Chapter 10. Childhood’s End

“Thank you for your assistance. To think that even the base camp was attacked… we’ll have to notify the Adventurer’s League as soon as possible.” The leader of the supply caravan, a short, roguish man, complained as he accepted Airen’s adventurer card.

“I was merely passing by, and your group happened to be in the right place.” Fieluri, using Neäir’s voice, replied. The man grinned at his words as he brought out a white crystal, along with his own card. Holding both cards against the crystal, a brief conduit of blue magical energy appeared as the reward was transferred over to Airen.

“It’s one thing for a camp to be wiped out, but I’ve never heard of magical beasts locking humans in cages and sparing them.” The caravan leader commented as he returned the card. “Much less writing a warning not to investigate further.”

Fieluri smirked but said nothing. She had taken some liberties with the sign while Airen was lost in a torrent of shock and speculation, and changed the text of the sign into something less incriminating.

“According to the survivor’s stories, a cloaked man along with an army of high level undead and spectres attacked the camp, They were barely able to hold out for half an hour before it turned into a one-way slaughter. Halfway through, all of the undead suddenly stopped attacking, and started to force the survivors into the cage while hauling away the dead… It’s truly bizarre.”

In response, Fieluri nudged Airen with her elbow, causing him to come to his senses and give a polite smile.

“Ah, my apologies for keeping you. Please stay as long as you’d like before continuing on your way, with expenses covered. It was most of the frontline that were lost, so the facilities should still be fine.”

…

“My, my. Airen, that’s a side to you that I don’t see often.” Fieluri teased as Airen sat in the quiet tavern, downing yet another mug of pale ale. Other than the pale-faced innkeeper who was also sipping his own drink, the tavern was devoid of people. On the way here, Airen had glimpsed a room of filled cots, and it was likely that most of the personnel in this camp were resting there.

“I don’t know if I am celebrating, or lamenting.” Airen grumbled as he downed another mouthful. Even though it was without a doubt that it was liquor that he was tasting, he could not feel the slightest buzz from the alcohol.

“Jourmind- there’s no way it could be him.” Airen added after setting down his mug. “I mean, even Loys didn’t find any information on him, and now he suddenly appears without warning?”

“Then who do you think it is?” Fieluri hid her face behind a large book, hiding her knowing expression.

“Someone probably caught sight of me, and this is a trap set up by them.” Airen replied. “It’s been several months since I left Tel’naraa, and the Red Slate Republic is full of all manner of people...”

“...But?” Fieluri voiced Airen’s thoughts as he hesitated.

“...But on the off chance that it is Jourmind, somehow or someway, I can’t simply let this pass..” Airen finished. “If he’s still alive, he’s probably already looked for my sister. In that case, there’s a chance she’s with him.”

“What makes you think that there is even the tiniest of possibilities that it is your former mentor?” Fieluri taunted. “You do understand the implications of this, right? It means he was the one that killed half of the inhabitants of the camp.”

“You also killed a good amount of people, back at the Irona Auction House.” Airen shot back defensively.

“I wasn’t the one at the head of an undead army.” Fieluri rolled her eyes, disdainful of Airen’s willful blindness. “Not that, mind you, such a thing is impossible for me.”

“I’m sure he had his reasons.” Airen continued to vouch for Jourmind. “Isn’t that what you say all the time? Everyone has their own reasons?”

“Sometimes those reasons are their own.” Fieluri smirked.

“This is serious, Fiel! Please don’t play word games with me.” Airen scowled.

Fieluri did not respond, hiding her smirk behind the Blank Book. She clearly knew something that Airen didn’t, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her and be ridiculed. Somewhere deep inside, he didn’t want to entertain the possibility that his guess was wrong.

“Mister Neäir, who are you talking to?” A young girl’s voice called out, and Airen turned to see Klaris staring at the seat across from him where Fieluri sat, invisible to all but Airen.

“The souls of the deceased. I was asking if they wanted a drink.” Fieluri, using Neäir’s voice, replied. Airen on the other hand, was slightly disturbed how the little girl managed to sneak up on him without his knowing.

“That’s creepy.” To Airen’s surprise, Klaris was unfazed by Fieluri’s cryptic statement and took the seat beside Neäir instead. “I just got off watch duty with Sime. What are they thinking making a young girl like me stay up so late?”

“And how old are you?” Neäir asked.

“Eleven!” Klaris slowly counted with her fingers, before replying.

“I have a disciple around your age.” Neäir said slyly. “He’s older than you, but also weaker. He can learn a thing or two from you.”

Airen wanted to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t with the young girl staring at him. He had lost count of how many times has he heard these words coming out of Fieluri’s mouth.

“A student of Mister Neäir’s is probably a powerful mage as well.” Klaris replied as she waved the innkeeper over, placing over ten orders. “I’d like to learn some magic too, but Lord Dumeis always has us practicing swordplay. Grrr, it’s so tedious!”

Now Airen wanted to glare at Fieluri, who often made him do the same thing, but her expression did not even deviate from the same self-righteous and mocking smug she wore.

“And then there’s Sime, whom Lord Dumeis chose to be my sword-pair. He can’t even keep with up me half the time! ” Klaris continued to complain. “It’s like I’m watching over a little chick.”

“I’m sure you feel that way.” Neäir gestured for the innkeeper to bring over a an additional mug, as well as a refill, as he brought over the first of the dishes Klaris had ordered. As soon as he left, she had Airen lean over and whisper in a hushed tone.

“After all, you’re not exactly human, are you?” At Neäir’s words, Klaris tensed up. She tried to stand up and leave, but she found her forearm held in a vice-like grip from Airen’s arm.

“Za’alus nohon hukurun, tul Za’a ufendoo rut. Preel ehrk vusmo tonveek ulronod.” Words in a strange, rumbling language poured out of Airen’s mouth and made Klaris’s eyes widen. Fieluri gestured for Airen to let go, and when he did, she didn’t try to flee but instead sat back down.

“You know our language.” Klaris hissed. “But you don’t smell like one of us. Who are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know. But the price of information… is information, if you get my meaning.” Neäir smiled and closed his mouth as the innkeeper returned with more dishes. Before he left, Fieluri had Airen gesture for him to bring more mugs of pale ale.

“I’ve only been around two hundred years.” Klaris hesitantly picked up a drumstick that was covered in charred scales. She glanced at Neäir before tearing into it ravenously. “If it’s some sort of cryptic ancient knowledge you’re looking for, you’ll have to ask my parents. Can’t say that they will be willing to meet you though.”

“I’m not interested in things I already know.” Neäir replied as he slid over one of the mugs of ale. “Your kind seldom breeds due to the one-partner, one-lifetime rule, yet here you are, thousands of years past the peak of your kind’s prime, a pureblood amidst generations of halfbreeds.”

“You…how...who... what are you?” Klaris’s eyes turned from one of curiosity into one of suspicion. Neäir smiled at this reaction and simply tapped the table in response.

“A question for an answer, a greeting for a farewell.” Fieluri smirked, but when Airen tried to imitate it, it only came off as an irksome smile on Neäir’s face. “I believe your kind coined this saying.”

“You already know what I am, but I have no clue what you are.” Klaris retorted. “I am not inclined to chatter with someone so deceitful. If you truly are one of us, then you know the value of honor and being forward with your intentions.”

“Ahh, young fledging. But I am not one of you.” Airen did not know what sort of face to make, since Fieluri seemed to be intoxicated and worked up by her own words. Instead, he simply lowered his head so the hood could cover his face, and sipped on his drink. “I am not one to lavish in another’s ignorance, so I will give you a hint.”

“When you see your parents again, ask them about the one whose dreams made the world tremble. Ask them if they remember the tale of the mad dragon called the Eternal One, and when they answer, you tell me if your kind still know the value of honor.”

Even Klaris could detect the hidden scorn in Neäir’s voice. The sudden hostility caused her to halt in her eating, and merely stare at Neäir dumbfoundedly. Before she could speak, a rift appeared next to Neäir and a familiar sword with a dark obsidian hilt and a golden-red blade fell, embedding itself into the ground.

