Author's Note:

I found out I'm horrible at planning. I left so much stuff that had be done in this chapter and it kind of got out of hand. Hope you enjoy it ^^

Characters

Titles and Abilites

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Ace watched the still body on the ground before him. It was an old man with his eyes closed, lying in the pool of white. His hair had fallen around his head in a circle resembling a halo.

There was no colour in him, even his skin was pale white, but for the red stain on his chest. Right where the heart was supposed to be. Crimson blood was rushing out of there, staining the immaculately white robe.

Ace followed the trail of red liquid, mystified. What had just happened here? He hadn’t killed the man, hadn’t even planned to. How did it end up like this?

His black wings wavered, falling lifeless behind his back. This wasn’t what he had wanted. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

He opened his mouth to say something, to make sure others understood but there were no words there. Something akin to a squeak escaped instead. He let the wings surround him in a cocoon, pretending they were someone’s warm hug. That they shielded him from the sigh ahead.

He hadn’t wanted for that to happen!

But his illusion did little to protect him. It kept others away but he could see through it. There was no way to hide behind invisible walls. It was too hard to trust them.

There was a sound from nearby.

Ace didn’t want to hear it. He turned [All Ears] off instantly and covered his ears. No sound could reach him.

But he couldn’t stay like that forever. Sooner or later someone would approach him. They would revere or curse him. Or pity.

And he couldn’t take either one. Not now at least. Maybe in a day or two.

He closed his eyes and made his wings unfurl in a grandiose manner, raising small rocks and fallen leaves. There was a collective gasp and shuffle of feet as people moved away from him.

Only a few stayed in place but Ace didn’t glance at them. He didn’t want to see their faces. He’d done it once before, only a week ago and hadn’t liked what he’d seen there.

They didn’t know him.

They couldn’t understand his actions. Or see them in any light but the one they were accustomed to. And that wasn’t the one he was using.

He flapped his wings a couple more times before raising his head and shooting into the sky. He rose and rose, ignoring the clouds and cold air currents.

All he wanted was to go further up. He could do that, couldn’t he?

But the air started to thin out. It was becoming hard to breathe and he was forced to lower down. Yet he didn’t leave the cover of the clouds. They damped his clothes and increased the sensation of coldness but Ace didn’t turn [Excessive Heat] on.

He flew in the clouds for a while, losing himself in the motions, watching the world below. It was a pretty sight too. The fields stretched far and wide, hand sized cities were littered here and there while humans and monsters alike were smaller than his nails.

It was a lovely view but for the first time it didn’t bring him joy. He hadn’t meant for that to happen. Why would the men kill himself anyway? Wasn’t angels supposed to be benevolent and forgiving? Even the fallen ones couldn’t be that bad. Yet why had they been ranked higher than normal angels?

The questions were better than other thoughts so Ace decided to investigate them. He took a look around and noticing a pond not too far away flew there. Or jumped, if one wanted to be true to the action.

Ace didn’t, he preferred his illusion to reality.

He closed his eyes and like a bird of prey noticing his victim dived downwards. There was no hesitation to his movements, no fear of collision or death as he rushed down. His speed increased each moment, making his heart race and forcing him to open his eyes.

They were wide and full of innate joy at being able to do this. He was falling like a comet from a sky and knew he would survive. It was better than anything real world could ever offer.

A moment before collision he activated [Mirror Walk] and remembered a mirror in Lasran. He knew that city’s library quite well after spending many hours there. First it had been to find a man that fit a female ghost’s description and then to gain knowledge about Vascas castle.

He smiled as he remembered those times. It had been fun adventures. And simple. There had been no Vera in the game until then.

His thoughts might have wondered for hours more in that direction but the world didn’t allow it. When he had dived into the pond, he hadn’t counted on leaving the mirror at the same speed.

It meant he crashed at the wall at the speed reserved for car chases, not entering rooms. His head met the wall and his body twisted into angles it wasn’t supposed to. Not that Ace noticed as his vision swam. Blacked out for a time.

There was pain in all parts of his body but the head was the worst. This was a game so his brains hadn’t splattered out on the wall in a grotesque ornament but it didn’t mean, it hadn’t tried to.

It smelled of rust, heavily. The thing filled his nostrils and he would have choked on the strength of it if not for the reason his mouth was filled with something else. Was that blood?

