Alta Bounty found the entire concept of a concert rather peculiar. There was a time in her life that she had found the prospect intriguing, and then a quaint diversion, but as she had aged, all she could see is the wasted excess at these sort of events. All the effort, the pomp, the lavish expenditures that changed nothing… in a way, it was similar to the pyre that Alta had made within herself to destroy a world.

It was a vast maw of fire that consumed much to create something brief and bright. Yet people’s reactions to the two parallel phenomena were completely different.

No one had cheered as Alta burned everything to ash. Even she was left bitter and full of regrets after the experience.

There were fully three performers that night. Alta admitted that each was more talented than the last, eventually culminating in a soulful performance that had the entire crowd swaying and bobbing like the people had been transformed into a living sea. There was a oneness that Alta couldn’t understand as everyone present listened to the music. They became a metaorganism balanced precariously on the rhythm of the song.

In that expanse, Alta was a stubborn rock. Perhaps some part of her acknowledged that she would be worn down eventually, but tonight was definitely not that night.

More than anything, the concert left her… confused. Her whole existence had become confusing since she had ‘died’ to become fertilizer for Randidly Ghosthound’s Soulskill. She had recently avoided facing that deep existential rift in herself by throwing herself into the work of being part of the pantheon in the Alpha Cosmos. But here, outside of that world and cut off from her intimate connection with the images and stories of the world… all Alta had was herself.

Seeing everyone connected made that hole insider herself slowly grow outward.

And she looked into that hole in her heart and found emptiness. It was hard even to muster up the emotion to care at how deteriorated her mental state had become. If Alta didn’t have a role in the pantheon… the emptiness inside of her would likely rise up and devour her fully. The flames of that same bitter hatred that had driven her to destroy her world had died out, but the charcoal left in their wake still tainted all of her being.

Standing entirely still, Alta’s neck pivoted back and forth, sweeping across the assembled people. Part of her was looking for an answer, but another part was deathly afraid that she would somehow destroy the surrounding unity just by existing. She didn’t deserve to be here, after all.

When did it all go so wrong?

“Are you alright?”

Alta’s visual sweep was pulled sharply to the left when a woman’s low voice spoke to her. She turned to find a young woman with amber eyes and dark hair standing next to her. The music continued to seeth around them, making Alta suddenly unsure whether the woman had spoken to her, or whether she had misheard by some weird coincidence of percussion.

But then the woman smiled encouragingly and offered Alta a hand. “Want to go for a walk?”

Rather numb, Alta gave the woman her hand. Compared to Alta’s rather clammy appendages, the woman’s hands were warm and dry. Quickly, the woman led Alta back to the far side of the ballroom and up the staircase to the second floor. It was like they traveled to another world. Although the music was still audible, it was muted enough to allow for casual conversation.

The woman let go of Alta’s hand and performed an elaborate curtsy. “So nice to meet you. I am Le. I saw you standing unaffected in the music… and somehow, I just knew that we needed to speak.”

“...I simply didn’t find the music to my taste,” Alta said awkwardly. She had been treated a lot of ways by a lot of people since she had attempted to destroy a world. But to have this woman be so immediately amicable… it seemed dishonest. Like it was only happening because the woman didn’t know who she was. “But it is also nice to meet you. I am Alta Bounty.”

“Alta Bounty…” There was clearly no recognition of that name in Le’s expression, but that only made Le’s eyes twinkle with additional interest. “Well met then, Alta. Can I ask you a personal question? Who are you to Randidly Ghosthound?”

The question was one that Alta had been thinking very deeply about over the past few hours. Her chest ached with imaginary burns as she tried to find the words to capture the rift in her soul. “I am… someone who attempted to destroy something very precious to Randidly.”

“Indeed?” Le gestured and led Alta forward. And as they approached the banister to look down across the lower area of the ballroom, the tide of the music receded before them. To the point that when they arrived and looked over the people standing below, the singer bowed and was rewarded with thunderous applause for her work.

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Le cracked her neck and then grinned at Alta. “From what I can tell, Randidly Ghosthound is the direct type. So after everyone’s mood is high from the concert… while the group over there continues to struggle to finish the first challenge…” Le gestured toward the central island where a score of people continued to sweat in silence. “Randidly will strike. He will crush those emotions with power. Such is the prerogative of the protagonist.”