“What is-” The appearance of a weapon made Klaris jump to her feet and reach for her weapon, but Fieluri’s next words stopped her in her tracks.

“The one you are searching for, the one your kind exiled, is no more. He has embraced the mercy of death by my hands. You should recognize this sword.” Fieluri’s arrogant smile continued to grow wider as she saw a new emotion in Klaris’s face, greed.

“It belongs to my disciple.” Neäir flicked his wrist and the sword vanished. “When you are informed enough to seek me or the sword, go find him. The black dragon in Libzon will know where to find him.”

Without waiting for a response, Neäir stood up and left, nodding in the direction of the innkeeper, who had wisely moved towards the door and out of range of their conversation.

“I see you have gone and made more trouble for me.” Airen grumbled as he gingerly ducked beneath a collapsed doorway. With Keri gone, he had lost his prior source of light, and was now toting around a small lantern with a burning Winf Branch within as a substitute.

“I wasn’t lying though. Torchlight does belong to you, but as you are now, you can’t use it to its full potential. Did you really think it was just another good-looking sword?” Fieluri mocked. “Dullas would be rolling in his grave if he heard that.”

“I thought I gave it to you. So how is it still mine?” Airen scowled. “And what’s so special about it that Klaris would want it? And who is that girl anyway? You made it sound like she’s someone special.”

“The price of knowledge, is knowledge. Airen.” Fieluri grinned. “What do you have to offer for my answer?”

“You’ll have my word that I’m not going to turn around and leave this blasted place.” Airen grumbled. Now on the 34th floor, signs of wear were visible on the dungeon walls. Every so often there would be holes in the walls, with dirt spilling in and covering over half of the corridor. They’ve already came across several cave-ins where the passage needed to be excavated to continue forward.

“You had more courage when you were with Lizabel than you are with me. That’s quite offending.” Fieluri rolled her eyes. “Did I not take care of the undead you’ve met along the way so far? Are you scared, Airen Casteya?”

“Shut up.” Airen jumped as his lantern accidently bumped against a fallen pillar, causing it to collapse into rubble and send up a cloud of dust. He had grown accustomed to having a pair of footsteps in front of him, and despite Fieluri’s presence, he truly felt alone in the darkness.

“If you actually admit you’re scared, I don’t mind lending a hand.” Fieluri taunted.

“I’m getting really tired of your games, Fiel.” Airen hissed through clenched teeth as he glanced down at the map. Normally, Keri would keep a lookout while he pathed their way through, but now he simply felt vulnerable as he huddled alone in the darkness.

“This venture was your idea in the first place. With Keri gone, there’s no reason for me to continue… yet here I am.”Airen looked up and stared into Fieluri’s eyes. There was no way such coincidences could happen, he thought. “Fiel, did you plant that sign?”

“Your fear blinds you, Airen.” Fieluri scoffed as she pointed a finger into the darkness behind them. A moment later, a razor-sharp silver wind flew forward and annihilated a group of Skeletons.

“I’ll answer your questions to put your mind at ease. I did indeed guide you to venture within the Petrified Dragon’s Crypt, and I did recruit Lizabel Duvot to your cause. But that sign was not planted by me.”

“Then who-”

“Do you really want me to answer that question. Airen Casteya?”

“Yes! Aren’t you all knowing, all seeing? Would it kill you to have a heart and tell me what I wanted to know for once!?” Airen lashed out. “Or are you as cold as Keri said you were, someone that wallows in the despair of others? Are you too proud to give things freely instead of of quoting your stupid ‘equivalent exchange’?!”

Slap.

It took a moment for the stinging pain to register on Airen’s face due to the shock. He had anticipated Fieluri to punish him in some way, but this was the first time she personally hit him. As he held a hand against his cheek, he stared into Fieluri’s eyes only to see disappointment and even a tinge of anger.

“Who was it that you thought created a fountain spring in the middle of the Tel’dora dessert, unearthed the ground and revealed the cave systems below, and even established a magical circle so those that resided there could tap into their inner potentials? Who was it that allowed Tel’naraa come into existence?”

“Who was it that allowed the girl, Lizabel Duvot, to continue to wander in her dreams before she was finally freed? Who was it that saved her when she foolishly went to Aotapia?

“Who was it that allowed Cordelia Irona, to finally break the shackles of her father, earning you an ally in the process? Who was it that saved her siblings and gave her power in her time of need?”

“You can curse, ridicule, and lash at me like all the others before you, for I am used to such treatment. But you alone, Airen, should never question my benevolence.”

“And especially not after I led you here, to this place, so that you may finally confront the one you once called teacher.”

“Jourmind, he… he’s actually here?” The barrage of statements made Airen shrink away, but the very last one caused him to drop the lantern in shock.

“Enough.” Fieluri crossed her arms and Airen felt himself falling. He blinked, and in the next moment, they were inside Haven, the former world of Osperica. The sudden brightness blinded him, and all he could hear was Fieluri’s parting words.

“Reflect on your actions and words, Airen. Your soul and body may have matured and been tempered, but it’s time you stopped being a child.”

When Airen’s eyes finally adjusted, the last thing he saw of Fieluri was her stepping into another rift and disappearing.

...

After taking over two hours to gather his courage, Airen stepped through the floating door in Haven that led to his Vault, and then after another hour, finally mustered enough bravery to step into the Archive.

“So Airen. What have we learned today?” As soon as he entered, he was met face to face with Fieluri. Compared to her usually sprawled out over a recliner, she sat with her back straight in a jeweled chair, her fingers dancing along the rim of a delicate crystal glass. It was one of the few times where he did not see her reading, or an open book propped nearby.

“I was wrong, and I let my emotions get the better of me-” Airen started, but Fieluri held up a finger and cut him off,

“What have we learned today? Do not make me repeat myself again.”

“That… you’re a benevolent person?” Airen hesitated as he answered.

“Ridiculous. Even now you spout the same words I gave you.” Fieluri sighed. “You already know the answer, so why are you tiptoeing around it?”

“...That I owe you.” Airen said quietly.

“What’s that? I didn’t quite hear you.” Fieluri’s smile clearly said that she did in fact, hear him, but was dragging it out.

“I owe you a great debt.” Airen spoke, louder this time. “You’ve already bent your principals for me, yet I was ungrateful and wanted more.”

“You know nothing, Airen. Unlike your sister’s, yours is a common story, the type of tale is is forgotten as soon as it begins.” Fieluri said quietly. “I told you before that I would have to take away your ability to use elemental magic before, and you thought I was taking away your potential, did you not?”

“...Yes.” Airen did not deny her words. Somewhere in his heart, he still held a bit of a grudge for that.

“You want answers? Then let me give you part of a truth.” Fieluri’s face betrayed no emotion as she spoke. “You were never going to be able to cast magic in the first place. That was never a possibility for you.”

“...” This revelation left Airen speechless.

“I didn’t lie, did I? When I said that I would take away your ability to use elemental magic. Especially since if it was never there in the first place.” Fieluri continued. “Was this something you would have rather known, or have been ignorant about?”

“But… how… my father and mother were-” Airen felt his knees going weak, and he crumbled in the chair opposite of Fieluri, his head in his hands.

“I’ve already given you part of a truth freely, and only because this changes nothing.” Fieluri said quietly before she leaned over and whispered.

“I’ve read your history, Airen, and you were not special. Rather, you were doom-driven to destruction. You would have likely died somewhere with your birthright stolen, and history rewritten with someone else in your name.”

“Until you met me.”

At her declaration, Airen looked up in shock and stared into her lavender eyes.

“They don’t call me the Witch of Altered Fate for nothing.” Fieluri smirk and sat back down, pulling the crystal glass to her lips. “Now is but a prelude to something greater, Airen.”

He sat in silence for a while, the sound only broken by Fieluri’s tinkling glass as she waited for Airen to process her words. Airen opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sound came out. With a light push, the crystal glass slid over to Airen’s side of the table.

“So you helped me out of… pity?”

“Do you think you are pitiful?” Fieluri snorted. “Until you see the souls that resided in Aotapia, you do not understand the meaning of pity.”

