A/N: In case you didn’t know, Thalia is the name of the comedy mask in theatre. This specific version takes a lot of inspiration from Hiruko Kagetane.

            Within the bright coffin, Aren saw a few well-defined objects.

            Among them, what caught his eye was a suit. It was just that – a piece of pure black formalwear, with a silver and white undercoat below that. It was incredibly simple in its design, and it extended down into a long coattail. He lifted it up, further examining what looked like a flimsy piece of cloth.

            The collar folded inward, hiding a pure black hood. He decided that it was better than nothing, and unbuttoned it, pulling his arms through the sleeves and pulling it over to button. Much to his surprise, the buttons went through the loops with no input from himself, as if by magic. Aren’s eyes widened in surprise, but he just sighed. [Nothing can surprise me anymore.] He grumbled in the back of his mind, eyes half-closed. The hood went up to the top of his forehead, and suddenly he felt a great surge of power coursing through his veins.

            As if. When the hood topped Aren’s head, it shimmered as though producing its own light on the black surface. The coattail extended downward, splitting to two points at the end near his feet. Otherwise, nothing happened.

            “Nn? There’s more.” Aren looked over the open sarcophagus, seeing a couple more things.

            What he decided to look at first was the weapon, or rather, the hilt of a weapon. It was made from pure white silver, and on first glance, it was just a small stick. However, when he picked it up, he felt it expand in his hand. Within just moments, it had become a greatly comfortable fit, and it continued to grow. The top grew a symmetrical crossguard that curved up at either end. Within the center of the crossguard, a pristinely cut, transparent gem made itself visible. Aren felt a sharp pain in his finger, more tightly gripping the silver to disperse it. This horrible logic, however, only succeeded after the small blade that protruded from the hilt disappeared. The freshly drawn blood flowed in uneven paths down the body of the hilt, ending at the jewel. The trails of blood showed mild luminescence that the silver reflected back ten-fold. The blood covered the crystal, leaving it entirely invisible to Aren. When the blood disappeared, the crystal had changed color. It was the same crimson color that his blood had.

            Aren brought the hilt closer to his face, curiously inspecting every facet of the gem. He tilted it to the side, turned it, pressed the crystal, and jumped back, dropping the hilt as a bright red light came from the hilt. The light came from a bright red fire that shot from the end.

            This red was not the red of fire. It was a darker, more sanguine color, that of blood. The flames curled and twisted, but they ended two feet from the hilt. However, just moments after he dropped this, the flames withered, disappearing.

            “The hell? How am I supposed to cut something with fire?” Aren mumbled to himself, both intrigued and irritated. He picked up the now dead sword once more, finding a pocket on the side of his new coat for it.

            “Is that all? And here I thought that this was actually something worth fighting for.” Aren grumbled to himself, mildly annoyed that he was dragged down here for nothing.

            He leaned over the casket, and saw just one last thing. It was a bright white, elliptical shape. Stretching his arm, he grabbed it, and felt the odd smoothness of it, as if it held no friction. He pulled it out of the casket, inspecting it.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

            It was a simple mask. It had three crescent shapes cut into it – two small ones were next to each other on the top, and one larger one was cut into the bottom.

            “A… mask?” He muttered, turning it around. As he placed it on his head, he felt it connect to the coat. “Interesting.” He muttered, surprised to find his voice to have changed completely.

            After putting on the mask, his voice lowered an octave, and his speech came from his lungs rather than from his throat.

            “Interesting.” He remarked, pushing his hand against the side of the coffin and spinning on his heel.

            [So you did not forget about me. How unusual.] An all-too-familiar voice spoke, causing Aren to flinch. [Don’t worry, I won’t keep you long.]

            [I am one of two. The other is in the possession of that Gregorius character. My time has long passed. I leave these artifacts to you. In time, you will see why Greg dragged you down here.] (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6f-49cGWD2Y)

            “Elaborate?” Aren responded, narrowing his eyes.

            “…Elaborate?” Aren repeated, his eyes narrowing further.

            “… … …Elaborate?” He asked once more, his eyes practically closed. Eventually, he decided to just give up trying to force more answers out of this existence. Releasing his hand, he strolled away, the unusually simplistic mask retreating automatically with the hood into the back of the coat.

            “Done already?” Greg called out as Aren returned. “It’s time for Stage II.” He spoke, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

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            After an arduously long walk back, the two emerged from the wall into the empty hallway. They continued through the clean, decorated halls of the empty building that Aren could describe only as a castle.

            “Do you really live in this kind of a place alone?” Aren asked, bewildered.

            “Alone? Heh, what are you talking about?” Greg laughed, putting his hands behind his head. “You live here too.”

            Aren stopped, stunned by the sudden remark. “Is that really alright? I might be imposing on you or wasting your resources by doing such, if anything I should just take up work and find an inn, or-“Aren.” Greg interrupted Aren’s antisocial nervousness. “Shut the fuck up.”

            Aren’s hand went straight to his face, hitting himself on the forehead with his palm.

            “Anyway, it’ll be far more convenient to stay here, so that you don’t have to walk across the city half-dead after a particularly strenuous training session.” Greg grinned. “After all, we’ll be having a lot of those.”

Author’s Note

Been particularly busy lately again. Anyway, I decided I’d make time skips only when there would be an entire chapter dedicated to them, and decided that there was a bit of information overload if I were to include that in this. So, it is a bit underwhelming, but bear with it for now.

Sorry, and thank you!