-NIRVANA: The Spirit Sea-

Misty, hazy, moist and rough.

Lunar, carrying Caelum’s spiritual body, stood right before the Spirit Sea. His surroundings were simple yet daunting; In front of him, a gigantic sea endlessly swirling in a vortex that was surrounded by dark, pointy mountains. What lay beyond those surroundings was shrouded in mist, preventing Lunar from witnessing the ‘mysteries’ surrounding this mystical place.

Right before throwing Caelum’s spiritual body into the Sea, Lunar took a sudden stop and gulped.

From within a sea, a swarm of cries of the dead rang. A symphony of infinite seeps as though welcoming the murderer into their dominion, or better said, pleading for salvation.

However, time was dire. Lunar had to act fast to prevent the possibility of being caught before succeeding. He understood this and carried Caelum’s spiritual body in his arms. This version of his body was without clothes, but still as limp as a discarded ragdoll, arms and legs hung by his sides like the broken strings of a puppet.

With a steadfast motion, Lunar took several steps further and threw the body into the sea. He watched the body sprawling in the air before splashing into the sea. He then took a deep sigh and fell to his knees.

As he did so, he slowly raised his right hand, summoning his Unholy Blade. An easy way of exciting Nirvana was to simply kill one’s ‘spectator form’, which was essentially the physical, living body of one entering the mystical world.

Knowing this, Lunar telepathically controlled his silver sword that floated in the air. It slowly hovered behind him, and as soon as Lunar positioned his fingers into a gun aimed forward, his back was violently but swiftly struck by his own sword, deep enough that the blade peeked out of his chest.

He did not utter a single word or sound, as if he had done this thousands of times before. He collapsed soon after being struck in front of the sea, and his body started to de-materialize into a grey mist, sending him back to the physical plane.

***

-Livayae-

The place Emon had left Lunar was soon found by Grisha and Dunkelritter. They both stood in front of the dismantled body of Emon’s creature that now seemed like a formless husk of flesh having been torn to shreds. Blood and intestines were splattered everywhere, tainting the grass and surrounding foliage red. Amidst the macabre display, a grey cluster of mist formed, and eventually spat Lunar out.

He fell onto the thick mud of blood as the sharp scent of iron seeped into his nostrils. This alone would understandably make any normal person lose their mind. Not only that, but the two acquaintances of Michel now stood right in front of him, smiling malignantly at Lunar’s solitary arrival.

However, Lunar, as soon as he raised his head to meet their eyes, smiled at the face of death. He let off a chuckle that gradually faded into a full-on laughter.

“Too slow, idiots!” he said, grimacing. “You will never be able to find his spiritual body!”

Grisha, looking down upon Lunar while squinting his golden eyes answered.

“Let it be known that you decided to go against Michel’s words. You were tasked with bringing the Child to the true layer of the forest so that he could be killed by the descendants of Yild.”

“I murdered him on my own accord,” Lunar chuckled. “I won’t let him be used as a mere puppet and end up like the both of you losers.”

He then began to chuckle once more, spreading his blood-soaked arms in the air whilst seated.

“Kill me! Torture me however you wish! It is already over! He will be reborn as ‘himself’! The Second Coming of Darkness shall never arrive!”

Dunkelritter planted his hand against his face, chuckling evilly.

“You fool! Think about the occasion for a moment!”

“…What do you mean?”

“Tell me, Lunar, you hid the Child’s spiritual body in the hopes of making his reincarnation to occur in his own body. Therefore, he would reincarnate as his ‘own self’, no?”

Grisha, with a silent but murderous smile, leaned over to close to Lunar’s level.

“What if we told you that he was already marked long before we even arrived here?”

He then squatted down and leaned further towards him, their faces now next to each other.

“That’s right, Lunar. Caelum was already marked in the Castle of Desolation.”

Lunar widened his eyes as if an explosion happened inside his body. He began to reminisce the day when Caelum had collapsed on his bed after trying to summon his Grimoire…

…He did not see it, but he knew where Caelum was and who he met. The Lady of the Castle, the one who had ‘beheaded’ and ‘resurrected’ Caelum within that dark castle.

Caelum was ‘marked’ as soon as he was killed in that castle. The mark signified the user’s ability to merge their Grimoire or any form of weapon with an Artifact titled ‘Death or Rebirth’. It was believed that this allowed the user to ‘kill’ their target, and make them reincarnate into the body of someone else.

Merging with one’s Grimoire, or any form of weapon…

***

[The Castle: Caelum’s arrival]

That moment when Caelum had been beheaded, was it done by a weapon or some sort of telepathic force? As “She” stood before him and spoke out their familiarity, what happened afterwards?

