Chapter 30: Symphony from the New World

Overture

The Spirit of the World recorded.

When did their task begin?

They recalled.

From the great Music the world began, for It made the song of the Dragons visible, and they saw It as a light in the darkness.

And many of them fell in love with its beauty and its affair, which they saw beginning to unfold as in a vision.

The arcane secrets of the new world were guarded by the songs of revelations, which hid the truths of creation behind their lyrics.

But the roar of the Giant Dragon forsook the old oaths, the groans of the Earth could be heard as far as beyond the Heavens, foretelling the arrival of a new Era.

Six Gods, they brought hope to a race on the blink of destruction. In search of a sky they could never touch, of a star they could never reach. An immortal guardian as memento of their dreams.

The choruses of jubilation from the Court of Miracles stopped. Startled, the chanters of old legends discontinued their now unfinished hymns.

Eight Kings, their reign was the greed that is never full. Ambitions turned into hollow delusions. Desires leading to contentions.

The melody shattered. A sequence of notes without harmony all that remained of the Ancient Rhythm. Distorted sounds, struggling to leave a trace of their former voices.

Lost souls, they accepted change or cursed fate. Bent the weak to their wills. Embraced chivalric ideals they long thought forgotten.

One Prince, he made his choice. A final sacrifice for the only one who could be called friend.

The Spirit of the World watched, as it always has and always will.

When the seas will dry up and the lands desolate, they will be here.

When the stars will cease to shine and the sun to burn, they will be here.

Their chronicles were a never-ending library, where each volume scattered out in endless directions. Too much to be counted. Words never said, sentences never written. Their treasure is made up of silences and non-sayings.

They have witnessed life and death, love and hate.

Why do they keep writing, you may ask?

Because that is all they know.

Even if no one will ever read their stories, they are satisfied that way. And if someday a reader comes along, they will find a tale made just for them. Isn't that enough?

The Spirit of the World continues undaunted with their mission. They exist only to give a key to those lost in labyrinths with no path to escape.

The last story is no different from the others. This makes it so special.

A lonely princess trapped in a tower of memories. The blade has been her tutor and blood her lady-in-waiting. Only when the smile will be sincere, an old debt will be paid.

An orphan hiding behind his regal titles his loneliness, his regrets. A perversion born of a grudge that never subsided. Horrors of hell mistaken for enchanted gardens.

Their meeting foretold by prophets, oracles, and soothsayers.

Both prisoners of a cell without walls.

When the end is written, where will the gaze of the two be aimed?

The Spirit of the World observed.

Act 1: Adagio

"-your daughter has finally come home."

Decem heard those last words. The veil of smoke began to thin as the lifeless bodies of his guards swept away by the impact lay graceless on the floor. Such was the joy he felt at finally being reunited with his favorite that there was a willingness to forgive them for their incompetence.

"At last," his lips joined in a paternal smile. The bonds of family overcame every obstacle, no force in the world was able to separate those who were meant to be together. "Take off that helmet, so that I may set my eyes on my rightful heir."

The girl remained motionless. The happiness of being reunited with the one person who was worthy of loving her must have taken all her strength away. An emotion the King could understand, though he would never fall prey to such unnecessary sentimentalism.

But after all, he could not expect everyone to reach his perfection. A father's most important duty was to love his children unconditionally, despite their flaws.

Decem noticed that one of his servants had managed to save his life -roaches were hard to exterminate, what a wise truth- and was now crawling like the worm he was toward the exit of the room. "You," what a fool to think he could escape his King's orders. "Bring the best bottle of wine we have! So that this sacred event can be celebrated as it deserves!"

His daughter curved her head slightly in the direction of the useless elf who was running around like a desperate dog. Decem was genuinely sorry. That his heir had to sully her eyesight with the blood of such a nobody was not a spectacle befitting a princess of royal blood.

"So this is kind of the person you are," she murmured. Her head was now out in the open. Eyes that shone like precious gems of different colors looked at him with a fierce ardor that Decem had known far too many times not to recognize what it conveyed in an instant.

Love.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Certainly," he would have preferred to wait until their banquet had begun before initiating their moving reunion. But if a King cannot condone a lack of etiquette, a father can be much more forgiving. "Surely there must be many questions you have for me. But first, let me ask you something. Is it true that you succeeded in wiping out the troops I had sent against you?"

"…Yes."

A dry answer, still more than what he could have asked for. Those that had been reported to him weren't mere rumors, indeed.

"Tell me your name," she had earned the honor of being recognized by the one who stood above them all. If he had to count everyone who could boast the same privilege, the fingers of one hand would have been more than enough. "Let this be the day of your baptism. A new rebirth, in which you resume your rightful place at my side!"

"... Zesshi Zetsumei," she replied. Her voice was distant, hollow, with a bitter aftertaste. Perhaps she thought of being unworthy of his lineage?

"Zesshi Zetsumei," what a bizarre name, pronouncing it was difficult for his tongue. But the humans of the Theocracy certainly did not shine in their artistic sense. Those primitives unfortunately did not boast the aesthetic sensibility of a chosen one like him.

That his daughter had to live with the squalor of these filthy rats disturbed him deeply. He was a sentimental man, after all.

"I will have to find a worthy one for you," he tried to comfort her. "It will take some time, but I am sure you will be happy in the end to be able to proclaim the name your beloved parent has personally chosen for you. Rejoice, for today a new you will be born! One deserving of my love!"

The outside did not reflect the beauty of that moment. Battle cries and metal scourges mixed in a disgraceful tumult. Ruin of that heartfelt reunion.

"Don't you think it's time to put an end to this rebellion?" Zesshi asked, vexed. Like him, she too must have found that annoying noises irritating.

"Humpf, I have no time to waste on this nonsense, not now that I am finally reunited with you." Zesshi must have been moved by his ardor, for she could not avoid keeping her gaze fixed on him in delight. A natural reaction. "But you said you had a question to ask me. Go ahead!"

"My mother," his daughter started to peer into every part of him. How did she maintain that emotionless expression? Evidently, she was not only a skilled warrior but also an outstanding actress. Although such talents were certainly not suitable for those who carried royal blood. There was much work to be done in order to make Zesshi suitable for her rank. "What is your memory of her?"

What an unusual and, frankly, pointless question.

"What do you expect my memories of her to be? A stone that shines more than other stones still remains lusterless compared to the splendor of a jewel. A lucky one who repaid my kindness with ungratefulness!"

