As the moon rose, me and Alisson watched the dockyard of Nubinaya, waiting for the supposed pirates. Depending on the results of their ‘catch’, we’ll act from there.

All the while I was busy smirking to myself at Alisson’s sudden doubtfulness in himself. It was cute, watching him be flustered, and embarrassed, and in need of approval. I wasn’t expecting him to spare those soldiers, and truth be told, I don’t know if I would’ve done the same in his situation.

To be so merciful even to the enemy…Alisson has gotten quite soft quite quickly. With what he said about using the mission as an excuse, I’m glad that he’s a little more self-aware of his own fault in his pushing of the responsibility onto a higher power, and omitting himself from the equation of morals entirely. I don’t really care whether the soldiers live or die…I’m just glad Alisson isn’t some drone running entirely off of orders anymore.

I was debating in my head whether or not to say these things aloud to him, but I think for now, I can help him most by letting him think for himself. The last thing Alisson needs now is someone deciding everything for him. He’s supposed to be my master, always in total control of a situation, in total control of his subordinates, and always sure of the best course of action to take it. Previously, he got those powers from drawing on the higher law of Sidonia, but now, with the Lady in question in our minds, he’s finally forced into truly thinking for himself…And here he is, sparing enemies…The consciousness buried deep within him is certainly kind.

Granted this comes right after killing an entire unit of knights without mercy. It sounds backwards, but given the circumstances, it makes sense. Alisson acted so arrogant and haughty while we were in Scratskoslovotskaya, as if he were truly a malicious Sidonian princess occupying a town. I’m sure it was a bluff to fit the situation, but Alisson certainly took some joy in being so cocky. Alisson has been cocky a few times before…so maybe there’s some part of him that revels in those sorts of scenarios? Being so dominant doesn’t sound like Alisson. It’s most likely just a part of his front, the front that he puts on when he’s before his comrades and before the enemy. But in private…here in this town where no one is looking, where every action isn’t a strategic one…He chooses to be soft.

With the moon rising over horizon, two ships appeared over the sea, and I snapped out of my inner thoughts. One was a medium sized, double decked brig, and the other was a small sloop, which seemed to have fishing apparatus.

“The pirates either have a base on an island, or they’ve taken a roundabout route…”

Alisson remarked. The ships pulled into port within the next quarter hour. From them disembarked what were clearly unkempt individuals, eyes full of greed. A few more well dressed men sallied out onto the docks to meet them. Me and Alisson slipped into the commandeered Kitsune vessel – Alisson was able to use his invisibility spell infinitely. He could’ve used a series of shortrange teleport spells as well, but unlike invisibility, teleportation isn’t able to engulf others.

The ship was very obviously a Kitsune one, judging purely from the trampled and dirtied insignias, and an overall much higher quality of ship building than that of the salvaged pirate ship. Alisson and I slipped deeper into the ship’s hold. We knew going into here, of what we would find, but the sight was still unnerving. Bodies lined the ship’s bottom most deck. A black, musky, and dank room, where all of the crew of this ship had been laid out like merchandise, after being slaughtered. The blood was fresh, and the smell was putrid.

To say I could get used to bad smells was impossible. Every corpse has its own distinct, pungent smell, the time the corpse spent rotting changed the scent, as well as the environment – this musky ship was already bad on its own.

Alisson and I paced through the rows of corpses in silence, Opensen’s activated. With the silence of the ship, the only noises were that of the gentle rocking of the night waves, and of the conversing merchants and pirates on the docks, we could easily hear each other’s heartbeats. But soon, we both heard another string of staccato beats, and looked to each other in surprise.

We were lucky. There was a Kitsune who was still alive. He had weakly reached out to us, barely able to speak.

“W-w-water…please…just a sip…”

I knelt, healing the poor man, while Alisson poured him a flask of water. Alisson poured the water into the young man’s mouth, holding his head up. Under normal circumstances, this man was dead – however, with our infinite mana supply, my weak healing spells, dozens of them, may be able to stabilize him. That thought was killed by the Kitsune himself when he said that he wished to perish alongside his comrades. Alisson nodded in the affirmative, but first asked him,

“Your mission. What was it?”

“You are…You are who I think you are…are you?”

Alisson showed the man the medallion, from whenst we had slaughtered an entire city to retrieve. It was evident that it hadn’t served as much purpose as we thought it would.

“Yes…you are…we were tasked with awaiting near these waters…We were to bring you the Island of Regfurtz…where a Sidonian ship would be meeting you…They should be arriving soon…”

The ship had conducted a recon mission into the island of Regfurtz, to make sure it was a safe rendezvous point, when they had been attacked by pirates. Evidently, that was where the pirate’s basecamp was. The Kitsune had served themselves up to the pirates as if they were on the silver platter.

The Kitsune sailor had one last thing to say. “The pirates…they got a hold of the schedule and the manifest…They know just as well as you that a Sidonian ship is headed right toward their base…”

Alisson nodded. The man smiled. He then weakly gestured to his neck, and cut, indicating what he wanted done.

“…A-are you sure? You could come with us…”

Alisson asked tepidly. The man simply shook his head. His ears were flat over his hair, and his tails hung limply over his still body. “ …I’d rather die after what they did to…to…” His head drifted to a female corpse near him. Alisson slowly nodded.

…

Alisson stood, his heart beating through his chest, and he rose Enhérejär over his head. The blade hovered still for a long moment, Alisson’s face twisting ever more into doubt and reluctance. To put down a comrade by your own hands was an honor to be given, that they would rather die by the purified hand of Sidonia, Alisson specifically, than any other scum. It was something Alisson took pride in being entrusted with, and something he had never had a problem with, something he had done many times before.

Enhérejär shook in the air, and Alisson’s arms slackened, and fell by his sides. His eyes were wide, and his lips curled into anguish.

“What’s wrong?” Celis asked, tilting her head guilelessly, before catching a glance of Alisson’s face and promptly straightening her expression.

Before he could ask her to do it instead, Enhérejär left his grip, and a second thereafter, a crunch was heard, and the Kitsune went limp. Alisson crumpled to the ground, his legs splayed, staring on at the corpse before him in the dark hull of the ship, with teary eyes. Celis knelt beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder and once more asking him what was wrong.