“What is it do you want with me, Fiel? You once said-”

“That I am seeking to create a story. That has not changed.” Fieluri answered. “If you haven’t realized it yet, you are that story. I wont pick your choices, merely grant you the opportunity to make them. And there will be many, many choices, Airen.”

Fieluri tilted her head and for a moment, Airen thought the lights in the Archive flickered. Before he could comment, Fieluri interrupted him.

“And if you still wish to see your old mentor again. The longer you tarry here, the lower the possibility of that opportunity is.” Fieluri snapped her fingers and Airen’s vision blanked. As he fumbled around, he realized that he was in the darkness of the dungeon in the Petrified Dragon’s Crypt. A moment later, a rainbow-colored flame flickered to life in front of him, floating on the palm of Fieluri’s hand.

“Now Airen. Do you want my help and continue, or shall we leave?”

“Over there is the way down.” Fieluri pointed to a corner of the cold, dusty room.

“How do you know this place, so well? Did you look at my maps while they were stashed in my vault?” Airen asked as he made his way over, carefully illuminating his footsteps for traps. Fieluri had informed him that there were none, but he preferred to be safe than sorry. “You’re not going to answer me, are you?”

“If you were not so incompetent, you would have realized all of the floors had a certain pattern to it.” Fieluri snorted as they reached the entrance of the 35th floor.

“Would it kill you to be a bit, I don’t know, less condescending with your words?” Airen grumbled as he held up the lantern high so he could watch his step.

“Would you rather I praised you?” Fieluri put on a mocking, high-pitched voice. “Oh, Airen, I’m so proud of you for finally confronting your fears! If only your father and mother could see you now~”

“Please stop, that’s creepy.” Airen shuddered.

“That’s what I thought.” Fieluri smirked. “Stop here.”

“...What’s the matter?” They were only halfway through the stairwell, which left Airen confused. Fieluri ignored his question and floated over to one of the walls of the curved stairwell.

“If my memory is correct, and it always is. There should be… there we go.” Fieluri pressed into one of the ordinary-looking clay bricks that the stairwell seemed to be made of, and a click was heard. Airen waited anxiously for a few moments, wondering if she triggered a trap to mess with him, but after a few minutes nothing happened.

“The mechanism must have deteriorated over the years.” Fieluri shrugged, nonplussed at her failure. “I suppose we’ll just do it the old fashion way.”

“What are you doing-” Airen started to shout as a huge magical circle appeared in front of Fieluri’s outstretched hand.

“Laiha.” Fieluri murmured, and Airen watched in shock as a several multi-colored rays converged together into one from the magical circle, before blasting into the wall. At their peak where they merged, bright light flooded the chamber, causing Airen to shield his eyes with an arm. If it were not for the difference in color and the lack of items in Fieluri’s hand, Airen would have thought Fieluri had fired off a shot with Noxla. The spiral of multi-colored light effortlessly disintegrated in the wall, along with anything else in its path.

“If you can use such powerful magic in the first place, why do you always depend on spell books, grimoires, and weapons?” Airen wondered aloud, staring at the gaping hole that traveled into the distant darkness instead of the hidden set of stairs that had been revealed.

“Because. In this era, I am called the History Eater, not the Rainbow-Colored Magician.” Fieluri rolled her eyes, as if it was something that was common sense. “It’s a rule, Airen. People who come seek me expect a certain something along with the title, and I reciprocate.”

“Of course, if they acknowledge the rest of my titles, I will come at them with full force.” Fieluri smirked. “I believe the term humans use is, curiosity killed the cat.”

“...” Airen did not know what to say and instead focused on watching his step descending the newly excavated stairs. It was at the strangest of times when Fieluri would reveal tidbits of information about herself, and always things he would rather not know.

“I’d move faster if I were you, Airen. If you don’t hurry, creatures from the 34th and 35th floor are going to explore that hole in the wall.”

“And whose fault is that?” Airen grumbled, but nevertheless picked up his pace. If he wasted too much time explaining himself to others, he might miss his chance to see Jourmind again. “I’m sure you could have gotten past that wall quietly, without using such flashy magic.”

“But it is more interesting this way.” Fieluri smirked. “A sudden stairwell appearing in the middle of a dungeon, allowing easy passage all the way down to the fortieth floor. If anything, they should be thanking me for revealing this shortcut.”

“Wait, this goes all the way down to the fortieth floor?” Airen felt as if he had been walking in circles for a while now down the spiraling stairs without end in sight, and now he knew why.

“Goes right to the stairwell between the 39th and the 40th, if I’m not mistaken.” Fieluri shrugged. “The old inhabitants of this place used it as an escape route whenever the lava surges rose too quickly.”

“...There’s lava beneath us?”

“Maybe yes. Maybe no.” Fieluri shrugged. “My knowledge only spans as far as when this building was still attached to a Fire Ancient. ”

“Ancients?” Airen vaguely recalled the name from the endless mural in the Archive.

“Mhm. Ancients. One of mankind’s greatest and most terrible of feats.” Fieluri’s face twitched. “Of course, they didn’t listen when I warned them it would eventually bring the ire of others. Humans never do.”

Airen could detect the unfiltered scorn and contempt in her voice and chose to remain silent. If he was going to comment, it would only change Fieluri’s target to him. With Fieluri’s mocking chatter as his companion, he continued to move down the spiraling steps.

“...There’s the end.” Airen murmured after what felt like hours. “I don’t see an exit so I’m guessing-”

“You guessed right.” Fieluri smirked as she floated in the air, point her hand towards the ground. As the rainbow-colored magic circle appeared, Airen quickly shot up several steps of stairs, not wanting to be caught in the blast.

“Laiha.” Fieluri’s voice deafened before it reached Airen’s ears, the multicolored beam of destruction bore a hole in the ground like a hot knife through butter.

“Do you have no restraint!?” Airen shouted as the last vestiges of the spell vanished, his hair standing on end being so close to the ray of absolute destruction.

“I have already shown restraint.” Fieluri brushed him off. “If I wanted to, I could have blasted a hole all the way through the dungeon.”

“Aren’t you considerate.” Airen scowled as he knelt by the freshly-created entrance. True to her word, she had only removed the wall, and with ease he stepped out into the moss-covered stairs. To his surprise, there was light coming from below, as well as the patter-patter of footsteps coming his way.

“There’s debris this way!” A male voice shouted, and the flickering shadows on the wall grew larger. “Damn, is it an enemy attack?”

“Remember the information the 30th floor camp passed to us! Stay on guard!”

“Seems like you’ve attracted a bit of attention.”

“I attracted attention?!” Airen scowled, almost wanting to take a swing at Fieluri. However, he quickly occupied himself by adjusting the Mantle of Age and Night Sculptor’s Mask, making sure they had not loosened.

“Around ‘ere!” A man in medium armor rounded the corner, sword and torch at the ready. Catching side of Airen, he quickly halted in his tracks and held up his hand, causing the procession behind him to halt.

“Who’re you? You an adventurer?” He stared at Airen suspiciously, holding up the torch as he slowly approached. “Where’s the rest of your party?”

“I came alone.” Airen hesitated before relaying Fieluri’s words, fully taking on Neäir’s persona.

“Alone? Are you the reinforcement from the Guild?” The man lowered his weapon but still glanced Airen over warily.

“Afraid not. I’m just passing through. Others would simply slow me down.”

“Did you make that loud noise before?” The man peeked over Airen’s shoulder. “...A new stairwell?”

“It goes up ten floors. I’m sure the Guild would be glad to have a relatively safe supply route… provided both entrances are guarded.”

“...I’m sure we can put it to use.” The man gestured for two of the adventurers behind him to check it out, and they slipped past Neäir, but not before giving him curious glances.

“This is an awkward place to talk and I’m sure you’d like to rest. Please, we’ll escort you to the camp.” If the man was still suspicious, it was cleverly hidden behind his lukewarm words of hospitality.

“I see. You’re the one mentioned in the reports. Thanks for your help.” The man who introduced himself as Mallt Lasat handed back Neäir’s adventurer card. “Although I’m quite surprised to see someone with such a simple identification… given your strength.”

