“Zuan! What is the meaning of this!?” The head of the Irona family, Lord Hermann, stared at the piece of paper while trembling in rage.There was only one sentence written, yet murderous intent poured out of the words in a thick, suffocating haze.

Since you asked for war, then I shall give it to you.

Zuan, Lord Hermann’s faithful spy of many years at the League of Adventurer’s branch in Lizbon topened his mouth to speak words of caution, but whenever he tried to speak he would choke up and go silent. Like sand on the wind, the words seemed to elude his mind and everytime he would feel a pressure gripping his heart, like a reminder of what would happen.

“This… I cannot say!” Zuan gritted his teeth and forced the words out. Anything related to Airen, he could not speak a single word about. If he tried to utter anything about the contract that he had signed, his heart would be assaulted, sometimes with heat, sometimes with cold, sometimes with pressure, sometimes with needle-like pain, and various other ailments.

Whatever curse was placed on him caused Zuan to both be deeply afraid, and deeply angry at the same time, for it not only applied to his voice, but even his hands when he tried to write, whether they were words, symbols, or even pictures. It was a type of magic that he had never seen before, and none of the records he had poured through was remotely similar to it.

He could only hope that Lord Hermann could rationalize out his predicament.

“Zuan. Are you working for the enemy? After twenty faithful years of service, you decided to turn coat against your master?”

Zuan desperately tried to force the words ‘no’ out, but the sound was stuck in his throat. No matter how he much he pushed himself, to the point of having cold sweat pour down his forehead, he would not be able to clear away the misunderstanding.

“He’s under a seal of sorts.” A voice behind him eventually led to his redemption, and the pressure around his heart faded away. “I’ve never seen its like before.”

“Ah, Lady Siana. I am honored to be in your presence.” Lord Hermann stood up to greet the new arrival. “Has the Council meeting concluded early?”

“Mmm. It did.” Lady Siana ignored his invitation to sit and walked around Zuan. “It seems that your man has been silenced by way of a magical contract no lesser than those written by me.”

“Surely you must be exaggerating. Your business sells the contracts that bind individuals and is core to the slave trade. The wealth you possess is at least thrice that of the Irona house.” Lord Hermann laughed.

Lady Siana did not respond, instead continue to circle and press against Zuan’s body. After second, she jabbed forward with her hand, slipping through the flesh and touching upon the heart. A few seconds later, she pulled back in surprise.

“That’s an interesting way to write a magical contract, to bind it upon the heart.” She mused to herself before turning to Lord Hermann. “I want this man as well, he should be a good experiment.”

“Not a problem. If your greatness wishes to study him, then he is yours. He is useless to me now.” Lord Hermann smiled. “It’s a small trade compared to the personally-trained slave guards you sold me.”

Zuan would never be seen again. It is said that a small sum was given to his family for ‘falling in the line of duty’ for the Red Slate Republic.

“Finally, it is done!” Airen brushed the sand off his arms and stood up, marveling at what he created. In front of him stood a simple building, built from prepared stone bricks and a mixture that Fieluri called ‘cement’. The interior was not large. It was only four hundred square feet in size, but it was enough for an individual to live and perhaps thrive. The wooden beams that made the roof even had an open slot for a chimney. Airen was rather proud of his first building in Haven, his world within the painting.

“It is a good thing that this place has no such thing as earthquakes.” Fieluri, who had made herself a nice chair out of the materials with a single spell, put a damper on Airen’s mood and accomplishment.

“Good heavens Airen, did you not leave room for windows? With such crappy ventilation, are you planning for the one to live in their to die from lack of oxygen when they use the fireplace?”

Although Fieluri’s words were mocking and demeaning, there was truth in her words. She had let him do as he wished, and only arrived when he was about to finish. During that time Airen could already tell she was holding back on pointing out all the flaws in his work.

With a sigh, Airen transformed Dir Sayf into it’s blade-needle like form. After staring at a part of the wall that was to his eye level, he released a series of Flash of Divine Steel strikes. Afterward, Airen placed both hands against the stone wall and pushed- causing a stone block to slip out and creating a makeshift window.

“Well, at least you can train your techniques if you messed up” Fieluri rolled her eyes as she pointed to the block of stone. A magic circle appeared below it and Airen watched in amazement as the rock-hard stone brick seemed to morph and twist like liquid, before forming in the shape of a tall chair. Naturally, Fieluri plopped herself down in this chair and pulled out a book out of her gown. Airen was at loss for words, if she had the ability to so easily transfigure and manipulate stone, couldn’t she just make the buildings for him?

“...If it’s so easy for you, why don’t you just... “ Airen ventured.

“No can do. This is your venture, not mine. At the very least, once I’m gone, you can take this chair as a gift.” Fieluri seemed to have read Airen’s mind as she spoke, never raising her face to meet his. Her dismissive attitude was not new to Airen, so he took no insult in the matter, for he was the student and she was the master that granted him powers. Some might say that the History Eater herself was a god, for in the distance past she had been revered as one, yet Airen simply treated her as a rather selfish, moody, and haughty individual.

Paying her heed no longer, Airen moved onward to the fields. The dirt he had obtained from the Lasat Gardens had been transplanted, and seeds sown. Since he intended for this world to be eventually self-sufficient, he had taken up agriculture. Although this manual labor did not further his skills, it helped build up his endurance. Furthermore, since time operated differently, the ‘week’ that Airen took to raise his first building was but five nights in his world.

With the end of the semester, Eullina had taken Rureya to visit Tel’naraa. Loys had accompanied them to the border before leaving, stating that he had some business in the Holy Land of Ecclisa, before he would venture out to the Dew Plains. In the end, Airen had the entire dorm to himself, and although he almost missed the daily hustle and bustle, he now had time for himself.

The days were often spent on bizarre errands for Fieluri in her mad experiments or shopping sprees, and the nights were spent in the Archive and Haven. Orshan also seemed to have upped and vanished, and Airen had no doubt he was engaging in ‘pleasures’ elsewhere on the continent.

