"All of that effort…" Faunia’s hands shook with anger and sadness both. “Cedric, that's where we were when you woke up in the desert. We'd gone to Harth to fight Rykaedi… you really don't remember any of that?”

"I don't. I'm guessing we’re supposed to have won the fight, then?”

Tirolith and Faunia both looked at him in concern and apprehension.

"Well? Out with it. We've fought her once at least, and?"

When Faunia finally spoke up, she said, "You… you died, Cedric."

His eyebrows came up.

Serkukan unballed his fists and cocked his head.

"I… what?"

70.

Three is Enough

Cedric looked up to the collapsed obsidian palace. He reached a hand out and gently caressed the dark pyre beside him. The same pyre he’d flown atop on the day he woke up

“You okay?” Faunia asked.

“Just thinking.”

“...About?”

She smiled and he returned it. “How things started. Are we really at the end?”

“Close enough to it. We still have Kogar to deal with. And Vekzul.”

Cedric shook his head. “Vekzul isn't our enemy. Out of all the Twelve…” He seemed to think.

“Okella, Ivalié, Vekzul… they're allies.”

“Throkos, Skalla, and Akvum are all dead.”

“Don't forget Vladius and Tartys.”

“Then that leaves…”

“Jirtu? I've got no clue where he stands.”

“Then just Rykaedi, Hemah…”

“...And Kogar.”

“Are you ready?”

He turned to face the army behind himself—three dozen silver Hunters trained in warfare and basic Etherian tactics stood with their weapons drawn, their faces tense. They were the most elite that Calamon had to offer, trained in techniques unheard of for well over an era.

“I'm ready,” he said.

And Faunia approached those grand doors…

Cedric hissed in a sharp breath. Everything was black around him.

“Akvum?” he shouted into the abyss. No answer came back to him.

Then a green light flared in the distance.

“What the…?”

“Cedric!” A muffled cry barely reached his ears, like the pressure was too thick.

With the voice, that green light burst into a swirling vortex. The dark void around him came into an eerie glow, and suddenly there were huge pale blobs like an ocean spiraling beneath him. That pale green swam like energy into that center spiral, and those slithering ectoplasmic blobs fell into those currents and got swept to that black hole in the center.

“Faunia? Faunia!”

An impact struck him from below—a snaking tendril of that same ectoplasm had slammed against his torso and stuck. Humanoid hands appeared out of the liquid mass, began clawing and tearing at his armor… then came their silently screaming heads, like people melting all over him. Souls.

“Let go of me!” Cedric kicked and shouted, desperately tried to fight them off.

He looked up as something bright moved ahead—there was Faunia. She reached a hand out to him, shut her eyes—

A shattering of prismatic light around him signaled Dyosius. The liquid mass exploded into big globules which floated away from them both. He forced his leg up out of the last of the tendril, floated upward as though through water.

“What is this place…?” he asked.

“—The Deadworld.” Ivalié’s voice was resolute. He floated up toward the two of them with his staff at hand.

Cedric’s eyes widened. “We're dead already?”

Ivalié shook his head. “I suspect the door we entered was a gateway, the same as Kyrrith led to Haketh.”

“But the others…?”

“They're in her palace. Presumably with nothing to fight.”

Faunia said, “Let's hope you're right about that.”

Then a black shadow passed over them all. They turned their gazes upward—

A massive bone dragon swept through the broth of the Deadworld, ripples chased its seven wings. There in the center of its chest laid a glistening platinum lock, massive, right between the ribs.

Cedric’s mouth fell slightly agape at the sight. “That’s…”

“Nihil Maxim.” Ivalié answered his query. “Evra’s lock.”

Faunia understood at once: “The lock which binds Auctdos Munor.”

“Yes. We all hold the key—”

“Dyosius.” Cedric narrowed his gaze. He tried and failed to summon his Sylvet shortsword.

Ivalié stared at him considerately. “The ley in here is thin. I managed to summon my staff as we were still moving through the gateway, but I hold no hope that I’ll manage even a single spell.”

