||| THE PATH OF THE DELUGE: LUCIA |||

“That was a bit too close,” Lucy sighed, casting her eyes upon the million needles embedded in the tall wall of rushing water. She waved her dagger and the barricade instantly collapsed, seeping back into the earth.

The female Nightingale then scowled at the Night Terror who was standing motionlessly with the golden-edged harpe in hand. The fact the vigilante was wielding the Core Blade infuriated Lucy the most – not to mention the Fangs of Charybdis: the countless needle-like projections conjured by the Night Terror earlier – both of them were used by her late mother during her heyday.

More questions popped into her mind, but Lucy knew it would take more than a simple conversation to get the answers she needed. Either way, she had to find a way to escape from the masked vigilante’s illusion and there was only one way she could think of.

“Tch, talk about a bothersome foe,” Lucy murmured before fixing her grip on the dagger. She immediately charged toward her enemy who seemed to be unfazed by her approach. The female Nightingale proceeded to swing her Core Blade and ended up colliding with the Night Terror’s sword.

“It must be boggling your mind to see this blade again in the hands of the living,” said the Night Terror, his voice sounded like an amalgamation between a man and a woman.

“So, you can talk. Good, ‘cause there’s a lot of things I want to ask you,” Lucy replied sternly. “Firstly, where did you get that sword?”

“Isn’t there more important things you need to be concerned about?” the Night Terror chided before shoving the young woman away. “Like your brother and Sam?”

“They can take care of themselves. Now, I ask you again: Where did you get that sword?”

“Where else? It’s not like that place is well-guarded.”

“You…!” Lucy’s voice began to tremble. “You raided my mother’s grave?!”

“And what if I did? It’s not like she’ll use it anymore.”

The Night Terror’s casual retort caused Lucy to see red; a part of her desperately urging her to choke the life out of the vigilante. But, no – the last thing she needed was to attack her opponent while in a state. Furthermore, she was in the Night Terror’s illusionary realm – so it might have been a ploy to rile her up – to coerce her into making a blunder.

Lucy quickly took a deep breath to calm herself before holding her dagger horizontally. “I was really hoping to save this for my encounter with the Helians. However, you might prove to be a feasible alternative.” The transparent edge of the dagger began glowing, followed by a faint growling akin to the sound of a raging thunderstorm. A few seconds later, the blade changed – from clear blue to opaque grey. Its surface was covered in scales which gave it a serpent-like appearance.

Without saying a single word, the young Nightingale bolted toward the Night Terror and swiftly cut through the vigilante’s right hand. Lucy watched as the harpe fell to the ground before disintegrating into a veil of mist. The Night Terror’s severed hand, however, shriveled up and subsequently crumbled like sand.

After taking a glance at his amputated limb, the masked vigilante briskly distanced himself from Lucy who, in turn, said, “I knew it. It was a fake all along.” The female Nightingale shifted her attention back to the Night Terror; the masked man was glancing at his wrist which was slowly drying up.

However, what he did next shocked Lucy to the core.

Without a shred of hesitation, the Night Terror ripped his entire right arm from his torso before tossing it away like a piece of garbage.

“How strange. There’s not a single drop of blood spilled after he did that,” Lucy whispered.

“What was that technique you just used? I never seen anything like it before,” the Night Terror commented.

“It’s just something I’ve created during my free time,” Lucy countered. “Now, are we going to stand here and talk, or finish our little scuffle?”

“No, I have seen enough,” the masked vigilante sighed. He raised his left arm and pointed his index finger forward. “Also, have you already forgotten that you are still in my domain?”

Lucy raised her dagger, preparing herself for an incoming attack – until a storm of flower petals appeared out of nowhere, burying everything in their path.

||| THE END OF THE PATH OF THE DELUGE |||

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||| THE PATH OF THE INFERNO: SAMUEL |||

How long has it been? How many hours have passed ever since they first crossed blades? Those were the thoughts that kept on repeating inside Sam’s mind. He wondered how times worked in the Night Terror’s domain or was there even a concept of time in his domain?

Sam swung his sword firmly which could have cut through the vigilante’s abdomen if the latter did not jump of the way. The vermillion-eyed man’s head darted skyward – only to realize the Night Terror was floating in the air above him.

“I’m not here to cause any trouble. I’m just here for the prince and princess of the Opal Sun Kingdom,” said Sam.

“Why?” The Night Terror inquired. “What do their lives mean to you? Aside from being a part of the Order, you are nothing but outsiders to them.”

“They are my friends. Is that reason good enough for you?”

“Are you? Or are you just doing it for your own personal reason?”

“Does that even matter? I was entrusted with this responsibility and I intend to fulfill it, whether you like it or not,” Sam responded confidently.

