His deep despair, his tormenting agony. A plan by one above, his boiling blood. Meeting a bright princess, an innocent individual. A pawn towards a goal, her echoing words, wishing for her presence. His sister another victim, those many meaningful memories, wanting her in his arms again. His guiding fury, breaking through resistances, many screaming voices. Staining the walls, shortly finding himself before the king. A middle age man, his eyes telling a dark tale. His azure cape and red armor, one preparing for the mercenary. Statues of knights along the throne room, the open window. The coldly blowing breeze, ancient scriptures on the wall, some depicting the goddess.

"You are the lowest of the low Rangald, using even your own daughter as a means for war..." Michael's hateful tone.

A purpose in his direction, not caring for the price. Pieces on the board, using them. Many pawns, those willfully following. The mercenary's bleeding rage, dread clawing away at him, finding himself against the heart of his troubles. Those stripping away happiness, continuing a vicious cycle. The king's hands behind his back, slightly looking down. Slowly shaking his head from left to right, shortly returning his attention to the person ahead.

"Her sacrifice was for the betterment of our kingdom—"

"—Don't give me that crap! You took advantage of her innocence! You sent her out there! She...she never even had a chance to make proper friends...! To top it all off...my sister...!" angrily swinging out his arm.

Common lines, sacrificing others within their game. Parts on a board, these experiences over his years, remaining on the side. Witnessing cruelty, screaming families still echoing inside of him. Unable to do anything, his black heart, despising countless. A tipping point, his rage spilling free. Two to his heart no more, one holding responsibility. Michael's frustratingly shaking fists, events constantly playing in his mind. Luna's final words, his sister no longer of the living.

"I must admit, even I am impressed you returned alive. Your sister was a lost cause." Rangald's calm demeanor.

A lost cause...? Possibly, but that does not mean you get to decide to play god.

A sickly individual, her expensive medicine. His hard efforts, trying to meet the line. A king aiming to kill the mercenary, an ambush on him. Severing his sister's life, a princess a pawn. This disgust in him, his boiling anger. Directing Agni at the man ahead, his serious gaze. His great determination, information revealing to the surface. The true colors of this one, trampling on others, serving none other than himself.

"Do you honestly believe you can match my magic?" Rangald's sharp voice.

A difference in their capabilities, one relying on his physical nature, brutalizing his foes. Scars on his body, his success over his years. Displaying his efforts, ascending to heights far above his own. This meaningless reputation, everyone to his heart being gone. His pointless struggles, these frustrating sentiments. Those pulling strings, dictating the lives of others. A never stopping cycle, an infuriating reality.

"I cannot say for certain, but...that doesn't mean I will let Luna's voice go unheard..." His calm tone.

His boiling blood, his deep rage. Unleashing it on his enemies, refusing to remain in silence. Pushing onward, shouting his soul. Wanting those experiences again, an impossible actuality. Wandering in darkness, his path without light. Trailing shadows, his paining heart. Staying on the side, witnessing cruelty. Once finding his place amongst the madness, those no longer alive. This dangerous foe before him, rising to his challenge. The king noting his anger, connecting some pieces.

"Oh don't tell me that you fell in love with that hopeless woman, how rich. Oh well, what's done is done." Rangald directing his gold sword onward.

A terrible night, sadness flowing along in an endless stream. Enduring its harsh tides, meeting this one on the battlefield. Their different stance, each pursuing their own path. A repetitive cycle, conflict constantly existing. From above, a few in between dimensions. Cyra floating there, Luna and Serenity behind her. The two concerning women, three bearing witness to this scene.

"Goddess...you have to save him!" Serenity begging.

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"Please, he's just angry...what my father has done...it is despicable..." Luna pleading, her hands to her chest.

Caring for him, valuing their time with him. A man rough around the edges, his kind heart. Playing along in a cruel game, his hard efforts. Everything slipping out of his hands, his black path. None along with him, the lights in his life no more. Those two begging the young woman, that devil thinking on this. Anguish in their voices, her attention on the mercenary. Someone choosing his path, his powerful resolve. His goal in mind, hatred guiding him onward.

"I am merely a Judger of Souls, why should I overturn the end result?" glancing back to them.

