[The Forest of the Bandit Lord]
[The Land of the Opal Sun]
Standing atop the pine tree, the elder Nightingale guided his sister and Sam toward the center of the Coniferous Forest with his strident voice. At first, he seemed to enjoy performing the task assigned to him as he felt the nightly breeze brush against his cheeks. However, his enthusiasm soon disappeared after realizing a strange occurrence happening right in front of his very eyes.
'Not again,' Rupert thought to himself; as each time he blinked, the Subsumer's burnt carcass reappeared. "Oh, that's not fair. That's not fair at all," the blue-eyed man murmured while frustratingly scratching the back of his head.
"What's going on up there?"
"N-Nothing. All is good!" replied Rupert, after hearing his sister yelling from below.
Lucy frowned unconvincingly at the sudden change in her brother's voice. She could tell her older sibling was lying, which prompted her to mutter, "Great. We're lost, are we?"
"It's too early to say that," Sam interjected. "You've read about the forest, right? Is there anything that can help us get through this place without the aid of the Spool?"
"I wish I could be a bearer of good news, but every piece of information about this godforsaken forest is classified – accessible only to the Faceless Lord. I assume it's because of, you know? The Cerulean Mausoleum."
"The Tomb of the Sunsets," said Sam while stroking his chin. He recalled a popular rumor circulating during his training days in the Tower: a great treasure hidden in the deepest level of the crypt – an heirloom of the Opal Sun royal family. Even if that's the case, why then would the King and the Inner Circle leave a valuable object in a location far away from the palace, unsupervised. "Hm, something fishy is going on here," Sam's remark piqued Lucy's interest.
"That sounded quite…ominous. What's on your mind?"
"I'm not sure. Perhaps I was simply overthinking about things-," the vermillion-eyed paused after seeing movement between the pine trees. At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him -- that was until a faint, disembodied voice whispered into his earholes. Sam fidgeted; he frantically rubbed his ears which had become icy cold.
"What?! What happened?" Lucy asked concerningly, shortly before the color drained from her face. "Wha-What the hell?" the woman stammered after hearing her mother’s voice calling her name again.
“You heard it too?” said Sam. “Then, it definitely wasn’t my imagination.
Seconds later, the two Faceless heard something scratching against the tree barks, followed by the sounds of crackling twigs and dead leaves. Both of them swiftly drew their weapons, with Lucy crying out to her brother, "Rupert! Get down here now!"
No response.
"Damn it! Where has he gone now?" the female Nightingale grunted.
"Lucia, put your mask on," Sam muttered, his voice tensed up. Feeling a lump down his throat, Sam watched silently as the moonlight faded away, allowing the shadows to grow and blanket the whole forest. The Faceless's night vision immediately switched on, lighting the surrounding area in a shamrock green hue.
"Holy shit!" Lucy spouted.
It was a sight identical to a painting she saw in an ancient book, drawn by an artist from the distant past. A macabre-looking pine tree, its trunks made from human skulls and rib cages. Tattered skins hung loosely from each skeletal branch, resembling the weeping willows. As Lucy took a step forward, she felt a crunch beneath her feet – much to her disgust.
"Well, somebody is really into bones," Sam commented after noticing the entire ground was covered with countless bones. "Crap, talk about a bothersome situation."
"Bothersome? Hmph, that's quite an understatement."
CRACK!
Sam and Lucy's heads darted toward the sound; the latter gasped as a sylphlike figure slithered out from between the trees. The hooded presence slowly approached the duo; his undulating white robe glowed faintly in the dark akin to the moon itself. A bird-like porcelain mask shrouded the person's face, which Lucy recognized in an instant.
"It can't be. That's…that's the Night Terror," the female Nightingale blurted out.
"The vigilante? So, he's still alive after all these years," replied Sam, scowling at the imposing thief. He raised his katana, preparing himself for a confrontation.
The Night Terror extended his gangly, ashen right hand forward, causing the pile of bones in front of him to quiver before spitting out a thin, long object. It was a black-edged falchion with a gleaming gold handguard and a snow-white grip. Even from a glance, Sam and Lucy knew the sword was unlike any standard weapon.
"You've got to be kidding me. How the hell did a deviant like him get his hand on a Core Blade?!" Lucy scoffed.
"I don't think that's the main issue right now," Sam added as the Night Terror yanked his sword out from the ground. Holding the blade horizontally, the masked vigilante softly chanted an elegant-sounding language that strangely made the Faceless's heart pound faster. A few moments later, he noticed the shadows behind the Night Terror expanded, consuming everything in its path. Sam turned his head toward Lucy, trying to warn her of the approaching darkness, but it was already too late.
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||| THE PATH OF THE DELUGE: LUCIA |||
Lucy didn’t know what just happened. The last thing she saw was Sam’s alarmed expression and the next thing she realized; she was standing alone in the darkness. “Oh great. What am I getting myself into this time?” the woman muttered with a hint of frustration. As she took a step forward, she heard a rustling beneath her feet akin to the sound of dry leaves.
Shuddering, the ponytailed woman slowly lifted his leg; her eyes widened in shock as soon as she noticed what she was stepping on. It was a small rag doll in a pure white dress; its long, black hair was tied in a braid – identical to the one she had when she was a little girl.
KRING!