Time slowly drifted by as Airen checked each individual plant, carefully noting things such as broken stems, discoloration, size, root length, and phase in the sprouting cycle. When he finished, he stood up and stretched. He heard the click of the tongue behind him, and suddenly it started to rain, for one reason or another Fieluri was in the mood to lend a hand in watering the crops for him.

“So what happened?” Airen asked.

“Someone decided to mess with the magical seal I placed on that attendant from the League of Adventurers.” Fieluri mused. “I love how your kind just ignores warnings.”

“Oh.” Airen was not sure how to respond to her, so he simply nodded.

“Sometime in the future, Airen, I will be borrowing the entirety of your body.”

“Oh…. Eh?” Airen was about to nod again at Fiel, for she often launched into monologues. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I meant. Unless of course, you wish to watch the misery of the defeated and the wails of the fallen as their blood seeps into the ground.” Fieluri shrugged. “I had thought to spare you the sight of it, but perhaps after so many battles in the Archive against the memories of past heroes, you’ve grown immune to it.”

“I- what?”

“…Airen, did you grow up under a rock? Obviously I meant that your great teacher will soon be putting those at the Irona House in their place, and there will be lots of bloodshed. And to spare you from the sight of it, I had generously offered keep your soul here in the Archive while I control your body.”

“….Can’t you just go out by yourself? I mean, aren’t you all powerful and mighty beyond comprehension?” Airen smirked.

“Of course, I am. But without someone to blame and instill fear into, then there is no reason for this war.” Fieluri snorted, her nose twitching in annoyance.”Since I’ve already created your alter-ego, we may as well roll with it.”

“My alter-ego?” Airen grumbled. Wasn’t his ‘alter-ego’ just Fieluri’s creation for her own convenience?

“My poor, foolish child Airen.” Fieluri gave an exaggerated sigh and rambled in a voice like an elderly scolding a mischievous child. “When you venture out, are you going to declare that your name is Airen Casteya to the world to see?”

“Of course not-”

“Then you will take on the mantle as Neäir. Plus, you’ve already registered in the league under that name, and I have made it so nobody would suspect otherwise.”

“...Made it?”

“A bit of influence, if you will. That attendant that the league was a useful pawn while he lasted. Who would have known that such an attendant would have much security clearance.”

“You do some dangerous things, Fiel. One day you will make an enemy that you cannot handle.” Airen rolled his eyes.

“Oh, fear not my disciple, I welcome it.” There was a dark smile plastered on Fieluri’s face. Airen had a feeling that he shouldn’t pry any further, and decided to change topic.

“You shouldn’t joke about things like that. Even you must have lost once or twice in your life.”

Fieluri scowled, her expression a confirmation of Airen’s words.

“Wait, are you serious? The high and mighty History Eater, with over a thousand titles, actually lost?!” Airen was rather shocked, for he personally witnessed the extent of Fieluri’s power.

“I always win in the end, for victory is different for each individual. There are many individuals of which I could not claim their memories, as well as treasured Aeon Armaments that would not submit to the Archive’s rule. In that case, I have lost many, many times.” Fieluri scowled, obviously remembering some unwanted memories.

“So what would it take to defeat you?” Airen decided to push his luck a bit further.

“Let me see… in the past, it was two of the Primordial Beasts that banded together, then it was the Four Great Spirits had to halt their age-long squabble to defeat me. After that was six Ancients that controlled the biomes of the world, then six clans of high dragons, then an alliance of world powers, and the last time was when I, when the portals that lead to the world of Valru and Isthtov were sealed closed in a great battle. Of course, each one of these battles involved many heroes of the generation.” Fieluri nonchalantly counted down with her fingers, as if they were no great deal to her. “That’s not including several famed heroes that did so single-handedly.”

“It seems you were really hated.” Airen had no clue what half of the terms she used meant, but he could understand the gist of it was that Fieluri had a habit of making enemies.

“Back in my younger days, let’s just say I was a bit of a kleptomania when it came to tidbits of history.” Fieluri shrugged. “Sometimes those things were not done by my own hand, but those that seeked to parlay with me. But I am ultimately responsible, I suppose.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’ve changed much.” Airen grinned.

“Aren’t you the ungrateful little child. Many would consider it an honor to be chosen to be the great History Eater’s disciple.”

“I think the term you should use is servant.” Airen grumbled and did a mock imitation of Fieluri’s voice. “What’s for dinner tonight? Go fetch me this book from the library. Oh, cancel your plans because we’re going to the auction house. You call that a sword? Pft. Trash. That fried octopus looks good, buy me some.”

“Think of them as a show of loyalty.” Fieluri waved a hand in dismissal. “A tribute to yours truly.”

“Today is the day, I hear that buying sweet cakes for a ravenous little chipmunk can be considered loyalty.”

“Offering food is considered a show of faith in the beast and animal kingdoms.” Fieluri smirked.

“I’m not even a human now?”

“At the very least, you can consider yourself half a man.”

“Because I haven’t grown up?” Airen nodded, thinking that he had caught onto Fieluri’s drift.

“Because the other half of you is pure idiocy that can’t even follow simple instructions to construct a dwelling.” Fieluri chuckled. The teasing yet cordial tone from before had been replaced with one of disdain. “Maybe showing you the Garden of Words was a bit premature.”

Airen did his best to ignore the scalding remarks, as it wasn’t the first time Fieluri’s tone was so direct and downright disappointed. However, before he could let it go, Fieluri continued to pummeled him with more backhanded insults.

“I already considered that your ‘noble’ birth would leave you a bit… pampered, but your progress is barely acceptable, despite all the resources I have made available to you.”

“I… I am trying my hardest.” Airen’s words came out from behind gritted teeth, his fists balled up in a mix of anger and frustration. “But you are also at fault!”

“Oh? Do elaborate.”

