It had happened suddenly just as Zade stepped at a certain spot in the endless forest. A leaf crunched under his foot that was already aching with the excessive walking he grew unused to, and with it something seemed to snap inside him as well.
There wasn’t pain, but there was a prick of something. A voice was calling to him. It was shouting at him—no, with him.
“Accept the abyss within/deny the light without/return the world to balance.”
Near him was the fake Alima, the one who served as his comfort and yet betrayed him.
Ahead was a shadow of Alima, the one he had failed to protect and had lost.
Zade saw the latter being crushed. Zade heard her scream of pain and the crushing horror was revived inside him—only momentarily, because the voice continued speaking.
“Avenge the fallen petals/requite their unwelcoming might/spread retribution on all that is holy.”
It was both incomprehensible and perfectly understandable at once. Just as Alima was both alive and dead, he was trapped between the two impressions cast on his mind. Stuck in this whirlpool of meaningful nonsense, Zade could only look for one thing: how to break through.
He rushed toward the voice calling his name. His soul was aching and craved release, and he felt like he finally found how to obtain it.
Running away from Monan and pushing them aside to reach his goal as fast as possible, he finally saw her. There was no doubt that this was the figure of a genuine Goddess, sublime and brilliant and powerful. His mouth hanged open.
For a moment he thought it was Alima, but that was obviously wrong. She was no longer in any world, and especially not in the girl—not a girl, whatever—that had brought him here.
“Finally,” he shouted aloud, “finally someone who understands me!”
He really thought so. How else could he explain those words he heard? He knew that he would now gain enough power to do whatever he pleased.
“No way… it’s the demon!” called the fake Alima.
A demon? No, that was wrong. It was a full-fledged Goddess, directly as stated in legends, and Zade’s savior. He laughed, raising his hands and waiting for the one he somehow knew was called Alsa to accept him—
“Stop right there! Don’t make any move!” a shout erupted from nearby. Zade could hear Monan gasp in horror, and he turned to the side to see a figure poking through the trees—no, there were probably many figures surrounding them now.
“They’re probably from Somalir,” mumbled Monan, “this is bad…”
Zade glanced back at Alsa, who was simply floating in air as if she was submerged in water, calm as calm could be, hair drifting behind her. She was waiting for him.
“And if we do?” he asked the fairy in a calm yet clear voice. There was no longer any anger or fear inside him. Those could come later, or very soon, depending on what his enemies chose.
“W-we should surrender,” shrieked Monan from the side, their body shaking. “They’re all around us, probably dozens of archers, we—”
“Shut up,” Zade interjected. “I didn’t ask you.” Monan’s mouth shut.
“If you don’t stop,” repeated the nearest soldier, taking out an arrow from his back, “we will shoot you dead. Although we do wish to take the faerie alive.”
Faerie. Zade knew that this was how the residents of Fairland referred to the residents of Plainland. How ridiculous. Humans were fairies? Gods were demons? These people had it all twisted.
Not that he was any better. Perhaps once he was, but that already mattered no longer.
His only response was a single word.
“Die,” he said and watched as a massacre unfolded.
“Isn’t this a tad too dangerous, Professor?” Mallew asked seriously, her brows furrowed. “This is an open area.”
“Have you seen these crowds?” Salom asked her back.
The two of them were currently (somehow) passing through the 2nd main street, with Mallew pushing Salom’s wheelchair. Although there were still more than two hours until the event, people already swarmed the streets around the King’s Plaza in excitement. Many watched from the houses surrounding the place, but most gathered around it, with the many guards barely holding them back.
“An assassin would practically be crushed long before even getting close to the Queen,” Salom explained. They were having problems there due to Salom’s bulky wheelchair. “Look at us, coming here so early to avoid this very situation, but apparently not early enough.” He sighed deeply.
“Still, though,” said Mallew, lowering her voice. “Since we know they channel weight, they might even—”
“Mallew, this isn’t the place,” Salom cut her off gently. “And there is no need to worry. Unless you think that me, the Queen and Stard are idiots?” He smiled at her although she couldn’t see it.
“O-of course not!” Mallew hurriedly said. “I just—”
“It’s alright, I understand,” Salom interjected again. Knowing her for two years now, it was best to not let her talk too much, even if it seemed rude. Otherwise, she would end up constantly meandering and repeating herself. She apparently didn’t mind getting cut off like this, anyway, at least not when it came from people she respected. “I do admit I’m a bit apprehensive about the fact that Qumisson of all people organized this, but we should just relax and enjoy the show.”