“As I said before… We are no mortals, Caelum. Your friend told you the truth; My immortality will be manifested through ‘His’ body—that being you—the prophesied Perished One.”

“N- nonsense!” Caelum grimaced, which prompted “Her” to ask him,

“How would you like me to prove it then?”

“You can’t!” Caelum shouted. “How could you possibly pro-”

…Right.

This was when Caelum was beheaded.

But that was not done so with the help of a weapon or Grimoire!

“She” used a different kind of method; A different kind of tactic!

And only after stopping his sentence midway, was when he felt the actual impact of the sudden ‘slash’ that dispersed his head from his body.

Not even he could see ‘what’ attacked him. He only felt the aftermath of the attack.

Lunar did not ‘see’ this. But, a sudden memory flashed in his mind.

He began to smile once more.

Dunkelritter chuckled, tilting his head upwards.

“Eeeeexaactly! Father was already steps ahead of you! Do you truly think you could compare to him? Your existence is less capable than a single rain droplet falling into a sea of fire! Don’t insult him by claiming that you have surpassed him. You never did!”

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…Right as he finished his sentence…

…Grisha spread his left palm in the air, summoning a smaller sword glowing with gold and white.

The sword, as if carrying a mind of its own, positioned itself right behind Lunar, its blade pointing towards his neck. Lunar’s smile never wavered, his recent memory still lingering in his mind, as if none of the current situation bothered him even in the slightest.

Without retaliation, Lunar accepted his fate.

Grisha bawled his right hand into a fist…

…and the sword slashed Lunar’s head off his body.

It dangled in the air for a few moments until it splashed onto the muddy pool of blood.

Lunar had now met the same end as Declan and Geneve’s; Their heads having mercilessly been slashed off their bodies. Their limbs twisted at unnatural angles like broken marionettes.

***

[The previous evening: The Great Eastern Forest]

Somewhere deep within the moonlight-coated forest, standing amidst an open area surrounded by trees, stood Emon, dressed in his usual light brown jacket over his white blouse. He stood before Caelum’s ‘Mother’, who was dressed in an opulent black robe that contrasted sharply against “Her” pale skin and curly grey hair.

“She” bore a dramatic, and worried expression on her face. Emon squinted his eyes, scrutinizing “Her” figure as if evaluating all the possibilities and reasoning behind their unexpected encounter.

“Don’t worry,” ‘She’ said. “I did not come here with any hostility.”

“What are you doing here?” Emon asked.

“…It’s your son. He is having a difficult time accepting his reality. No matter what I do, he just… never seems to accept me.”

Tears started to well up in “Her” eyes, a desolate darkness falling over her face. Emon took one step forward and spoke to “Her” with a serious tone.

“Tell me, Maela, are you going to let Michel do as he pleases?”

“She” remained silent in response. Prompting Emon to continue.

“It is only natural for Caelum to view you as a mere phantom. You’ve most likely brought his wholesome life at the Gaian temple into jeopardy, because your way of approaching things have… always been horrible.”

“…And yet, here we are, no?” ‘She’ said, slowly lifting up “Her” head to meet his eyes.

“Time is ticking, Maela. Soon, this world is going to burn down. Not only that, but Caelum…”

“Yes, I know.”

“…Michel will arrive here to retrieve the Artifact,” Emon said, lightly shaking his head. “I’ve been trying to narrow down the source of the soul pressure the Artifact has been emanating, but it seems that it hasn’t properly materialized into existence yet. I will have to persuade him tomorrow when he comes here.”

“Tomorrow, you say?” Maela responded. “Why do you think he will be here tomorrow?”

“Because…” Emon muttered, sighing. “I have faith that he will face true rebellion. A rebellion even he will not be able to foresee. A pride-filled man is not able to see the free will within a person’s heart.”

“She” remained silent in response, once more. It was here when Emon noticed the silver book lying amidst the soil next to “Her”. It seemed that the Grimoire allowed “Her” to physically project “Herself” under the condition that “She” was to reside within the Grimoire’s vicinity.

Emon’s face gradually grew crestfallen, and so did his voice.

“…Do you care for our children?”

“Of…course I do,” Maela stuttered, “Her” eyes following Emon picking up the Grimoire from the ground. He looked at her with a pitiful expression and said,

“Even when he has thrown you away?”

“She” lowered her head. “Her” darkened face was no more. It departed, leaving behind a sorrowful gaze fixated at the ground. Emon’s words struck “Her” deeply.

Caelum did throw “Her” away.

“How did that make you feel, Maela?” Emon continued. “What did he say to you?”

Caelum’s words full of scorn resounded in “Her” mind.