“Stories always over-embellish themselves.” Neäir replied while sipping on his eight pint of drink. Airen had always found it much easier to act as Neäir when he was eating or drinking, recalling his old ‘eating etiquette’ that was instilled in him since he was four.

“I’m more surprised you’ve received news before we did.” Fieluri steered the conversation to something that pursued her curiosities.

“That’s a guild secret I’m afraid.” Mallt laughed. “Are you interested in joining? I’m sure someone like you could easily make a name for yourself.”

“Not interested.” Neäir smirked. “I have prided myself in not joining a faction in all my lifetimes, and I’m not inclined to start now.”

“Is that so? That’s a shame. The Red Slate Republic branch is always in need of strong fighters,” Mallt was nonplussed by Neäir’s refusal, but took it as a sign he should dismiss himself and stood up. “A word of warning though. As you are aware, after this floor, there will be nothing but large cave systems. The lizardmen have been quite… restless lately, so please watch yourself.”

“They won’t be a problem.” Airen did not echo Fieluri’s sentiment, but nevertheless kept up the all-mighty, all-mysterious act. If anything, he was most confident when he knew he was role-playing as Neäir with Fieluri, much like how a mouse acts when it is seated upon a lion.

Mallt simply shook his head and bid him farewell, clearly understanding that he won’t get any information out of Neäir.

They left after Airen rested enough in the Archive. As they moved through the heavily guarded camp gate, Neäir passed by the six proteges of the Sword Emperor. Padin greeted him enthusiastically and to Airen’s surprise, Fieluri responded kindly. However when he caught sight of Klaris’s piercing glare, he realized it was all so his presence would continue to provoke her. After bidding farewell, they continued descending into the depth, with Fieluri acting as his guide.

To his shock, the 41st floor wasn’t tunnels or ancient rooms, but linked gigantic caverns. Strange, leafless trees grew by knee deep basins of water, constantly replenished by the pitter-patter of falling water drops, their roots and branches covered in yellow-green moss, running like veins across the pale black rock.

Of course, he only saw the mesmerizing underground site because Fieluri had lit up an entire cavern on a whim to ‘record a scene.’ As soon as the spell faded away, the sound of scaly feet could be heard approaching, and it wasn’t long until several groups of Lizardmen had arrived. They were intimidating creatures, easily towering over an adult man and their scaly bodies reflecting the light from Airen’s miniscule lamp. Most of them wielded large weapons patched together from bone and stone, a testament to their strength.

However, what truly shocked Airen then was how Fiel had said a few words to them in a language he could not understand without borrowing Neäir’s voice, and they all dispersed without a word, save for four particularly large ones. Two of them took a position ahead of him, guiding him forward, and the other two respectfully kept a distance behind him.

“Fiel. What exactly did you say to them?” Airen whispered as they walked. If the Lizardmen could understand his language, then they made no sign of showing it. Instead they seem to treat him with respect and even fear with none of them daring to meet his eyes. “First it was that girl, and now you can even speak with monsters?”

“You know Airen, in the eyes of the Lizardmen, you humans are the monsters- traipsing through their homes, looting their possessions, and killing their kind like sport,” As usual, Fieluri skipped around Airen’s question. “Theirs, like many other beasts, bear hatreds of over a thousand years and their taste for human flesh is due to generations of fighting against your kind.”

“Then the fate of those that go missing-”

“Are eaten, of course,” Fieluri smiled eerily. “You didn’t think that the woman you found died peacefully in her sleep, succumbing to her wounds, did you? As she was alive, rats tore into-”

“Stop. Why are you telling me things I don’t want to know?” Airen’s stomach was starting to churn as he connected the dots.

“Because you are biased, Airen. You don’t mind learning how to butcher and dismantle a magical beast, yet you willingly turn away when it comes to humans.” Fieluri scoffed. “And also to prepare yourself.”

“Prepare myself for what?” Airen grumbled as the two in front of him led him through a small tunnel hidden behind a fallen tree trunk. As soon as he entered the next cavern, sounds of angry hisses echoed in the chamber, and when Airen lifted up the lantern, he realized he was met face to face with a Lectin Python poised to strike.

“Liss kaisn!” One of the Lizardmen in front of Airen spat out, and batted the python’s head with the blunt side of his spear. It snarled in reluctance, causing it to be hit a few more times before it finally turn its head away. After the matter was settled, one of Airen’s guides gestured for him to follow, and they made their way between the walls of coils.

“Why didn’t it attack him? Do Lizardmen know how to speak to snakes?”

“They don’t, but they raised them as guards so they clearly differentiate between friend and foe.” Fieluri informed him as they finally arrived at a doorway on the other end of the room. The two guards in front of Airen (he’d taken them to be called his guards instead of guides after the last incident) nodded to him before pushing aside the large stone doors.

“They are honoring you, you know. Letting you pass through their home so you can descend further.” Fieluri commented as Airen was dazzled by the site of the Lizardmen village. There were homes cut from the strange, pale, leafless trees in the shape of large lean-twos, and there were homes carved into the cavern wall like in that of Tel’naraa. Here and there, flames and torches lit up the cavern, illuminating an underground waterfall and even pens where low-level magical beasts like giant rats, snakes, and what even appeared to be a cockatrice were kept.

As they made their way down, all sorts of Lizardmen eyes glared over at Airen. Some curious, some cautious, some ravenous, and even some with piercing anger. A whistling sound flew through the air and Airen instantly raised his hand to block, only to feel a small rock bounce off Dir Sayf. He turned in the direction of the assailant only to see a Lizardman girl, with her claws balled into fists and hatred fuming in its snarled expression.

Airen’s guard barked out, and the child’s guardian quickly came forward and took it away, shooting Airen a fearful glance. Yet despite that, all Airen could recall was flames of rage in the female child’s eyes. Airen’s guard appeared apologetic as he came forward and spoke in a guttural language and continued to guide him forward, taking care to avoid large communal centers.

“Her father was killed recently by a few adventurers,” Fieluri translated as Airen slowly smoothed out Dir Sayf. There was enough strength behind the throw to leave a small indent in the magical bracer, and would have no doubt drawn blood if it had hit Airen in the face. “While protecting her mother that was gathering some Gnome Shrooms for the village, who was carrying the egg of her younger brother in her belly.”

“That’s…” Airen was at loss what to say.

“Oh, save your meaningless words,” Fieluri cut him off.. “It’s a common story even if it’s a different species. Things are different when your ‘enemy’ is capable of intelligence and emotion, isn’t it, Airen?”

“If we could communicate, can’t we… work something out?” Airen murmured. “I mean, you can speak for them, can’t you?”

“It was tried once, and even worked for a time. The result of that were the half-bloods.” To Airen’s surprise, she actually answered his question. “And what happened after? The half-bloods were prosecuted and hunted down. Eventually, the bloodlines went thin, and the language was lost to the humans. ”

“Now you tell me, Airen. Do you think your kind can get along with a different species on equal standing when they prosecute their own?”

“Prepare your heart, Airen.” Fieluri patted him on the shoulder after they had walked in relatively silence for two hours. They had passed a majority of the residences and were now passing through the makeshift pens of animals, where there were several Lizardmen tending to their livestock.

For what this time? Airen thought, but he got his answer soon enough as he passed by a wooden shed guarded by a dozen Lizardmen. They clenched the shafts and lifted their weapons as Airen approached, causing alarm bells to go off in his mind. Before he could move however, both of Airen’s front escort moved forward and spoke with them, pointing back at Airen.

“...What are they saying?” Airen whispered to Fieluri.

“That they’re giving you a ‘gift’. One of their finest war trophies...” Fieluri chuckled darkly as the door to the shed was dragged open by the group of Lizardman, and one of them used a torch to illuminate the horrifying contents within.

Several naked adventurers were strung up inside by their feet, their wrists and legs bound by ropes. All of them were naked, with bruises and wounds all over their bodies, and for better or for worse, nearly all of them were dead, save for four in the corner who stared at Airen with fearful eyes, gags in their mouths. Both dried and viscous blood caked the floor like currant-red paint, making Airen realize that the room was used for bleeding out the meat. Several of the corpses already had limbs removed, and he did not need to let his imagination run to know what happened the missing parts.