“You said that you would take responsibility, but never, not even once have you actually taught me with your own hand. All you have done is tossed me a book or memory and say ‘go learn this’. For someone that has claimed to lived for ages, you’re not a good teacher at all!” After his outburst, Airen dug his feet in,, expecting for Fieluri to hit him with a crushing or gravity spell, but after a few tense minutes, no retaliation came.

“You think you are worthy to be trained by me personally at your level?” Fieluri’s words were cold as she slowly closed the book in her hands. Before Airen could reply, she snapped her fingers and the scene around them turned pitch black. A split second later, it reverted itself and Airen found himself in the polished arena within the Archive.

“One strike. My disciple. If you can last a single technique from me, I will humor your words.” Fieluri waved a hand, her gown flowing like silk as it suddenly transfigured into a black leather suit that was more oriented for combat.

“Pick your weapon, and I shall match it!” With a clap of the hand, over a hundred weapons fell from above Airen around him. As they were all fabled and legendary treasures, more than half of them easily sank into the ground all the way to the hilt from their sharpness alone. With a sense of foreboding, Airen picked out the a sword that was both familiar and gifted to him- Dullas’s sword, Torchlight.

The golden-red blade seemed to gleam as Airen grasped the dark obsidian hilt with both hands, and the rest of the weapons lifted off the ground and flew on their separate ways, no doubt to return to the place they were originally stored.

When Airen looked up, he found Fieluri casually giving a few practice swings with a weapon that resembled his own.

“Here’s a free lesson, my disciple. All of the weapons formed out of the Archive you use are but copies of the original. Every time you return them to the Archive, they are checked and repaired if necessary, and enchantments replaced if they have expired.” Fieluri had quickly adjusted to her weapon, and she was now pointing it at Airen.

“In the past, duelists would announce the name of their technique, to allow their opponent to know what exactly had defeated them as a professional courtesy. Similarly, this sword art I shall display to you is called ‘100 Strikes, 1000 Victories.’ Hold your weapon and pray that you will at least view part of its majesty before dying.“

Airen could visibly feel air trembling as the space around Fieluri seemed to contort as she prepared who-knows-what. His own legs started to tremble as he watched Fieluri spun the weapon in circles above her head as if summoning a great typhoon, hundreds of dense afterimages trailing behind it like smoke. In the end, his experience overcame his fear, and he could only dug his feet into the arena and weather the storm head on.

Seeing Airen take his stance and ready to block, Fieluri grinned before making her move. As if time itself halted for Fieluri, she disappeared from where she stood and reappeared in front of Airen. Even he could not fathom how she had moved so quickly, fast enough to even defeat his heightened perception that could follow the path of an arrow in flight.

What followed next could only be considered absolute annihilation, as the pair of replica weapons met, Airen’s Torchlight seemed to turn into dust, and Fieluri’s blade continued until it met his body. Maddening pain wracked his body as if he had been struck with a million blades and he ‘died’.

About two hours later, his soul reformed and Airen meekly made his way back to the arena, with all intentions of apologizing. He had fought many, many battles in the Archive, and this was the first time he felt as if even his soul was splitting into pieces, giving him a newfound sense of fear that he thought he had lost. Even in the common spars with the past heroes, his soul would reform within minutes, if not seconds. He was met with the sight of Fieluri sitting between some cushions and calmly reading a book, what could be considered the usual scene if not for the fact that a few moments ago, his body was sliced so many times it had crumbled to dust.

“...My apologies.”

“Huh?” Airen was slowly mustering up the courage to apologize, but to his surprise it was Fieluri that did so instead. “Um, no. I should be-”

“You are correct that I have not personally taught you anything, merely passing on knowledge. I should not have assumed that you have the insight to draw your own conclusions when you are but a child.” Fieluri said in a monotone-like voice, as if she was talking to herself instead of Airen. Even her apologies sounded like a scolding.

“Uh...” Airen was at lost for words. Was the great History Eater actually feeling… guilt?

“So as per our agreement, you may ask me to provide insight into any skills you have learned. Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m going to teach you spells and weapon arts without proper compensation.”

“Didn’t I lose?” Airen blurted out. Not only did he ‘lost’, his soul was nearly crushed in the process.

“Didn’t I say victory is decided by the individual themselves?” Fieluri looked up for the first time. “To be able to take on the technique I designed in my early years to ‘rend all creation to dust’ can be considered an accomplishment. You may be an idiot, but you’ve tempered your soul to a commendable point that it didn’t dissipate. Also, I said that you have to survive a ‘single’ strike, and you can judge by the name that it is anything but one strike.”

“Um.. thanks.” Airen realized that Fieluri had good intentions from the beginning. He knew very well that Fieluri specialized in magic, yet even her ability with a sword was monstrous, yet he still felt a bit proud and happy at her words.

“Wipe that smile off your face. It’s unsightly.” Fieluri snorted and looked away.

The next day.

Under Fieluri’s ‘urgings’ Airen had donned the Night Sculptor’s Mask and Mantle of Age to masquerade as Neäir to pay Cordelia a visit. As usual when acting as Fieluri’s alter ego, she sat atop of his shoulder in a fairy-like form, occasionally pointing out random things and giving Airen a lecture on it. Of course, most of it went through one ear and out the other, and Airen could only ask himself for the thousandth time if this little bookworm just liked to show off or liked the sound of her own voice.

Their purpose today was twofold, to meet with Cordelia to discuss recent transgressions, and to pick up the deposit from the last two paintings “Parting from the Water’s Womb”, and “Shadows from the Castle of Torture.” Both images had a sharp contrast, with one a solemn birth of an underwater drake parting from its shell and swimming towards the moonlight towards a beckoning girl, and the other a bloodied warrior beset on all sides by dark shadow-like creatures shouting a war cry. Airen could only ruefully wonder about the things Keri has seen on her journey.

As they arrived at the Irona Auction house, they were let through without being asked for identification. For better or for worse, he had come and go often enough that even the guards recognized him. After all, good news travel slowly and bad news have wings, for there were rumors of his association with Cordelia, and his actions against Lord Hermann.