“I…I couldn’t do it…” He stared in disbelief at the Kitsune. “Just like…just like those Irinians…I’m weak, I’m soft…” Alisson muttered. Celis flashed a smile at him, and said simply,

“You’re Alisson.”

The visage of what Celis told him down in the depths of the Deadzone flashed through his head, and he stared in momentary clarity up with a dumb expression.

“But I have to be strong…for…”

For what? The mission? Sidonia? His comrades?

But what was ‘Strong’? Certainly, forfeiting your own conscious didn’t sound like something a strong man would do.

…

Acting on the insights garnered from the half-alive Kitsune, him and Celis slipped into the pirate vessel. Some sort of agreement having been made, the pirates pulled out of port, leaving the Kitsune ship in Nubinaya, and sailing through the night. If it was true that Sidonian support would be meeting them at Regfurtz, and that the pirate base was there, they could catch a free ride straight to the island. They’d wipe out the pirate presence, to make sure they didn’t pull any offensive actions on a supposedly nearby friendly Sidonian ship. Word of the Sidonian arrival could be permeating throughout the north for all Alisson knew – pirates spread news quickly. However, there was the chance that they were preparing for the Sidonian ship, and wanted the catch to be solely there’s. Regardless, it was better that the pirates were put to death.

Alisson briefly wondered after thinking all this about why the pirates he could easily consider to kill, and the Irinians not. The pirates had done terrible things, and from what he’d seen of them on the docks, they were not good people. There was no court for the likes of them. Alisson sighed, putting his odd and sudden doubts to rest.

The Kitsune had told them that the Sidonian ship was supposed to be arriving soon, within the week – It seems him and Celis had cut it quite close.

So, whisked away, in the humid, musty hull of the pirate ship, him and Celis sat against the wooden walls of the ship, large containers of contraband on either side of them. Only a single lantern burned around a corner, leaving terribly little light, but enough that the area was cloaked in the faintest of orange tinges. Celis played around with the estoc in her hands. She stared down at the blade, and asked absentmindedly,

“I remember how easily you killed those infiltrators in Foksly…”

Alisson stared down into the uneven floor of the hull, gently creaking. When he looked into that Kitsune’s eyes, he saw not a comrade’s wishes, but rather his own meek reflection in them. Alisson remembered all the friends he had laid to rest by his own blade. All of them, so easily, with such a straight face, with no remorse, with dignity, even. Whoever had done such things…Alisson wanted to meet them, and ask them if they were strong, or if they were weak. But he knew that beneath that person, was just himself. There was no strength under that shell. The curtain that draped around him was thin, not as the material suggested.

Interpreting Alisson’s silence as a refusal to respond, Celis continued, “The Irinians too…You showed them mercy.”

To enemies. How horrid. His instincts had screamed at him not to, it was common sense – Enemies that were allowed to flee only caused problems. They would come back stronger, with more hatred, with an agenda to destroy – No, it was better to totally annihilate those that you choose to attack, and leave them no chance of standing after you’ve turned your back.

“I pitied them.” Alisson muttered. “I can’t sympathize with them now…but in the moment, when I saw their faces in front of me…”

Alisson’s words trailed off as he remembered the sudden faces of Rei and the ranger from Menton. It was so easy to be scornful, and disgusted, when the people in question that are the target of hatred are so far away. And, when perchance they are before you, to be so filled with vice and scorn against them, you must limit how far you look into the situation. They aren’t Rei. They’re just a stupid adventurer, out of their league. They aren’t people with lives and names, they’re just human peasants who live in desolate wastes. The rest of the members of Crimson. They weren’t people, just pieces on a board that Alisson had captured for himself. He tried not to think about their aspirations and personalities.

But, that was all different when one of their faces was in the flesh before Alisson. Seeing Lavjoure’s crying face as she begged for death – Alisson didn’t know why this sight in particular came to mind, but that pity he felt then was in much the same way he felt for those soldiers.

He was expecting Celis to give a remark to put him in his place, but by contrary, they both sat in silence as the ship rocked and creaked along the waves. Celis held his hand, a routine that the battle with Andestine had interrupted, and Alisson tightly squeezed back.

…

They arrived at Regfurtz in the dead of night. The island was small, and so was the dock that the pirate vessel dropped anchor at. They were brazen in that they didn’t try to hide – Their campfires burned brightly in the darkness, and they drank and sung loudly into the night, reveling in their most recent catch. They weren’t on watch - they never needed to be on watch; Because no one dared approached Regfurtz.

The reason was clear. An old Sidonian keep rested in the center of the island, towering high above everything else, surrounded on all sides by the overgrowth of nature. It was a perfect place for a hideout, yet the pirates had not a single cot there. In fact, none of them stepped closer than a hundred meters to the walls of that keep. Not even the birds made their nests there.

So, the stone keep stood tall, looming over the island, illuminated only by the light of the moon, casting a shadow over the pirate camp.

The pirates were well dug in, they had not simple tents, but a real compound with structures and housing, they had clearly been here for a long while. The dock too, seemed to hint that it had space for a few other ships, but evidently none were currently here.

Him and Celis would make this matter a quick one. They split up. Celis had shown him how to use the magic ‘needle’ spell, but the light of the moon was bright enough to where they didn’t need it. They went about firstly by picking off the lone pirates on the perimeter, of which there were few. The camp was none the wiser as men were stealthily dispatched off, one second there were walking down a dimly lit dirt road, and the next, there were dragged into a thicket of bushes, blood running down their necks.

It was so easy to kill them – These were people who’d wronged his comrades; They deserved to die. Who knows how many countless lives had been ended by this operation?

Communicating with Telepathy, him and Celis made their way into the camp proper, silently thinning the numbers of the pirates as they went. Alisson glanced at the ship they’d arrived on.

How many men do you think it would take to man a brig of that size?

Don’t you have more experience than me, ‘master’?

I want a second opinion.

I think twenty is a good number.

The pirate camp very quickly became much quieter as him and Celis encroached into the center of it, where the largest bonfires and housing rested. The pirates were uneasy, looking around, wondering why there were no other people around them, and why it was so quiet all of a sudden.

