The woman named Vonis laughs heartily about Shaula’s death. She walks over to the chair near the window where Creta is standing with his long sword.

Creta’s long sword is standing vertically, hilt in Creta’s hands.

Ajax freezes at the shock of what Vonis had told him.

Shaula... no... no she can’t... no... no! No!

Ajax notices Vonis laughing. Her cackling voice grates his ears.

Just some time ago, she had been in his room ensuring his safety. His happiness. His comfort.

Her disgusting pleasure at the death of his best friend now is...

No. No. Shaula isn’t dead. She isn’t dead. Vonis is lying. She’s trying to get on my nerves. She clearly hates--

“Look, Kinser, this moron thinks Vonis is playing a trick on him.”

Creta can see the denial on Ajax’s face. Ajax is trying to dig his way out of this news anyway he can.

“Boy... Vonis isn’t the type to do that kind of thing, you know? This Shaula’s most likely dead...”

Shut up, Kinser, shut up... you’re just lying... you’re just--

“Ha! You think I’d lie about her death? I saw her corpse myself. Quite a beautiful woman if she wasn’t a traitor to her race. Who was she to you? She doesn’t seem like your sister... Your lover? Oh, that would be hilarious, huh, Creta?”

“This twerp? Look at how much of a bitch he is! I saw him crying when he was cavity searched... you’re a fucking failure of a human being! I mean what exactly did you think was gonna happen when you became a spy, you imbecile?”

Shut up. Shut up. She’s not. She’s not dead. She can’t die. They’re trying... they’re trying to make me angry. Th-They take pleasure in my suffering. We were... weren’t we promised safety? Oromasdes promised us safety, didn’t he--

“Hahaha! And you’re probably right, Creta, she didn’t really look like the type to have one man. That whore? She looks like she gets passed around like a--”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up!”

Ajax cannot stand Vonis disrespecting Shaula. She was... no, she is his best friend.

She is alive. She is alive. I’m not going to believe what this cunt tries to say about her. She is alive. She is. She is. She--

“He’s doing it again, Vonis. Denying it is only going to make it more difficult, boy...”

Kinser gives his opinion of Ajax’s turbulent soul, not disturbed at all by Ajax’s powerless outburst.

“Shut up! Shut up! She’s alive! I’m not going to believe you pieces of shit!! She’s alive!!”

Tears fall from Ajax’s face as he shakes his arm locks and leg chains in anger.

“She’s not... she’s not dead...”

Ajax struggles against his wooden wrist lock and his feet, held in iron shackles, shake wildly, attempting to gain freedom. He falls over to his left side, still laying on the bed... tears starting to flow.

He hates being bound. Bound while Shaula, at the very least, might be--

No, she’s not hurt, she’s not dead, she’s ok... she’s just fine... she’s just fine...

“...Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Do you want us to hold firm to our word and maim you?”

“--she’s not dead, she’s not--”

“Sigh, maybe I should just leave, it’s just no fun tormenting this race traitor. Plus, this room is cold--”

“No, Vonis, just stay right here. I’ll give you a front row seat.”

“--I don’t believe you, I don’t--”

Creta slowly walks towards Ajax from his position next to Vonis at the window. He drags his sword across the floor, the blade making small sparks. Ajax continues to mumble to himself as his tears flow.

He cannot do anything. His mind doesn’t even register Creta’s movement towards him.

“This little fuck is trying to get our sympathy with his pathetic whining--”

“Forget it, Creta. If the spy girl is dead, then the cardinal won’t want us to kill this valuable source of information.”

“Don’t worry, Kinser, I’m not gonna kill him...”

Creta sheathes his long sword to his scabbard at his waist.

Vonis raises her eyes in anticipation. Then she notices something. She can see... she can see her breath now.

She noticed the room getting colder but... she looks over at Kinser.

He also notices the frigid air. He didn’t notice any temperature changes earlier because of his armour.

It is built with a slight temperature regulation magic feature so he wouldn’t notice the temperature dropping so rapidly.

However, his exhaled breath is now visible to him, as if he were outside in late autumn.

“W-wait, Creta--”

Creta raises his left fist, clad in a shining, purple gauntlet with silver fingers. He draws it back as if to strike full force. He is aiming for Ajax’s crying face lying on the bed.

Creta strikes Ajax’s face, covered in frozen tears.

Fuck! That fucking... Huh?

“Nnh, shit!”

Creta’s gauntlet has collected frost. The hand underneath feels like it was stabbed with hundreds of tiny pins. It feels... it feels numb.

Kinser didn’t see what happened since Creta’s large frame was obstructing his view of the strike.

“Creta, what happened?”

“M-My hand! I-I think it’s frostbite. Ow, ow! Fuck!”

Ajax, on the other hand, felt pain for a brief moment. A jolt of pain from Creta’s strike and then... nothing... no pain... no aftereffect.

Vitality.

Ajax can feel vitality circulating his body. A renewed sense of energy. As if he had done some warm-up exercises all of a sudden. His heart is beating fast in excitement.

Ajax sits up. He cannot feel the tears frozen on his face. He cannot feel the cold of the room.

“What? What is... didn’t you just--”

Ajax can’t make sense of this. Didn’t Creta just strike him? A hit like that should have broken his jaw. When he should have been feeling pain, he’s feeling...

“Shut up, you fucking prick! Kinser, take a look at my hand!”