“Oh my lord…” Airen felt nauseous and held a hand against his reeling stomach trying to calm it. His other hand he held against his face, trying to block the sight from his eyes.

“You are not permitted to look away!” Fieluri did a sweeping motion with her arm and a powerful force tore Airen’s hand away. “You serve the History Eater, and so you will bear witness to the truth!”

At her words Airen felt anger rising in his chest, but it was quickly replaced with helplessness as he stared ahead of him. As the scene was scorched into his memories, Fieluri laid a hand on his shoulder and started to whisper in his ear.

“Remember, Airen. They are giving you a trophy.”

Airen tore his eyes away from the hanging bodies towards the four living tied up adventurers. Two males, two females.

“Are you telling me to choose who gets to live…?” Airen murmured quietly.

“And who deserves to die.” Fieluri added on, before she again spoke in that strange language to the Lizardmen, who suddenly tensed up before beating their chest in a salute. They lit several torches in the human storage shed, before shutting the door and leaving him alone.

“Can’t we save them all? With your power-”

“I may have agreed to help you until you reached your mentor, but do not forget I only give you opportunities to opportunities. If you want to save all four, then by all means try and defeat an entire village of Lizardmen on your own.” Fieluri mocked him.

“What if I just transport them all to my vault?” Airen scowled defiantly.

“Then instead of making the Lizardmen your enemy, you will be making me your enemy,” Fieluri held up a hand and a rainbow-colored flame burst into existence. She blew it in his direction and for a brief moment, Airen felt faint when the flame touched him, as if his soul had left his body.

“Point taken.” Airen sighed as he waved his hand to wave away the remaining traces of soul-quenching magical flame. He couldn’t meet the eyes of the four that were hanging and instead, stared at Fieluri. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I will enjoy what happens next.” Fieluri shook her head, and pointed at the four that were strung up, the gags in their mouth were sliced to pieces with razor-sharp blades of wind that left cuts inside their cheeks.

“I will take away one of you. Convince me of your usefulness, and you may yet leave this place and live.” Neäir’s voice emerged unbidden from Airen’s mouth, loud enough for them to hear.

“Sir. Sir. My family is pretty affluent in the Red Slate Republic and my aunt serves someone on the council. If you get me to them, I’m sure we can compensate you as much as you want...” The youngest of the girls with the unscarred body pleaded while choking back a sob. “I’m betrothed, and I will be marrying in two months! My lover would also gladly pay whatever you name!”

“Don’t listen to that wench! She’s the reason we’re here in the first place!” The muscular middle-aged man snarled before turning to Neäir. “I’ve been in the business for my entire life, and was one of the mercenaries hired to protect her. I am a eighth ranked swordsman, and I would not be here if I did not honor my agreement in protecting her. Get me out and I swear my loyalty is yours!”

“You fools, did you not see the way the monsters treated him?” The light skinned female with an alluring body spoke in a mocking tone. “Your Divine, I’m just as good an adventurer as that musclehead over there is, and I’m also a talented seventh ranked mage. I have served in Rasshavel for years and I am experienced in the ways of pleasure. Not only will I offer you my allegiance and magic, I’m willing to offer my body too!”

“I have worked for the League of Adventurers.” The last person, a young adult male with the most injuries on his body said weakly. “I knew what I signed up for, and my injuries will kill me soon. I… I simply wish to ask that you take my adventurer’s card and pass it onto my wife and son, and grant me a quick death instead of bleeding out like a pig!”

“Help me! Save me! Please!” Their voices clamored and pleaded at Airen, more than one of them having a trail of blood dripping from the wounds caused by the wind blades in their mouth. It was not long until they realized their prior words did not have much of an effect, and they started to curse at the others, trying to tarnish their reputation instead of raising their own. The unfiltered spite and malice in their vile words came out in a disgusting display of desperation.

“Let me lend you a hand, Airen.” Fieluri clearly acknowledged Airen’s confusion and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder - a rare sight. “Exploitation of empathy is the greatest of human evils. Allow me to open your eyes to the truth.”

She moved towards the young adult male and placed one hand on the man’s chest, pressing the a piece of paper she pulled out from the Blank Book against the skin. White and purple ribbons started to trail out from where their bodies connected and the man screamed in pain. To the others, it seemed as if the young male had suddenly lost his mind as the bone-chilling screams continued until Fieluri finished, and he fainted.

“This one does not have a wife or a child, at least not anymore.” Fieluri smirked as she glanced over the contents of the parchment. “He killed his wife with his own hands after finding out she was cheating on him with another man, thinking that she was bearing that man’s child when it was actually his. He does not actually work for the League of Adventurers, but is an adventurer himself that abandoned his party to die.” Fieluri jerked a thumb towards two of the bodies that were missing limbs. “There’s the rest of his party. If he didn’t break formation, then they would have survived.”

The process continued down the line, with Fieluri revealing the darkest of secrets amidst screams of pain.

“This woman is indeed a whore, but not from Rasshavel. She’s a serial killer that seduces men and women alike, bringing them home and killing them mid-coitus. Her particular favorite target are young boys like your real form, Airen, and she joined an adventuring party with a target in mind. My, my, her soul is definitely something that would belong in Aotapia.”

“This man’s loyalty may as well be non-existent. He’s turned on his employers more than once, and sometimes even participated in the kidnapping of rich girls and boys. It’s his ploy you see, to work as a mercenary or bodyguard until he’s collected enough information to act. After the ransom has been paid, he’ll vanish to live on the money for a time, and then reappear with a new name when he is in need for more.”

The last one, the girl, had quickly realized something was amiss. Each time Airen looked over at one of them, they would scream for minutes before they fainted.

“No. No. Stay away!” Her naked body jerked in an attempt to get away, but being strung from the feet did her little good. “What did you do to them!?”

Her screams were by far the most harrowing in Airen’s ear, for it was the sound of someone that was clearly not used to pain.

“Well, well. The youths seem to get worse and worse every era. While it is true that she is the daughter of an affluent family and is betrothed, she didn’t mention that their business was slavery. The amount of blood on her hands for someone her age is quite impressive, having people mutilated and executed merely because they didn’t do something the way she wanted.”

“You see, Airen. The Lizardmen honor strength, valor, and bravery. All these corpses are dead before they were brought in, given a swift and clean death. Why did you think they put these four in here while they were still alive?” Fieluri added as she took out a dark purple cloth and wiped her hands, after if they had been stained with something from touching the four.

“How do you expect me to choose know that you told me all this?” Airen scowled.

“You were the one that said if you had the opportunity to save someone, you would do so.” Fieluri quoted Airen’s words from when he entered the painted world of Osperica. “And here I am, giving you an opportunity to save a murderer.”

“You did, after showing me all of this,” Airen hissed. “Just to make your point?”

“Now that you know, would you still stand by your words?” Fieluri smirked. “Where do you draw the line on which life should be saved, and which life should be forfeited?.”

“...”

“Remember, Airen, when you save a life, you are in turn responsible for any lives that is taken or saved by that life. Are you ready to shoulder that sort of burden?”

“Let’s go. We still need to meet up with Jourmind.” Airen said quietly after some time, finally making up his mind that this was not his problem. The four people had gotten themselves into this mess, and he… he was merely passing by.

“Are you running away, Airen?” Fieluri mocked. “What happened to your sense of justice, your sense of morality to save lives if the chance was presented to you?”

“You’ve made your point. Let’s go!” Airen had unintentionally raised his voice, and Fieluri smiled, seeing that she had managed to instill a harsh lesson into him. On their way out, she spoke a few words to one of the guards, whom saluted in response behind Airen’s retreating back.

“It still seems that he has much to learn.” Fieluri murmured.

...

“I did not think that these… Lizardmen even had a stairwell of their own.” Airen murmured as he descended down a well-lit cavern, stone steps carved into the cavern ledge next to a deep pit. Every so often he would catch a glimpse of another small camp or lit torch in the many cavern branches.