It happened quickly, lights flashed, blood sprayed, and people shouted in confusion. In the next moment, an odd thirty pirates were on their knees, their hands on their heads, lined up, as Alisson paced before them. Enhérejär still wafted an aura of red heat, and Celis’s baselards humming with blue, ready to be activated. Bodies recently slain lay nearby, and the pirates looked up to Alisson, sweat on their forwards. Their hearts beat loudly, even over the drone of crickets of the night forest Alisson could hear them with his Opensen.

“I suppose this lot will do. Kill the rest.”

Celis nodded, and retreated from the vicinity, the last of the camp had been roused, but that wouldn’t last long. When the last of the pirates were dealt with, Alisson found some equipment that the pirates used for slaves and prisoners, handcuffs, shackles, chains, all the usual abundance, and sicked it on the line of pirates they’d captured. He chained them all together, led them out into the woods, wrapped the chain around a few trees, and then summoned some ersatz knights for good measure to ‘watch’ over the pirates.

They would be useful if him and Celis needed a way off the island, if the Sidonian ship didn’t arrive. Until then, him and Celis had some time to kill. Whilst martialing the prisoners, Alisson had caught a glance of Celis staring off at the keep with a hint of longing. Alisson decided to pay the old fortress a visit, it was probably the safest place to stay the night anyway. Him and Celis walked through the woods, the black outline of the keep visible through the canopy of trees. As they walked, the road became more and more ordered with stone, and soon the remnants of a wooden fence could be spotted rotting in the undergrowth.

Celis looked side to side with a melancholic expression.

“Has it changed very much?”

Alisson asked quietly, but Celis didn’t respond. Alisson let her take the lead, and he followed in her steps, as she walked up the path to the hill that the keep rested on. The fires that had engulfed the island two decades prior had served to nourish the land; The grass here was soft, and the leaves vibrantly verdant. Most of all there was an aura of stillness. Sometimes the wind picked up, rustling the flora, and sending a hushed whisper over the land.

Celis stood in front of the main gate for a while, staring off at the surrounding courtyards.

“…I remember playing outside here…” She said suddenly.

After a few minutes of catching the wind, Celis moved forward, into the keep proper. Alisson followed a good distance behind, looking on at the burnt interior, the furniture all having been reduced to but ashes and charcoal. Any wooden parts of the keep had burned away, sometimes leading to the collapse of a hallway or room, but the stone still stood strong.

They came across the armory. Its weapons, although burned, still stood against their racks, the plates of armor held up dignantly, still ready to be adorned for battle. Evidence that the keep and everybody inside it had little to no time during the assault to prepare. The Regadonians were slaughtered in their bedrooms, in their barracks, in the very cots they slept in.

Alisson kept on following in Celis’s wake, she clearly still remembered the layout of the building, but frequently turned a corner to be met with either a collapsed hall or room, each time staring at the rubble for a long minute in silence. Most all the stairways had been collapsed, but some stone ones remained, and some holes in the wooden flooring allowed them to ascend through the keep.

As they reached the top floors of the keep, Celis seemed to move faster and faster, until she reached a room that was blocked off by a charred wooden strut. Without hesitation, she grabbed hold of the debris, and started to pull it out of the way. Alisson stepped forward, extending a hand to help, but slowed as he saw the obstacle fall to the side, having been toppled by Celis’s strength. The door to the room already lay in pieces, so Alisson tepidly followed Celis in.

A single window beamed the light of the moon into the space, the light reflecting off of the stone flooring and walls, and especially the broken glass. The carpets and other fabrics seemed singed, but were miraculously spared from the worst of the fire’s treatment. Celis looked around, to the broken glass, charred debris, and to the thick layer of dust that covered it all.

After a moment, and without a word, Celis started clean up the room, carrying out debris, and dusting off furniture. Alisson stared for a moment, not understanding her intentions, but decided to help nonetheless.

…

It was an odd feeling. All those years ago, back in this room, I was just a normal kid. I thought that I would spend my entire life on this island, in this stone keep. I recognized vaguely the sheets of my bed, still unmade from when I’d frantically fallen out of bed. The curtains on the window, ripped away. Glass lay across the room, glimmering in the light of the moon. After a while of dwelling mindlessly with my head empty, I realized what I was doing. I was cleaning my room. I stood staring into my hands at the shards of glass that I’d picked up, and looked to my side to see Alisson doing the same.

“W-what?” He tilted his head, nervous at my sudden stare.

“Idiot…” I muttered with a smile, looking back to the glass in my hands.

If I closed my eyes tight enough, if I forgot about the draft of the window, and the unfamiliar smell of nature, I could feel the security, the sureness, of this room. Looking back, I still don’t know if I was content with the life or not, but regardless, life came to me, crashing through my door and through my windows. I stared out the window for a long few minutes, at the moon-glistened sea, and at the gently swaying trees. Behind me, I looked back to see Alisson, standing in that same spot that my brother had.

I took in a few rapid breathes, and my eyes cringing, my head tilting subconsciously, and my eyes now suddenly tearing. Without thinking I stumbled forward and shoved my face into Alisson’s chest. I couldn’t get out any words, the only noise that left my mouth were that of sporadic sobbing.

“What are you thinking about?”

Alisson asked, holding me as I shuttered in his embrace. As soon as Alisson said that, I realized the visages that had been wafting at the edge of my mind for the past half hour. They were the faces of my parents. Of my servants. Of my brother.

“I…I’ve never cried about them…” I said aloud. “My parents…I…I never told them I loved them…before they…”

I tightened my eyes. Alisson sat silent, stroking my head.

The more I thought about it, the more I cried into Alisson’s shoulder. I never did accept that my family was dead. They were still just far away. On the island. One day, I’d wake up, and find my parents looking back down at me, smiling.

I looked up to Alisson, sobbing. “I-I’m sorry…I…”

He kept his melancholic smile, and replied, “Don’t be. Cry now, where no one can see you. You can finally start evening the score with me.”

He smiled, and I realized that this was the first time that I had cried in front of Alisson. I’ve seen Alisson cry a lot, I realize. He continued stroking my head. I took his advice, and sunk back into his shoulder, and cried, cried about the fact that I didn’t remember my parents’ faces.

“Ever since that day…I…No one’s ever loved me…”

I said suddenly, looking up to Alisson. The light of the moon reflected of his eyes, and I briefly became mesmerized in them. He tilted his head with a smile.

“But me.”

My eyes silvered even more, already defeated, but Alisson still pressed the attack, “I love you, Celis.”