“Sir, how may I assist you today?” One of the attendants noticed him as he entered the VIP lounge. All of the workers there were aware that he would ask to speak to Cordelia, but they asked him regardlessly, both out of politeness and eagerness to earn a commission. It seemed that the Irona house decided to drop all pretenses of ‘customer privacy’ and let leak that Neäir paid in pure gold bars. It was a method of retaliation and more than once ‘Neäir’ had been accosted by bandits and brigands.

Fieluri killed them all and made an example of them. Even Airen’s stomach churned when he saw the figures hanging against the side of buildings, their charred black entrails dangling and expressions of utmost horror and pain on the would be bandit’s faces. The first few times, Airen found himself repulsed by Fieluri's brutality, for she made sure to keep them alive while they screamed and begged for release from the people passing by.

“Please call Miss Cordelia for me.” Neäir waved off the male attendant as he strode through the VIP room and sat down in an armchair. Several moments later, a male servant with a slave brand came over with a tray of refreshments. About half an hour later, Cordelia bustled in.

“Have a seat. Eat.” Neäir could tell from first glance that Cordelia was being overworked, with dark circles under her eyes and the fact that she wobbled in place while standing. Several of the attendants gave her pitiful looks while others glared at Neäir, knowing he was partially responsible. On the surface they knew that that although the Irona house was being amicable and cordial in their attitude towards Neäir but it was Cordelia who was suffering from it.

“Please excuse my lack of manners.” Cordelia eased herself down a chair and started to munch on the refreshments, obviously not have eaten at a long time. “Thank you for coming, I was afraid I would have to hold off eating for another twelve hours.” Despite her own needs, she poured a cup of tea for both of them.

“It seems that your father has abandoned all pretenses.” Neäir sighed. “How did the auction of the paintings go?”

“About that. One of them sold for below the appraisal price, and the other has been...” Cordelia hesitated.

“Go on...”

“When we were about to bring it up for auction, someone had splashed liquid all over it. The culprit was not found and a lowly servant took the fall from it. Sir, plea-”

At her words, Neäir, or perhaps more specifically, Fieluri started to laugh.

“Ha. Hahaha. Ku-HAHAHAHAHA!” The heaving laughter echoed through the room, and even Airen found himself terrified for he could almost feel as if his soul was slowly being compressed by the mad laughter. Cordelia, who was seated in front of him, fared no better but maintained a poker face due to her years of training. She found her throat parched as her spit and moved to take a sip of tea

Airen felt his body move against his will, and a hand lashed out, slapping the cup and splintering it into ceramic pieces. At the same time, his right hand had pointed to the servant that served them the refreshments.

“My soul beckons for the song of the diva in the clouds, the lone tranquility within the thunderstorm! Ragathki!” A beam of pure white lightning whistled out of Neäir’s finger, instantly disintegrating the would-be assassin.

“It seems like your father abandoned all pretenses today.” Neäir said in the deathly silence that followed afterward. “To serve me poisoned tea and destroy a painting of which I valued. Everything ends today.”

“Why don’t the rest of you hiding in the hallway come in?” At his words, twenty individuals stormed inward from the hallway, quickly surrounding Neäir and Cordelia with weapons drawn and chanting spells.

“Those of you that submit, may leave this place! Those of you that do not, I promise you a gruesome death!” Neäir pointed his palm of his right hand against the ceiling, and his left hand started to make out strange symbols. At this point, Airen had lost full control of his body to Fieluri, and he could only watch like a bystander.

“Don’t let him finish casting!” One of the men in scale armor shouted, and the air exploded with action. Those that were melee oriented among the twenty leaped forward and swung their weapons at Neäir, while the more magical-oriented chanted even faster and their respective elements swirled around them.

“Me? Needing time to cast spells?” Fieluri grinned, but only Airen could hear her words. A pitch black ring emerged from the palm of Neäir’s hand and floated above him, like a tainted halo. The twelve strikes fell in sync all around Neäir, and even the greatest of warriors would have trouble avoiding all twelve at once, for it was a combination technique meant to assassinate a lone target.

Yet their weapons harmlessly passed through his body like cutting water. At the same time a ghastly image of a heart appeared in Neäir’s outstretched hand. In more ways than one it was realistic, too realistic as it floated in the air and continued to beat.

“Vampire eyes gazing upon a lake of blood, and embracing the warmth of the goddess of the night in carnal pleasures. Sabreur!“ A blood-red magical circle burst out from beneath Neäir’s feet, only stopping when they encompassed the mages.

“What… what is this!?” Cordelia screamed as pale white hands with long red fingernails emerged from the ground and grabbed her legs.

“Oh. Right.” Neäir casually flicked a hand in her direction, causing the hands to pick her out and carry her out of the blood red circle under their feet. “It would be bad if you were caught in this.”

“Let go of me!”

“Noo!”

The surrounding assassins were now paralyzed in more ways than one as they desperately tried to free themselves. Those with weapons would hack at the hands, but two would be replaced for each one they destroyed. The mages that were originally about to launch their spells at Neäir directed them at the ground instead, giving them a brief moment of respite before they were caught once again.

“My teleportation item isn’t working!”

“I.. I can’t fly either!”

“M..Monster!” One of the men had glimpsed something in the red abyss, and a puddle of yellow liquid pooled below his feet.

“Altering the rules of reality? Could he be-” The woman’s words ended when a pair of hands grasped her mouth, pinning her entire body to the floor. At this point all of the servants and attendants had already fainted from the magical force exerted from the assassins as they tried to break out of their bindings. But even their movements between were to slow and dull as thin trails of blood seeped out of their flesh and went towards the ghastly heart. A few moments later it was no longer ghost-like and transparent, but an actual beating heart. As it grew more and more lifelike, the sacrifices, resembled more and more like skeletons, their skin as pale as the hands that binds them.