“There are entire civilizations hidden from human eyes, some forgotten, some thriving,” Fieluri shrugged as she bit into what appeared to be a roasted crab leg. Auen’s guards had left him after opening the passage for him, and they even gave him a gift, a large package filled with all manner of strange food. Of course, Fieluri had grabbed it out of his hands as soon as they were out of sight, and Airen did not resist after seeing what was part of the Lizardman’s ‘diet’.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Fieluri waved the leg at him. “Twelve-Legged Tiger Spiders are quite a delicacy you know.”

“I have no appetite for now.” Airen politely refused, hoping that Fieluri would let the matter drop. She eyed him with a smirk as if she clearly knew what he was thinking before returning to her meal, pulling out a strange mushroom encrusted with green stones and nibbling on it.

For a while, the only sound in the spiraling staircase-like cavern was the sound of footsteps and occasional chewing.

“Through there.” Fieluri pointed to a path that lead away from the stairs through an ill-illuminated tunnel, her package of food long had vanished into the confines of her stomach.

“...We’ve been moving downwards all this time, and now we’re just going to suddenly veer off to the side?” Airen glanced over to the deep pit that continued down into the darkness, he was glad that he did not have a fear of heights. After passing through the Lizardman village, he had a feeling that they were no longer in the Petrified Dragon’s Crypt but in an entirely different world.

“You should have figured out by now that these caverns have not been charted by humans.” Fieluri scoffed. “So why even bother questioning my directions?”

“You were the one that insisted I should question everything, and even you said that you can be wrong at times.” Airen scowled.

“My, my, the young scholar finally learns to think for himself.” Fieluri clapped sarcastically. “Then to answer your question, your mentor, or at least his scent, lies this way.”

“His scent?”

“You’ll understand in a moment.”

“What do you mean-” Airen started to protest until he was hit with an all too familiar odor, the smell of carrion. He stopped in his tracks and held up his lantern to the darkness ahead, but he did not see what he expected to see - corpses.

“Remember our journey beneath Tel’naraa? This time, the monsters of the mind do exist.” Fieluri flicked a finger and a halo appeared above Airen, illuminating the bones and skulls that were melded into the walls. “Take care, Airen, so they do not latch onto you.”

“What the hell is this?” Airen stared at the masses of bodies mixed into the walls that ran along the corridor. “T-There must be hundreds of them.”

“The same as the wall of skulls you saw in the Valrock Ruins. A mass burial site where an entire population was buried alive into the ground with earth magic, their forms to serve as a reminder and the foundation of a new city. It is a story from a long time ago.”

“That’s… messed up.” Airen tore his eyes away from the walls and gingerly continued down the cavern. “But if they’ve been down here for so long, what’s with this smell?”

“Ah, now you’re asking the right questions.” Fieluri smiled eerily. “Because someone tried to reanimate them with a large amount of blood, and then someone else stopped them.”

“...The undead attack on the adventurer caravan.” Sudden realization dawned on Airen.

“You’re connecting the dots, but still too slowly.” Fieluri smirked. “Who are we here for?”

“Jour-” Airen suddenly halted in his steps. “Why would Jourmind be down here?”

“Sometimes the simplest answer is the correct answer.” Fieluri pointed toward the end of the cavern while snapping her fingers, causing the halo of light over them to vanish. With the light gone, Airen realized that there was faint firelight coming from ahead of him.

“It’s time to confront your past. Airen.” She left those parting remarks before vanishing into a rift. “What happen next is in your hands.”

“...Jourmind? Are you there?” Airen’s voice cracked as he exited the tunnel, a freshly-lit Winf tree branch serving as a a torch.

“....-ren?” A faint voice called back in the darkness.

“Jourmind?!” Without hesitation, Airen started to pull wood and flammable items from his vault in the Archive. He tossed the burning Winf Branch into the growing pile in front of him and a raging blaze lit up the medium-sized chamber. Three corpses laid in a pile in the corner, a gruesome hole in the middle of their chests as if someone had ripped out their heart. Seated on the ground and leaning against the wall for support was the one Airen was searching for.

“...You shouldn’t have come. Airen.” Jourmind’s face was ghastly white, akin to the color of curdled milk. “But it is good to see you again, and I’m glad that you’ve came.”

“Jourmind, your arm.” Airen knelt down stared at the black stump that ended at Jourmind’s elbow.

“There’s no need to worry about it. It’s only a matter of time until the heartstone fragment wears itself out.” Jourmind pattedd Airen’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. “No time for royal pleasantries, Airen, but it eases this old man’s soul that you’ve adjusted pretty well and managing to get by. You were always the one that I worried about more.”

“S-shut up, Jomin.” Jourmind’s voice brought out long submerged and repressed feelings out of Airen, and he wiped away at the corners of his eyes with his sleeves. “Where’s Yuelei?”

“She… listen to me slowly.” Jourmind shook his head slowly. “The remains of a girl matching your sister’s stature was found at the bottom of a crevice after an avalanche.”

Airen felt as if a mountain had been thrown on him, and his stands shook. His knees gave way below him and he started to limply fall to the ground.

“Pull yourself together!” Jourmind grabbed Airen by the cuff and pulled him up with almost unnatural strength. “No matter what happens, do not forget you are a prince of the Casteya line! Stand firm and listen to what I have to say!”

“Macha is dead, and in a few more minutes, I will be too.” Jourmind continued “The only other survivor is your elder cousin, Wyen Casteya. His last whereabouts were past the Dew Plains, in the Lya’vu Confederacy. If you are in a need of safety, then you should find-”

Jourmind’s words were interrupted by a hacking cough, and when he pulled his hand away, it covered in black blood and there were even fragments of red crystal mixed in.

“Time is running short.” Jourmind shuddered before shoving Airen away and staring into his eyes. “Airen, my boy, all my life I have lived by the sword alongside of your father. I have seen good men corrupted by trying to do the right thing, and horrible men saved by performing great evils. In your childhood, I have taught you the meaning of tolerance, patience, and humility.”

“In a few more minutes, my soul will be gone from this husk and it will revert to that of a death knight. This will be my final lesson to you, the courage to be merciful.”

“Release me from this blasted corpse… and then, Airen, the both of us will be truly be free.” With effort, Jourmind grunted and solemnly held out the hilt of his rapier towards Airen.

“No… After I finally find you, this is what you ask me to do?” Airen shook his head and took a step back in denial. “How can… how can you do this to me, Jourmind?”

“It is precisely because it is you that I ask!” Jourmind snarled before he was wracked with coughs again and this time it was not black blood he spat out but a reddish-brown powder.

“I know someone who is omnipotent with magic. Whatever ails you… she can help you!” Airen struggled to his feet and opened a rift to the Archive. “I’ll make things right!”

“I am a hollow husk merely delivering his last words! Your mentor is long dead, Airen! ” Jourmind’s voice had turned guttural as he howled at Airen’s disappearing back. “Put me out of my misery! Kill me! Killlllllllllll-”

Jourmind’s words went unheard by Airen.

“Fiel! I know you’ve been listening!” Airen shouted as soon as he came to his senses inside his vault. “Come out! I need your help!”

For a few moments, Airen stood in place as he waited for a response, but none came. Clenching his fists, he moved towards the door that led to the Archive and wrung it open. He had expected to see the familiar endless shelves but the sight he saw made him stop in place. Instead of the cozy magical library, it was a grandiose audience chamber and there, seated up a bedazzling throne carved from an amalgamation of jewels, was Fieluri.

Gone was the semblance of laziness and indulgence and in its place was a sense of royal and ethereal dignity. Her casual attire was gone and in its place was a regal and ornate dress, adorned with all manner of symbols and jewels and if one were to look closer at the designs, they would see that that lines were woven from words. She leaned against one of the armrests, her cheek touching the back of her left hand.

“Fieluri. You have to help me. Jourmind’s the only one I have left…” Airen mustered his courage and stepped forward. He knew that this time, all pretenses and pleasantries were dropped and she was seriously engaging him. “Whatever your price, I will pay it so answer me!”

“Do you wish me to bring back the dead?” Fieluri scoffed as she waved around a rainbow-colored glass scepter and looked down at him

“You were the one that said you could do anything with-”

“Do you know what you need for a perfect resurrection, Airen?”