How strange. Decem noticed that his body had begun to tremble. An all too familiar homicidal instinct had made him momentarily lose control of himself. Suggestion. Or maybe remembering the woman of the Theocracy angered him so much that he affected himself with his fury.

"Do you even remember her name?" Now that he looked at her better, Decem realized from where that unpleasant feeling was coming. Zesshi. But why direct her wrath at him?

'Of course! Remembering the woman who separated us must be painful for her!"

After realizing that she was so attached to him, he experienced a new sensation, not entirely unpleasant, to be honest. Was that the so-called filial love?

"I don't remember," how could it have been otherwise? "But don't worry. I will see to it that her memory is erased from the whole world!"

Zesshi started to approach. No, she was already close to him. He had not even noticed the sound of her footsteps.

Seeing the girl before his eyes, Decem understood that his ambition was about to come true. Reunited together, father and daughter, they would lead the elves into a new golden age.

The die was cast, the time of his triumph was around the corner.

But why was she looking at him like that?

Was she angry that he left her alone for so long? Expecting him to come to her rescue many years before wouldn't be too irrational.

He would have to explain that this was all part of his grand plan for greatness. To have deprived her of his love was one small step on the path his genius had laid out for them.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a little pity for her. What daughter would have been happy to be separated from her father?

A ghostly breath caressed his neck. A melodious, womanly voice echoed in his mind. 'The clock strikes midnight. Your time has come!'

And then…

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Unforgivable!

Was that bumptious cretin her father?

The image of the bloodthirsty tyrant had now been replaced by a big child living in a fairy tale world.

There was no cruelty in his words. His was a purity that bordered on insanity. And that was what made him so horrifying!

The man from whom it had all begun. A pathetic existence that could not realize the result of his actions.

Antilene wanted to laugh. There was nothing funny about it, but that was the only reaction that came to her at that moment. That utter lack of compassion was completely understandable to him. In fact, commendable.

"Have you come to hug your father? I am not inclined in wasting time on such futilities," he awkwardly opened his arms, having probably never touched someone with affection. "But today I'm feeling generous, and I might make an exception."

Unbelievable!

Now that she looked better at the man, Antilene could not believe her ears. Had she been trapped in a dream? Or was it just reality that was meaningless?

The monster that lurked in every shadow, every crevice. Behind the walls of her room, under the beds on which she rested. Always there, ready to assault the scared child as soon as she let her guard down. The one who had given meaning to the word fear before even the first words were spoken.

And now he was so close. What was Antilene feeling?

Rage, for sure. The contempt Decem had for life was revolting beyond measure.

Sadness, certainly. For the faults of the parents fell on the children. And the sins she had to bear were too much for everyone.

Anxiety, so that was what it felt like. There was a first time for everything,

But there was also a disappointment that could not be held back. The fairy tale ogre of her childhood was just a demented man so careless that he could have had his heart pierced with ease.

Why not raise her hand to put an end to that now century-old grudge?

"Why did you do all this?" One last curiosity to satisfy. Once the answer was obtained, would she find the peace so much sought?

"What do you mean? Their stares met. Was this how her eyes appeared? Her face? Covered with a perverse patina that could not hide an infernal wickedness?

A mirror that reflected her foibles and vices, accentuating their dimensions and distorting their realities.

"I want to know why you were willing to… impregnate my mother. Why did you select her for your plans?"

Decem looked dumbfounded, with the same expression as a cat who cannot understand what his master wants from him.

"...Why? But it's simple," he replied, dumbfounded. "It was just an experiment. To see if it was possible to finally give birth to someone who came close to my power. And I must congratulate myself on my brilliance, as the results were excellent."

"...An experiment. I see."

It was liberating, in a way. No regrets would be felt for what she was preparing to do.

"That's right," her father was convinced that that answer was completely normal. His lack of self-awareness was honestly impressive. The result of his nature or his upbringing? If she had grown up with him, would she, too, have become so detached from reality?

"Don't worry. Even if the circumstances of your birth were not ordinary, that does not mean you are not worthy of my affection," the elf king continued to speak, as if he had been enamored with his own voice. "After you find out about your legacy, everything will be clear. Now come with me. We have a lot of time to catch up. I can only guess how many lies those priests told you."

He turned his back to her. He couldn't have been that stupid, right?

"Follow me," he began to move. A trap? Her senses perceived nothing. So easy. It couldn't be that easy. It wasn't supposed to be!

She put her helmet back on. The goal of a lifetime at hand.

A cloud of dust rose into the air, the muffled sound of the half-elf's footsteps mingled with the last squeals from outside.

Charon's Guidance had already covered the distance between them.

Decem turned quickly, as if alerted by the voice of the wind itself. His eyes widened in astonishment; his body moved in a superhuman dodge.

The central blade grazed his nose, causing a barely visible cut to stand out on his until-then-perfect face.

"Tch," Antilene bit her lips in frustration. But part of her was relieved. If the battle had ended at that very instant, she would not have felt the slightest satisfaction.

"...You... You," her father stroked the small wound in disbelief. Tiny drops of blood dripped onto the floor, so tiny as to become imperceptible to the human eye once they mixed with the dirt. "How dare you?"

Nevertheless, Decem was in a fury. If the elf king considered himself the greatest work of art in the world, what Antilene had done could have been comparable to ruining a precious painting with a splash of paint in his mind.

"Well done, you managed to dodge it." The half-elf was truly amazed that he had shown he could keep up with her speed. Exciting. A good adversary was always difficult to find. For that, Antilene was appreciative. She would finally give it her all in a battle that would resonate in the heroic songs proclaimed by the bards.

A daughter killing her hated father. A perfect tragedy!

"But don't think the next time will be so easy. I will take my time to let you taste all my resentment. I pray that you are prepared, for I have been since the moment I uttered my first wail."

"Is that a joke? Are you trying to humor me?" Drops of sweat bathed his forehead like dew on fresh grass in the morning.

"Never have I been more serious in my life."

Silence.

And then…

"I don't understand! I don't understand!" Decem's cries of fury showed that he was genuinely surprised. "What have I ever done to you to deserve your hatred? Isn't it natural for a daughter to love her father? Why? Why? Scum. You are only scum. All of you! If it weren't for me, if it weren't for my superior genes, you would just be maggots crawling for some sunshine. I gave you the chance to be the masters of the world, and you rejected it!"

