What welcomed their eyes was not a dim hallway, an empty space or a room of unrecognisable devices, but a brightly lit hallway decorated with fresh, vibrant vegetation. Unlike the initial halls, the plants here were not parasites that eroded away the existing architecture, but a part of the architecture itself, complementing the white marble pillars with intentional patterns of comfortable green. At its centre was a row of potted trees, the leaves hues of red and orange as if it was eternally frozen in the a moment of autumn. The ground was made of soft wooden planks, emitting a faint relaxing smell that invited them to slow down their pace.

After all the madness earlier, they had finally arrived at what seemed to be a comfortable area to rest.

There were humanoid sculptures of marble adorned with dashes of gold, their bases all in the same octagonal prism design. The sculptures were nearly identical to each other, but as Sofis examined them in detail, she noticed that each succeeding one appeared to look slightly older than the previous, as if the sculptor had documented the life of a certain individual in specific moments. The manner of clothing also shifted as they walked past each sculpture, from basic tunics into increasingly complex and expensive fabrics, from innocent openness to armoured protection.

She wondered if the subject of all these sculptures went through a similar progression in life.

‘This feels very different,’ Gennai noted.

Sofis felt the same. It seemed far too peaceful, even more so than the toddler’s room before the creatures attacked and the pool in which they rested and recuperated. Compared to all the hostility and traps they faced so far, this was markedly different. She half-expected some trap to suddenly spring at them, maybe at least something subtle like the heavy air… but there was nothing.

They were just like some museum-goers, travelling through a gallery or collection of curated art, immersing themselves in the carefully crafted environment of the ancients.

‘Enjoying the scenery?’

A voice startled all four of them, stopping them in their tracks. Before them, slightly hidden behind one of the potted trees was a young man perhaps in his twenties. His appearance was, again, very different from their own, but it wasn’t the same as the ‘creator’ whom Temia had killed. He appeared far more refined, his gaze gentle and seemingly harmless, his voice more humble and controlled. He also possessed quite a handsome face, his amber brown hair well-groomed while still containing a hint of youthful messiness.

Strapped to his waist was a sword with a large red jewel in its hilt. Instead of being protected by a scabbard, the sharp blade was exposed for all to witness. Its craftsmanship seemed extremely advanced, the intricate patterned detailing on the hilt beautifully complementing the blade.

Sofis’ first impression of him was like that of a prince, polite and reserved yet holding an air of authority. Everything about the hall seemed to attract her attention to him as if he was the main character of this realm. She quickly realised he was, in fact, the subject of all the sculptures, his beauty and grace reflected well in those structures of marble. Captivated, she held her gaze for an unnaturally long period of time, not even realising that the others were doing the same thing as her.

‘Welcome to my realm,’ he said. ‘I hope you’ll enjoy yourselves here for the time being.’

Gennai reached out a hand. ‘I’m Gennai. These are my companions Jorn, Temia and Sofis. And you are…?’

‘Avalel of Achien,’ the man responded.

‘Achien… I’ve never heard of that place before.’

Neither did Sofis. She guessed that it was probably the name of the structure before it became the ruins that it was now. Based on that logic, the man was likely also an apparition, here just to form some sort of illusion to distract them.

But for what reason he lingered here… She still wanted to know.

‘Say, I’ve never met you four before. May I give you a tour?’ Avalel invited.

‘Uh, sure.’

Before they knew it, they were following him, listening to his introduction to each of the sculptures. There were also pieces of expensive art that hung upon the walls, displaying fantastical scenes beyond their imagination with a realism that none could replicate. Listening to his voice was quite comforting. He told stories of thick forests and stretching deserts, of charismatic individuals and quiet groups, of rebellions and societies of his time. He was never tired of explaining whenever they had a question, and patiently listened before giving his own answer. At no point were they uncomfortable, instead quite enjoying his presence over time. Despite only having known him for a very short while, Sofis was already curious about him, wishing to understand everything she could.

It was then that she noticed a pattern in his left eye. Instead of a black, circular pupil, Avalel’s was red and glowed slightly like a distant star. It was quite beautiful and unique for her, silently presenting another window into his world so vastly different from her own.

She learned that Avalel was not just a prince, but a king in a distant empire with the title ‘Elydeia’, having created a world for himself and his people who adored and worshipped him as their saviour. Still believing that she was talking to an apparition, Sofis imagined that empire to be almost mythical in age, in a time before the world was even remotely like it was now. For a brief moment, she wished to visit that world, even if it was for a glimpse, just to experience and exist in the same world as Avalel did.

‘How did you form your empire?’ Temia asked. ‘Are you a warrior?’

‘I guess you can call me that,’ Avalel said sheepishly. ‘I’m more of a lucky man, though.’

‘What do you mean?’

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

‘Throughout my life, I was blessed with many gifts. Without those gifts, I don’t believe I can become the man I am right now. I guess you can call it fate, perhaps, that I eventually became who I am today. The road was by no means smooth, but looking back, I feel as if I was destined to become Elydeia, to be ruler of my people.’

As they continued walking, Sofis noticed a different sculpture, this one of a tall woman with a blade for an arm. She had known about experiments in prosthetics done by some scholars, but to have such an impressive display in a sculpture likely dated many years ago was unbelievably amazing.

‘Avalel, if you do not mind my interruption,’ she said, pointing at that sculpture. ‘Who is this?’

Avalel stopped, his face briefly sorrowful before he returned to a polite smile. ‘A… dear friend of mine. This sculpture was made to immortalise her for her influence in my life.’