He knew that the plan was to dangle a bait, but he still hoped there would be no actual threat, or at least that everything worked as intended. They had made all the proper preparations, so he himself could do nothing but hope for it to work out. Even Swen seemed to be making his own efforts, despite not being part of the plan.
“If we survive the time until it actually happens,” Mallew said with an awkward laugh. “People are really excited, huh?”
“We live in uncertain times, after all. The populace doesn’t actually care for politics or war; all they want is stability and to get food on their table. And the symbol of that stability is, of course, their ruler. They probably expect Levia to bring news, to tell them that everything is under control. Even if there’s an incoming war, knowing that is much better than living in ignorance. That is how… the people feel.”
Mallew was speechless for a few moments. “That was deeper than I expected. Are you sure you’re a channeling expert and not some sort of expert of the human mind?”
Salom chuckled. “Thank you for the compliment,” he replied. “But I still have so much to learn. I have been mainly associating with abnormal—er, extraordinary people, after all.” Seeing that I’m one of them, he added in his mind. “So don’t count too much on my analysis.”
As the plaza was pretty much unbreachable at that moment, they decided to give up for now. Mallew parked the wheelchair near a bench and then sat next to Salom.
“Abnormal, huh?” she mused on his earlier words, wearing a sad smile. “My parents love using that word.”
“…It’s not a bad thing,” Salom hurriedly said.
“No, it is,” Mallew said, turning a smile toward him. “But, it’s also good. You mentioned stability, right? This sort of balance is also one form of that.”
“I suppose so,” he conceded, though these were wildly different topics. Well, that was just as expected of her.
Mallew suddenly gasped and clapped her hands. “Ah, right!” she exclaimed. “I forgot to tell you about my next idea! Speaking of stability, what if we took two opposing icons and tried activating them together to freeze some sort of object in place? That way we can—”
He didn’t really think this was the proper place for her to brainstorm with him, but Salom couldn’t help but feel astonished every time by the speed with which Mallew not only spoke but switched moods completely. Perhaps just like she said, there was a balance—happy parts and sad parts of her that constantly mixed and switched, disregarding everything else.
He felt like he should be jealous of her.
The world almost seemed like it was falling apart. The sky was falling and the earth was crumbling beneath them. At least that was how Monan felt.
Arrows and hairs cut through air, stabbing into the ground and the greenery around. The ground swelled here and there and trees were hacked and chopped, causing an avalanche followed by clouds of dust and leaves.
“Obstacles of the righteous path/victims in the way of nature/the dead lament the living.”
It was perhaps only a miracle that Monan managed to stay alive, although most of the enemies focused on Zade and the demon anyway. Even when they tried shooting the man directly, a near-invisible strand of air always instantaneously split the arrow. Whoever approached was also immediately slashed, falling into the ground while stained with blood and gore.
And amidst this chaos and destruction Zade was just standing there and laughing. Laughing as hard and loud as the pure demon descended toward him. Only he remained unscathed in the storm of carnage.
“Kill them!” shouted a soldier. “Kill the—argh!”
“Outnumber and outplay/underestimate and understand/internalize and interpret.”
A lance was thrown forward, but was repelled by Alsa and its pieces ended up lodged into a near soldier’s chest. Some tried using wind magic to no avail. One soldier even bore a shield, presumably enchanted with metal runes, but it managed to hold out only for a few brief seconds before it, too, was shattered and destroyed.
It was a completely one-sided and hopeless battle. Zade seemed to be indulging in it as the Demon got closer and closer to him.
Monan felt their whole body shaking, their entire being quaking with fear. Even so, they knew they couldn’t let this happen to Zade. Whatever it was going to be, it must never be allowed to happen.
“Zade! You can’t… you can’t let them have you!”
Surprisingly, that made him turn toward her. There was a cold look on his face, yet he still seemed just as amused as when he’d been laughing just now.
“What will I do, then? They’re trying to kill me,” he said. He seemed to have misunderstood Monan.
“Not them! W-we can just run away, but you can’t let this Demon possess you!”
Zade laughed again. “Alima—no, Monan, what is your goal here?” he asked them. An arrow whizzed past his head and was blown to small fragments of wood.
“My goal?” they asked, exasperated. “You know what it is.”
“To keep me safe?”
