Forcing Theodore to the guillotine to the crowd's cheers, the priest sighs in a sympathy mask. Such a shame to destroy a perfect product. Chains clank, singing requiems with each step the prisoner takes to the crimson-tainted stand. In a moment of silence, here comes a group of children who have mischievously gotten to the fireworks brackets, aiming for targets.

3…

Together they count.

2…

1…

One by one, the fireworks blasted off into the sky with all kinds of colors, much to everyone’s surprise. “I thought this would be for later?” The execution came to a stop while the crowd fell into confusion, until… Dozens of them exploded dangerously close. “Run…” The party soon turned into complete chaos, with everyone trying to flee the chase of colorful fireworks. Surprise after surprise, soldiers from nearby tree branches are now raining arrows on the royal knights. Like a spreading fire, it falls into an unstoppable mayhem of weapons and violence. A remarkable celebration indeed. Eventually, the intense battle threatens even the high ranks, leaving them no choice but to step back to the castle for safety. In the chaotic scene, an old consul approaches the priest. With a cold tone, he looks down without hesitation and says, “You better handle this fuss flawlessly.” That's right, the High Priest rules over all but one. The consul of justice.

While the executioner was still taken aback by the spectacle, Theodore wasted no time in knocking him down, squirming pitifully. He then tries to yank the heavy chains away, yet the danger is once again close to his neck. The headsman, fired with fury, tightened his broad hands around Theodore’s neck, ready to snap in half at any moment. In the line between life and death lie the two bullets that suddenly entered the corner of his eyes, piercing deep into the head of the enemy. Surely, those are from Alderic, who is now running towards the guillotine. “Are you alright?” He shook Theodore’s shoulders, and the man nodded, taking the weapons before darting into the lair of the fallen. Before the duo parted, Alderic planted a light kiss on his lips. “Be careful.”

Till the sight of Theodore completely vanishes behind the castle’s wall, Alderic back to his tasks. A soldier brings the fur cape, and the silver sword awaits his order. “Surrounding the castle.” He draws the sword from the scabbard swiftly. The emerald eyes wore an icy gaze. “Destroy all his allies.” Jumping on the black horse, the general quickly joins the front line.

The pair of doors slowly open, welcoming a royal throne sparkling with precious metals. Lies in the center is the High Priest himself, arrogantly waiting for his opponent. “Theodore, I’ve been waiting for your arrival.” The man claps, then continues, “I must say that the performance is beyond my expectations.” What comes after poisonous words are devilish laughs. Something’s off. Stepping from behind the enormous pillar is no one else but Nolan, another creation. The maniacal voice boomed, “Do you like it? It’s the same as you but with a little adjustment.” Theodore gasped for air, the navy pearls widening, and immediately reached for his sword.

Wearing the same familiar mask, the emotionless marionette raises his blade. His blade vanished the same gentle Nolan, the same quiet Nolan, into the dust. Under the fierce attack, Theodore points out his weapon. The man charges forward with a loud clang, the sound of metal ripping through the air and sparking a fire. He quickly kicked his opponent's ankle, causing him to fall, before charging the blade for a slice on the left rib. Back down, his face still blank, he dashes forward at an inhuman pace, causing the doctor to wince as a crimson bloom appears on his left cheek. The taste of sweat and blood dancing on his lips heightens the senses. This meaningless battle only ends when one of them yields to death. “Nolan, please hear me.” Standing tall, Theodore faced him. Keep fighting, and they will forever be his tools. “Whoever Nolan I’m speaking to, don’t let him treat you like this.” Nolan startles for a moment, yet the fury still covers his aura.

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Pointing the blade at Theodore, he laughed coldly, “No, you would never understand, the feelings of envy.” That’s right, all purpose in his life is to chase after this brilliant creation of his master, Theodore. All his life, he has been lurking under his shadow, awaiting an illusionary chance to come. “Kill him, and you will be my best creation,” the priest ordered. Nolan descends on Theodore like a hurricane, raining down deadly attacks. Closer and closer, the sword is about to cut. Letting go of his blade, Theodore whispered, “Venit ad lucem.” The navy eyes were filled with care and sympathy. “No matter what has happened, you will forever be our friend.” The iron blade fell to the ground before it could touch Theodore. Holding his head, Nolan’s expression changed constantly. From solemn to crying, as if a different person were running through the shell called Nolan. "No," his hand reached for an attack while the other tightly gripped it. A war within himself, similar to what he has been through. “Theodore, you bastard-”.... “Theodore, please help-”... He fell to his knees, agony lingered in his growl.

Then, he stops. Raising his head, Theodore met the same quiet gaze. “Nolan?” he asked. Nolan nodded with a weak smile. “I couldn’t control him any longer.” "If I could do what you do-" Theodore shook his head lightly, “You are greater than you thought.” Wide open in surprise, a tear rolls down his trembling hands. Though short, but for the first time, he felt happiness. For the first time, he had a family. That’s more than enough.

“Thank you," he said with a bright smile. “For being my friend.” In his hands, the blade stabbed deep into his broken heart. Crimson petals falling from the wound, dyed his clothes a dazzling red. “I’m sorry," his last breath.

Closing his eyes, Theodore kneels before the comrade. With this bow, the final farewell to a peaceful sleep awaits the tired child.

Realizing his latest creation is being crushed under the hands of Theodore, the High priest let out a smirk, then comes an obnoxious tone, “Hic venit tenebrae.” Suddenly, a man who is radiant with the light of victory now stands completely still, statue-like. The silver blade fell apart as if life had pulled away once more, leaving only an empty vessel and even the hands behind. Everything came to a stop. Only a trail of gentle laughter remains at last. “Welcome back, my true creation. Why is waste time resisting me?”

Yet a beautiful smirk drew on his face. Putting an end to this flawless show. The priest trembles in fear. "H-How?" The taste of a devastating omen is now too strong in the air, his fate is already decided. “Him?” Theodore smirked, casually whispering. “I’ve already snapped its neck in half.”

Y-You can not kill me, you needed me!” The priest attempted to confront the last vestiges of confidence before it all vanished.

“I don’t have to do that. Someone else will.”

Place a hand on his lips, Theodore smirk. Can you hear, the sound of divine judgment? Can you hear, the trump of karma resounding through the archangels? Can you hear, the truth calling for the debts of blood and flesh?

When that time comes. Can you still be able to hold that saint-like mask?