For a lack of a more eloquent, Alisson-way of putting it, he said it plainly, his face reddening but never breaking eye contact with me.

Hearing the words from Alisson…It didn’t feel dreamlike, but it was reassuring. I was expecting some kind of play on words, bells and whistles, when Alisson said this, but his face only deepened in crimson; evidently despite his confident smile, on the inside, he was extremely embarrassed. I found myself smiling at Alisson, despite the tear of sorrow across my face.

…

[Expunged]

…

A loud explosion woke Alisson up in an instant. He rose from the covers, eyes sharp. It was no fluke, another explosion sounded. It came from outside the keep, down in the forest. The noises had stirred Celis as well, and she asked sleepily, “What is it?”

“Trouble.”

Alisson had only been conscious for a few minutes, but as he ran down the stairs of the keep, Celis right behind him, he had a deeply bad feeling about this. Something terrible had arrived. The sun was still under the horizon, its orange rays seeped across the sky and bled into the morning clouds. Him and Celis left the keep, but upon reaching the front gates, Alisson’s gut tightened even further.

He cut hand out in front of Celis, and cast invisibility on the both of them. It was better to approach this problem safely and from cover, rather than have it approach them. They crept through the forest silently, only the occasional print and plume of dirt gave any indication to their presence.

They reached the place where they had tied the prisoners up for later use. Through a thicket, they saw now but a cratered wasteland of fallen trees. The ancient soil had been disturbed, the trees blown away, and their verdant softness was now replaced by a coat of red. Gore fell from branches, and flesh sizzled. There wasn’t a single piece left of the prisoners.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

However, they saw quickly who the culprit of this was. They weren’t trying to hide themselves. All five of them were clad in blue cloaks, but only one had their hood off, revealing their face to Alisson.

Alisson was expecting a beast, perhaps Andestine, something they had seen before. But what graced his eyes,

Was another Nekomata. One with blue hair, and sharp face, and one that was supposed to be dead. Alisson’s hands shook, and all he could do was stare on at him, at Rickard Aud Regadonia.

He was alive! But what was he doing here? Rickard bore a small smirk.

“Come out, the both of you. I wish to see who it is who tries to hide from death.”

He hollered, in his usual, half cocky, half lackadaisical tone that was hard to decipher. Alisson finally got hold of himself when he realized that Celis was clutching him, and shaking. He took a deep breath, and canceled the invisibility spell. He and Celis now stood bare across a gored field, a mere two dozen meters from them. Celis slipped behind Alison completely, still shaking.

Rickard was briefly stunned for a moment, but blinked and smiled.

“Of course. It had to be you two. Why am I surprised?”

“Rickard!” Alisson called after taking one last deep breath. “Which side are you on?”

“If by that you are asking if I serve Sidonia, then no, I am not on your side. The both of you are the two ‘Sidonians’ I have heard about, and now a ‘Sidonian’ ship is supposed to arrive today, how the word violates my mouth.”

Rickard must’ve caught wind of the Sidonian arrival from rumors spread by the pirates then…and him and Celis, well of course there’d be some whisperings about them, but clearly Rickard hadn’t been informed of who they actually were. To so quickly attain this information, without ever showing himself or leaving clues, his information network must have spanned wide and far.

“Before I kill the both of you, I want to offer you a choice – Since I’ve realized now that there is no Influence hanging over you – You are both free souls, like us.” He extended his hand. “I believe you already know much of what I would tell you about Sidonia, and if you hold the same vice for her, there is no reason why I should deprive my movement of such valuable pieces.”

Alisson frowned.

Pieces on this side, pieces on that side. It’s all the same. One player may differ from the other but their strategies to win the game are all the same. Both are corrupt, both are malignant, and both have not one shred of dignity. How he sees it as so automatic to attack us, just because of our frontal allegiance...

Alisson stepped forward. Celis’s eyes, upon hearing his words, glazed over. Her fear evaporated, and stepped out beside Alisson. No one noticed, but in her eyes, in those now suddenly empty eyes, devoid of self-thought, was now a yellow shimmer. She followed after Alisson, almost simultaneously in step with him.

Alisson drew Enhérejär slowly. At the same exact time, Celis did the same with her stilettos.

Rickard smiled at them, and his extended hand dropped. “Is Sidonia really so worth fighting for? You are nothing more than the drones of a colony to her.”

With that, he drew his two swords, both long and thin, but with cutting edges, and signaled for his subordinates to stand back.

“You’re mistaken Rickard…” Alisson stared at his eyes. “I’m not doing this for Sidonia.”

You who poison Celis. You who wiped her memories. You who destroyed her childhood. You who set her so wrong. You who betrayed Sidonia, who betrayed his sister, who betrayed me. You who see the world by which insignia they bear.

“You used to be kind, Rickard.” Alisson muttered to himself. “You loved humans, you would spare them, you would make friends with them. Just what happened to you?”

Rickard only smiled, and didn’t respond. Alisson by converse only frowned deeper.

All that time he spent by my side, with that tender smile of careness for others…He would still come back to his home, only to stare blankly at his own sister, uncaring.

Alisson felt he was missing something, some bigger picture again, some sort of motivation that Rickard followed.

Alisson took a deep breath. But would learning any sort of reason for the things Rickard had done to Celis really make up for it? Alisson set his sights on Rickard. No, it wouldn’t.

Alisson’s verdict decided, he steeled himself to pass judgement.

His and Celis’s Opensen activated, and Alisson Bacilla revealed themselves as they both suddenly blurred forwards. In the blink of an eye, Rickard had done the same, ears appeared atop his head and from two spinning tails now spewed white tendrils, wafting blue. Before they reached each other, the both of them fired their Bacilla. Alisson’s a red wave of dozens of thin beams, glowing like the sun, and Rickard’s a blue rain, like a luminous stream of ice.

Rickard briefly smirked, before he threw a hand down, and a wave of smoke erupted from something he’d thrown, limiting visibility to almost nothing. Just before Alisson lost sight of him, he could see Rickard’s eyes simmering, exactly like Rei’s eyes did. Fortunately, him and Celis had a far more powerful sensory spell.