Lucy twitched after hearing a chime coming behind her. She slowly turned around and was greeted by the sight of a tall, red windmill looming over her.
“No…that’s…impossible,” the woman murmured. She refused to believe it at first, but there was no mistaking it. The lone building standing in front of her was the same windmill in her hometown. However, the last time she remembered, the entire structure was burned down by a great fire years ago.
The Night Terror; the name suddenly popped into her mind. ‘Of course!’ Lucy quietly recalled. ‘He was a master of illusion – often using it to trick his opponents.’ Even then, the female Nightingale found it difficult to believe that the infamous vigilante’s ability could be powerful enough to materialize something from her memory.
THUD!
Lucy promptly drew her dagger as a shadowy mass landed in front of the windmill. The mysterious figure soon straightened itself up, eventually revealing itself to be none other than the Night Terror himself.
“So, I guess it’s just you and me now, huh?” Lucy scoffed; her voice was slightly shaky.
Instead of answering, the Night Terror extended his right arm forward – the palm of his hand stretched wide open. A brief second later, an orb of light appeared inside the vigilante’s hand – its muted blue light glowed in the darkness like a lantern. Then, the tiny sphere’s shape began to change – contorting and elongating until it resembled a harpe.
“W-wha…?” Lucy was at a loss for words. “It can’t be…that’s…mom’s…”
The Night Terror gripped the golden-edged harpe, causing the vanes of the windmill behind him to revolve violently.
“Tch, you bastard…how the hell did you get your hand on that?” the female Nightingale exclaimed furiously.
The masked vigilante raised the blade over his head and the windmill behind him started to quiver.
Lucy could feel her heartbeat accelerate but it was not out of fear. There was something about the Night Terror’s movement that evoked a sense of familiarity in her – as if she was going up against her own mother. But before she could process the situation, the building behind the Night Terror exploded, bringing forth a stream of water that surrounded the vigilante like a wall.
“Crap,” Lucy uttered as she knew what was coming next.
The pillar of water dispersed, turning into a million tiny, transparent needles that hovered above the Night Terror’s head.
“This is gonna hurt really bad,” said the female Nightingale before the masked vigilante launched the needles toward her.
||| THE END OF THE PATH OF THE DELUGE |||
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||| THE PATH OF THE INFERNO: SAMUEL |||
Cold.
That was the first thing he felt after being consumed by the darkness. For a while, he did not hear or see anything until he snapped his fingers, creating a small fireball on his thumb. As his eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, he realized that he was still in the forest except Lucy was nowhere to be seen.
“Lucy? Rupert?” Sam called for his friends but there was no answer. His vermillion eyes darted around, trying to search for the siblings until something else caught his attention. Squinting, Sam noticed an abnormal lump on one of the pine trees which seemed to be pulsating and…breathing.
He pointed the fireball forward, only to stumble upon an elderly human face carved into the tree bark. Moreover, its lips were moving, murmuring in foreign tongues. Shortly after, the face became twisted as if it was in pain, followed by dark red sap-like fluid exuding out of its orifices. Then, the entire tree erupted into a bright, cyan flame – prompting Sam to shield his eyes.
However, Sam suddenly felt a firm grip around both of his ankles, followed by a forceful tug. The next thing the man knew, he was plunged into a body of water – swept away by a familiar current.
This again?! Sam chided quietly. Despite the powerful wave, he saw a dim, undulating light above his head and began to swim upward. As his right hand breached the surface, he was struck with vertigo, like he was falling from a great height.
Then, he felt it.
An invisible force pulling him toward the surface, or perhaps it was simply gravity?
Nevertheless, Sam found himself emerging from the torrential waters – only to land on solid, flat ground. The man swiftly removed his mark and started coughing; his entire clothes were drenched, causing him to shiver uncontrollably.
“That…was definitely not healthy,” Sam panted before putting his mask back on. He rose to his feet groggily, turning his head left and right to get his bearings. “Wait a minute. That’s…it can’t be…,” the man mumbled.
Countless tombstones spread across the barren field; each one of them bathed underneath the gloomy moonlight. However, Sam’s heart sank as soon as he noticed some of the names etched on the stones: Markus Strigis, Marie Strelitzia, Rupert Nightingale, Lucia Nightingale – all of them were the names of his friends. As he took a closer look, he realized that every slab had the names of every member of the Faceless Order, including the Faceless Lord himself.
“Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?” Sam grunted.
“Not at all,” said a distorted voice.
Sam turned his head to the left and watched silently as the Night Terror walked out of the shadows with his drawn falchion. “All of these are what awaits you at the end of your path.”
“And why should I believe the words of a criminal?”
“Because deep down inside, you know I am right. Finding your origins? Your family? That is all an excuse. What you desire the most is proof that you are not the monster the others claimed you to be – The Red Ravager.”
“What does that have to do with all of these tombstones?”
“Everything you see here is the manifestation of your innermost fear. You are afraid they were right about you; YOU are afraid of the consequences if they were right about you.”
“You think I don’t know about that already?” Sam huffed at the vigilante’s comment. “Besides, this is only one of the possible futures; so, it is pointless to use this one against me.”
“We shall see about that, Samuel Edelweiss,” the Night Terror retorted, shortly before dropping into his fighting stance – a gesture that Sam reciprocated.
||| THE END OF THE PATH OF THE INFERNO |||