His expletives were children of resentment born from frustration. The intensity they were reaching made the walls shake as a killer instinct spread like a pestilence through the air.

But Antilene did not find them frightening. On the contrary, resembling the tantrums of a man-child, they only reinforced the idea she had of her father.

So pathetic as to be ridiculous. The clown of an empty circus, performing silly shows incapable of eliciting a laugh.

"Stupid," he did not hear her. Still intent on his act, waiting for the expected applause that would never come from a nonexistent audience. "It's all so stupid."

Decem looked at his daughter like a hungry predator looking at its defenseless victim. Veins that were beginning to pop out of the muscles in his face.

"Ehehehe," a high-pitched laugh, rotten to the core. Sickening. "What am I supposed to do with you? Take it slow? It's time to let go of manners. Yes... Yes... I will make you suffer what I have suffered multiplied tenfold. Your cries of despair will be my consolation on this inauspicious day!"

Antilene got into position. Her right leg extended slightly forward, her scythe calculating the distance.

"Let me tell you the real reason I'm here," she could see his frown twitching. If that being could feel curiosity, it had now been completely replaced by deep anger. "I will take three things from you."

She raised three fingers, assuming he was unable to count. It wouldn't be too surprising.

"The first is your kingdom. Crescent Lake and the Forest of Evasha will be free from your rule starting today."

Goal almost achieved, judging by the calm that had supplanted the giant mess just now.

"The second is your pride. When I am done with you, your own shadow will be a source of irrational fear."

A sharp smile. If anything could have been called 'evil' in this godforsaken world, it would have been that. Was her face also painted with her father's perversion?

"The last ... is your life!"

And only then would she be free.

"Do you not understand what you have set yourself against? The power to change the wheel of reality is only of the elected. I find your lack of understanding irritating. Apparently, you have taken more from your mother than from me. What a pity..." He seemed truly sorry. Sorrow not befitting that superb personality. However, hearing him mention Faine inflamed Antilene's soul.

"But this, too, is fate. I understand now. A curse. My blessings have been counterbalanced by the inability to have children who can make me proud. My loneliness will never end..."

And so it would be for her, as well. Antilene thought back to her home, her whole story locked up in a city insignificant when compared to the outside world.

Happiness that would lose its value tomorrow, while yesterday's suffering was forgotten.

An existence like a comet. People watching her from below, following the journey into the starry sky in awe. Her trail remained in their lives, only to fade slowly to the point where they did not notice that it had disappeared. Then they carried on with their lives.

Antilene watched the sky, from the hole she had made in the ceiling.

The last wish had been made.

Now she could only hope that everything went according to plan.

"Revenge is the only way to settle the score with my fate. Today each of us will be just nothing. King, elf, human, or murderer. None of these empty titles matter anymore. Just two living beings trying to find meaning in their miserable lives. In the end, only one of us will find what he was looking for."

"Ridiculous! Do you think you can beat me? Do you actually think you are capable of comparing yourself to the sun that lights this planet?"

"Even the sun can be eclipsed."

"Mph," Decem continued to stand still. But a small tornado blew around him, while minerals and dust took a grotesque form. The guardian of the earth, the protector of nature had rushed to his master's aid. "Observe! One last gift before your death. This is Behemoth!"

The tiger was lured down the mountain.

Antilene was ready.

Act 2: O Fortuna

Sweet terror.

He could not see his daughter's face, but Decem had not the slightest doubt that this was the emotion that now pervaded that foolish girl.

How had she dared?

His affection had been rejected and trampled upon as if it were equal to the feelings of any dirty inferior being.

Pearls to swine.

Why did it always end like this?

Everyone around him had the rare opportunity to grow in the most fertile soil of all. Yet they preferred brambles and stones to his care.

Some form of masochism he could not understand? A genetic error that led to giving up reason for insanity.

Perhaps the mistake had been to think that their logical processes, though obviously not comparable to his, were at least somewhat similar.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Finished with that insolent girl, he would start over. The Elf King had always thought that elves were the chosen race. But clearly, that was not the case. And humans also showed no better result.

Then he would try with every other humanoid race until he could fulfill his vision.

"I will not finish this quickly. I will take my sweet time with you!"

Zesshi had turned away with a couple of backflips. If she thought this was enough to escape Behemoth's blows a harsh surprise was the only thing in store. Better that way. Seeing her clinging to a faint hope that would be methodically faded filled his heart with satisfaction.

Decem would make her pay dearly for betraying him. The anger he manifested on the outside had faded, but that was only because his entire being was seething with an unhealthy desire for revenge.

The King should have been above such foolishness more suitable for mortals, but this time he would gladly make an exception.

'What is she doing?'

His daughter had pointed that stupid stick at him, but nothing seemed to have changed.

No.

Something was different.

A figure wrapped in a cloak as black as peace. Skeletal fingers moved methodically, drawing a seal in the sky. Arcane symbols written in an unknown language; the meaning couldn't be grasped.

'Those are the same symbols my father used to write.'

Decem recognized them from his past memories, but couldn't grasp any meaning of it.

"[Denounce Heretics]!"

Where did that judicious voice come from? An infamous trick of the mind?

He was now near the cloaked man. Or was the hooded figure standing near him? An illusion? But it didn't look like that. Behemoth was still there, waiting for orders.

Decem waited. He could not make out the stranger's face. Tears broke out in cold sweat. The Elf King took a better look at him. Fiery burning eyes looked back, charged with devilry.

"[Sentence Heretics]!"

The skeletal hand approached his heart. The chilling touch caused a shiver of coldness. Now the facial features were visible. A sight so gruesome that the only natural reaction Decem could make was to attempt to scream in horror.

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"You have been judged!"

But no sound came from his mouth. His moans remained unheard in the vast void.

Sounds more akin to gnashing of teeth, aggrandizing words whose sound could be recognized but whose significance eluded conventional reasoning. Someone had broken a seal that bound an indescribable horror -too dreadful in its sheer ineffability- to hurl it at him.

He returned to normal. Nothing had changed. Just a silly trick.

'Laughable. It achieved nothing but wasting time.'

Sensing that she had failed in his purpose, the Elf King -still shaken by the experience- gave his beloved creature the order to attack.

Behemoth began his run, the ground trembling under the weight of his footsteps. His fist grazed Zesshi, who barely seemed to be able to keep up with the speed of his summoning.