“A protagonist, huh…” Weirdly, Alta felt strangely comforted to hear Randidly labeled as such. She hadn’t read any sort of fiction in quite some time, not since her family had been massacred on that fateful day, but she still remembered the well-trodden paths that stories took. The hero… and the villains.

So I’m just one of the villains that lost and began to follow the hero, huh… I wonder then… if someday… I can redeem myself…?

“And now its about time.” The lights were rising in the ballroom to signal the end of the performance. Stagehands hopped up and swiftly began disassembling the impromptu platform that had been used for the concert. Conversations slowly began to start once more as a swarm of service staff came out with additional flutes of champagne. “With this vantage point, I bet we will have the best-”

Le trailed off abruptly and blinked over Alta’s shoulder. Alta, still unsure how she felt about the strange impulse to redeem herself, let Le’s gaze guide her own. She twisted around.

Hurrying up the stairs with an easel under one arm and a canvas in the other was none other than the woman who had just rocked the room with her music. Her long, voluminous black hair trailed after her like a cascading river of ink and her forehead was still damp with sweat from exertion. For whatever reason, the woman was in quite a hurry, so as she rushed forward, it was only when she was a few meters away that she spotted the duo.

And because she had been making a beeline for their location, she skidded to a halt, somehow managing to make the whole routine look graceful even with murderously thin stilettos.

“Ah…” The woman said weakly. Then she blinked and smiled awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to bother you… I was just going to paint what… what might happen next…”

“Wonderful! I can certainly appreciate a woman with an eye for perspective. It’s definitely going to be centered around the platform with the challenges right? So this spot gives the best vantage in the ballroom.” Le stepped to the side and smiled warmly. “You are Reina, correct? It was a breathtaking performance. And you are welcome to join us for this protagonist viewing. I’m Le and this is Alta Bounty.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Reina said with a small smile. She immediately began setting up her easel and canvas and then produced several stools on which she placed palettes with various paints. Only when she had finished did the woman turn to Le. “You are… Le? From Zone 7? I’m really sorry about what you’ve been going through. Has it been… manageable?”

Le grimaced. “Fortunately, no one with any real ability to rise within the System cares that we are women. So the attempts have been… inept. But unfortunately, they’ve only been becoming bolder…”

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” Reina reached out and touched Le’s shoulder. Then she turned to Alta and asked. “Are you… also from Zone 7?”

“No, I’m…” Alta paused. She licked her lips before trying out a new perspective on herself. “I’m just a defeated villain that is redeeming herself by following Randidly-”

“Aha! I knew it!” Le positively beamed at Alta. “I suspected it to be so, but I’m so happy you confirmed it yourself! What kind of villain were you? How early in Randidly’s journey was it? Were you the sort of villain that Randidly himself created through carelessness?!?”

Alta smiled weakly and tried to decide how to respond. Raina chuckled and began professionally mixing her paints.

*****

Isabella Cortez was just about to be drawn into another deep discussion with Obyrn Myyr when she felt a light touch at her elbow. She twisted around and found the manufactured smile that Mrs. Hamilton only used when something important was about to happen. Instantly, Isabella adopted a similar expression.

“If you will excuse me,” Isabella said to Obyrn Myyr, who nodded solemnly and turned away to other matters. Then Isabella let Mrs. Hamilton guide her across the room toward the area where the stage was still being disassembled.

“Why are we going over here?” Isabella asked curiously as Mrs. Hamilton led them up off of the glowstone tiles and toward the efficient workers. At this point, the stage had almost entirely been taken to pieces and hauled off. So there was plenty of space, but still...

There was a part of her that wished Mrs. Hamilton would treat her more like an adult, but a more practical portion of Isabella was aware that Mrs. Hamilton was almost preternaturally disposed to sense the shifts in circumstances in any situation. It was that very Skill that she had leveraged to make Donnyton the political power that it now was, even after Randidly had cut his ties with them.

“I have a feeling that soon people will be driven off of the ballroom floor,” Mrs. Hamilton said quietly. She turned and calmly surveyed the area. “And we should get a good spot for what is going to come next.”

“And what comes next?” Isabella asked. But immediately after she had spoken those words, a strange silence began to spread across the ballroom. It was transferred one person to person, spinning them around and making them look toward the back of the ballroom. Because a figure appeared there, wrapped in sharp-edged grey armor and holding a huge lance with three undulating spearheads.

His hair was black and wild. His eyes were emerald. His feet were bare. He wore a heavy expression as he glanced around the room.

Randidly Ghosthound had come dressed for battle.