Monan widened their eyes. “Well… yes. But—”
“This is the path I chose,” he cut off their words, gesturing at the Demon floating next to him. He seemed to be getting slightly angry, but in a different way than it usually was with him. “You can’t stop or sway me—you don’t have the right for that. You took away my choices before, after all.”
Even now the soldiers kept attacking to no avail. That was why they could have this conversation, as the Demon protected him from all harm. In fact, it was a wonder she did nothing to Monan all this time.
“You’re… correct,” mumbled Monan, feeling their face heat up and tears rising to their eyes. They weren’t the one to make the decision, but they upheld it and certainly acted according to it. They drugged Zade and made him think they were someone else.
It could be argued that Moanin was the one that held the most responsibility, but for Zade it would definitely be Monan. Which was why they didn’t even try to argue otherwise.
“What do you plan on doing?” Monan finally asked in a choked voice.
“Destroy them,” he stated plainly. “Your people are probably already being destroyed as we speak. Instead, I’ll head to the traitors… to the ones who abandoned me. That is also part of her will.”
Destroy. That single word was perfectly embodied by their current background, by the screams of anguish and the blood and the gouged ground and the torn trees. Monan couldn’t say anything against that. They wanted to have a peaceful life, even if they knew it never was an option.
Besides, just like Zade said, it was his choice. Even if he was being swayed by the Demon, Monan still felt that this was the rawest and truest side of him they’d ever seen.
“…I understand,” Monan said. “As long as you feel and act according to what you want… I will not stop you. However, p-please let me go as well.”
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
“With me?” he asked, sneering. “Can you even do anything besides lie and cheat?”
“Please,” Monan repeated.
“Fine!” Zade exclaimed. “If you want to watch the destruction I bring from the front seat—it will be a show made just for you, just like when I got started. You will serve as my audience, Alima.” His face momentarily twisted in agony but then distorted back to a smile. “We will go.”
“Journey beyond the end of the world/a trip from which there is no return/the final opportunity to hold hands.”
As if on signal, the Demon took immediate action, launching a few strands of hair forward. Monan shrieked, feeling quite sure that their life was about to end—but they were simply constricted and lifted off the ground.
How strange it was that these hairs, having sliced off both bark and flesh before, could be so gentle. Many of them also wrapped around Zade’s body. Monan saw the Demon flying before, so was it going to take the both of them all the way to Kalden?
There were still shouts and attacks and the echoes of annihilation from all directions, but Monan paid no more attention to those—right now, all they could care about was Zade.
“Why?” Zade asked them suddenly. In contrast to his anger, his laughter and his elation, that question seemed somewhat lonely. “Why are you just accepting all of this?”
“How many times do I have to keep saying this before you understand?” Monan asked, their voice on the verge of choking again. “It’s because I love you.”
“Let us depart, then.”
Clad in a magnificent, vividly-colored dress and sparkling jewels, all perfectly calculated to stand out on the King’s Plaza, Queen Levia-O stepped outside the castle’s main gate. The carriage to let her ride down the mountain was obviously already waiting for her.
“How are preparations?” she asked, glancing at Swen who stood on one side, while Stard was on the other.
“Everything is ready, Your Majesty—Lord Qumisson has already sent word. The stage, the security arrangements, the crowd; all are but waiting for your arrival,” the lord chamberlain reported.
“Splendid,” Levia said, wearing a dazzling smile. “Now, please stay here.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
Levia was actually a bit surprised. She had expected good old Swen to insist to accompany her to this grand event. In fact, she could feel him being apprehensive and fearful about the whole thing, mainly in regards to her safety.
However, now that she dug in further, she could feel something else inside. Some sort of quiet determination. It somewhat puzzled her. She said nothing about that, however.
“Good. Currently, you are the only one with enough authority to keep this place running. In all likelihood, I will not get back until this evening, after all.”
“Right, I have the duty to keep this place safe until your return.” He bowed.
He definitely was planning something. That was seriously untypical for him, to the extent it almost made her suspect—but no, he was the same loyal Swen. Curious, but inquiring any further about that would have to wait for now.
“Just one thing before you leave, if I may, Your Majesty,” he suddenly asked.
Full of surprises today, he was. “Yes?”
“I want you to watch out for yourself.”
Levia felt that this sort of comment should make her smile, so she did. “Of course, Swen. But I have nothing to be afraid of with Stard by my side,” she said, glancing at the tall man standing next to her, still patiently waiting for the conversation to be over.