He coughed it out and his vision swam again, his chest constricting in painful pangs. Through the deliriousness in his mind, he had a feeling a few of his ribs were broken. Internal bleeding was probably there too.

Curse was supposed to escape his mouth, but if his clogged ears were anything to come by, the sound was more of a whimper. It angered him and with a surge of energy he opened an item window and reached for a health potion.

Fingers curled around the bottle and Ace tried to drag it to his mouth. But the strength in his hand was gone. The bottle slipped and fell to the ground. Shards embedded into Ace’s hand as it lowered there but he barely felt it.

There were bigger concerns and the sharpest pain tended to dull all others.

One in the head especially. It made his world a murkier place which wouldn’t have been too bad if it hadn’t been growing worse with each passing moment. Pain could be ignored, survived no matter how bad it was, but sight was a necessity.

He wanted. No, he needed to see. He had tasted darkness and though he’d survived, it wasn’t something he wanted to feel again. However, his mind was getting fuzzier too.

It was starting to become harder to make distinct thoughts, think of ways to survive. Or even to want to. Darkness was enveloping him in a warm embrace and his body wanted to accept it. Relax into it.

Ace knew better but it was hard. His body wasn’t listening and the smallest of movements reverberated through his whole being. Wasn’t he supposed to turn numb or something? Why did it still hurt so much?

He tried getting a health potion again but this time he didn’t even manage to get it out. His fingers grasped at the slick surface and slipped from it, unable to get a good grip. They were just so unwieldy. Could they be broken?

It was hard to say. He would have to raise his head or hand to look at them and he wasn’t capable of either. Now that he noticed that he wondered why. He was half sitting, leaning against something so it shouldn’t have been too hard.

Yet no matter how much he struggled his body didn’t move. Was it stuck to the place he lay on? Next to? He didn’t know. What he knew was that each move, made his chest double-up in the amount of pain it sent for the brain to feel.

He groaned. It was all so stupid. He hurt. He needed potions. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t get his hand up any longer! It was pathetic.

Was this really him? Dying in a stupid room? In the middle of nowhere? Because he did something mindless once? Something fun?

There should have been a curse on his lips. And he tried for it. Curses were good to let out some steam. But he didn’t utter anything. Or if he did, he could no longer hear it.

Bright light flashed on him and he closed his eyes. If it wasn’t enough for him to feel like he was being disassembled limb from limb, his eyes were being now assaulted too. There probably was a groan as he felt his throat constricting, paining him more than he had already gotten used to.

However, it lasted barely for a moment and then was gone. Ha had learnt something from that. If he didn’t move, the pain stayed the same. No random bursts or anything.

That was good. He didn’t mind pain but it was annoying. He felt it, after all.

Something moved him. Red flashed in his eyes as he tried to contain a scream that threatened to escape. His whole body shook from the after effects of that slight move. And that made even sharper pain flash through his system.

Ice cold liquid ran down the side of his mouth. If he opened his eyes, he could see a blurry form before himself. It was doing something and he could have sworn releasing sounds but nothing reached his muddled brain.

The sensors were going out of control. Along with his ability of perception.

His mouth was forced open and coldness entered his mouth. He guessed he had to gulp it down but there was that knowledge about the pain. It was going to intensify if he moved those muscles.

Now he was sure the blurry thing was making sounds. He could hear them ringing in his ears, meaningless.

His body was moved again. Pain coursed through him and a sound escaped his mouth. That is before he started to choke on the liquid that was being poured in him.

Coughs racked his body and each one made him wish he was dead. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much then.

He was shifted again and Ace cursed loudly. And then growled throatily, “Stop.”

That single sound was enough to discourage the guy who was standing before him and he took a step back.

It took Ace a moment to understand what had happened. He could see again. And the pain was gone. Well, the main part of it. His chest was still sending him alarming senses but his other parts, limbs felt fine.

He bent his fingers, testing them and felt no resistance. The raised hand looked to be fine too. What had happened here?

His head could be moved too, though his body still felt stuck. Shaking his head, he looked down and saw a chair leg sticking from under his right shoulder. The sight made him scrunch his nose and he turned away.

And then pushed himself against the wooden stick in his chest. His body moved without much resistance but the pain made him stagger. Hands fell lifeless as he took deep breaths through his nose, teeth clenched to the point of breaking.