“Hm,” the Night Terror grunted. “Fortunately for you, I also have my own duty to fulfill.”

“Wha-?” Before Sam could finish his sentence, the masked vigilante suddenly manifested in front of him and grabbed him by the temples.

“Shatter,” uttered the Night Terror, causing Sam to scream in agony as he felt an intense pain spread throughout his entire skull.

**ɹɹ******************************************

As the stinging sensation receded, Sam opened both of his eyes; the dark spots clouding his vision gradually disappeared. After a few deep blinks, he finally recovered his sight – but to his surprise, the vigilante known as the Night Terror was nowhere to be seen. Sam also noticed that the forest had returned to normal, thinking that the Bandit Lord might have scurried off – until he realized Lucy was not next to him.

"Another illusion," the man deduced.

Just as the Faceless was about to sheathe his sword, he felt something gently brush against his back, prompting him to turn around with his katana raised. However, instead of an enemy, it was a star-shaped flower floating in the air. Sam stared at it in silence, wondering why such a bloom was in the Coniferous Forest. He proceeded to stretch his right hand out, allowing the lone flower to land in his palm.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"A pink poui," he stated. As far as he remembered, the blossom in his hand only grew in the south - more specifically, in the Realm of the Tree Dancer. “What are you planning now?"

Sam turned his gaze forward and saw a long, winding road made from the same flower, leading further into the darkness. The man was initially hesitant, thinking this might be one of the traps concocted by the Night Terror. But, he somehow sensed something coaxing him to follow the path - an intense wistful longing that he had never experienced before.

Unfortunately, before he could even process his feelings, both of his legs started to move on their own.

****ɹɹ****************************************

The sound of his feet rustling against the grass and flower petals echoed throughout the forest. Sam had no idea how long had passed ever since he began walking, but he strangely felt an air of calmness swirling around him - as if he knew he wasn't in immediate danger.

The flowery path eventually led to a giant oak tree enfolded in mosses and tattered white clothes with leaf-like symbols imprinted on them. "Wait a second...," Sam whispered, his eyes narrowed. Although he had only seen it once in a book, there was no doubt that the tree in front of him was the same ancient tree standing on top of the Fallen Star Hill.

From out of nowhere, Sam felt something cold and sharp pressing against the nape of his neck. Shortly after, he saw a white silhouette in the corner of his eyes gliding into his field of vision. Sam grimaced at the sight of the bird-masked man scowling at him along with the vigilante's falchion pining against his throat.

"Finally decided to show up?" said the vermillion-eyed man.

The Night Terror moved his head up and down, scrutinizing Sam with his round, citrine eyes. Then, the masked vigilante lowered his sword and took a few steps backward, a gesture that caught the Faceless off guard. Bringing his hand to his neck, Sam rubbed the spot where the blade was touching his skin while staring at the Night Terror in disbelief.

"You could have killed me earlier. So, why didn’t you?" asked Sam, but the masked vigilante remained silent.

Sam fidgeted; his shoulders felt heavy as if a piece of weight was placed on them. "Argh!" he yelped as a stabbing pain spread all over his body. Looking down, he saw his entire clothes were stained dark red, causing him to hurriedly fold his sleeves. Much to the Faceless's confusion and horror, his arms were covered in deep gashes with fresh, warm blood bleeding profusely from each wound.

'Just an illusion; it's just an illusion,' Sam repeated the words in his mind, but the pain felt so vividly real that he was slowly losing consciousness. Seconds later, he sensed someone standing in front of him, and the man could already guess who it was. As Sam raised his head, the Night Terror was an inch away from his face; the vigilante's spindly fingers hovered between the wounded man's eyes before they gently pressed against his forehead.

That was all Sam felt before he slowly fell on his back. He held his breath, bracing himself for the solid ground, but he was soon enveloped in glacial, torrential waters. Sam's eyes widened as the freezing temperature amplified his pain; his scream was drowned by the violent wave. The deafening sound of rushing water filled his ears – yet, he could faintly hear multiple people's voices muttering to each other:

'Better keep our distance from him. I heard he's the one destined to destroy the world.'

'If that's true, then shouldn't we...finish him off?'

'Yeah. It's not like anyone will miss him if he's dead. Just club him in the head with one of those wooden swords and simply said it was an accident. That should do it.'

Sam clamped down on his ears, but his action did nothing as more voices came through - this time, they were spouting scornful remarks:

'You think you're here because you're special? Because your power is rare? No, you're just here so the Council can keep their eyes on you -- so they can put you down in case you become a rabid dog.'

'Fuck off! What makes you think we wanna be your friends!'

'You should have let the river drown you, boy. That'll spare us the trouble of killing you ourselves.'