Creta removes his gauntlet. The gauntlet that struck Ajax’s face, covered in condensed water and frost.

The hand underneath is... partially frozen. Small, rigid bits of skin start falling off. His fingers are red.

“Oh...Oh, dear Sapiora!? What the fuck happened to your hands!?”

Vonis can see the deep freeze burn on Creta’s hands.

Creta, having seen his ugly, deformed hand, turns back to look at Ajax. Creta’s eyes narrow; however, Ajax cannot see his murderous intent with Creta’s helmet preventing a clear view of his face.

Not that he needs to see his face to know that Creta is furious.

Creta starts walking towards him slowly.

Ajax wants to feel fear but the feeling of vitality circulating his body keeps him in an elevated state of consciousness, this natural high.

“Hold... hold on... wait, come back and let me heal you...”

“...Kinser. After... after I’m done killing this bastard, then heal me...”

“Creta, wait--”

“He resisted me, Kinser.”

Creta unsheathes his long sword with his right hand, holding it one-handed. Creta is a strong holy knight, indeed.

It is at this point that Ajax’s high wears off. Ajax’s heart stops.

“Ahhhhhh!”

Creta lunges forward. Ajax is about to--

A sound of bone cracking, of flesh being punctured. Of concrete breaking behind him.

“N-no... no, this...”

Ajax looks down at the wound. He barely realizes he’s moving his head to stare at it. All he feels is the excruciating pain. Ajax has never felt pain like this. Not anywhere close.

The pain he’s felt in his entire life up to this point. All of it combined meant... nothing to...

Ajax sees the wound. He can see Creta’s right hand clutching the hilt of the sword.

Where... where’s the rest of it? The hilt is... the hilt is on my chest... the rest is...

The rest of the sword, the double-edged blade, is through Ajax’s body, through... his heart, exiting out of the... the middle of his... back. Ajax’s spine is severed.

The blade has pierced the concrete wall behind him and cracked it.

Ajax feels dizzy. He doesn’t really understand... he doesn’t... he does--

Ajax spits blood. He vomits blood on his own chest, on the hilt of Creta’s sword and Creta’s right hand.

Vonis looks upon the scene in shock. She has never seen an execution before. She doesn’t make a sound.

Kinser looks at Creta in exasperation. This is just going to be an extra thing to explain...

Ajax looks up from his wound to Creta’s helmet. Through the slits of his helmet... Ajax is close enough to see... he can see a smile... his teeth...

Creta stares at Ajax’s face. Creta wishes... to see the light leave his eyes...

Creta hates them. He hates the demons. He wishes to see them all die. And their sympathizers. Their spies. The race traitors.

Ajax raises his right hand slowly to Creta’s face. His spine is severed at a spot that still allows him movement of his arms, at least his right arm. His legs are useless now. His lower digestive system will no longer function.

Ajax will lose all nervous system activity in his lower body. Although luckily, this kind of injury shall kill him before he has to live with the effects of that.

Ajax feels his heart try to beat... it’s obstructed. The sword is obstructing its attempt to circulate blood throughout his body.

Is Ajax imagining the sensation of his heart trying to beat even through impalement? Or is that the phantom memory of his heart beating?

Yet... he doesn’t feel... like he’s going... to die... His right hand lands on Creta’s head. He touches Creta’s helmet while Creta watches in his shameful joy at Ajax’s--

Consume.

In an instant.

Frost collects on the surface of Creta’s armour.

Vitality.

Ajax feels strength return to his body, light and colour return to his face.

The pain dulls. It is still excruciating but... somewhat less unbearable.

Ajax’s right hand is still on Creta’s face. He raises his left arm quickly.

Creta doesn’t move in response. Ajax can see his smile still, unmoving.

Ajax pushes with a rush of new power against Creta’s chest.

The sword impaling Ajax leaves the wall behind him and Ajax’s own chest cavity. It is still attached to Creta’s hands which are continuing to firmly grasp the hilt.

Creta falls backwards to the floor in front of Vonis’ feet.

He shatters to pieces.

The metal pieces of armour on his body separate into shards, like pieces of purple glass.

Creta’s head separates from his neck. Part of his helmet crumbles away, revealing a portion of his head and face. His long, black hair. A layer of frost on his frozen skin. His unmoving, green left eye.

Creta’s arms part at the shoulders, as if he were a doll pulled apart.

His long sword breaks into two length-wise shards as it hits the floor. It is solid iron all the way through. Not hollow or weak by any measure, yet in pieces.

Ajax doesn’t notice any of this. He looks at his chest. Ajax notices his whitish-red ribs at the opening of his wound... growing and... reconnecting... this puncture, near his left nipple around the size of a child’s closed fist, shrinks... until it is the size of a pinhole. Then gone.

He feels pain, sensation, motion, movement return to his lower body. His lower body, rather his entire body feels better than it ever has before.

“Ha... haha... hahaha...”

This feels amazing.

This feels amazing... Ajax feels giddy. He was brought right to the edge of death. To death itself. Certain death.

He takes his pulse with his right hand against a blood vessel right until his jaw.

Ajax notices his hands are free... they’ve been free. He’s been let free!

His wooden wrist locks are gone. They’ve shattered along with...

Ajax looks at Creta’s frozen, dismembered, rather, shattered corpse on the ground before him.

Oh no.