“Rue Rabrs.” Fieluri whispered as Neäir crushed the heart. “Vampire Queen’s Tainted Chalice.” Red light burst forth from the magical circle as the ground turned into a pool of blood, and the unmistakable scent of copper permeated in the air. A feminine sigh seemed to echo in the room as the bounded individuals melted into blood until only bones were remaining. And then as abruptly as it came, the pool of blood evaporated and the black and red magic portal vanished.

“Knight’s Blessing” Fieluri, after a single glance at Cordelia shaking by the wall, decided to make it easier for her and casted a high level courage spell.

“They are fine.” Neäir waved a hand in the direction of the servants and attendants who had fainted. “Come, let us go see your father.”

“Sire, no, Lord, my sisters and brothers they.”

“Not my concern.” Fieluri chuckled at Cordelia’s crestfallen face. Airen could only shake his head, for he knew Fieluri’s sadism in twisting with another’s emotions. ”But, if we so happen to ‘cross them’ while you lead me along, then I don’t mind lending a helping hand.”

“Thank you! Thank you for your kindness, I wasn’t aware sir was powerful enough to manifest his own Reality Domain.” Cordelia hurriedly picked herself up and bowed before leading Neäir to a far door, afraid that he may change his mind. “I’m sure that the guards have already been alerted due to the clashing magical power...”

“They have not.” Neäir cut her off, his tone making it clear that now was not the time for conversation. As they passed through the corridor, Neäir clapped his hands and at sixty Spectral Magic Missiles floated around him, occasionally flying in front of them and crashing into any would be magical traps. Every so often, a rift would open beneath the items put on display and be transported to the Archive.

“Spoils of war.” Neäir shrugged when Cordelia gave him a fearful look. “It would be a shame if they were to be caught in the crossfire.”

“Crossfire?” Cordelia had thought he would simply exchange words and maybe a show of force to make it known that he should not be crossed. Before she could process everything, Neäir had raisen a finger, pointed it towards wall on the right.

“Beriah.” One of the surrounding sets of armor instantly melted and reformed into a thin needle. It follow the direction of of Neäir’s finger and pierced through the wall, causing a muffled scream to emit from the other side.

“Hmm. I suppose it would be bad if you were caught in the crossfire as well.” Neäir eyed Cordelia, who had stiffened up in response to the sudden killing intent and attacks. He flicked a hand and the pitch black halo around his head floated over and affixed itself on top of Cordelia.

“Let us continue.”

Their passage to the main office went uncontested, or it was more accurate to say that their pace was never slowed, and any resistance was instantly met with a fatal spell from Fieluri. Even Airen’s stomach churned when he saw a man melt from within, a woman’s body distorted into the shape of a star, and one that drowned.

After fetching Cordelia’s four siblings in a heavily locked storage cell underground, Fieluri had sent them temporary to Airen’s world of Haven.

By this time, security has been notified after stumbling upon the fainted servants and skeletons in the VIP lounge. As the servants recalled that scene of hell, many started to suspect that he was the ‘Necromancer’. Only a few of the higher ups, who have managed to catch a glimpse of Lord Telsin or made deals with him knew otherwise.

“Such luxury. Such vanity.” Neäir smirked as they made their way up the final set of stairs.

At the very top of the Irona Auction house was where the head office existed, and the passage towards it was the very definition of vanity. The steps were carved from alternating silver and white gold, and the pillars on the side were created from rare gems. There were even a couple of servants whose specific duty was to make sure everything was sparkling clean, and they had gawked as Neäir and Cordelia arrived, for Cordelia was splattered with blood from head to toe and yet not a single speck had touched Neäir.

But there was a grim determination in her eyes to see this to the very end.

“You are holding up better than I thought.” Neäir commented as they stood at the bottom of the stairs, where Neäir had silenced the guards. Fieluri glanced over to Airen who was trying his best not to puke despite being in soul form and shook her head in disappointment

“I will not hide behind petty actions such as shifting blame, promoting self-justice or glorification of slaughter. I am every bit responsible for their deaths as you are. No matter the reason, it changes nothing now.” Cordelia said grimly.

“Well said. Then as my commendation of your force of will, I will grant you glory. I will grant you an entrance worthy of a king. I will grant you this.” A giant rift appeared behind Neäir. Figure after figure stepped out from the black abyss, their forms ephemeral and translucent. They moved towards Neäir, who gave a casual wave of his hands and they assembled into a square formation behind Cordelia. As the total number reached eighty, the sound of drums and trumpets could be heard from the very back. The epic fanfare could only be described as spine-tingling, the sound the very embodiment of a heroic return or impossible victory made manifest.

“As you are painted in blood, it is only fitting if they are dressed in red.” With another wave of Neäir’s hands, their bodies seemed to solidify out of their ghost-like state. Colors seemed to seep into their very being as their uniforms were dyed in silver, white, black, and crimson, the colors they were originally in life. The battle music, originally an inspiring hum now grew to tremendous roar that caused the walls and pillars tremble. Cordelia, who had grown numb from the blood and gore, felt as liquid courage was instilled in her weary limbs. At the forefront flew a red banner with an outline of a black sparrow. In a daze, Cordelia took a step back as she took in the sights.

“Go on and find the hero within yourself, for this is your moment of triumph.” Neäir gestured towards the stairs, waiting for Cordelia to take the first step.

Airen would have praised her, if not for the fact that he was the only one to catch her haunting parting remark.

“For humanity is foolish, and can triumph over nothing but themselves..”

Behind the pure white marble and silver doors Lord Hermann, the Fifth Lord of the Irona Family, trembled along with his men as the sound of footsteps like a marching tune grew louder and louder.