As the two waves of Bacilla-expelled energy crashed upon each other, they detonated in a rumbling thunder that almost shook Alisson off his feet. However from the explosions’ respite, emerged clearly Rickard, smiling as he closed in with inhuman speed, his net of Bacilla prepared to strike. Alisson saw this clearly however, thanks to Eufrozina’s magic needle spell. Celis, her eyes still glazed over and with that shimmer of yellow in them, broke off from Alisson, as if she was a vector of his being. Alisson stood his ground, and rose Enhérejär. Then, Rickard collided with him. Alisson halted his swords with his own, but his Bacilla were a different story. Each one of Rickard’s Bacilla entangled one of Alisson’s wrestling with them, and clearly at an immediate advantage. Him and Rickard locked blades for a moment as the both of them focused on trying win the battle of the Bacilla, but Alisson’s hadn’t been expecting such an attack, and had hardly any experience or power in control, and he was losing badly.

“This is how a real Nekomata fight!”

Rickard spat with a smile as he disengaged and swung at Alisson. Alisson made a decision then and there. There was no further advantage in his Bacilla if Rickard could clearly win the supremacy of them with his greater skill. Alisson weaved around Rickard’s lightning-fast swing, but instead of counterattacking Rickard directly, he swung Enhérejär up as it split and shone with a red burn. Rickard realized what Alisson was doing too late, and Alisson’s blade came, severing both Rickard’s Bacilla, and his own in the process, because they were so intertangled. Rickard and him both winced and jumped back, both of their Bacillas retreating away and disapearing. However, Rickard didn’t get the relapse that he thought he would, when Celis suddenly emerged from the smokescreen behind him, appearing first as only a blue glow from her magic needles, before slicing down at him with both her blades. She landed her hit cleanly, but Rickard’s armor took the brunt of the damage, whatever he was wearing under his cloak. Rickard turned before Celis could redouble, blocked her follow up with a sword and then delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to her side, sending her body flying away. She managed to stop herself from tumbling across the ground, and immediately rose her blades at Rickard, as they began to glow with yellow. Alisson in the instance did the same.

Rickard didn’t know about the bulge that Alisson carried. The black cylinder that endowed upon them infinite mana. If Rickard had no way of defending himself, he was already dead. Alisson and Celis, from different angles, unleashed a pent-up barrage at Rickard, one with such force that blew away the surrounding smoke and cleared the area as it flew and crashed against Rickard.

The dust cleared and Rickard sat still, frowning. His cloak had burned away, obviously Sidonian armor. It was bruised with years of fighting, and had been painted over with different insignias than that of Sidonia.

“Such a waste…”

Rickard retorted, clenching something in his left hand. His body seemed to glimmer, as if some sort of thin film covered him. “No matter, if all you can do is spew spells, you have lost this fight.” He smirked. “I have conquered the H.O system. I will become a god – The both of you have been nothing but Sidonia’s puppets by contrary.”

Alisson frowned.

What a child he was. He didn’t know true terror. He didn’t know true power. Eufrozina would laugh at him. He was a child playing with swords that were far too big for him. Alisson unlatched his backpack, and it dropped heavily to the floor. If magic did nothing to him, then so be it. Rickard’s eyes widened upon seeing what Alisson had so casually dropped out from under his cloak. The glint of greed was visible in those eyes. “That’s…”

Alisson blurred forward, his reduction in weight near doubling his speed. Rickard rose his blades. “I always won our spars, Alis. Do you think this will be any different?”

Because then, you were alone.

Alisson swung, and Rickard evaded. As Rickard turned to bring his blades down at him, Celis crashed into Rickard from the smoke, throwing a flurry of slices. She cut Rickard almost a dozen times before he bobbed and slammed and elbow in her, before slicing at her with a sword as she stumbled away, a slice that tore easily through Celis’s minimal protection, tearing through the metal wire of Lavjoure. Not before however, she left a blade embedded in Rickard’s armor. Alisson pierced Rickard with a quick thrust of a red-hot Enhérejär, one that tore through Rickard’s skin as he pulled back, Enhérejär fanning out into the shape of a flower inside of him. He Alisson then evaded away, and as soon as he was a safe distance, that blue glow around Celis’s embedded blade intensified, and Rickard’s eyes widened in realization as he was engulfed in a point blank explosion.

Thanks to whatever film he had, only the portion of the explosion that was expelled from the tip of the blade, embedded in Rickard’s skin, did damage, but that was till enough to tear out a sizeable chunk of his flesh.

Alisson had long exhausted all his magic knives in Freigat, but he still had some that were unimbued. He threw one directly at Rickard’s head as he stumbled back in pain. Rickard just barely managed to raise and open hand at Alisson’s knife, which gouged into his palm cleanly.

He winced, cringing in pain, trying desperately to not show any signs of weakness or to scream out.

Worrying about pride…You are still Sidonian.

“This is…nothing!”

Rickard stumbled back to a knee. Placing a hand on himself with a blue glow. Celis was healing herself at the dropped black cylinder, using dozens of healing spells a second. Rickard leapt to his feet, his wounds apparently already healed, and once again rose his blades at Alisson. “Just you wait…”

Rickard was clearly confident that he could win a battle of bladework with either Alisson or Celis, but the both of them? His next move was not surprising. His four companions rushed forward out of the smoke at his back, all at Celis. He intended to use his men to buy time so that could beat Alisson one on one.

The four Nekomata traitors; All of them had their Opensens activated, and Alisson could see for himself that these were no phantoms, these were people, real, live, breathing individuals, who were at Rickard’s defense; how Alisson pitied them.

Rickard surged for Alisson, leaving Celis alone against four aggressors, but Alisson wasn’t worried. He prepared himself as Rickard swung at him with lightening speed. The next half minute was one where not a single wound was sustained by either parties. Thrusts and swings were thrown, but none were ever caught. Alisson and Rickard both evaded around each other’s strikes, both parried and riposted, disengaged each other, not one opening was given. The brief clash would’ve seemed more akin to a blur of yellow and blue revolving around each other.

All the while in those thirty seconds, half of Rickard’s companions had fallen to Celis. She no longer had those lifeless eyes, and fought on her own accord, sustaining no wounds. It’s not to say that the four traitors weren’t good fighters, but that Celis was so erratic, so fast, and always used a different tactic for every strike. One second she’d be using her stilettos, the next her baselards, and throwing them, having them detonate in plumes of smoke, and occasionally throwing in a burst of spells that either pierced the enemy cleanly or were deflected by magic shields of their own, to then ram her estoc through a man barbarically with both hands.