Nothing strange about that. Challenging Decem was madness itself, so it was only predictable that the only strategy remaining was to escape like a frightened little lamb. The time of the hunt was officially begun.

Zesshi began to run into the throne room, Decem's gaze always fixed on her. She was so slow as to be pitiful. There was not going to be much fun that day.

"Are you afraid now? Why don't you show me the great skills that cleared an army? Or maybe they were just hoaxes of your own? Well, at least I found out that since the beginning you were not worthy to sit by my side."

From his daughter's weapon began to be emitted a violet miasma, the stench of it an affront to the nostrils of a divine ruler.

Five skeletal warriors armed with shields and spears made an oval formation around his opponent. Gears of a perfect machine, admirable in their sheer lameness. The raised defenses they had mounted were about to collapse like a shaky house of cards before Behemoth's immense might.

"Do you use the bloody undead? Don't you find that disgusting?"

Zesshi continued not to answer his questions. Seemingly, she was so paralyzed by fear that there was no way for her to be able to make meaningful sentences.

At that point, mercy was long over. Nothing would stop Decem from receiving satisfaction except defeating that bastard girl. Another failed experiment. And now it was his job to dispose of it.

No one could escape fate.

As was to be expected, his summoning easily overcame those fragile walls of bone. There was not even an impact. The remains did not have the dignity to make an imperceptible noise as they collapsed to the ground gracefully.

Behemoth closed his fists in a hammer of rock and iron. The violent mauling was halfway through when Zesshi had slid down between the space of its legs.

Small as she was, the narrow cove the monster had between its legs, given the spread-eagled position, proved perfect for escaping the impact.

Finding herself behind her enemy, his daughter twirled the blades of her weapon to try to penetrate Behemoth's defense.

To no avail.

If an ant tried to bite a lion would the latter feel pain? It is not that it would not suffer any damage, but it would be so insignificant that it could be ignored without fail.

Seeing that her blows were having no effect, Zesshi tilted her back so that she could turn her attention toward him.

'What are you going to do?'

Decem's question did not remain unanswered for long. That strange scythe she wielded was thrown toward him like an enormous boomerang.

The three blades began to spin on themselves, a devilish wheel cleaved the air and approached the elf ruler. The latter ducked with a lightning-fast movement, his legs folding as if bereft of bones.

Not before Decem had issued a new order to Behemoth.

'Kill!'

His mental command had been given. The creature struck Zesshi, who parried by raising her elbows to shoulder height, the forearms protecting her face. However, the difference in physical strength was overwhelming, and the girl found herself thrown in midair.

The damage, nevertheless, had not been considerable, as he saw her body twirl like a spring and land a few feet from him.

'Behemoth, don't let her catch her breath!'

It was galling that he had not yet managed to finish her off. Unlike primitive fools, a dignified ruler feels no joy in barbaric combat. The only entertainment is found in crushing the bugs that venture to stand in his path.

"Why don't you let me hear your screams of terror? Grant me this satisfaction as a parting gift. My little one..." A spearhead grazed his abdomen. Like a mosquito bite on the chest. "What?"

Surprise.

Behind him five more of those dirty undead. They had raised their spears against the royal majesty in unison and were preparing to strike him in full force. The attacks were pretty straightforward: a quick shuffling approached and then snapping cuts in the direction of the King's ribcage.

'How many of these can you invoke? Are you some kind of necromancer? That would explain how a whole army was wiped out. A miasma still comes out of that strange staff... I see. What a petty trick.'

Decem did not even bother to avoid their blows. The steel of the spears snapped off just as it came into contact with his muscles harder than any kind of metal.

Although he found it repugnant to have to raise his hands, the Elf King vented his fury at that affront on the skeletal warriors. His fists crumbled the calcium of their defenseless bodies, reducing them to inconsequential powder.

Once finished with that foolish distraction he returned his attention to his invocation. But where had his daughter gone?

'No...'

Right on his creature's head, the cursed one had landed. Behemoth had not escaped his orders. The hands had been raised...

'Stop...'

And the command had been given, but far too late. The monster had aimed its own body as the target of its attack, and by the time the fingers enclosed in lethal knuckles reached their destination of Zesshi, there was nothing left but a mirage.

The first noteworthy blow Behemoth had delivered was against itself. However, that was far from serious damage.

Taking advantage of that distraction, Zesshi had regained control of her weapon and was now only a few inches away from him.

Without moving a single muscle.

'Was she so rapid?' Decem thought, impressed by the shown feat.

Although he could not ascertain the look on her face, the girl's body was turned in a mocking posture, defenses completely lowered to invite him to take the first step.

When it left the pond and observed the vastness of the sea, the frog would realize the insignificance of its home. A lesson that would be taught in blood.

Decem charged his attack, a punch that had made a mockery with its simplicity of abstruse movements that only the weak make in an attempt to emulate absolute force.

He struck her face, not even that precious helmet could protect against the magnificence of his blow.

No reaction. Just an affirmation.

"Compared to Mother's, your fists lack fierceness."

Was he the frog?

No, just lies devoid of concreteness, of that the Elf King was sure. The absolute truth that was his strength could not be denied by anyone.

"Now, it's my turn!" And never had words sounded so daunting.

The scythe made a half-moon swing, friction from the ground was stolen while air resistance was ignored.

Zesshi made the impossible, possible. She breached that wall that Decem believed to be an insurmountable barrier.

His was a perfect body that had never known pain. The concept of physical discomfort completely foreign, a legend that was never known, therefore unreal.

The blade approached his chest and dread gripped his heart. An unfamiliar feeling crept into his mind. What would he have discovered if that blow had landed?

Once again Behemoth would not make it in time. For how long had Decem relied on the titan? Now it seemed that what he had always thought infallible was showing itself for what it really was.

Fallible.

"[Mercy of Shorea Robusta]!"

Tenth Tier. The dominion of those who have bent the forces that govern the phenomena of this world to their will.

The avatar of all creation, a mountain that knew no torment of mediocrity. It would stand imposing until the end of the ages.

He would never die. The Decem Hougan was invincible. The principles of nature were an open book for him!

The tip of the blade penetrated far into the depths of his being. What he had always considered reality was being engulfed by the insensitive verities of facts. His internal organs greeted their new companion writhing in misery.

A cry of distress sent the King's certainties reeling.