“That Cordelia….she must have had backing from someone else on the Council, or at least that man Neäir does.” Hermann cursed. Due to Neäir’s merciless slaughter, the only news he received where from those that happened upon the mangled bodies left behind. No, to call them corpses would be an understatement, for their deaths varied in the most disgusting of forms. Some bodies were compressed into balls of meat and bones, others were half melted with acid, another was found stuck in an iron maiden that appeared out of the blue, but perhaps the most twisted death was of the guard with the parts of his body shuffled around like a doll. The most merciful death were probably those that had a hole blasted through their chest, or impaled from head to toe.

“I thought I told you to investigate him thoroughly before making a move!” Hermann shouted at a figure kneeling in front of them, two spears pinning him to the ground.

“I did. He has no background!” The middle man for the assassins guild gritted his teeth. In a show of faith, he had employed nearly half of the guild he represented, yet now he only assume they were dead.

“Enough!” Lord Hermann gestured to one of his slaves, who promptly lopped off the man’s head.”Your guild will answer for this!”

Lord Hermann was an accomplished mage and lived many long years, and now he recalled the scenes of carnage and hell that his father told him, of the time those from the realm of demons, Isthtov. However he was quickly brought out of his stupor when the door fell down like a slab of stone.

“...To think that you have the capability to reign in a power to your cause.” Hermann greeted his daughter, eying those behind her for it was not a uniform worn by any of the factions in the Red Slate Republic. “You do realize that an invasion of such size could cause the military to take action, right?”

“Let them come.” Neäir was the one who responded.

“Those are indeed some fine slaves, no less compared to my Forsworn that I personally trained.” Hermann ignored him and gestured to the fifty slaves in front of him.

“Slaves. Pft.” Neäir laughed. “Unlike those bound to you by a magical contract, these serve me willingly.”

“Plus-” Neäir raised a hand. “Each of them is worth an entire battalion of cavalry.”

The room, a glamorous hall to receive those that petition of the Irona house, devolved into a pit of slaughter and blood, but only for a split second. In that brief moment of time, the legion of heroes that once threatened the forces of nature had slain the war slaves, and returned to their original position.

“T-they were all armed with magical artifacts!” Hermann was at lost for words.

“You mean these? I’ll be taking them, thank you.” Neäir pointed to the pile of weapons and gear that had caught her eye. “One of the Wings of Liberty? The Corna Dilece and Regawolg as well. You have quite the collection here. It’s fine if I take them, right? Leader of the Irona House?” Neäir addressed Cordelia.

“S-S-Sure.” Cordelia could only nod, for her eyes were on the still-writhing bodies on the ground. All of them were given fatal blows, but instead of the lenient and instantaneous deathblows on their way here, these strikes would leave the enemy to slowly bleed out. It was at this point Lord Hermann realized that this strange man was not one that he could handle, and thus he turned to Cordelia.

“I have your siblings! If they don’t hear from me then they will die!”

“They have already left your clutches, Father.’”

“My acquaintances and connections won't let you go for this! You know that Council members Levint and Siana are on good terms with me!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re merely having a little family squabble.” Cordelia replied.

Seeing that his words are not reaching his daughter at all, he gritted his teeth and slammed on a hidden button on the chair. However, nothing happened.

“Ah, I forgot to mention all your magical formations and runes have already been dispelled by me.” Neäir waved his hand until a purple light dissipated off from it. “Mind hurrying up with these cliched conversations, girl? I have things to attend to.” Airen noticed the glint from her eyes as Fieluri stared at the pile in front of her.

“Take it. After all, you said this was a ‘family’ squabble.” Neäir took one of the swords from the men and tossed it at Cordelia’s feet. Then at his signal, all of the assembled individuals saluted and their forms lost color before vanished entirely into a rift.

“My daughter. What are you doing?!” The sight of blood-splattered Cordelia, making her way around the dying slaves under his command caused Herman to lash out. He shot several spells at Cordelia, but they simply passed through her body. The black halo around her head pulsed and blinked occasionally along with her form, causing her to appear and reappear like a vengeful ghost in a horror show.

“Succeeding you. Father.”

The sound of a sword piercing flesh and splintering wood marked the end of the bloodshed.

“That was rather cruel.“Airen commented. After Cordelia who had fallen to the floor shaking, Neäir had left with after giving her a warning to deal with the aftermath. As they left from the front door, the servants that were spared were staring at Neäir in horror. He had deposited the sleeping kids to one of the servants that Cordelia specifically asked to spare. Airen had found it strange that no military police arrived but found out the reason why when he saw Fieluri dispelled a purple-colored sphere encircling the Irona Auction House. After the return, they had returned to the Archive.

At his mindless comment, Fieluri tilted back her head and laughed.

“Airen, do you think with your butt? I gave her exactly what she wished for, even if she did not knowingly ask for it. But cruel? With your limited age and experience, you lack the right to even begin applying adjectives to actions. Ku-hahahahah!”

“Seeing all the blood must have caused me to make a thoughtless remarks. Sorry.” Airen hesitated before apologizing. Even though his stomach was reeling, he had the faint sense to not question Fieluri at this time.

“Again, Airen. Such a small amount of blood is nothing. Would you truly want to see a situation of cruelty and blood?”

“...I would like to pass so please give me a synopsis.” If he were to back down, Fieluri would forcefully show him anyway, so his only path was to make it seem as if he was interested but couldn’t be bothered.

“It is a world and time where the apex predators were not your kind, but a race of humanoid giants. Your kind lived as livestock that lived underground, and every year a certain number of bodies had to be given as ‘tribute’. Children were not exempt, and in the case of a rebellion, the entire colony would be wiped out.”

Airen sincerely wanted to shout at her to not to joke about such things, but he knew better what would happen if he did. She would show him something that would make even his weathered heart to twist and stomach to feel as if it was churned with a power tool. The last time when he had questioned whether fear could truly be conquered and the ‘trip’ that had transpired afterward, had him jumping at shadows and unable to sit still for a week. Those were both literally and figuratively, dark times.

“In any case, why do you always drag me out to see the things I would rather not see.” Airen complained. “You know fully well that I will take your word for it.”

“Why, so you don’t lose sight of what you’re becoming, and what you have already become. Humans are so fragile after all.”