“We need to get going, Your Majesty,” he said gruffly. “We will be late.”
Right. Just going down the mountain would take about an hour at the very least. Not to mention more time wasted if certain things happened on the way, though she hoped they didn’t.
“Let us go. Swen, I am counting on you.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
He was a good man. She had no idea what he planning, but hoped everything would go well. Without further ado Levia stepped into the carriage, closed its door and it embarked. The rough road made the entire vehicle tremble and so her body as well.
Carriage rides always reminded her of that day. She did not know how to describe her feelings toward that memory, since they included no sadness, loneliness or even regret, or rather any feelings at all. What they did contain—she wasn’t quite sure.
This wasn’t the time to sink in thoughts about the past, though, but concentrate on the present circumstances. This was the time she needed to be the most focused. The plan was ongoing. The bait was already dangled.
The remaining question was: which of them would the assassin choose?
The journey back to Kalden was underway. Perhaps understandably, only a few of those forces made the way back. Even more understandably, there was a gloomy atmosphere. Gen could practically feel it pierce his heart.
Although they accomplished something, they failed their mission. Even if Kalden’s long-standing enemy was finally, finally defeated, it meant nothing for Gen himself.
What was the use of being a soldier? What was the use of being powerful?
Those meant nothing if he ended up with this sense of loss and lack of any sense of accomplishment. He was strong but he’d nearly died. He won but he’d failed.
Gen had actually insisted on being part of the group that searched for the missing human—which was the one and only reason for him to join this operation in the first place—but Aisbroom had vehemently opposed him. They said that Kalden needed him more right now, and that he needed Kalden as well.
Gen himself knew he needed some sort of break to process everything that happened. He thought the trip back would serve to cool off his mind, but instead it only caused him to brood further.
He spoke only little with Shaya along the way. She, too, seemed just as disappointed and distraught as him, and this ironically created some distance between them.
Gen never quite realized that success and failure could be so closely intertwined.
They just stopped for a short break when something happened and a certain light caught his attention.
“Hmm…?” Gen mumbled, glancing at the communication talisman hanging from his waist. It was slightly glowing, a fact which meant there was a message waiting for him.
“Is something wrong?” asked Shaya, who apparently noticed this as well.
“One way to find out.” Gen brought the talisman to his face and focused. He wasn’t quite proficient with the communication channel as the others, but got good enough to use the talisman after a while.
“Urgent message… faerie found… Demon took them… probably, to Kalden…”
Gen felt a chill run through his entire body. Despite some distortions from the talisman, he recognized the voice as that belonging to Captain Alsore from Somalir. And he also realized from their voice that they were probably seriously hurt.
Only then he started deciphering the rest of the message. Faerie found? Demon took them? They were heading to Kalden?
“Demon… they mean the Goddess, right?!” Shaya asked urgently.
If nothing else, Gen became better at acting under duress and surprising circumstances. The details didn’t matter; action was needed. He quickly calculated in his mind. Most likely the message came from Somalir. They were already more than halfway back to Kalden, so if the Demon was also headed there…
“Spread out!” he shouted to his companions. “There’s… some sort of an attack heading to Kalden! We have to stop it!”
Gen didn’t wait for a response. He simply shot his invisible arm up ahead and launched himself to the air. This was a trick he’d seen Aisbroom perform dozens of times and it took him a lot of practice, but it was probably much easier and much more effective for him.
Grabbing a branch, throwing himself and catching another, he was able to move much more quickly than on foot. He knew that Shaya could more or less fly as well, but he was undoubtedly the fastest one around and they weren’t going to catch up to him anytime soon.
The question was if he’d be able to catch up to the Goddess.
Soon he could hear noises of destruction that guided his movement—apparently, he’d been lucky and quite close to the scene. Trees were sliced and knocked off and at times he could barely see a strange figure from between the leaves.
Gen took a deep breath and shot himself upwards above the tree line so he could see everything.
Way, way ahead the gigantic trees of Kalden were visible, dwarfing all others in its vicinity. But what caught Gen’s attention was indeed the figure of the flying Goddess nearby. It was hard to tell, but he was pretty sure that Alsa was also carrying someone. Perhaps more than one person.
Gen glanced down at his clothes, focused on the icons there and channeled movement. This allowed him to shoot straight ahead, giving him another burst of speed. Since he was apparently good with this channel, it gave him the ability to sustain a lot of speed and power, though too dangerous to use in an enclosed battlefield or when surrounded by enemies. But if he needed to catch up to someone in midair, for example, it was very effective.