Alisson attempted to use his teleport spell, but Rickard, seeing the bright flashing light, knew Alisson’s trick, and was able to turn round and slice down at Alisson as he materialized behind Rickard. Instead of recoiling pain, Alisson opted to return the favor. As two swords tore into Alisson’s left shoulder, Enhérejär pierced cleanly Rickard’s abdomen.

Alisson could suddenly no longer feel his left arm, and winced in pain, gritting his teeth. Blood suddenly started to fall from Rickard’s mouth as he flashed a look of anger at Alisson. Rickard then suddenly pushed Alisson aside, and stumbled forward, reaching out. He fell into the ground, but at the tips of fingers, he touched the black cylinder that Alisson had previously dropped without a care.

Alisson’s eyes widened in realization. Rickard bore simply a terrible smirk of greed. With that glint in his deep blue eyes…he seemed more like a human than a Nekomata.

Alisson was still hazy on his feet from having been cut through his clavicle, and so stood on wobbly feet for a moment. Celis blurred into vision, already swinging a baselard at Rickard. To see a sibling attack a sibling so easily…just how far had Rickard fallen, to be considered an enemy with such immediacy? Whatever fear Celis had, she had killed with her hands. Celis was halted however when one of the companions of Rickard blocked her strike, having been hot on her tail and having rushed to his leader’s aid.

Alisson finally snapped out of his haze of pain, and shot forward, impaling the Nekomata through throat. But in that time, Rickard had managed to get his hands around the black cylinder, and slipped out from under both him and Celis with a crazed smile. He was healing himself as he backed away, waving a hand at both Celis and Alisson, each of his fingers loaded with magic.

“It’s over.”

His eyes were crazed and wide. Alisson and Celis simply sat prepared, staring him down with blank expressions. Alisson knew what was coming, and started to prepare the last of his mana, while Celis healed Alisson with the last of her own.

“I’m giving you one last chance: Surrender!”

After a moment with Alisson and Celis not replying whatsoever, his smiled faded slightly as a barrage of magic leapt from his fingers. It never ended. A multicolored cocktail of death streamed at them. He lifted Enhérejär up, and prepared to dance as Celis knelt behind him, unable to do much in this circumstance. With a thrust and flick of Alisson’s sword arm, the stream of mana was caught by him.

Alisson twirled, and with him, the stream of rainbow of mana followed, until it curved around him and back at Rickard. Rickard smirked in response, and, still firing spells out of one hand dropped the cylinder with the other, and placed a boot on it.

As the stream of mana flew toward him, he spoke calmly.

“Ever since I saw you use Enhérejär, I knew that mana redirection was something I needed to have…”

He rose his offhand, and a circle of magic appeared in his palm. In the same way Alisson had done, Rickard motioned with his hand, and the mana stream curled and shot back toward Alisson; only to be once more caught by Alisson, along with the newly deposited spells into the stream, to then be curled and shot back at Rickard. A true worm of mana, two feet in diameter, now snaked around Alisson and Rickard as they urged it on at each other.

“The difference between this spell and Enhérejär…Is that it won’t run out of power…”

Rickard smirked malignantly.

Alisson’s mind raced. A spell, that could redirect mana? Rickard must’ve created it, or at least, someone much more magically gifted allied to him did. What did he mean by Enhérejär running out of power? Did he know something Alisson didn’t?

Alisson racked his brains for everything he knew about magic and Enhérejär.

As Eufrozina had said, Enhérejär used Alisson as a conduit for mana. So, it should have infinite mana, then. However…She talked on numerous occasions about how mana was either greater or lesser in amount at certain times and places…so perhaps the amount of mana an area had was definite. In that case, where did that black cylinder draw mana from? If not the world? And if Enhérejär drew mana from the world, then by extension shouldn’t Rickard’s own redirection spell still draw mana from the world?

Alisson frowned. He knew nothing about that cylinder. But he could formulate no reason for why it wouldn’t also draw mana from the world, just like everything else. Rickard was bluffing. There were three massive draws of mana in the immediate vicinity; a truly massive amount of attack spells from Rickard, which kept on increasing, and the fact that both Alisson and Rickard were redirecting that mana over and over again, which is probably extremely mana intensive. Perhaps only under these circumstances, where more than an army’s worth of mages mana is used every second in but a small area, is where mana would run dry.

So, no one was at an advantage. Whenever the mana ran out, neither of them would be able to redirect the stream, and it would kill all of them. At least, theoretically. Whatever preventing Rickard from being hurt by spells may not require mana…maybe that was his plan.

Alisson’s mind raced for any way to survive this situation. Start redirecting the magic away, into the sky, and not at Rickard? No, Rickard was still the one firing mana, he would still land the shots on Alisson once the mana supply was drained. Alisson cringed, sweat forming on his forehead. Rickard must have some sort of plan, this sort of suicide would be out of the question…

As Alisson thought, Celis shot him something telepathically.

Alisson…there’s a Darkwalker…on the keep.

He didn’t believe her at first, but he stole a glance mid turn, still reflecting spells, over at the keep, and sure enough, a tall black figure was atop it, staring them down.

A Darkwalker, here!?

There wasn’t a hive on this island. There was no reason for them to-

The next time Alisson looked at Rickard, he spotted a tall dark figure looming but a hundred meters behind Rickard. Alisson didn’t know how it happened, but in the next few seconds, they were all over the island. Not a foot of land was unoccupied by one of them. There were hundreds, and each and every single one of them, was staring directly at Alisson and Rickard. If one were to look at Regfurtz from above, they would see only black.

Alisson was sent frozen stiff for a moment, and the world seemed to halt. Only then did Alisson realize why the Darkwalker had shown themselves. Enhérejär’s redirection, no longer functioned, or Rickard’s, for that matter. There was no mana left in the area.

Spells were sent flying in every direction; the once carefully directed worm split into a thousand pieces, all going their own separate ways. Alisson didn’t pay attention to that however. The sight of so many beings, so suddenly appearing, and of all beings they were Darkwalkers, those invulnerable inexplainable entities - Alisson’s heart started to race as a panic over took him. Was this some sort of punishment? That these Darkwalkers were some sort of order of judges, prepared to punish all mortals who dared toy with mana in such a fashion?