“...Weren’t you the one that told me the other day how strong humanity would have been if they were united? Enough to even topple you off your throne?”

“Let me ask you something, Airen. In your opinion, what is the most important thing, the past, the present, or the future?”

Airen frowned as his question was met with another question. After pondering it for a bit, he replied. “The past, for that is how you have granted me the power in the present, and eventually power in the future.”

Fieluri bonked him over the head with a book. “Don’t take things for granted, child. I have already said that I would not interfere with your world.”

“But you just-”

“But my world… that is a different story.”

“I feel like I have been conned.” Airen sat down to steady himself at this revelation.

“Fear not my foolish disciple. I already said I would take responsibility and I shall raise you well enough to entertain me.” Fieluri chuckled. “But rewinding our conversation, it was a rhetorical question. I see. I see. So the past, huh.”

“Is there something wrong with my opinion?” Airen snorted, quite displeased at being treated like pig being raised for slaughter.

“No, it was my opinion in the distant past as well. But continuing on, let me ask you this. Say there is an enemy that you must absolutely defeat. Can you absolutely convince the you of the past that became a king to fight this enemy? Can you convince ‘another’ Airen that did not meet me, and instead took the path of dark revenge to join your cause? Can you rally on the Airen that became a slave, or a beggar on the streets?”

“No way” Airen admitted, remembering the older him he saw in the Mirror of Self. “Such a thing is impossible.”

“Exactly, for the various versions of you lack unity, and above all things, you do not trust yourself.” Fieluri smirked. Before Airen would angrily shout out a retort, she added. “But that precisely what I lost to once in the past. In fact, it was my first loss against a girl of a tender sixteen years.”

“...Huh?”

“In our battle I had watched as all of her other selves joined her in her ultimate technique. One that became a saint angel with pure radiance that cleansed and forgiven all- her light gently embracing the blood soaked battlefield in a warm caress. One that became a bloodied machine of war, with skin that had become a corpse-like pale white and the only blood on her body those of her enemies. Another that become the warrior king of a just country hold hands with her counterpart, the necromancer king of a kingdom of endless strife. One that become a traveling minstrel with pure song that could heal the heart, one that became an assassin that toppled nations, one that walked the path of a merchant, and even one that had become an alchemist. I have witnessed a solemn knight that was steadfast to her heart and ideals to protect and serve the weak- the very embodiment of the vows of knighthood. I have witnessed a maddened demon hell bent on revenge that sacrifice and defiled her own body for power. I have seen a ragged six-year old girl who had become a soulless toy raise a dagger against me with nary a tremble. I have watched as an old sorceress who could not even stand raising a sword, killed herself so her ghost could enter the fray. I have admired as even a simple townsgirl had pointed a crossbow at me.”

“I have watched as thesis and antithesis unite on a common front, chaos and order brought together against a common foe, and even the past, present and future coalesce and cooperate all for a single reason. And above all, I have borne witness to a young girl with conviction so strong that can materialize all of this.” Fieluri wrapped her arms around her and closed her eyes. She trembled as she remembered the scene, recalling the emotions from that time.

Airen watched in silence awkwardly, not quite sure how to react to the tears in Fieluri’s eyes. It was strange after all, since it was the first time he saw the great History Eater display such an emotion. Was it sadness… or madness?

“...So in the end, you were such a horrible person and did something so horrendous that such a pure girl could manage to call so many versions of herself to unify against you?” Airen ventured.

“That’s not the point!” Fieluri scowled, rubbing her eyes. “Read the mood, you retarded disciple!”

“...I would have liked to meet her.” Airen said after a few quiet moments. He too had been infected with strange feelings that he could not quite understand.

“Impossible. Her memories are not in the Archive, and even if they were, someone like you would only taint them.” Fieluri scowled again. “I respect those that defeated me, and even if the world forgets, I shan’t. That girl’s soul was truly something to behold, enough to make me even want to test the limits of its purity.”

“So you are a villain.” Airen’s words earned him a rather hard bonk in the head this time around. “Well at least you’re a better person now…. Right?”

Fieluri didn’t respond, but a smile danced on her face that neither denied or affirmed Airen’s question.

“I’m afraid I don’t know anything about that.” Airen shrugged his shoulders, feigning ignorance to the assorted officers and Benyin. Only a day after Cordelia had been accepted as the new Irona Family head through a coup d'etat, trouble had come knocking at Airen’s door. Since Cordelia had refused to speak about what happened, and they could not push the matter, they had come to the other person that was rumored to have a connection to the man called Neäir.

“You see, my teacher has quite the short fuse. I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually did it.” Airen shrugged yet again, observing the investigation officer’s reactions. “I have heard they had a bit of bad blood between them after the Irona Auction house tried to rip him off.”

“What we were asking was not whether or not he did it, but how he did it.” The investigating officer snorted and tapped his notepad. “Nearly half of the entire workforce in the Irona Auction house are dead or missing and there was almost no signs of a struggle. Are you telling me they just upped and died?!”

“I wouldn’t know. Do I look like an investigator to you?” Airen rolled his eyes. “Should I get paid for doing your job?”

“You little-”

“Now, now. There’s no need to resort to hurling insults, my fine gentlemen.” Benyin quickly intervened while throwing Airen a cold glance. “Let us not revert to our baser instincts and-”

“Soldiers barged into my room while I was sleeping, took me for ‘questioning’ at sword-point, and now is slandering my teacher and accusing him of a crime while trying to have me forge information.” Airen threw back his head and laughed. “I think we have past the point of hurling insults.”

“You- you scoundrel!” The investigation officer twisted in anger. Only half of Airen’s words were true, while the rest were exaggerations. “I should have you arrested for defamation of a public officer’s image!”

“Image? I doubt something like that could possibly get worse. Hmph.” Airen leaned back into his chair. “Public officer? When did someone that worked for the public become someone’s dog? Let’s dial back on the bullshit, who sent you? Perhaps I’ll let my teacher know about this. What was your name again?”