Of course, he managed to make it all the way here, but what was next? He sprang into action without an actual plan. Because there didn’t seem to be any. They’d already tried dealing with this Goddess, after all, but she seemed invulnerable.
Just as he thought this he was suddenly hit with a minor headache and painful images flashed in his mind along with a voiceless voice.
“Mutually assured destruction/uncertain survival of the fittest/countdown to the end!”
The Goddess stopped in air as suddenly as if she hadn’t been moving in the first place. There were some shouts from those she carried but Gen was still too far to hear them properly.
Was she challenging him to a fight? If so, he was going to fulfill her wish.
Swen had been doing some thinking. Rather than a careful reasoning process, it was more like he went with the flow.
The chain of events just didn’t make sense to him. An experienced assassin wouldn’t do a “test run” before the real deal, because it might alert their enemies to their purpose. Well, disregarding the fact that they did manage to sneak poison into the castle’s cabinet.
Anyway, his mind kept repeating to the same point. It just didn’t make sense for someone so skillful to work like that. And so, he thought of a different conclusion.
There was more than one assassin!
Was it just a coincidence? Were the two assassins working together? He couldn’t tell that much, however, his guts screamed that the one who poisoned Lord Shammings was not the one who tried poisoning Levia.
It was natural to connect the two, considering the method—however, as the actual poison had never been determined, it was possible that not even the method was the same.
Reaching this far, he had no evidence, but Swen was certain that he was right. Of course, since he had no evidence, it all meant nothing. And he still might be completely wrong, after all. Assuming he was right, however, what could he do?
The second assassin, the mysterious assailant, was seemingly an expert and multitalented. If Swen’s theory was correct, the first assassin did nothing other than poison Lord Shammings. So that was probably their trump card.
Of course, there was no guarantee that this so-called “first assassin” even aimed for Levia. Perhaps their grudge was just with Lord Shammings himself and this was nothing but suspicious timing. However, seeing as Shammings was known as a devout supporter of Levia, he was dubious about that.
If so, that assassin was definitely going to strike again. And if they were going to strike again, it would have to be now, when the coast was clear, when most guards went to secure the venue of the speech and no one would suspect another round of poisoning.
That was why Swen stayed behind. However, even if he did understand (or think) this much, it was only one step. Even if he did manage to find poison, it didn’t mean he would catch the culprit as well.
He was going to attempt to do so nonetheless.
It was perhaps the strangest fight Gen had ever taken part in. To an outside observer watching from afar it would probably seem like the air just spontaneously burst while the two opponents stared at each other.
Though that wasn’t fully accurate. He could see Alsa’s hairs swiftly cutting through air and intercepting the attacks made by his invisible appendage. They clashed again, and again and again to no avail. Gen wasn’t sure if he was currently safe because the Goddess wasn’t attacking him seriously or else because he was outside her range.
And there was something else somewhat… familiar about this fight, for lack of a better word. They weren’t employing the same abilities at all, but a certain aspect of fighting this long-haired divine entity made him think that he was facing a grown-up Shaya.
Would she someday become as powerful as that, if she kept training and fighting? It was both frightening and exciting at once. But he shook these thoughts from his mind as he needed to keep focusing on the current danger. His mind was blasted with further psychic ramblings.
“Child of the benevolent clock/the one who can catch the sun/affirmation of power supreme.”
And if Alsa’s incomprehensible words ringing through his mind weren’t enough, the person hanging from the Goddess also spoke after a while.
“Who are you?” asked the man with a shout. “Are you one of them?!”
Gen’s attention was more focused on the violent Goddess so he hadn’t noticed before, but now he realized with a start that he’d been hearing his native tongue. This moment of carelessness nearly caused a gust of wind to blow him off of the treetop he was standing on, but he managed to stay put.
“Wait, so you’re that guy?” Gen shouted back. “Are you from Plainland like us?!”
“Kill him!” was the man’s response, a shout of rage. Gen barely had enough time to prepare himself as the Goddess shot ahead like an arrow despite staying immobile in air all this time. A wall of invisible force stopped the attack but it still blew Gen away.
He grunted in pain and desperately sought to protect himself from the further hair assault, instead getting scratched and beaten by the branches of the tree he’d fallen into. An errant twig or two stabbed into his already-bruised body.