They all watched the dragon until it spun around, came to a gentle halt in the distance, just before that massive, brightly glowing swirl. That was the place, Ivalié knew, where souls would be sorted and distributed to their fates. He held his breath.

Faunia gasped when Rykaedi lifted one giant claw: “Mari!”

There in her hand was Marisol, stunned, completely paralyzed in fear.

In her other hand, Cedric noted, was Elos, still struggling to escape Rykaedi’s grasp.

Rykaedi spoke discordantly in her three voices: “This is a beautiful body, isn't it? Almost better than that of the sister. I just can't wait to try it on!”

“As if we’ll fucking let you…!” Faunia hissed through her grit teeth.

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“...But what can we do?” Cedric pondered aloud.

“Cedric? You’re not giving up, are you?”

“I…”

She gnashed her teeth at him. Then she called upon Dyosius; a prismatic weapon glistened to life in her hand, a rapier of immense size. It was designed with impeccable complexity, each piece shining iridescently in a different tone, shifting with every movement. The whole shape of the weapon seemed to change every time it even slightly turned, almost as though it was inconceivable to their minds.

“I’ll never give up. Not until I’m dead.”

THOOM!

Faunia burst away from them at respectable speed.

Cedric looked to Ivalié almost dejectedly.

The mage sighed. “You can’t leave her to die alone, can you?”

“No. I suppose I can’t.”

“...Cedric, the souls know better than anybody the designations of fate. The fact that they were grabbing you…”

“I’ve died more than once this past year alone; I think they're just eager to have more than a taste.”

Ivalié smirked with a strange hint of desolation. “I’m sorry for what happened to Rithi, to Dreslon, to everyone you knew. I had always planned to kill Rykaedi before her damage could become too great. Akvum had, too… It’s unfortunate how much death and destruction he caused.”

“I agree. But we’ll have to talk later.” He turned to face Rykaedi. “I’ve given Faunia enough of a head start.”

Ivalié floated backward, hovered upward and away from the Deadworld’s light.

Cedric shut his eyes and focused his breathing.

Dyosius. How do I use Dyosius…?

I used it in Freiya…

"Are you dead? I suppose I shouldn't be so lucky…" Algirak stepped forward slightly, his eyes narrowed at the boy. 『Perhaps Serkukan or Llestren had altered my aim in some way. Perhaps they were more powerful than I had realized, in the end.』

『But thank the graces that Dyosius has powered me, and me alone.』

"I'll do this once again, and that's it. This is the finale of your life. This is where your story closes. This is—"

"Not my end, Algirak. The Relistar protects me." He broke his silence. He began to sit up, bloody, battle-worn.

"Boy, we're in the interstice between fate and reality. There are no laws to govern us here, no more than the rules of nature to guide us. The Relistar is broken, a useless toy now. Go ahead and draw it out, just see how vibrant its colors are now."

He dug into his jacket with a wince upon his face. Then his expression softened. He froze to stare at Algirak.

"Go on, boy."

There came the crystal—

『A PLATINUM CRYSTAL!?』

…I used it once, almost intentionally, when Skalla attacked us…

The flame went out.

"Skalla is dead," he declared. The stone around him had become hot magma. He easily pulled his legs free and climbed out.

Rithi and Yvesmalia still watched on from the side-door in awe. She said, "So this is the power of an Etherian…"

For Cedric, that hollow feeling of victory was nothing new. It was nostalgic almost, of his dark days with the Sylvet cult.

The same was true for Serkukan, though he could no longer stomach looking at that half-scorched corpse at their feet, and he could no longer afford to encase Cedric in his form.

The armor broke away into goopy blood. His thoughts shifted. His fury braced;

Cedric only stared at that corpse for a long moment. Liara is dead. Another one of the Twelve…

But Skalla… His eyes flared red. She's not destroyed just yet.

He raised his hands and called Grivonym. The black sword appeared pointed downward, the blade quickly becoming red hot. He could see the stone bubbling, those bubbles forming into small hands, reaching out for him. Is that my imagination, or…?

