similar to her own predicament.
...There's only so much I could do.
There was only so much she could do; the number of times Aria could hold the creature was fewer than the number of fingers.
While it gave the victims time to escape, once it was loose by the chains, it resumed the bloodbath once more.
In the view of the victims, the dragon appeared to pause, its movements coming to a sudden halt for explanations they weren't aware of. However, once that was over, it simply turned its gaze to the next victim, ostensibly knowing who was the right to strike, and continued with more of its butchery.
"R-Run!!"
"T-That isn't a monster!!"
"Magic! Weapons! A-ANYTHING— JUST RIP IT A-APART!!"
"I-I can't feel my l-legs! Where are m-my legs?!"
"My... arm. My bloody fuckin' aaaaaaaaaaaarrm!!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"
"...Why..?"
"...Where... are... you..?"
"I... I-I don't... want... to die.!!"
"I... wanted... never..."
"...end... this..?"
"..."
...While it took mere moments for the dragon to remove the nuisance in its path— for the veteran adventurers, it was like time was never a thing. The brutality laid upon them and their comrades was forbearing yet so immediate.
The sky was grey, and the clouds were weighty, bound to drop a night of rainfall. The moon's luminance barely seeped through the rough clouds and lent this abattoir a source of light.
...Seconds pass as silence, and the scent of death fills the air with ash and blood. Nothing but faint whispers of wind at the slaughter-ground.
...And it was only moments before it would release a bombardment showers of tainted flames, lighting the land from as far as the mountains' peak of view— when it heard it.
When it noticed him.
...It was only moments before when It found a source of light— one that never should have been brought here nor found in the sights of misery...
"May... future... rest... hands..."
Their efforts were nothing but a waste of time.
"I'm... not... home..."
"I'm... sorry... Isa...belle..."
This...is simply Fate playing its role.
This was the end tale of Zeus and Hera Familia.
Authors Note:
The overall theme that inspired this chapter is "Away," composed by one of the legends himself, Masayoshi Soken. The man made legendary music for Final Fantasy XVI and XV. I am forever grateful for that man's work.
As I said in the Dragon Hero's final "chapter," this is the official remake of the fiction I envisioned. For a long time at that, hahaha!
Poor Aria tried her best to control everything, but it seemed to have no avail. I feel heavy remorse for her.
The adventurers, too, ouch! Horrible trauma for the ones who still breathe.
However, the tale must go on somehow.
As for the inputs that have been left out— that's where self-made lore and theories by you readers come in, but also information from Danmachi and Fate comes into play.
Yes, I will bend some backgrounds and settings from both verses. Honestly, though, if you've been following me since the beginning, you already knew this. If not, here's the trigger warning if you hate fiction such as those. Although I will admit, it's mostly the characters' backgrounds rather than the functionality of the systems. But I will not change them too much, not too much, I repeat. Not to the point they're an OC.
This is fanfiction, again, this is fanfiction. You're here reading such things for a reason, so if you're disappointed— sorry.
Again, don't expect another chapter as soon as I did with Dragon Hero in the past. I have a life, and writing these is a hobby of mine other than working out, gaming, reading, etc.
The fanfics I recommend reading if you didn't like this are "Heroes" by The Four Crosses or "Attack On Titan: Pure Blood" by JkAlex, or one of my favorite fanfic I enjoyed reading mainly due to the brutality and plot twists it brings in the Mall Ark, "Highschool of the Dead: Us or Them" by HoTDFan.
If there are any errors, notify me in your review or PM's, whichever you readers like.
Leave any reviews, negative or positive, since I love reading them! I hope you all enjoyed it; if not, I sincerely apologize!
As always, see you next time!