Behemoth had arrived. Why took him so long?

His daughter was struck in the side and swung like a bullet against the wall. The scythe left his guts, at such swift speed that Decem for a brief instant was seized with the belief that it will rip half of his soul away.

There was something odd about his body, but he could not figure out what it was. He had to stop the pain as soon as possible, or he would begin to go insane.

The healing light of his magic enveloped him like the warm embrace of a caring mother. He could not remember the last time he had had to invoke the help of Druidic incantations in order to bring himself relief, yet he sensed that there was something different than usual. More… demanding.

It didn't matter. His priority was to determine whether his daughter still breathed. She stood still in the spot where Behemoth had thrown her.

"Ahahahahahahahahah!"

A laugh that sounded like the unbearable squeal of a hungry hyena preening its catch. Zesshi got up again, and copious blood flowed from her visor.

"Were you hit so hard that the little sanity you preserved was lost?" He asked, failing to understand the hilarity of the situation. "But your madness was, from the beginning, to defy me. Behemoth at least will soon put you out of your misery."

Decem no longer cared about prolonging the fight. That unpleasant feeling would not leave him, but would remain at his side like a jealous lover until the moment when he would ascertain without any doubt the death of his daughter.

"I was just reflecting about something," she said, wiping her blood away and taking a scroll that was consumed after the use. "It's ironic that the only ones who managed to make me bleed were my parents, don't you think?"

"It's the parents' responsibility to discipline their children," a duty, the Elf King had to admit, remained unaccomplished. "Unfortunately, there will be no tomorrow for you to treasure these lessons."

He did not wait for a response, preferring to order his titan to extend its hands to whip Zesshi.

The girl caught a whiff of that new mode, and although she managed to avoid being hit outright, she still could not help but be struck in the left flank.

Decem savored that newly inflicted wound like the best of wines, but licked his lips only partially satisfied.

"[Transmutate plants to soil]!"

The plant-covered floor began to mutate. And Behemoth with it. His creature was now even bigger and stronger, and soon he would demonstrate all his power and why he was deemed invincible.

"King is he who is always one step ahead of everyone!"

And Decem was the King who had outstripped every other ruler.

Only he was at the top.

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The most worrisome problem in a battle was retaliation with added complications.

And complications continued to build up, one after another.

Why did she keep running?

Antilene followed an answer that could not be given.

Chasing a goal that was just that close, yet appeared so distant.

Behemoth, that was the name.

The titan of the earth, standing like The Great Wall between her and her father. Until it was there, no chance would present itself to grant her a way to follow.

Once again, the elemental's arms extended like iron whips. But they did not head to her exact location. Instead, above, to the roof.

A landslide of rocks and earth fell upon her. The corollary of the ceiling fell like an unstoppable avalanche. No way out except being swept away.

'[Three steps in Lightness - Decrescendo]!'

'The World is Music.

Chaos first… then order.'

Martial Arts. The magic of warriors.

What was magic, in reality?

Will that dominated matter. Miracles that changed the course of history. A possible answer to the questions of life.

Antilene listened. Not just with her ears, with her whole body. The path the World was looking forward to was showing before her eyes. Therefore, the road extended far and was endlessly long.

The flapping of birds' wings, the flowing of water, the dripping sweat, the body moving imperceptibly. She was at one with the enigmas of nature's unfolding beats.

She tuned into that rhythm, the warrior's spirit chanting an unfinished war song.

Massive debris coming down like raindrops, the sound of their descent a slow note of passion. Each sound was clear in her mind, heralding the right moment when she should perform.

She strained her hearing. The first motion was to move her body to the left, the feet moved with slight boldness, firm and steady to the ground.

Then she turned to the right, toes rising as her torso and legs began their pirouette.

Her scythe crumbled with a precise sweeping motion two rocks that were about to come crashing down on her.

Reaching the center, Antilene jumped with all her strength. Heading: the sky. But Behemoth was above her, straight into the below.

Charon's Guidance had failed once; it would fail again.

Was that the end of her journey?

No!

'I have not yet climbed to the summit. The vast heavens stretch out before my eyes.'

The World beat to a rhythm that few could hear. Made of silences that hid endless words, only those who would be willing to listen would have been able to truly understand them.

Would she?

Antilene stopped her ascent.

The titan's massive form and hers began to collide, drawn together by the unstoppable force that is gravity.

'[Earth Channeling - Crescendo], [Water Vestment - Crescendo]!'

'The World is Music.

What do I hear?'

The beats of her heart gave birth to a new melody. An ancient chant that sounded like a prayer. Ancestral odes that sought to reach a new Paradise.

Muscles hardening like adamantium. The notes of the world had arranged themselves into a new composition. The body clad in a magical veil that increased its fortitude.

Two roads opened before her.

Abandoning all hope and slumping toward a peaceful otherworld. Was that the right path?

Wrong! She would not let the word end be placed at that point in her story.

There remained, therefore, only one more road to take.

She waited until Behemoth was within a few inches of her and, when the moment was propitious, raised her hands to stop its fall.

They landed together, with her still holding the creature suspended in the air. The weight of the vault of heaven on the shoulders. Adrenaline increased her pulse rate. The girl's arms were bursting from the superhuman effort, but it did not matter.

"Crush her, Behemoth!"

Antilene heard her father rail against her. She ignored him.

Instead, summoned more Spartiate to aid her thanks to Charon's Guidance put on her back. When she was sure they had also placed their skeletal hands to help her with that thankless task, she broke away from that trial.

The titan crushed them in blink, enough time to let her come within range of her father again.

And what did the Great Decem Hougan do when he saw his daughter approaching with ruthless murderous intent?

"You must not let her approach; do you understand me, Behemoth?"

The sun that shines brighter than any other star in the sky began to run like a madman as he shouted at the top of his lungs to his summons to pursue her.

But there would be a time when even a star would meet the ending of its long life and stop glowing.

The grip on her scythe had never been so firm. Ripping through the invisible wall that separated them, Antilene drew an arc in the air that grazed her father's right leg.

It was enough.

The noise caused by Decem's downfall reaffirmed her conviction. A second blow would follow the first, and then one more.

"A few more millimeters and this fight is over!" She shouted, foretasting victory.

"Wrong! This is checkmate!"

The girl felt the terrain beneath her beginning to shift. Her balance was struggling to maintain itself. An ominous roar foretold the disaster that was coming.