Those from different realms, their roles not the same. Her current job, remaining on the side. Bearing witness to events, a question for two. These black worlds, spending years in torment, eventually breaking free. Her better actuality, yet still seeking after her deepest desire. Still selfishly persisting, some common grounds between them. Weighing souls, a task upon her. Occupying herself with activities, meeting others along the way. An adventure within itself, pain also coming with it.

"Haven't you ever had someone you would want to save more than anything...?" Luna's depressing tone.

Living in agony, those years never leaving her. Seeking the endless sky, refusing to remain in silence. Freedom for a moment, a small one following. Death claiming their life, a mother returning below. Failing equivalence, her tormenting experiences. A close companion, an endless night upon them. Venturing in its horror, concerning for the safety of her old friend. Tackling challenges above herself, awakening once more. Thinking on those words, an entity able to relate to them, her soft heart.

"Very well...but just this once..." Cyra slightly looking away.

Wandering in blackness, racing in its loneliness. Avoiding the pursuing shadowy hands, seeking her deepest desire. Many more spilling out, shouting what is within. Stepping on the domain of the gods, her sounding soul. A valuable companion, two protecting one another, concerning for him. Her long efforts, stepping away from her terrible life. Mostly putting down her arms, requiring it at times. Relief from the two women, similar grounds between them. Those sharing a common line, irrational sentiments guiding them onward.

"Thank you!" Luna and Serenity's grateful voice.

Understanding these sentiments, countless passing years. Pursuing her deepest desire, numerous more existing. Companions defending one another, worrying about the other. Accepting hatred towards her, her old friend continuously racing after her. Going in his time of need, their close bond. Uniting differences, the warmest encounters. Remaining on the side, witnessing events. Her small job, choosing to step beyond at times. Her attention below, Michael dashing away. The freezing surroundings, this icy area. A blizzard circling him, his powerful resolve. Igniting flames, determination from his vision. That chilling cold striking the room, his heat keeping it away.

"Your innate trait may be fire, but against such an art, not even you can resist this!" Rangald mightily declaring.

Roaming in loneliness, his path of nothingness. His pointless efforts, none in the living. Yearning to bring demise to two, his great foe. Intensifying wind, the expanding ice. His struggling flames, resistance this force. That young woman materializing in the air, a warm light spreading through. The evaporating ice, steam filling the area, flowing through the window. Her vision on the one ahead, steadily descending, floating above the grounds. Her purely displaying wings, that legendary crimson staff, its gentle aura. Blades lining the top, shaping a crescent moon. That mercenary gazing at her, tension from Rangald.

"Rangald, are you aware what it means to draw my presence?" her stern vision on him.

"Goddess...?" Michael's voice trembling a bit.

Mostly putting behind her life of fighting, this being one of numerous jobs. Those referring to her by many things, not caring for it. A person drawing her attention, his foolish action. An entity stepping on the domain of the gods, becoming the true enemy. Few knowing the details, information distorting over time. A common awareness between countless, her appearance meaning ruin. That man in front of her, someone defiling the souls of others, a request by two. A mercenary hearing rumors about her, her strict stance before appearing.

"What in the world...?" Rangald's slightly shaking tone.

"Michael!" Luna and Serenity calling out.

Once living on the battlefield, its never ending cruelty. Born in a realm beyond the heavens, her life in a lawless world below. Meeting someone from above, their close bond. Everything slipping out of her hands, her bondage for years. Her deep frustration, her tormenting agony. Seeking the endless sky, eventually breaking her shackles. Understanding these sentiments, these common feelings. Familiar voices to the mercenary, that man gazing to them. Two floating high, Luna and his sister. This real actuality, his eyes on them again.

"Luna...! Serenity...!" this surprising him, stepping back.

Those no longer alive, gaining the acknowledgment of one. Suffering throughout their years, withstanding harshness. Maintaining themselves, pushing through terrible sorrows. Endlessly heavy tides, constantly plaguing war. Innocence washing away in its madness, a repetitive cycle, yet a way towards a better tomorrow. That entity's will from old, one shouting her soul. Shattering the wheel, creating infinite possibilities, choosing to become an enemy. Glancing back, her vision on the mercenary.

"It was by their request that I intervene, they both truly care for your wellbeing." Her calm voice.