“Some sacred herb, some legendary jewel, why does it matter!?” Airen shouted “Don’t you have unlimited resources?!”

“One of the requirements is a perfect catalyst that can perfectly preserve that person’s soul as soon as their bodies die. Throughout history, only eighty-four humans found or created an item that was suitable to become such a catalyst.” Fieluri continued while ignoring his outburst. “Without such a catalyst, what is brought is not a person but something different Airen.”

“Your former mentor is a perfect example of that.”

“But Jourmind, he-”

“What you saw-” Fieluri paused and looked down at Airen pitifully. “Was the last vestiges of his humanity. Why did you think he was begging you for release?”

“That’s…”

“He could have ended his own life in those few moments of clarity, yet he chose to risk everything to meet you one final time to give the both of you closure.”

“Not only did you reject his intentions, you’ve deprived him of the opportunity to end his own suffering, Airen.” Fieluri mocked him. “Some student you are.”

“Then what are you saying I do!?” Airen lashed back. “Abandon my family? Run a sword through the man who treated me like I was his own son!?”

“...That man sacrificed his life so you could live and the least you can do is honor his last words.”

Fieluri’s words seem to have struck a chord and Airen’s balled up fists shook. His angry glare faded away from his eyes and was refilled with a lost look as he slowly fell to his knees, as if what had supported him all this time was suddenly cut away.

“I cannot do this, Fiel… I-I do not have the courage that my sister possessed. I am not the king my father was, or even the leader Jourmind wished me to become.” Airen’s voice cracked as he murmured, his words directed more at himself then Fieluri. “I am not a hero like the stories from the Archive, and I don’t even have the vengefulness to become a villain.”

“What am I supposed to do now?” His shoulders slumped and his head dropped. Airen felt small and miniscule, and could not bear to meet Fieluri’s eyes. Several minutes passed in silence, until finally two voices that was not Fieluri’s spoke up.

The familiar voices caused Airen to choke up and emotions flickered over his face. He felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, and slowly lifted his head to see the faces of his mother and father.

“What a hero, must do.”

“What a king, must do.”

He blinked, and then they were gone.

Airen’s face scrunched up and he closed his eyes.

When they opened, they were no longer the naive eyes of a child, but that of a man.

Airen stepped out of the rift with a grim determination, Force in his left hand and Torchlight in his right. He eyed his former mentor who had his one good hand covering his face.

He took a step forward, and the sound caused Jourmind’s hand to twitch before it shot towards the rapier on the ground next to him. Emotionless red eyes locked onto Airen, and the death knight got to his feet. Almost instinctively, Jourmind assumed the royal families’ ceremonial en garde pose, with the hilt held against his chest and the estoc blade pointed up.

Airen did not know if it was because there was still a part of Jourmind still in there, or because it was just a basic impulse. However, he could not give it much thought because, in the next moment, Jourmind had vanished and reappeared in front of him.

Sparks flew out as Airen blocked the thrust with Torchlight, but the force behind Jourmind’s attack pushed him back several steps. Airen cursed at his stupidity as he parried the next attack instead of meeting it head on.

Jourmind’s undead strength, coupled with the finesse drilled into his body from a lifetime, quickly overwhelmed Airen. After six more exchanges, Airen was no longer relying on his sight to see where the attacks were coming from, but his instinct and experience. Every so often, Airen swung Force towards his right expecting to meet another strike but was only met with air. To his surprise, Journind had not followed through with Airen’s expectations, but retreating back a few steps and drawing his weapon arm back like an archer would nock an arrow.

A sense of foreboding ran through Airen’s body as he recognized the stance, and he quickly leaped to the right as a Sonic Thrust flew through the space where he was standing mere moments ago. He did not have time to see the five-inch hole bored into the rock behind him as Jourmind slipped the tip of the rapier into the ground and the earth beneath him him started to tremble.

“Ald!” Airen pointed Force and shot a force-bullet towards the series of needle-like spikes that surged forward along the ground. The small pellet slammed into the weapon art harmlessly and did not even slow them down. In the end, Airen was forced to dive off to the side to avoid the attack.

Before he could even stand up, Jourmind had appeared in front of him and swung his estoc in a downwards arc. Airen crossed both blades to block the strike in time, but his knees dug into the ground and Airen felt his bones creak under the strength of the strike.

Like a mad beast, Jourmind howled and rained down a barrage of attacks at Airen as he desperately blocked the blows. With each strike, a tremor rang through the weapons and up Airen’s arms as his knees bled from scraping the ground. If not for the fact that they were rare and powerful weapons in their own right, they would have likely already shattered.

As Jourmind roared and raised his weapon in an overly-ambitious strike, Airen saw his chance. He kicked off the ground to the left just as the estoc came down, evading the blade by a hair’s breadth, and lashed out with a slash at Jourmind’s ribs.

Force flew towards the death knight’s stomach, the tip of enchanted blade easily tearing through soiled armor and biting into flesh. It was a superficial wound, and even if a million of these injuries were inflicted, it was useless on the undead.

However, the very fact that Airen could land this attack was reason of him to rejoice. It meant that in melee combat, he stood a chance against the death knight. However there was no time to celebrate as the estoc swung in from his right and he was forced to take a step back.

In terms of weapon range, Airen was at a slight disadvantage. Torchlight and Force were three palms shorter than Jourmind’s estoc and even though the blade was thin and akin to that of a rapiers, Jourmind’s unnatural strength essentially made it as dangerous as any broad-sided sword. If there was any advantage to be had, it was that Jourmind only had one arm, and Airen was slowly growing used to Jourmind’s attack patterns.

To Airen’s shock, Jourmind did not pursue him but stuck his weapon into the ground and started muttering in a guttural voice. He tensed up as he expected another wave of needle-like lances to emerge from the ground, but none came. Not knowing what was going to happening, Airen circled around Jourmind and warily eyed his surroundings.

Out of the corner of his eye Airen saw movement, and when he turned he quickly realized what Jourmind had done. The three corpses in the corner twitched and writhed until they started to slowly get to their feet.

Feeling a sense of urgency, Airen did not wait for the newly animated corpses to stand. He could barely fight Jourmind alone, much less three additional combatants. With an overhead swing, he decapitated the closet corpse with Torchlight, only to find to his shock that the red dragon knight’s weapon released a surge of flame as it passed through the undead monstrosity.

“Thanks, Dullas.” Airen muttered a thank you as he made short work of the slowly-reanimating undead. The weapon wielded by the immortal red dragon that seeked death seemed to have been especially made to fight against the unliving. All wounds created by Torchlight would sear and burn, making it impossible for the undead flesh to regenerate, and any of the body parts that Airen cut off would immediately burst into flames.

A brief feeling of crisis suddenly assaulted Airen, and he spun around just in time to see Jourmind’s estoc flying at his chest. Time seemed to slow as Airen realized there was no way he would be able to position his sword in time to block the blow.

I cannot fall here! Airen thought in that brief moment. But reality is never kind, and tip of the estoc slipped between his crossed swords and slowly but surely arced towards his heart.

Only to be stopped at the edge of his skin by a purple-colored glow. Fieluri’s magical barrier had activated and bought him a few desperate seconds. Just as cracks were forming on the violet shield, Airen roared and swung down with Torchlight in a six-strike Blooming technique against Jourmind’s exposed shoulders.

To his shock however, Jourmind had somehow managed to withdraw and evade or block of the majority of the attacks despite his positioning. The only tell-tale sign that Airen’s weapon arte even landed was a smoking, molten-red gash along Jourmind’s shoulder.

Not one to lose initiative, Airen quickly followed up by going into his Flash Stance and released a relentless onslaught of slashes. He must not allow Jourmind to cast any spells, or it will only end up with his own demise.

Another minute passed as the two of them moved back and forth across the chamber, neither truly gaining the upper hand. While Airen was in his Flash Stance, the speed of his attacks barely managed to match that of Jourminds, and the rest of the gap was remedied by Airen’s foresight and experience.

However, what really caused such a significant change in the flow of combat was Jourmind’s fear of Torchlight. Whenever they crossed blades, Jourmind would always parry or block Torchlight first, even if the result was him suffering a shallow wound. Dim light slowly built up on the edge of Airen’s weapons as he continued to attack in his Flash Stance.