Behemoth opened the gates of the underground. Mixed with the soil itself, it had overcome the long distance in a heartbeat and then taken solid form once again.

Antilene could not dodge it this time.

A mauling of diamonds swept over her like a running horse. Her rib cage experienced a new sensation of soreness that she had never before felt, as if someone had taken the weight of a building and compressed it to the limit, then released it entirely on her.

'[Heavy Recover]!'

But the half-elf held her position. Behemoth once again was one step away from her.

Antilene was not scared. The amount of pain she felt was nowhere near what had been inflicted during training with her mother. Unexpectedly, she now found herself grateful for that ordeal.

"Do you think you can hold out much longer?" Her father's voice was uncertain. She could sense how doubt about his invincibility was beginning to make its way into the back of his mind.

Antilene spat blood.

"Do you think... I am going to falter? From something like this!?"

"Stop with your arrogance!" Pride began to crack. "I will grant you absolute death so that your memory will fade away. Then, after I am done with you, I will give your beloved Theocracy what it deserves. Not a single trace of that stupid country and those insignificant gods will remain!"

Antilene remained calm as the morning sea. His threats were devoid of substance.

"The Gods are already dead. Nevertheless, even though the Gods are dead, my humanity remains," or, at least, part of it. "But, to fulfill the desire to avenge my mother, I have embraced the path of slaughter."

Decem did not even listen to her words; his creature was a more attentive listener than he.

Antilene's vision darkened. The titan's mighty fist came closer.

'[Wind Spirit - Crescendo]!'

'The World is Music.

The tune I sing is made of hopes and regrets.'

A new breeze blew in from the horizon.

The child cried, the teenager got up, and the adult walked. The journey had not come to an end; the destination was only a new beginning.

One is brought into this world with a cry, a sharp noise, and leaves it with a soft sigh.

Though called by another name, the title it was given did not change the fact that Behemoth was still an earth elemental. With its strengths. And its weakness.

Charon's guidance was unleashed with lightning speed.

Antilene sliced the air itself.

The symmetry of matter was challenged by that fearless cutting. The ligaments of the reality factory were split into two perfect equals, as the half-elf's vision split into a mirror of colors.

The movement information could not be registered in time by the air, which folded in on itself. An abrupt, almost discontinuous, change in temperature and pressure propagated faster than the speed of sound. A linear wave collided with the rock punch, resulting in a destructive interference process.

The energy of the backlash deflected the titan's trajectory, knees trembling as it struggled to stay straight. Antilene planted her legs like roots in the ground, protecting herself with raised arms in a guard position.

Although Behemoth could not articulate emotions, Decem provided instead.

His eyes squinted in astonishment. His jaw gaped in disbelief. If eyes could have killed, his irises would have murdered a god.

The elemental tried a new assault. Antilene repeated the melody.

The concert continued.

The notes were intoned in a solfeggio whose rhythms were punctuated by the transition of Charon's Guidance.

Decem ended the performance, withdrawing his invocation back to his position and chanting a new incantation.

"[Reverse Gravity]!"

The elf king cast his spell. The half-elf found herself crushed downward as all the furnishings in the room crashed down upon her. The world shifted, but Antilene remained unmoving.

"I will make you regret what you have done!"

In a few minutes, her father had accumulated the stress of years. The perfect, worry-free face pulsed and twisted in caricature gestures. A wicked gaze looked down on her.

'[Fire Invoicing - Decrescendo]!'

'The World is Music.

Young and elegant is the tree, brilliant is the blossom.'

Her body fell prey to a strange warmth. The zenith of a blazing fire.

To live was to consume oneself. The more ephemeral the sparkle, the greater its beauty. Could the outbursts of her great power resonate forever?

There was a reason why Death was called Silent. Mute. When it welcomed its new visitors in its reign, they could hear only the noise of its footsteps.

But her world now was full of sounds.

The miracle of magic could make her reach new peaks.

Gravity no longer held her close. Instead, a newfound force brought her closer to her target.

Leaping, Antilene closed the distance once again from her father, who did not waste even time to be surprised. It was a luxury he could not afford.

She watched his every most imperceptible reaction, from his twitching nose, to his eyelids closing and reclosing, down his lips changing from a ruthless smile to a dissatisfied squeal.

"Why don't you die?" He spat with hatred.

"It's not my time yet!" She replied with faith.

Behemoth stood between them.

Antilene performed her wizardry. A roar shattered the silence. The titan was thrust backward by the aftershock of the sonic boom, unable to resist as the half-elf lowered her judgment.

The hour had come.

Destiny was waiting for her.

The king's right arm rose to ninety degrees.

"[Green Chains]!"

Antilene's torso was immobilized by long emerald chains spreading from her father's fingers.

Unable to move once more, Antilene understood. A vision of a proud woman, shackled by the same chains that now imprisoned her.

The same smile looking back at her with sick longing.

"This will end it all," history repeated once more. The actors changed, but the events remained the same. "I emerge victorious! You shall burn in the flames of my fury. [Fire Storm]!"

The judgment had become final. The penalty for the crimes committed had been handed down. The reaper had come to claim their new victim.

Nothing happened.

Opportunities present themselves indeed!

Decem looked at Antilene, in disbelief.

"What have you done to me?" A realization that made his back twitch. "I had noticed that something was wrong, but why didn't it work? Why did my spell fail?"

"King is the one who is always one step ahead of everyone," she mocked him, using his own words. "But unfortunately for you...I have always been two steps ahead of you from the very start!"

"Behemoth, reduce her to a pulp!"

But the Earth Titan was now disappearing. The limit reached.

"Never mind... It doesn't matter," Like anyone standing on the abyss of despair, Decem believed he was still in firm control. "I still win! Now that you are immobile, I have all the time in the world to be able to finish you off!"

The grip of the chains became tighter.

Antilene did not waver.

The shooting star had reached the end of its voyage into the starry night.

The wish had been granted.

"Ahhhhhhhh," her father's screams of pain rang like new music in her ears. The hands that held the chains separated from his body and slid to the sides of the floor. "What's going on?"

Still shrieking in pain, Decem gathered the last remaining flashes of sanity to try to understand what was happening to him.

"Why are there two of you?" He realized, watching the newcomer.

Once upon a time, there was a lonely little girl locked in a large tower. The outside world only a pipe dream.

No longer able to support the solitude, the little girl longed for friends.