It had to be done. He couldn’t stay here forever. And curse himself for having pain meter the highest allowable in the game.

The pain subsided a bit in time and he opened his mouth to take a breath. It was a shuddering one, making him feel even worse. Instantly he stopped with that and before he could think better of it, pushed himself against the wooden structure behind himself with all his strength.

“Pain is... Pain is.. is irrelevant... It.. It passes through... and.. and it’s memory... soon.... very soon... vanishes... from... from your... your mind... You... You have to.. to ignore it... Pain... Pain is... is irrelevant,” he whispered as he lay rolled into a ball. The words were jumbled and barely more than exhales but they were there. Something real to focus on.

Something that wasn’t pain trying to take him apart.

To his immense delight, this was a game. It meant the worst of the wound healed in moments and his mind could start working again.

He took another shuddering breath, relaxing his grip on the legs. They strained and he rolled on his back. The ceiling was brown wood and there was light coming from the right.

An open doorway.

He knew that was dangerous, he was vulnerable now but it was too late. If the person who’d wandered here would have wished to do harm, he would have done it by now. “How long are you going to stand there in the shadow?” he asked.

Unsurprisingly his voice was still hoarse. He sat up and coughed a couple of times. It did little to help but he had tried.

A shadow moved and he turned his eyes in that direction.

It was a familiar figure.

“Nein,” he murmured with a sigh. This guy was dangerous but not to him. At least until he learnt things he didn’t need to know.

The guy had a scowl on his face though his face didn’t betray anything. “Wha-” he started to say but thought better of it. “You owe me a bottle of water from that cave lake.”

Ace grimaced. Those bottles were in limited supply. He couldn’t get more even if he wanted to. “Fine,” he said and opened his bag. There were still around twenty of them so he took out two. “Here.” He threw them to the guy who barely managed to catch them.

The guy’s eyebrows rose when he looked at the two bottles. “You saved my life. Such actions should be encouraged.” A faint smile touched Nein’s lips.

Ace released a satisfied sigh at that and stood up, taking a better look of his surroundings. It was the same storage room he’d remembered, the only difference being that one side was now thrashed to bits.

And pushed to one side.

Bloodied.

He turned away from there. “So what are you doing here?” he asked Nein, jogging to stand beside him. The guy rolled his eyes at him. “I work here,” he said with a look that spoke volumes.

“I was playing around,” Ace answered to his unspoken question. “And then it kind of got out of control.”

“You’re supposed to be in Arenan,” Nein said, leading them out of the room. Ace noted that they were moving in the direction leaving the castle, but he kept his quiet. “Arenan?” he asked instead. “Is this how the city of angels is called?”

Nein nodded. “Well, things happened. I wanted some time alone.” This seemed to be enough for the guy. He didn’t ask anything else for a while and they walked in comfortable silence.

Ace watched their surroundings and was pleasantly surprised. The castle was empty with only the barest minimum of servants walking around.

When they left the place, the city was in the same state. It felt like another tournament was being held and it had drawn all the attention. Ace liked it that way but he wondered what was happening. And where they were going.

He looked for clues but his hearing seemed to be useless. There was almost no one around. Some players walked past them but they weren’t talking.

Ten minutes later they reached what Ace deemed their destination. It was the place where the main tournament had been held. But this time no championship was going there. People were milling around where the arena had stood.

It was removed and instead a purple carpet was laid down. It started somewhere outside in the city and led to the dais where the lord had sat before.

There the simple chair had been exchanged for a majestic throne. But it wasn’t normal. Instead of golden yellow, it shone in pale grey. And there were two familiarly shaped wings on each side of the throne. They shone silver with a reddish hue in the setting sun.

The place surrounding it was also beautified; flowers, ornaments and decorations were strewn all around turning it into a place of dreams. Something out of a fairytale. Or from other lands where kings ruled and abundance was the usual thing.

However in Oradin, it wasn’t the case. King was just a figure head and a bad one at that. Nobles tried to imitate the kingly style but it wasn’t the same. They weren’t daring enough. They feared to take a step too far and become the laughing stock.

Ace smiled. The authors of this lacked no such thing. Audacity had to be their second name.

The sitting places were removed and instead arm rests were made so everyone could lean against them while watching afoot. There was not a single chair around besides the throne.