“You’re just… a hallucination. A projection from my nightmare that just doesn’t want to disperse from reality. You could never be my Mother. I just know it.”

“She” fell on her knees, as tears began to stroll down “Her” face.

“That’s… right. I am a nightmare to him. I am not even supposed to exist… All I am doing here is simply waiting to witness a great tragedy.”

Emon sighed through his nose, sat on one knee, and hugged “Her”.

“That tragedy… is inevitable.”

Emon’s touch caused “Her” to break down into tears. “She” buried “Her” face in his chest, wailing loudly. Despite this, Emon continued with a rather cold expression on his face.

“You have the power to prevent an even greater tragedy from happening. Rebel with me. Show Caelum his future. Tell him the truth. Sylas does not care for him. He only wishes for him to become just like me…

…I can’t allow something like that to happen to my own, and so shouldn’t you.”

Behind Maela, emerging from the bushes and trees were the Dark Triad. Declan, on the right, Geneve on the left, and Lunar, in the middle.

However, they were not the only ones who arrived.

Lunar closed his eyes and smiled. He stepped to the side to make way for one more person to reveal himself.

Emerging from the bushes… was Caelum.

He looked different. Slightly older, like around 20-21 years old. He had a stubble on his chin, close to growing what seemed to grow into a goatee.

He was dressed in a form-fitting black suit and had a long black jacket wrapping over his shoulder. His appearance alone would make anyone who knew ‘Caelum’ question twice whether or not this really was him. But, on top of that, this ‘Caelum’ had a majestic air surrounding him, as if were a young lord of a country, filled with talents and charisma. That ‘air’ seemed to portray itself through Caelum’s face; It appeared composed and collected as if he understood anything anyone unable to open themselves up was feeling.

Maela still had “Her” head buried in Emon’s chest until Emon spoke to her.

“Tell them, Maela. Give them your approval. Only then will they be able to rebel against Michel.”

“She” eventually stopped crying, and silently held onto Emon’s jacket. Caelum then stood right behind “Her”, and also squatted down. He gently placed his right hand on “Her” back, as if sending over a placating aura from within his palm, and spoke to her in a soft tone.

“It’s okay, Mother. It’s going to be okay. Place your trust in him, please do.”

Situated between the two “She” loved, “She” hung “Her” head, and spoke to the Dark Triad.

“Lunar, Declan, Geneve… Do as you please.”

The three instantly knelt down in respect, and Lunar spoke out.

“Thank you, Mother.”

Emon helped Maela get back on “Her” feet, and smiled at “Her”.

“I’m so proud of you, Maela. Everything is going to change. I promise you.”

After a warm, silent exchange of relieved gazes with Emon, “She” turned around to meet her son’s eyes.

“…Caelum…”

Caelum smiled, tilting his head to the left.

“My name will not be Caelum anymore. I will refer to myself as Rudalia.”

He then stepped towards “Her” and embraced “Her” in his arms.

“All that awaits is for me to enter the castle once more. This is where I will talk to myself personally. My rebellion will be the greatest of us all.”

Rudalia then turned towards the Dark Triad, who were all still kneeling down before him. Emon summoned his sixth Creature, the winged humanoid entity, and leaped on its shoulder.

As a final departing message, he glanced at Maela with a closed smile.

“…I will see you on the other side, Maela.”

Following his words, “She”, alongside Rudalia watched Emon fly into the sky, their clothes and hair fluttering in the wind pressure. “She” lowered “Her” head, and spoke to the others.

“All of you. You can depart from this place now.”

Rudalia nodded and stepped into the foliage with his right hand in his pocket.

“Return to the dorm. The three of you.”

Lunar, Geneve, and Declan followed his trail into the depths of the forest, leaving “Her” all by “Herself.”

As the moon began to shine more prominently, bathing the entire scenery in its illumination, “She” walked towards the other end of the area, where a narrow protracted path leading towards a small pond lay.

Upon traversing the path, “She” eventually arrived at the beautiful small pond that simply looked hauntingly beautiful, like an illustration from a taradiddle narrative.

The path “She” was walking upon was both the entrance and exit of the place. Encircling the tranquil body of water was a meticulously arranged border of single stones, each one carefully placed to form an unbroken ring. The surrounding environment was trees and bushes that seemed to also silently appreciate the breathtaking scenery.

“She” sat at the edge of the pond, softly gliding “Her” hand over the water in contemplation… until “She” spoke to “Herself.”

“Do not fret, Emon. I did not mark him when he was at the Castle for the first time.”

“She” then turned around, and saw Lunar, with his arms crossed behind his back, watching her from the threshold with a closed smile. Without saying anything, he turned around and stepped back into the forest just as Rudalia had ordered him to do so.