Cedric plunged it into the melted, liquid ground. There was a scream that rang through his mind. And when he felt her energy reach his heart… he declined it, turned Skalla’s energy to ash…

His hands shook. His body and mind ached…

That was the same energy I used to threaten Ithlo’vatis…

Ithlo calmly approached the table and pulled out Rithi's seat. He gently lowered himself and placed his hands folded on the table. His face showed no dismay. “And to what end would I sacrifice this information? Threat of torture, of capture? What can you do to an Etherian which hasn’t been done to them a million times over?”

Cedric tugged at that power—he drew upon Dyosius, pulled the leylines in a way only that platinum crystal could.

Ithlo’s face did not lose composure. “I see. You’ve attained an ability to burn out my energy altogether. Interesting.”

“It’s not an idle threat.”

“I’m aware.”

Cedric felt a swell of deja vu. He gasped as that familiar nostalgia wracked through his body, that feeling of joy, that feeling of impending doom… His thousand-beat heartbeat accelerated.

And then… I remember…!

He threw his hands outward together, turning to Kogar. He channeled Dyosius…

A hiss, first. His palms began to steam and glow.

A prismatic ray of color blasted out.

It was too fast for Kogar, who could only brace his scythe before himself to avoid the severity of the blast. It continued, burned and scalded Kogar's flesh even from a distance, even as his scythe took the energy head-on.

When the color finally faded, he looked to his melted and warped weapon, then cast it aside into the abyss.

And that was Dyosius…! That was how it felt!

“Cedric.” A familiar voice cut through his memories.

When he opened his eyes, the souls were clawing at his armor again. He was swarmed in a plethora of ectoplasmic ghouls, desperate to drag him to the underworld.

But there, in front of him, was Akvum.

Cedric kicked from the goop and floated toward the big cat. A few globules of souls still clung to his body. “Are you real? Or just an illusion again?”

He bared his teeth in a faux smile. “I managed to escape my ultimate fate, if only for a moment’s time.”

Cedric couldn’t help but return that grin just slightly.

“You wouldn’t be willing to lend me that Etherian you borrowed from my fortress?”

Akvum’s Etherian—I’d completely forgotten…

Cedric reached his hand out to Akvum. The cat’s giant paw engulfed it entirely. There was a feeling of warmth between them, a glint of bronze light…

A wave of lightheadedness passed over Cedric as his thousand-beat heartrate slowed to a normal speed. He sucked in a deep breath.

“Thank you.”

“You going to tell me what power that baby dragon’s got?”

“Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.” The big cat choked a laugh.

“Then maybe you can tell me this—how the hell am I supposed to use Dyosius? I’m trying, but… I can’t get it. It’s like trying to fall asleep, I can feel it just at the edge of my mind…”

“You’re already using it.”

“Huh…?” He looked down at his hands. There were nigh-invisible strings in iridescent colors from each one of his fingertips, all connected to Akvum’s limbs like a puppeteer to his puppet. “This is Dyosius…?”

Akvum nodded.

“Did you plan for this to happen?”

“I can’t divulge every one of my plans just yet, Cedric. Let’s clean this mess up. We’ll talk when you reach my Deadworld.”

Cedric sucked in a breath. Akvum kicked through the liquid and drifted toward Rykaedi at reasonable speed.

Then he managed to feel the surging energy of Dyosius from his fingertips like a dull electricity. He mentally severed the lines which led to Akvum, watched them fall limp and lifeless… Then looked up, assured himself that Akvum was okay. There he was, still rushing toward Rykaedi.

Then Cedric drew his energy into the strings still floating from his fingertips.

There formed his weapon: a great blade of unwieldy size, stitched together by a thousand strands, a thousand fibers of shimmering Dyosius. It weighed nothing.

Then more fibers fell from his back, formed into wings. They flapped, slid easily through the thick air around them…

And THOOM—he rushed forward into the battle, faster yet than either of his two allies…