In-between the rows merchants stood with souvenirs. They sold everything from lucky pendants to drinks. Down below craftsmen had their stalls. They had their collections in the open, trying their best to make people buy them. Some had their tools at ready and did small paintings or sculptures at request.

It created a wonderful atmosphere and Ace would have loved to go and mingle around, seeing what everyone was up to but his eyes returned to the throne. The wing motive in particular. “What is this?” he asked in a whisper. Nein didn’t hear it so he repeated it louder, “What is happening here?”

The guy sighed heavily at that. Ace tilted his head in return.

“I see you read the guild chat just as often as before,” Nein said, making his way through the throng of people near the throne. They were making photos with the tools provided by game creators and blocking the path.

Soon there were so many of them, there were just no way to move forward. After Nein noticed that, he eyed everyone with annoyance and called someone in chat. “Can you come near the throne? ... Yeah, I can’t get in. ... I have a newcomer too. ... Kid, Perry knows him. ... Yes, yes, ask her about it. ... Leader? I’ll see what I can do about it.”

“I didn’t sign up for anything,” Ace noted loudly but didn’t try to run away. He needed a distraction.

“Can you contact the bard?” Nein asked, ignoring his words. Ace thought for a moment before replying. It was easy to create an illusion but if anyone tried to talk to it while he himself was away... “We need him.”

“It’ll be a disaster waiting to happen,” Ace murmured quietly but Nein didn’t hear it over the crowd. “Sure,” he said then, loudly now and pretended to be writing a message in the air. He created a field so his fingers could touch something and look more realistic.

They stood there for a couple more moments before a loud booming voice could be heard from the front. “Get out of my way! Move! Move! Person walking! Move!” Ace felt like he had heard that voice before.

Soon it approached them and Ace saw a dark haired beefy guy walking their way. He had twin swords at his sides and looked like he had left mid-changing.

He wore black, sharp nosed boots, long white socks up to his knees and rich looking breeches. They were dark grey and embroidered with designs of weapons, wings and random whirling lines. However, the noble look was destroyed if one looked higher up and was met by his bare chest. It was well-defined and all but didn’t go well with the noble outlook he was clearly going for.

“Michael,” Nein said with a nod of his head at his approach. The guy patted him on the back, making the mage stagger. “Thanks for saving me for a moment at least. Your girl is damn crazy! She’s going to make this perfect or we’ll all going to hell.”

Nein rolled his eyes at that. “She’s not my girl,” he said pointedly and motioned for the big guy to make them a path. It had already closed up behind him.

Ace followed them and tried to place the guy. His name seemed familiar in the same way his voice was. He was sure he’d heard it somewhere before.

“Do you think that singer will show up? It would be nice if he mesmerised the crowd for us,” Michael said with a glance back to which Nein shrugged. “We can only hope so. He hadn’t been the most dedicated of leaders so far.”

The man nodded and Ace finally remembered him. He was the one most outspoken against his elf bard, Lathlaeril.

Satisfied on having placed him, Ace looked around. They were almost next to the throne now but were moving a bit sideways. Nearby he saw a door that led under the dais next to which stood a pair of guards in full plate armour and spears in their hands.

Michael nodded at them and they were allowed through.

The moment they stepped inside, Ace was assaulted by a wave of nervous energy. People were rushing back and forth, shouting for things, dressing up and helping others, doing last minute changes to their costumes or make-up.

The place was lit by dozens of bright flying orbs of light but they didn’t stay in the same place. They were running after their creators, magicians, which made the room swim around. Some places turned dark for moments, others blindingly bright.

It made Ace’s eyes hurt but he had no doubt no one cared about it. They were in too much hurry to finish their preparations.

“Is this the boy?” a female voice asked, appearing before them and dragging Ace away. She grabbed some clothes from one of the many tables littered around and pushed Ace into a changing cabin. “Get dressed. It’s almost time to leave.”

He wasn’t sure about this but did it anyway. It was something concerning his guild and he wanted to know about its development. Even if he was too lazy to follow all the comings and goings in chat.

The clothes were dark and simple so he put them on quickly and without taking a better look went out. The female was back in an instant, looking him over with a critical eye. “No, this won’t work. They want you at the front. Get them off. Now.”

He did that and she was back with another set of clothes. These had a golden hue to them and were even simpler. A tunic. It was long sleeved and ended right below his knees.