“I work for the Republic!” The man declared, but at this point he was starting to panic.

“In that case, please go through the proper channels and issue a statement to Stonewall. This is a place of learning and rearing of talents, not a battleground for politics.” Benyin quickly read between the lines and took Airen’s side in the matter. It was given he would side with his students, not less one of Loys’ friends.

“But-”

“Furthermore, I will be petitioning the Central Intelligent Corps about your behavior. You had informed me that it was an emergency that involved a murderer, so I had given you permission to enter. However, you lack evidence and if my student said is true, then you are here for your own vendetta. You are no longer welcomed here and I will politely ask you to leave.”

The investigation officer’s hands curled into fists, while his men started to fidget hesitantly, their hands reaching for their weapons. At that time, a surge of heat burst forth from Benyin, causing several of papers on his desk to burn to a crisp.

“Very well! Then we shall return with a warrant!” At the display of power, the officer decided to not pursue the matter any further.

“Then I will personally verify whether or not the warrant is legitimate at that time.” Benyin send him off with those parting remarks as the soldiers trailed out after him.

“...Airen, is it? What sort of mess did you get yourself in this time?” Benyin signed and motioned for him to sit.

“I wouldn’t know. They were the ones that came and picked a fight with me despite the fact that I was not involved. If anything, they would make a big mistake if they made an enemy of my teacher.” Airen lied.

“Your teacher, is it?” Benyin mused over the words. “I assume this person is not Orshan?”

“If I may be blunt. I have never treated that man as my teacher.”

“Haha. Brutal. Despite his flamboyant attitude, his skill is quite accomplished, as is his former name.” At Airen’s honestly, Benyin let out a loud laugh. “That man has a long story behind him, the way he acts is merely to cover up the scars.”

“Stories involving women, I am guessing.” Airen shook his head in disapproval as Benyin nodded.

“Death changes people.” Benyin poured the two of them a cup of tea. Airen moved to help, but he was simply waved off. “Orshan’s fiance was killed in a magical beast attack instigated by a faction within the Dew Plains. Although on the surface the countries seem amiable and willing to work together, they always plot against each other in the shadows. Of course, it is hard for them to simply come out and accuse the other.” Benyin sighed as he sipped his tea. “Airen, what do you think of war?”

“It is a necessary evil.” Airen replied. It was the same question that Fieluri had posed to him before, and after he had answered wrongly, she had beat into him a fundamental truth, her opinion.

Benyin’s hands shook. “...I see. Do you care to elaborate?”

“Well, this is my teacher’s opinion but-” Airen made it clear that it was not something he thought up on his own, for he was but a fourteen year old boy. “Only through strife can humans evolve, and only if they evolve can they survive the battles to come. If there ever comes a time when all battles are resolved, and victory is made absolute, humanity will only turn on itself.”

“...A necessary evil, is it?” Benyin traced a hand along his cup. “Does your teacher have no faith in humanity at all?”

“Rather, I believe that my teacher holds the most faith in humanity.” Those were Airen’s own words, yet he did not understand why he had suddenly responded so. Fieluri was one who looked down on the actions of people as cliched and predictable, yet she gathered fragments of history as if they were trophies to be displayed. Perhaps it was the very act of adding such things to the Archive that caused Airen to reply so.

“...Is that so?.” Benyin said as he gazed into his drink before downing it in one go.

After a few more minutes of quiet tea sipping, Airen decided to take his leave.

“Oh, if it isn’t Airen.” Simonth nodded to Airen as he entered. “You’ve come at a good time. We just received a shipment of Pale Crran Shrimp.”

“I’ll have that then.” Airen nodded.

“The usual?”

“Yep, one here, and one to go.”

“Didn’t you say those ladies of yours went back home to visit?” Simonth placed a cup on the table before pouring a vicious smelling drink out from a blue bottle. “On the house!”

Airen gratefully drank the cold beverage. For a brief moment he wondered how bad it must be in Tel’naraa with this amount of heat. Before he knew it, he had downed the entire cup like water.

“...Honestly, did your mother feed you liquor instead of milk?” Simonth commented as he flambéd the steak he was cooking with alcohol from the same blue bottle.

“It seems that I win this time around too.” Airen smiled. His last venture here with Orshan had revealed his tolerance for drinking, and Simonth did not believe it, resulting in a bet. As long as Airen could down a cup of liquor of Simonth’s choice in one go, he would get a discount.

“Orshan really got me good when he made that bet.” Simonth sighed. Even a mere 20% discount would rack up quite a loss if Airen came so often.

“It can’t be help that the food here is good.” Airen complimented. “Plus-” Airen glanced around the small in-the-wall eatery, which was packed full. “Your business seems to be doing pretty good. Shouldn’t you get a new place?”

“This place and I have some memories. Plus, it’s more than enough to provide for the orphanage and my beautiful wife.”

“Ah, here we go again...” One of the patrons laughed as Simonth started praising his wife to the high heavens. Airen of course was aware that his wife ran an orphanage, but Simonth’s love for his wife was almost disgustingly obsessive.

“Ahhh, how I want to go home and hug her right now, even though she would pout and pelt me with her fists~” Simonth’s words caused an annoyed sigh to resonate throughout the room due to a series of groans from the patrons.

“Oy, Simon! Shut up about your wife! Half of us are still single here!”

“Ahhh- I want a man that adores me as much as Simonth adores his wife~”

Amidst the boisterous crowd, Airen was slightly reminded of Lilrim’s mess hall. As Airen dug down into the shrimp dumplings he was given, he allowed himself to finally relax.

In the corner of Simonth’s Burgers, a cloaked figure reached into his back and pulled out a pendant of two herons. His red eyes seem to pulse once while his body seemed to twitch unnaturally. A pile of food laid in front of him, all of it untouched, including the drinks.

“….Ai…. Ren….” A voice lacking emotion murmured.