-NIRVANA: ???-
A dark realm shrouded beneath an impermeable mist had cast a dim light on two figures standing adjacent to each other. Standing on the left was Michel, draped in his black coat over his black suit alongside his wide-brimmed hat of the same colour. Before him stood the Portrait of All; The Lady whom Caelum had encountered before, when he was performing the invocation rite; Dressed in “Her” dark gray, weathered robe that contrasted sharply with “Her” gray, blue-ish skin, and “Her” eyes that were blindfolded by a tainted white cloth.
During that time, Caelum, not having fully acknowledged the Lady’s totality, had succumbed to “Her” soul pressure simply by standing within “Her” presence. The “things” that had snatched onto his body and eventually buried him under the surface were the manifestation of the differences between their soul pressures. Caelum was simply not yet able to stand in the presence of an actual God-like figure, and was forced to pay the price by being consumed by the overarching darkness.
Yet, there was no price Michel had to pay. He stood right in front of her with his arms crossed behind his back, as composed as ever. After several moments of silently acknowledging each other’s presences, “She” spoke to him.
“What may bring you here, Michel?”
Responding to her query, Michel raised his left arm in the air and stretched his palm wide. Following that, an old, weathered Grimoire materialized in his hand.
“I have brought it with me, just as I promised.”
This was indeed the Mors non Vult. The grade-one artifact he sought after in the Great Eastern Forest. This sight suggested that he did succeed in retrieving the artifact after his prompt battle with Emon. The artifact, despite looking weathered, had a strong sense of royalty, or better said, distinctiveness surrounding it. It had a significant weight, as though carrying thousands of tales detailing individuals who coveted its grandeur.
“She” slightly lowered “Her” head, seemingly glancing at the artifact in his hand.
“…Interesting. I can only wonder why someone like you would need such a significant artifact.”
“She” then raised “Her” head and began to smile with closed lips before continuing.
“Is it a lost lover? A family member you wish to resurrect? Or a good friend whom you promised to bring back to life one day?”
“Perhaps a family member would be the closest guess,” Michel answered civilly.
“Are you prepared to depart from this world?” ‘She’ said. “You do know that failing the quest will make you prone to dying too, right?”
“I am fully aware.”
“…I see,” ‘She’ murmured, taking a few moments before sounding once more.
“Can I ask you something, Michel?”
“Yes?”
“Are you Human?”
…Michel silently processed “Her” question, slowly lowering his head as the artifact de-materialized from within his palm. Sensing some kind of turmoil within Michel, the Lady continued.
“If so, you must be a very strong one. To be able to accept almost certain death with such a resolute tone… You must have had a long, long history that created-”
“I am as Human as one can ever be,” Michel responded, cutting "Her" words off. He raised his head and continued speaking. His tone changed slightly, as though he was smiling while speaking.
“We are rebels, no? That is what you mystical beings see us as; Individuals who may sin and cause disorder, but inevitably turn to their Gods in pursuit of forgiveness. Yes, that is how we’re perceived as… Little orbs of light, all scattered across the Gods’ palms.”
“Your self advertisement is impressive, Michel,” ‘She’ answered. “While we don’t necessarily view Humans as ‘rebels’, we often see the illumination within them, no matter how great or small it may be, because we are forgiving. Humans are beautiful creatures. I believe ‘All’ understood that, and created forms of existences whose faces resemble ‘His’. For that, we call ‘Him’ a jealous God.”
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Michel remained silent in response.
“Well then, Michel. I won’t stall you here for much longer. Your quest has been granted. A black raven will seek after you soon.”
“Very well,” Michel responded, placing his hands in the pockets of his black pants as he turned around, his black coat gracefully flaring out in a sweeping arc, billowing around him like a dancer’s flowing skirt. Right before he was going to step away from the dark realm, the Lady lowered “Her” head, and sounded for one final time.
“One last thing before you go. As long as you remain truthful to yourself, the chances of you dying will be somewhat smaller.”
Without responding to “Her”, Michel continued to step into the darkness, his figure gradually diminishing.