His tone felt just slightly different from the conversation before, as if he was carefully selecting words to say and present to them. Still, Sofis chose not to inquire further. There was likely a reason for this change that he probably wouldn’t disclose.

‘What is the greatest treasure that you have?’ Gennai asked.

Avalel took out his sword, its blade almost sparkling under the lights, the jewel glowing a fiery crimson. ‘This. This sword is the key to my success, and my most prized possession out of everything that I own.’

‘Does it have a name?’

‘Anapadeia. I did not name it, for this was what it called itself.’

Through his voice and his careful handling, the sword’s value to him was made clear to everyone. For Sofis, there was a mysterious brilliance in the sword which attracted her gaze, and with it, a growing desire to have one for hers to own.

She unconsciously reached for the hilt, but was stopped just in time as Avalel lightly placed his hand on her own. He said nothing, but the slight change in demeanour alone was enough for her to back away.

It was then that Sofis noticed the man was, in fact, not an apparition.

‘Shall we continue?’ he said as he placed the sword by his waist once more.

They continued onwards with their leisurely walk, Sofis’ doubtful thoughts put back as she listened to Avalel’s story.

‘It’s actually quite comforting to talk with you all,’ he said. ‘Despite what I seem, I am in fact a lonely man. Throughout my life I had few friends, fewer that I’d call my true companions and comrades. Perhaps this is the fate of a warrior and a king, but I sometimes wondered if things would be different had I been guided to step on a different path. Ultimately, as I am chosen to take this path, this is the reality which I am. Despite my power, my authority and my gifts, I am ultimately a slave to Fate and the Creator which moulded me into who I am.’

He stopped. As Sofis looked around, she realised the other three were nowhere to be seen. The sculptures and the surrounding environment had disappeared as well. There was just her and Avalel in a blank, white space, standing under a tree with red and orange leaves.

‘Where are they…?’

‘In a safe space,’ Avalel answered. ‘I sensed something different when you arrived into my presence. I do not know the reason as to why you and I are to meet here, but I do understand one thing: you are chosen, just as I was in my youth.’

‘W-What do you mean?’

‘Fate chooses a Protagonist in every story, though he may be called by a different name in each of them. I know him as “Fate”, obviously, but for you he is the “Creator”. I do not understand his true identity as he belongs in a different existence, but I do understand that, in every story, he has poured an aspect of himself to reveal to you, the Protagonist, through the tale that he has crafted. Just as Fate chose me and binded me to be his slave, he has also chosen you to show another aspect of himself.’

‘This doesn’t make sense. How can there be an all-powerful Creator when Temia has already killed him?’

‘He does exist, and he has chosen you as the Protagonist of this story. For all the absurdities that you have faced, each has their own meaning in the grand plan. Whatever character you are, whatever role you have, all is built up for the sake of you as a Protagonist.’

‘Then what is my purpose? What is the purpose of everything I faced and chose? Are you saying that I am ultimately nothing more than a slave?’

‘I do not know what Fate, your Creator, ultimately has in store for you, but once you see him again, he will reveal everything to you. In the end, despite whatever we ourselves are led to believe, we are slaves in a plan, our freedom ultimately giving us an illusion of agency.’

‘Then are you saying that even this conversation is designed by that Creator?’

‘I would assume so. I cannot know, and neither can you, but the mechanisms of Fate determine it to be so. You can “choose” to reject this notion, as I have done in my own story. In the end, I am brought back to play my role, not because I freely chose to do so, but that it was in my character, designed by Fate, to do so.’

‘Then I do not accept this notion.’

‘You are definitely different from me, Sofis. I am created to prefer conversation, to fight and protect as a warrior and saviour for my people. You are created to be an observer, possessing a weak physical body but have a heightened awareness and intelligence from your education. I believe that Fate will reveal more to you than he has to me, but as a fellow Protagonist, the only wisdom I can give is to encourage you to flow as you are intended, to submit yourself as you are designed to be.’

‘What if there is no Creator? What if this is all a hoax, a ploy created by your eloquent words to trap me in a slave mentality?’

‘You can resist, but even that is a design from Fate. At the end of everything, the truth will be revealed to you. It doesn’t matter whether you believe in it. It simply is.’

‘With your logic, whatever I do is ultimately a design from the Creator. I am simply a character created to further a preset story. In that case, then there is no meaning to even resist my destiny as everything is already predetermined. Whether I believe or reject your words is already in the script. That is what you are saying, isn’t it?’

‘That is correct.’

‘Then I will stubbornly continue to believe in my own agency. Protagonist or not, I cannot accept a world in which I am not a master of my destiny, refusing responsibility for my triumphs and mistakes. This is my conclusion.’

Sofis turned away from Avalel. She understood now. Even this hall was a trial, a trial of her own character and agency. The truth could not be contained in a predetermined script, but to be gradually discovered by her own efforts and merit. Just as she and the treasure hunters gradually uncovered more of the structure, she too would keep control over discovering more aspects of herself. The credit, she decided, could not be attributed to an imaginary Creator who decided whether she succeeded or failed, survived or died.

‘And if this is proven otherwise?’ Avalel called out.

‘Your claim cannot be either proven or disproven by existing properties given that you are describing a higher existence,’ she answered. ‘Either the Creator appears to me in person, discrediting its alleged omnipotence over my fate, or there is no Creator, that everything you said was simply a lie to force me to submit to any authority that claims to be the Creator. Without any ample evidence for or against, I choose to reject your claim.’

A door appeared in front of her. She turned the knob and opened it, stepping out into the unknown.

‘I am Sofis, scholar of Academia Historica. And I am simply who I am.’