After a particularly well-positioned and well-timed nine-strike Bloorming technique that forced Jourmind to take a few steps back, Airen released the Flash of Divine Steel that had been built up all this time. Two blades of energy in the form of an X flew towards Jourmind, humming through the air.

In response, a dark vicious aura covered Jourmind’s body before condensing on his estoc. In one fluid motion, he swept aside Airen’s Flash of Divine Steel easily and vanished. Airen lost vision of Jourmind, and to lose sight of an enemy that is stronger than you is a death sentence.

Airen quickly kept his back to the fire in the center of the area while scanning around the room. He was hoping the light from the flames would let him catch a glimpse of Jourmind’s shadow, but there was none to be seen.

A sense of deja vu suddenly struck Airen and although he did not know it, a rainbow-colored tint had flashed in his eyes. He angled Force behind his left shoulder and twisted his body as Jourmind appeared behind him, flying through the flames.

A sharp ring ran out as Jourmind’s estoc was barely blocked and the hum of scraping metal echoed into the chamber as Airen twisted to his left and stepped into the technique. Force trailed along the estoc’s blade as Jourmind flew past Airen, his technique having seen through.

Then, before Jourmind could recover, Airen let go of Force and spun around to face Jourmind’s exposed back. Gripping Torchlight with both hands, he lodged the blade deep between Jourmind’s shoulders. A hiss like the sound of hot metal being cooled in water assaulted Airen’s hears, following by Jourmind’s roar of pain.

He stumbled for two steps before twisting and lashing back at Airen, who had already expected retaliation and willed Dir Sayf to form into a shield. Airen could feel the weak metal bending as he received the blow, and even could feel the blade of the estoc against his arm as he was knocked back several meters with his feet off the ground.

Airen slammed into the opposing wall, feeling a few ribs break in process. As he struggled to stand, he witnessed Jourmind flailing and struggling to pull Torchlight out from his back, with his arm contorted at inhuman angles. Every time he managed to brush against the weapon, the smell of burning flesh would come out as the weapon burnt his hands.

Not wanting to let this advantage go, Airen brought out the bow made out bone from his vault and started to loose arrows at Jourmind. As the twelfth arrow pierced into Jourmind’s arm, the dead man finally disregarded the weapon in his back and rushed towards Airen with a howl.

As Airen nocked back the thirteenth arrow, the bow suddenly snapped, and he was left with two pieces of bone in his hands. After a brief moment of hesitation, he hurled the pieces of the bow at Jourmind which bounced harmlessly off his undead body.

Jourmind’s charge was wild and unrefined like that of a wild beasts, and Airen easily avoided it by stepping to the side. At the same time, he brought out the bone sword and swung it down on Jourmind’s arm. Against Airen’s expectations, the bone blade actually managed to cut deep enough to reach bone. He let go of the weapon and jumped back a few steps, not wanting to be near the berserk death knight as it lashed out wildly. All semblance of humanity had vanished and it was acting closer to that of a Reanimated.

As Airen was charged at again, he kept low and duck his feet into the ground, his bone spear at the ready. As Jourmind impaled himself into the weapon through one of his legs, Airen rolled to the side to tossed out his set of six Wakki Stars. Four of them missed their target, but the other lodged themselves in Jourmind’s neck.

“Fiel! I need some weapons!” Airen shouted as he got to his feet. Three rifts opened up in front of him, and three spears dropped to the ground.

The first one, a pitch-black short spear that emitted a murky darkness at the tip, Airen used to impale Jourmind’s arm.

The second one, a topaz lance that seemed to have been carved from jade-like stone, Airen used to impale Jourmind through the neck.

The third one, a winged spear of ivory white, Airen used to impale Jourmind through his chest.

Even though the weapons did not seem to do much damage, they were weapons of legend that would not break easily. And thus, they were the ideal tool to immobilize Jourmind.

As the death knight struggled to pull itself free, Airen grabbed Torchlight by the hilt, took a deep breath, and pushed the blade deeper until it protrude out from Jourmind’s chest.

And so it came to an end.

When Fieluri stepped out of the Archive, she found Airen seated next to Jourmind’s lifeless body. Based on her knowledge, roughly three hours had passed since the battle.

She snapped a finger, and all of the weapons in the area vanished back into the Archive. Airen reacted to her presence by glancing at her with reddened eyes before turning back to stare at Jourmind’s face.

“What are you doing here?” Airen scowled. “Can’t you see I’m not done grieving?”

“To do what must be done. To do what someone called the History Eater, must do.” Fieluri’s words echoed in Airen’s mind as he realized who was behind the illusion that he had seen. “You’ve done well, Airen. There were two times you could and should have died in that fight, and you overcame it.”

“And I expect that was all thanks to you.” Airen accused.

“I may have prepared you for it, but I do not claim the credit.” Fieluri sat down across from Airen and placed a hand over Jourmind’s body. Just as faint light started to gather in her hands, Airen knocked it away.

“Not this time.” Airen glared at Fieluri.

“Are you not curious at all to how he came to this? About your mentor’s life story?” Fieluri did not chide him, but asked bemusingly.

“I am, but I will not sully his death like this. He did this for me, and like you said, the very least I can do is respect that.”

“This was your achievement, and normally, I would agree it is your choice.” Fieluri smiled as if she knew something he didn’t. “But I am interested.”

Fieluri placed a hand over Jourmind again, and once again, Airen knocked it away.

“You do realize the very reason you are here is because of me right? I even gave you the courage to confront him.” Fieluri was no longer smiling now, but there was still a hint of mirth in her voice. “You owe me more than you realize.”

“Fiel, I have always been faithful and selfless on your whims.” Airen shook his head. “Please let me be selfish this one time.”

“And I refuse?”

“Then we…” Airen hesitated before continuing. “We can no longer be on the same side, and you may as well kill me.”

“My, my. It seems our little boy has finally learned to take a stand.” Fieluri rolled back her head and laughed, clearly pleased with herself.

“I am not unkind Airen, so let us make a deal. I will give you a certain piece of knowledge that will change everything, and in return, you will let me write down your mentor’s history.”

“What can you possibly tell me that can compare?” Airen scowled. “Some dark secret about someone close to me that is better left unknown? ”

“Let us face the facts, Airen. Even if you were to refuse, I can absorb his history by force, and you will be powerless to stop me. Instead, I have already offered you something that will shape all of your choices in the future. Don’t push your luck.” Fieluri again held a hand over Jourmind’s chest. This time, Airen’s hand twitched, but he did not stop her.

After several minutes, ribbons of words started to trail out of Jourmind’s body, and seep into a small Blank Book in Fieluri’s hand. The process seemed to take ages, but eventually, it finished when the words “Jourmind Casteya, Son and Traitor of the Acher Clan.” appeared in golden letters over the cover.

“I suppose you don’t want to read this.” Fieluri waved a finger and the book zoomed into a rift leading the Archive. “I’ll even throw in a little extra for you.”

“What do you mean-” Airen was interrupted by a wave of Fieluri’s hand, and the ground around him started to twist and tremble. A few moments later, Jourmind’s body vanished into the rock, and in his steed was a giant tombstone.

“None of the creatures will dare desecrate this place, and will even guard it if need be.” Fieluri waved a finger and words carved themselves into the tombstone in a language that Airen did not understand.

“What does it matter? He’s dead anyway.” Airen grumbled as he stared at Jourmind’s estoc that laid over his lap.. “But… thank you.”

“And now for the piece of information I offered you. You can thank me afterwards.” Fieluri’s smile grew and for an unknown reason, Airen felt a chill run up his spine. She stepped over to where Airen was and bent down until her mouth was right by his ear. And with a voice that influenced history an untold number of times, she whispered-

“That corpse that your mentor mentioned, it is not that of your sisters.” A jolt of lightning ran through Airen’s body as he turned to stare at Fieluri. She stood up and placed a finger onto her lips as if she was telling him a great secret.

“Your sister is still alive, Airen Casteya.”

End of Arc 1A- Disciple of the History Eater