Alisson realized that he couldn’t hear anything. His senses had been stripped from him. Alisson remembered the annoying hums of the Darkwalkers he’d ran into prior, and thought that perhaps with so many here, his ears had in fact imploded.

Alisson had a choice to make. One that he only had an instant to ponder. There was only one correct answer.

He dropped Enhérejär, turned, and tackled Celis to the ground. He yelled as loud as he could but a single word, but he doubted that she could hear him. He squeezed her body tightly, preparing for the onslaught of spells to crash into his body, to rip him apart. He tightened his eyes, only to find that a hint of moisture was accumulating on them, but he doubted that he’d live long enough to see it manifest itself into tears.

…

…

…

The world was silent. Alisson wondered if he was already dead, but one sensation told him that he was still alive. He could feel Celis’s breath over his face, the rise of her chest, the beat of her heart, the softness of her lips over his own.

He opened his eyes, and sure enough, the two of them were still intact. The immediate area around them however, was unrecognizable. The barrage of spells had made the area a wasteland. Smoke and fire rose, and not a hint of the once verdant green forest remained in the vicinity. All but a single sliver where he and Celis lay. The answer why was immediately apparent. A single Darkwalker, the only one now visible, stood before him and Celis, facing Rickard with an outstretched arm. It’s posture clearly marked its intent: It had protected him and Celis. Rickard’s remaining subordinate had been vaporized by mana, and only blood remained of them as but a stain by Rickard’s feet.

But perhaps, they had the better fate than Rickard himself. Rickard was on his knees, staring up into the sky, blood was flowing from his eyes, his ears, every orifice in his body, as he screamed aloud. Still, Alisson couldn’t hear a thing, but Rickard’s expression indicated that it was not just some bleeding that was paining him. There was something about his eyes, his expression, about the way he clawed at his face and ripped his own skin from his body, that said that what he saw was worse than death.

The Darkwalker before him and Celis turned, and stared at Alisson. Alisson could make out something familiar in its eyes. It extended one of its large fingers onto Alisson’s forehead. Its finger passed through his head, but with the contact, Alisson was frozen, as a barrage of visions assaulted him. He only had a few seconds to make out each of them.

He saw what could only be described as hell. A burning hellscape, where people melted, carried out by the streaks in the sky. Where cities were vaporized in the blink of an eye and where entire scapes of nature were wiped clean from the surface of the land by waves of fire.

He could then hear wailing coming from under the earth, their voices, although muffled by the soil, begging to be set free.

What he saw next was what could only be described as war. The land had no nature upon it, it only bore but trenches, corpses, and horrific mechanical abominations. Wings similar to the one he’d seen in the Deadzone flew overhead, dropping their streaks of death. In one of the trenches, he saw a small group of soldiers, with large coats and wooden sticks similar to the imbued weapon he’d stolen in Pūshkinskaya. They were preparing to breach a massive metal door that led underground. One of them, as they cut their hand forward, ordering the operation to begin, Alisson swear he saw bear a familiar white hair and blue eyes. There was one of the soldiers that weren’t paying attention however, as if completely aloof from his commander’s orders, and instead, stared directly at Alisson. Alisson felt some sort of piece of himself in that man, but couldn’t lay his mind on it.

The next sight he saw, was of himself. He saw himself smiling, his hand extended over his current view. They were in Nuam keep, in the halls, and the orange sun shot its rays through the windows as he found himself looking up at himself. The vision dragged, and Alisson had the time to realize that he was seeing himself from Celis’s perspective, on the eighth day that he had met her.

He then suddenly saw himself as a drawing, while he was sleeping, as he was stepping in front of his view with Enhérejär in hand; a constant barrage of images flew by his eyes. Some he immediately recognized, and others, he had forgotten.

Those visages of himself from Celis’s view were heartwarming, to see how she viewed him. The next set of visions however were from a far more devious source.

He saw himself walking down a dark, dilapidated corridor, and whatever was watching him closed in further and further, almost breathing down his neck.

Then, he saw himself tackling Celis to the ground, what he’d done not moments before; except this time, he saw the world in only shades of blue and red. Only Rickard and the mana he had fired were illuminated, Alisson’s body was a dark, hard to make out blue, indistinguishable from the ground around him. He saw no traces of Celis, apparently being hid under his own aura of lifelessness.

Now, looking through the eyes of the Darkwalker, he saw his and Celis’s faces frozen dumbly.

Alisson blinked, and suddenly, he was himself again. He heard the wind blow over him, the sway of the waves washing on the coast, and the screams of Rickard before him. The Darkwalker turned, and vanished in the next instant.

Him and Celis were in a brief silence, blankly staring forward, digesting the sights that the Darkwalker had shown them. A single Roamer stopped Alisson from thinking too hard however, when it paced into the vicinity, walking slowly toward them.

Alisson squinted at it. There weren’t supposed to be any beasts here. The Roamer’s behavior was esoteric, it ignored him and Celis, and went for the screaming Rickard. It was obvious what it was going to do. Alisson had a good bet that the Roamer suddenly appearing here was the Darkwalker’s doing. Perhaps they didn’t like getting their own hands dirty.

“Alisson…shouldn’t we capture him?”

Celis asked tepidly, staring at her brother, wailing away at some phantom horrors in his mind, turning and rolling around across the ground, gouging at his skin and his eyes. Alisson stared at Rickard dully. Thinking silently for a long moment.

Alisson wanted answers. He wanted an explanation, about everything. Rickard, in his current state, would obviously not be able to provide that even he wanted to. If he came back to sanity, Alisson doubted that Rickard would squawk. Rickard was an unknown regarding his prowess; he may just escape easily if Alisson tried to capture him and bring him back to the homeland. But what would Sidonia do with a stuttering mess? She’d silence the loose end, the outside heretic, and then she’d silence Celis and Alisson, for fear of them being tainted by his words.

Then there was Rickard’s ‘organization’. Whatever faction he belonged to. Whoever they were, if Rickard was their leader, they were no benevolent force in this world. It was better to deprive them of their leader than to let Rickard crawl back to them, and to point in his and Celis’s direction for assassins.

The only thing that Alisson wanted to save Rickard for in that moment, was to satiate his desire to know the truth. Alisson sighed. Admittingly, a scumbag like Rickard was better off dead anyway, like he was supposed to be.