She then asked the Gods, the only ones she could talk to, for help.

The Wind God heard her prayers, and granted the little girl an inseparable companion on whom she could forever rely.

And now the same friend had descended like stardust on the field.

A perfectly white replica of Antilene looked at the Elf King with complete indifference. The red of the blood of the severed hands on her scythe was the only color that broke that perfectly pure hue.

"Could you have summoned a construct like this, too? Who are you? There should be no such thing as strong beings like you! You are a monstrosity!"

Antilene had regained her freedom, and together with Einherjar had surrounded Decem.

The last salute.

"If you had checked above, you might have noticed her presence. She has been with us from the beginning, waiting for my order," Decem looked at her with disgust, as one looked at a bug to be squashed. Yet there was another emotion seeping out of his rising insanity.

Fear.

"You rose above everyone, but your gaze has remained fixed downward all these years. I too... I, too, was like you. I let the past be the light that illuminated my path. But not today. Today my eyes are turned heavenward! Tomorrow is now!"

Her father let out his final roar of pride. A trapped old lion that had lost its claws and fangs.

"You cannot overcome destiny! I was chosen by fate to be its champion!"

"Don't you understand? You have already been defeated by fate!"

At the end of it all, what was the last move of Decem Hougan, the great ruler of the Elves?

He attempted to run away once more, like the coward he was.

"You are already… in my attack range. This feud ends now! [Shadows Ballet - Fortissimo]!"

'The World is Music.'

First step.

Hot winds swirled about Antilene, and a faint aroma of brimstone swept over the area. A flickering yellow aura surrounded the half-elf, growing in intensity, shedding tremendous heat and light. Decem stumbled back from the high temperatures.

With a howling roar, she unleashed a hellish blast of fire that could melt steel and warp stone. Her father's chest was sliced neatly.

Second Step. Third Step.

Charon's Guidance crackled with energy. As Antilene struck her foe, that energy detonated in a burst that scythed through the main object of her revenge. The elf's right side experienced a new sensation of never-before-experienced pain.

Einherjar attacked Decem with an overwhelming penetration, hammering through his armor to cleave into the bare flesh. The cut was so precise that not an ounce of blood was spilled.

This display of raw power caused the Elf King to stumble backward in pain, terror in his eyes.

Fourth Step. Fifth Step. Sixth Step.

Antilene hacked into Decem's legs, forcing his movements to slow further and his resolution to falter once again.

In a flashing blur of steel, Einherjar unleashed a devastating volley of deadly attacks against her enemy, striking it again and again until he could barely stand up.

Antilene spotted the perfect target in Decem's frail defenses at the height of his neck. With a single attack, she put all the force of her supreme focus into a single, crippling blow.

For a second, Decem was dead.

But then, he started to move again.

The most wonderful blessing turned into the most terrifying curse.

Seventh Step.

Einherjar approached forward like a slithering snake, extending herself almost beyond her ability to maintain balance. Decem, still dazed by the resurrection, stumbled backward, surprised that she could reach him in such a short time.

A giant roundhouse kick made him recoil.

Eight Step.

Antilene delivered a devastating final strike against the wounded king, aiming to finish him off once and for all. Her senses sharpened; her vision shattered into fragments of infinite crystals. The pieces of the kaleidoscope put themselves back together as she exceeded the very concept of acceleration, arriving in a place outside time itself.

Here, she hit.

Decem was thrown out one of the windows of the throne room by sheer power alone. The glass broke down into endless fragments, shining like a rainbow.

"I won!" Antilene said.

Act 3: Requiem

"Rufus, you really like to play, don't you?"

"Yes. It's probably the closest thing I have to a leisure activity."

"And you always use the same violin, don't you?"

"Yes. I've never changed it in all these years."

"Is that violin so important to you?"

"Very. It is the last gift my master gave me."

"It must be very valuable."

"You are correct. But not because it has any monetary value. Even if it were the most mundane instrument of all, it would remain invaluable to me. Simply, every time I play it, it is as if the great Surshana is here with me once again. And the silence of solitude is replaced by a much warmer melody."

"Do you think one day I could play it as well as you play it?"

"I doubt it. It would require specific levels and classes to master it... But don't look so downcast. You'll always be able to hear me."

"Forever?"

"Forever."

----------------------------------------

Alive. He was still alive. Decem felt that last spark of life force flowing through him and clung to it with all his remaining strength. That last drop was an invaluable fountain to drink from so that he could stand on his feet one last time.

He stood up again. The body had never been so heavy. He could almost catch a glimpse of skin with all that blood. The Elf King dared not touch his face, for fear of finding out what state he was in.

Only one thing mattered at the moment. Survival.

He would survive. He would regain his strength and come back again.

He realized his mistake. Humans. They were the key.

For some strange reason, they were the most compatible with his genes, and Zesshi had fully proved it to him.

Where was he at the moment? He had certainly ended up outside the palace.

'I have no time to waste.'

Fortunately, thanks to the resurrection effect he had regained his hands.

Decem pulled out some pieces of glass that had lodged in his flesh, some had gone in too deep to be extracted, and began to run.

'It doesn't make sense. How could a daughter surpass her own father?'

No satisfactory answer could be found. Try as he might, experience had taught him that it was impossible for a child to exceed the talents of his parents.

That rule, after all, also applied to him.

'Evidently, I was wrong.'

Hard to overturn beliefs that have guided your life for decades. But the moment the evidence was too much to deny, there was no choice left. His battered state left no room for further doubt.

How long had he been walking?

Could a whole eternity be calculated?

And where was his daughter?

Wasn't she chasing him?

Too many questions, and the replies lost in the silence of the place.

He attempted to move once more, but tumbled to the ground in pain. The wounds still open on contact with the hard rocks began to burn with such intensity that Decem felt like passing out.

Under normal conditions, the Elf King would have used magic to heal himself, but he did not even have enough mana to cast a mere level-one spell.

What a pathetic sight.

What would his father have thought if he had seen him in that condition?

Decem dared not give himself an answer.

He kept running -if that was what one could call his fatigued walk- hoping he would be able to find shelter.

Dusk fell.

He arrived at a small space a few kilometers away from the palace. Having knowledge of the surroundings was an asset in that cat-and-mouse game.

'Surely Zesshi is on my trail. But if I can get to the heart of the forest, then finding me will be virtually impossible.'