“Shit… we’re on your side!” he shouted, though he probably couldn’t be heard over the sounds of destruction. He wrapped an appendage around the nearest branch and threw himself to the sky again.
“Kill kill kill die die die!” the man shouted.
“Genocide one another/a bloodshed of tragedy/consuming the flesh and mind.”
Whatever this situation entailed, simply talking wasn’t going to cut it, apparently. What else could he do, though? Defeating the Goddess seemed impossible. At the very least he wasn’t strong enough to do it.
But there was something different now—the Goddess was, for some reason, much more active and aggressive. She was even moving toward some goal, so he could guess what caused the change. Obviously, it was the Goddess’ passenger, the long sought-after human. He wasn’t quite sure about the second one, though.
Another maelstrom obliterated the treetop Gen was standing on. Luckily he’d been already prepared for this eventuality, and so he moved himself to yet another tree. He sent another flurry of tentacled strikes to keep his enemy at bay, but it did nothing.
Then I need to take care of him, he thought. Questions could come later. Right now, that man was obviously not going to discuss anything. He wanted to rescue him, but he had to give this fight everything he had if he wanted to get past the Goddess’ ultimate offense and defense.
Gen went for the direct approach, launching his invisible arm not at the Goddess but at the man she was holding. Unfortunately, even that failed. The hairs immediately stopped it in place.
Like he thought, that wasn’t going to work either. He was going to have to find another way. The moment he thought this, his footing was gone. At times Gen would be so focused on attacking that he would forget defending, and this was a result of that.
“Shit!” he mouthed as he fell. He quickly caught a nearby branch and produced an invisible shield in front of him, but the Goddess was relentless—
“Gen!”
The moment he heard this voice from nearby, Gen couldn’t help but feel warm and relieved. He was yanked to the side, making the Goddess barely miss him and crash into the nearest tree.
“Thank the Gods we caught up,” called Shaya from the surface, looking up at him.
He smiled at her, although that smile was pained. Was it going to work, after what happened to them before? And yet he needed to ask, “Shaya, I need your help.”
“Always,” she half-whispered with a smile of her own.
As expected, Levia was the first to notice the attack. Clear hostility entered her range from nearby.
“It’s coming, Stard!” she shouted urgently the moment before it happened. Something hit the carriage hard and it lurched. A wave of confusion, panic and anger assaulted her mind, but Levia tried focusing on the other, more important mind.
The carriage broke down but Stard’s large frame held her up and they both exited to the rocky mountain road, leaving the wreckage behind.
Another small projectile was launched and crashed into the ground, with Stard barely avoiding it. The other carriages stopped and the guard entourage flooded out, searching for the attacker.
“Up there,” said Levia, pointing at a certain cliff where a figure could be barely seen. “Our plan seemed to have been a success, Stard. Now go and take care of them.”
“…They might not be the only attacker, Your Majesty,” he said gravely, “I cannot leave you here.”
“They’ll run away, otherwise,” Levia insisted. “You’re the only one who can handle fighting in this environment. Go on.”
Stard needed no further prompting, and after making sure the Queen was safe as the surrounding guards rushed to her, he launched himself into the air—or attempted to, but was then struck by what appeared to be a rock. Thankfully it hit only his arm, but Levia could feel some numbing pain flooding from him.
“Stard…”
“I’m fine,” he said, grunting and rubbing his arm. “It seems that Salom and Mordack were right about this assassin. We need to consider our strategy.”
It seemed laughable that Stard Molton, the one known as the strongest soldier in the Kingdom of Rumdon and debatably in the entirety of Plainland, would flinch in front of a single assassin, but the situation was still complex.
Moving would mean exposing the one he needed to protect, while staying would mean letting these attacks continue. And it was true that Stard himself was somewhat vulnerable against long-range attacks, especially when still on the ground.
Even so, Levia wasn’t worried. This result was something that she had more or less expected.
After all, the bait had been taken.
You can’t stay in this dark realm. It has nothing but pain and despair…
There is no pleasure to be found.
No—after all, I don’t have the right to tell you otherwise. Your happiness was ripped into shreds already. It wasn’t my fault, yet I was the one who took the remaining fragments and mixed them together. No amount of apology will change that.
I hate this. I hate myself. I hate this situation. Perhaps I, too, am falling into an abyss made by my own blunders. If so, then I do not have the right to stop you.
Is it time for the world to be destroyed after all?