“…The lady doesn’t need to know about this.”

Alisson waved his hand, turning his head away as the Roamer barred its jaws at Rickard.

“But he’s…” Celis started, but her voce drifted off as her eyes dulled.

A horrible person. Alisson thought. That’s what he was. A terrible brother and a terrible partner.

Rickard’s guttural cries only worsened as a horrific tear and crunch could be heard. His armor, flesh, and bones, were crushed under the beast’s jaws, and entrails started to spill from his open wounds. He struggled, but evidently he couldn’t see properly, not knowing where anything was, and perhaps still delirious.

“Come on…” Alisson stood. “My ears are going numb.”

…

With the introduction of a foreign threat, Rickard’s traitors, Alisson opted to retreat once more to the Keep for protection. Atop its roof, high in the sky, sat him and Celis. The sun was about to rise upon a clouded, chilly, and overall boring day.

With the sailors having been killed, they had to rely on their allies. It was just a waiting game now.

In the meantime, Celis and him had spoken of Rickard, of the visions that the Darkwalker had shown them. They’d each seen themselves from each other’s perspectives briefly, as well as some unidentifiable imagery that Alisson had no idea what to make of. It was all in all just a knot in their minds.

Rickard had been alive, a traitor, all this time. He was dead now, confirmed by Alisson.

Clearly there was some group of Nekomata turncoats. Alisson never thought it would be possible, but somehow, they existed, and they were out there, lurking somewhere in the world.

But what was far more unexplainable, was the sudden appearance of Darkwalkers, and so many of them at that. They chose to, or at least one did, to shield Alisson and Celis from the magic barrage. They appeared only after the area had been drained of mana. Why was that? How come they had broken Rickard’s mind and fed him to a beast? Was it some sort of punishment for breaking an unspoken rule of the world? The entire experience was bizarre, but after the fact, and having been through so many other similar experiences, Alisson wasn’t too surprised, just puzzled and curious.

Alisson shook his head. He was just glad Celis was safe. He was ready to die then, when he tackled her to the ground, but now, he realized he may of saved her in a different way. That final vision that the Darkwalker had shown them, of the world in shades of blue and red, it was eerily similar to the experience Alisson had had in Eigert-5 with Rei. That empty building, where he ‘died’, to conceal his life, to become no different from a stone, he had done so unconsciously whilst accepting his death as he had tackled Celis. Doing so may have been the only reason that him and Celis were alive.

Despite Celis being by his side, he somehow felt empty in those moments, staring out across the sea. How he wished that no ship arrived, and that him and Celis would have a convenient excuse to be isolated away on an island, away from any wars and any questionable allies.

He voiced this thought to Celis, but she only smiled gingerly in response, saying, “What will you do once you get back to the homeland? About Sidonia, I mean.”

Alisson stared off for a long moment. “…Conflict is inevitable.”

Celis nodded slowly. “And, what will you do about it?”

“…Whatever needs to be done to keep you safe.”

Celis exhaled heavily. “Whatever doesn’t involve you dying, Alisson. Living without you is the same as death for me.”

This made Alisson crack a small smile, thankful for the sentiment. “…Then I believe I will have to orchestrate something much larger going forward.”

Alisson stared into the rising sun with a stone face. The expression made Celis so uncomfortable that she tepidly asked, “Alisson?”

“The both of us will be fighting not only a war against the humans…”

Was all he needed to say.

Celis stared at him for a long minute, her expression darkening. Until suddenly, she extended her hand with a smile toward Alisson.

“What’s this for?” Alisson asked, staring at Celis’s extended hand.

“Partners. Since you’re old one has finally passed. You’re going to need one, if you’re to stand up to Sidonia.”

Alisson smiled, and grabbed onto her hand. “You went from but a lowly apprentice, to my back up, and now to my partner…You will outshine me yet.”

Alisson blushed and looked away for a moment, adding, “Although we’re far more than just partners…”

Celis leaned in with an equally red face, and said quietly, “Mates, then.”

Her lecherous smile made Alisson shiver.

“It’s going to be us against the world, Alisson.” Celis remarked.

“We’ve been through worse.” Alisson shrugged with a smug smirk.

They both fell silent, Celis remained clinging near to Alisson, watching the sun rise with him.

Against the orange rising sun, a black dot appeared, bobbing up and down on the sea. They couldn’t make out its allegiance, so for a few moments, him and Celis watched.

“You were able to fight your brother.” Alisson said suddenly, the thought popping his mind with Celis once again grabbing him. “You were shaking and holding me but all your fear disappeared…why was that?”

Celis stared at Alisson with an aloof expression. “Because you ordered…it?”

Her voice suddenly trailed as she realized what she was saying. She then looked away, contemplating. “I…I don’t know…Just suddenly my mind was blank and I moved on my own…there was some sort of weird feeling in my head…”

Alisson frowned. His eye suddenly twitching. “I see.” He looked away back toward the sea. “Why must I have been endowed with such a curse?”

Celis tilted her head in confusion, and Alisson continued, “That’s how I felt when Sidonia took over my mind. Now I know why it felt like you were vector of my being – Because for a brief moment in that fight…you were.”

Celis smiled. “Well, I’d rather be yours than Sidonia’s.”

Alisson smiled to himself. Celis always knew what to say to temper him.

However, it seemed evident that, in some way, Alisson possessed the same power that did Sidonia use to control him.

As the two of them sat in silence, the ship came closer and closer to them. Eventually, if it wasn’t already made evident by its design, it bore high above its foresail, a Sidonian flag. The ship was certainly not normal, it was like no other Sidonian ship Alisson had seen before it. Along its sides were dozens of trapdoors.

“We’re…we’re going home.” Celis smiled, pulling Alisson’s arm tighter.

Alisson smiled in par, and stood, facing down the ship from the top of the keep. For the first time in almost half a year, he rose a hand toward the sky, and fired a Parlama spell. The bright blue beacon soared into the sky. A moment later, an identical blue flare was sent into the sky from the deck of the far-off ship.

Alisson couldn’t help but smile.

Him and Celis made their way down the keep, and through the forest, and then finally to the shore. The both of them held hands as the rowboat sent by the ship inched toward the coastline.

Their mission, had finally come to an end.

***