Convinced he could still make it, he headed for a small natural entrance to the wilderness.

His run was barred by a familiar sight.

Just as he was beginning to believe he could make it to safety, Decem noticed that figure in white that only minutes earlier had brought him to defeat.

'That sort of construct again.'

That summoning continued to look at him with apathy. It was like a doll without strings, just waiting for him to make his first move.

But the king was aware that as soon as he hinted at the slightest movement, it would be over for him.

What was that feeling?

Terror?

But the Ruler of the World feared nothing. Such emotion is only of the ignorant fools, who do not know what mechanisms make the world go round.

Why was he trembling then?

Why wasn't that sort of golem attacking him?

Waiting for something to move that stalemate was driving him out of his mind.

It was not only the fact that he could die at any moment that caused him stress, but it was that absurd expectation that at any given moment something unexpected would happen.

'My vision blurs, I feel my body begging me to give in.'

If he had remained in that position, he would have simply bled to death.

Ahead, hell.

He turned back. Strangely, that weird doll was not chasing him. In fact, every time he took a step, she took one in turn.

She was taunting him.

The golem was telling him that at any moment she could kill him on the spot.

Surrendering might not have been so bad. At least it would all be over in that instant.

But Decem was not the type to give up. The enchanted garden was waiting for him. His father was there, he could see it. A few more minutes and he would be able to embrace him again.

They would be reunited, one last time. Along with him, Zesshi was also nothing.

'Where do you think you're running to? Don't you realize you are left alone? As you always have been… and always will be!'

Again, that female voice he had heard at the beginning of the meeting with his daughter. Charged with a hatred that seemed to know no peace. He had already heard it once in his life. But he could not remember where.

Decem was not alone. His father was in his heart. Always. Until the end of time. It was a promise.

And fathers never break promises, do they?

A feeling of dizziness. The Elf King felt his life hanging by a very thin thread set at the end of two large oak trees. An earthquake made that already precarious balance teeter.

Fortunately, the alternative road he had devised was not far away. Gritting his teeth to try to forget that searing pain, he kept walking a few more meters until he reached his destination.

'Are you kidding me?'

Zesshi was in front of him. The light of the full moon made the golden filaments of her armor glow with blinding radiance. Was she an angel who came to transport him to the afterlife?

Maybe, it wouldn't have been so bad.

He changed direction again; with energies the Elf King did not know where they came from.

Zesshi was also repeating the deeds of that golem. Decem took a couple of steps, and she in turn took as many. Always taking care that their distance remained the same.

They continued like this for no one knows how long.

Decem would take a path, and there would be the summoning of his daughter waiting for him.

If he went to the right, Zesshi was there. If he went left, Zesshi was there. Every direction was blocked. Every path inaccessible.

It was just a childish game.

'Now do you understand? There is no escape!'

"Be quiet!"

Just baseless suggestions. He would not let fatigue cloud his ability to reason. Even if he was incredibly tired…

But it was true that there seemed to be no more hope.

His daughter continued to watch him from a distance as the road grew darker and darker.

Was there really no way to survive?

Was that the end of Decem Hougan?

Dead like any useless parasite, in a hole forgotten by all? Was there no other way to change his fate?

More than for himself, the Elf King felt regret that he had failed to achieve his goal. The world would never know the greatness of elves. His father would forever be remembered as a monster.

This was not what he wanted! Not what he wanted at all!

Everyone should have known the magnificence of his radiant father!

An idea came to his mind.

A light out of the tunnel.

There was still a place where he could take refuge. All his children had gathered in a manse not far from the royal palace.

A perfect decoy.

It was the children's job to immolate themselves for their parents.

To give them a chance to make themselves useful, there was no greater bliss!

He found everyone there in position waiting for him. Ruri was there. And all her siblings were also with her. At least fifty of them. They would have gained a few precious seconds.

Zesshi continued to be behind him. Like a shadow that never leaves.

'One minute! One minute is all I need to regain my strength!'

Had Decem been clearer, he would have noticed that there was not even a drop of blood left in his veins. The Elf King could no longer remain standing, exhaustion had taken over.

As he felt his strength abandon him, he noticed that leading his children was a strange elf. A long scar furrowed his face, while a scarlet eye looked at him intently.

"Protect your king," with the last remaining edge of his voice, he issued his final order. "The enemy is near."

"It shall be done, your majesty," replied the scarred elf.

Perfect.

He could have closed his eyes and rested. Just a few seconds, to regain his strength. Yeah, just a few seconds.

Just a moment...

Why had his children gathered around him?

They were looking at him with twisted expressions on their faces.

"Have you heard the order of your ruler? Kill the enemy!"

No. That was not what was said, but he could not even correct him anymore.

Decem felt pressure on his shoulder. One of the children had pressed his foot against one of the still-open wounds.

He felt nothing.

Another kicked him in the stomach. A second punched him in the sternum. Then they scratched his legs.

Hair was pulled out, skin flayed.

Mud and dung were thrown on his body.

They battered his whole body, now unrecognizable, buried under that layer of dirt and blood.

'What are you doing? It's not me you have to fight. But it is her... the cursed one! You must kill her!"

Zesshi was now only a few inches away from him.

Why was all this happening? Why were his children not helping him?

Loving one's father is a categorical imperative for children. Where had he gone wrong?

He thought back to his father. Until tears gushed from his eyes.

Again and again, Decem prayed that he would come to his rescue. Not like that day...

But his father had gone, and left him alone.

He was too weak, Decem was too weak, and that was why he had been abandoned. He wanted to see him just one last time, that was all he asked.

The King accursed the world, which had been so cruel as to separate them. Just a child who missed his father.

'You still don't understand? Your father never loved you.'

That voice again. They say the last moments are like a flash of the happiest moments that flash before your eyes, just before you die.

The elf king saw none of that, only the smiling face of a woman with long black hair.

'Father… please… help me. Father… Dad… it hurts… it hurts so much…'

And his father, there with her.

For the first time, Decem could see the truth behind his parent's gaze.

No love, or affection. Nor hate, or contempt.

Just nothing at all.

When the cruelty was gone, only innocence remained.

Charon's Guidance pierced through his heart, it was the only and final act of filial piety Decem Hougan received in all his life.

Thus ended the story of the great monarch. A life as brilliant and transitory as the glory achieved.

The elves burned his remains, leaving nothing more of him to remain in this world.

The spirit of the world was satisfied.