"Ugh!" Sam cried out as he collided with a hard, stony surface. The next thing he noticed was that he was lying on a patch of grass -- all the cuts on his limbs disappeared without a trace. Moreover, his clothes were completely dry, but his body was still shivering from the cold. With a groan, Sam got to his feet; he felt like his head was about to split open. Never had he faced an illusion that could severely affect every single one of his sensory perceptions before. "The Night Terror…sure lives up to his reputation," the man panted.

In that instance, a strong floral scent crept into his nose and almost caused him to sneeze. "What the-?" Sam gasped.

A vibrant meadow stood before him, composed of various flowers and shrubbery bathed by the ethereal moonlight. What baffled him the most was some of the plants only grew in certain seasons and climates. A verdant pole nestled in the middle of the flourishing garden beckoned to him.

Curious, Sam carefully waded through the bed of flowers, and as he got closer, he realized the long object was in fact, a naginata; its blade partially embedded in the ground. "A Core Blade..." The man uttered confidently, even though it was his first time seeing the weapon. Or was it?

Nevertheless, he reached his right hand out, trying to grab the naginata - only for it to end up exploding into a thousand flower petals. "Shit, should have seen that one coming," Sam said wryly. He spun around; a frown appeared on his forehead as he caught a glimpse of the Veiled Lady standing a few feet from him. A hooded figure stood in front of her, and Sam instantly recognized him as the same person from the fireball vision.

"You shouldn't be here," the Veiled Lady calmly asserted. "The others are searching for you, including the Faceless Lord himself."

"It's your fault. Everything is your fault!" the hooded figure growled. "Everything would be perfect if you just kept your mouth shut!"

"It doesn't matter whether I keep my mouth shut or not. We've told you over and over again, that every action has its consequences - however, it’s not too late to do the right thing. Please, turn yourself in."

“And then what? You’re gonna let those ingrates trample on us even after everything we've done for them? We are not their lapdogs."

"And we are not tyrants either. Your concerns for our well-being are admirable, but that does not permit you to seek and initiate a conflict with the Reprieved. Surely you haven't forgotten why the Order was created in the first place?"

"The only reason they tolerate our presence now is because they need us. When all these fighting are over, these 'hapless people' will cast the Order aside like a group of pariahs."

The Veiled Lady shook her head in dismay. "No one knows for certain what the future holds, including you. Just because there is a possibility that they will turn on us, it doesn't mean they will do it."

"No, you're wrong. There IS one person who knows about the future," the hooded figure's head moved toward the Veiled Lady. "Honorable Dame, I plead to you - please, let me do this."

"One mustn't interfere with the course of destiny, even if it is for the noblest cause."

"This is not about a noble cause, Milady; it's about our survival. So, please," a glinting silver blade slithered out of the hooded figure's sleeve. "Before I make you."

"I'm sorry. My answer is still 'no'."

"I see. That's...that's a pity," the hooded figure sighed before driving his sword into the Veiled Lady's abdomen. "Forgive me...for everything."

Sam, who had been observing from afar, gawked at the unfolding event. His mind was quickly bombarded by questions such as: 'Was that what really happened? Was that how she died?' But the most important one was: 'Why is he seeing all this?'

"You are asking the wrong questions, kid," said the hooded figure as he yanked his sword out of the Veiled Lady's lifeless body, which dispersed into a cloud of sand. "For years, you've been seeking answers to who you are and where you came from - only to be hindered by the Order's archaic laws."

"How-? No, you're-you're not real," Sam retorted, her voice trembling.

"Real or not – I’m the only person who can provide you with the answers to your questions. All you need to do is grab hold...and let me do the rest," the hooded figure offered his left hand.

Sam's eyes were focused intently on the man's extended hand. He could feel his heart pounding painfully against his chest as he contemplated the proposal. To learn about his past -- it was indeed his greatest desire till today - still, he was also aware of the risks of striking a deal with a dubious character.

"Stay away from the boy," said a warm, motherly voice. Sam glanced over his shoulder and saw the Veiled Lady standing behind him. Even with her concealed face, the flame Accursed could feel the anger seeping between the woman's veiling.

"Ah, it seems I was discovered," the hooded figure casually chuckled.

The Veiled Lady stepped in between Sam and the sinister presence, both hands on the vermillion-eyed man's shoulder. "It's time for you to leave," the woman whispered.

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but the Veiled Lady suddenly shoved him away, and he found himself plunged into the icy cold water once more. He flailed around, using his remaining strength to grapple against the turbulence - until he saw an enormous, shadowy apparition loomed over him.

Then, everything faded to black.

||| THE END OF THE PATH OF THE INFERNO |||