***
-One week later: The Great Eastern Forest-
On a beautiful morning, Michel had been traversing an atmospherically-striking path that led up to a small mountain that overlooked a dense, but picturesque area of the forest. His seemingly wholesome journey seemed to have been a long one, but he was eager to reach the apex of that mountain, because something, or someone was awaiting him on the very top.
Upon arriving at the peak, he was elated to see the black raven, sent by the Lady, waiting for his arrival with a weathered-looking paper in its beak. As soon as it saw Michel’s arrival, the raven rose in the air and landed on his shoulder. Before receiving the paper, Michel took a few moments taking in the striking sight of the forest, despite the tragedies that have taken place surrounding him, Emon, Caelum, and the others.
A strong wind draft blew through his figure, causing his clothes to flutter in the current. As it cooled down, he finally took the paper from the raven’s beak. As the raven departed, Michel took a seat on the surface, crossing his legs, and began reading the contents of the paper.
-Invocation Ritual: Mors non Vult-
- Go five days without eating. At the stroke of the eleventh hour each night, you can only consume thorn leaf-made soup with honey.
- On the sixth day, you must prepare a designated room upon where you will cleanse the vessel. The room must have the Eye of Nichts and the Heart of Illumina situated somewhere within it.
- On that same day, you must create oil from the thorn leaf. With that oil, you will cleanse the vessel’s body.
- On the seventh day, you will clean the vessel’s feet and legs.
- On the eighth day, you will clean the vessel’s hands and arms.
- On the ninth day, you will clean the vessel’s chest.
- On the tenth day, you will clean the vessel’s neck and head.
- On the eleventh day, you will sit beside the vessel, and chant the rite.
- “In the name of the God of death and decay, Nichts, I shall bring forth my own demise. And in the name of the Goddess of Life and Prosperity, Illumina, life shall entrance his mind, and he will walk upon the path of life that leads into my body.”
- After your chant, cut your writs and pour your blood onto the vessel's cleansed forehead.
- Upon completion, sit beside the vessel’s body, and concentrate. Place the Artifact on the vessel’s chest, and place your palm onto the vessel’s forehead.
-The Transference Mantra-
The Mantra was its own category that detailed the following steps Michel was required to take. But before reading those contents, Michel folded the paper and perched it in the pocket of his coat. He raised himself to his feet, and continued to stare at the striking view. Something was bothering him, but it seemed like he restrained himself from pouring his true emotions out. Thankfully, nobody was near him to see this ‘authentic’ side of him, as opposed to the malignant and otherworldly ‘Michel’ most people perceived him as.
As minutes passed by, he raised his right hand in the air, and summoned a swarm of black butterflies. They encircled him, resembling a swarm of vultures, and eventually devoured his entire body before converging into a single stream that shot into the sky.
***
-NIRVANA: ???-
In what appeared to be an abandoned colosseum, enveloped by a thick gray mist, a massive swarm of black butterflies suddenly appeared, converging on a specific focal point within the expansive area. The shape of Michel became apparent as the swarm dispersed. He stood right before the point of interest with his arms crossed behind his back, silently acknowledging the ‘person’ who lay unconsciously on the ground, his hands and feet were leashed by stone chains that stretched out into the distance, as if they were infinite.
It was not Caelum. He had already ‘freed’ himself from Michel’s grasp by murdering Rudalia and his younger self inside the Castle of Desolation. This ‘place’ was nowhere near the Castle, either, meaning that this colosseum was a location completely foreign to Caelum’s presence.
This place had some sort of protective barrier surrounding it, as though having been summoned by Michel himself. It was most certainly a place meant to protect someone, and that ‘someone’ was now laying right before him.
Michel sat on one knee and gently traced the outline of the person’s naked body. Gently brushing his fingers against his androgynous, delicate face, and then raising it to his long black hair, as though acknowledging his beauty. This was most certainly not Caelum. The tresses, olive complexion, and androgynous appearance were not his details. They were… Vaelen’s.