The colour was mostly the same but for the part below his waist where the sides were darker, The female then brought a blue sash with a golden clasp. It went around his waist, leaving half of it hanging to his side.

She thought for a moment then and got a blue swath of cloth for him to put over his shoulder. It went sideways and he could have sworn, he’d seen it somewhere. There was just something about his look in the mirror with those rich golden clothes that made him feel dirty.

He was sure he didn’t want to know after who his new appearance was modelled after.

“Perfect. Now go with Nein. He should be ready too,” she quickly said, pushing him in a random direction and rushing to straighten some guy’s vest.

Ace looked around, hoping to see the guy he was told to find, but with little expectations. This might have been a medieval kind of game and players tended to dress differently than in real life, but not like this. Now all were wearing noble like clothes that gave little defensive statuses but transformed them into different creatures.

He himself wasn’t sure he’d recognise himself in this tunic that was something he’d never choose himself. It was unwieldy, interfered with his movements and would have made him stand out if everyone hadn’t been so dressed up.

“Here you are. Jackal wants you with him at the front. Let’s go,” came Nein’s voice and Ace twirled around to see that the guy hadn’t transformed. He had changed but like his usual appearance it was reserved. He had donned an obviously new, dark blue cloak that reached the ground and hid him wholly but for his face. Though there was a hood behind.

There was an insignia in grey and black over the heart but before Ace could take a better look at it, Nein turned and led him out.

They moved to the back of the room and there was a magical circle drawn on the ground. “What is this?” Ace asked in wonder. He’d never seen one before.

“Teleportation circle. The most common of guild magic.” Ace blinked at that. When did teleportation become common? “How does it work?”

“You step into it. Come,” Nein said, motioning for him to follow. “The time is running out.” Ace did as told but not without asking another question first. “What are we going to do anyway?”

“March around. What else?” Nein said as he started to shift in the air. His body became less and less visible until he was gone. Ace looked at himself then and was rewarded with nothingness. For a breath he was nowhere, gone to the world and then he found himself in his guild house.

A knight intercepted them the moment they appeared. He was dressed in brown, tight fitting armour with red and golden ornaments. It enhanced his form and the crimson cloak was just the cherry on the top.

He could have been any girl’s knight in shining armour even if his hair wasn’t blonde but light brown.

“Jackal,” Nein said with a half-bow. The man chuckled at that. “You don’t need to do that yet.”

Nein shrugged. “I’m your personal mage for the day.”

Ace watched the exchange and wondered what was this about. He looked around to get a better understanding and saw hundreds of people dressed up. Most wore nobleman clothes like him while only a few were dressed in armour.

Those collected near Jackal and waited in a respectful silence.

Like honour guard.

“Ace, was it?” the man said and he turned to him. “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Nice of you to join us. I’ve heard you’ve contacted the leader.”

Ace smiled at that. That’s what it was all about. He was nothing himself but he supposedly knew the elf bard and that made him important to the guild.

He nodded. “He said he’ll try to come but I wouldn’t put too much hope into it. He’s easily distracted.” The knight’s face fell a bit at that. “It won’t be the same without him. No matter what, he’s still our leader.”

Ace smiled at that. The guy might have been a show off knight but he had a good heart. “I’ll write to him from time to time. Hopefully, that will keep him on the path here.”

“Thanks,” the guy said with a nod and took another look at Ace. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

Ace took a better look at the man but didn’t see anything familiar. “I don’t think so.” The guy didn’t look like he bought it but this time Ace was really telling the truth.

“Is everyone ready?” Jackal asked loudly and the crowd behind them erupted in a cheer. They yelled loud agreements and even Ace took up from their energy.

Around here one was forced to breathe excitement instead of air.

“Let’s make this happen then, together!” Jackal shouted out with his hand raised in the air and the crowd answered with a loud, “Together!”

Ace let the atmosphere engulf him and joined the people. “Come here!” Jackal said, waving for him. “Walk beside me!”

The kid nodded and joined Nein right behind Jackal.

Right after them came the armoured guys, honour guard, and then the rest of the people. They weren’t following any kind of order but just going in a manner of a procession so all of them fit in the street they entered.

At first the streets were mostly empty but soon the side walks filled up with people of the land. They watched them with wide smiles and threw flower petals or just pieces of colourful cloth over their heads.

Bards left the taverns and sung happy tunes, joining in the mood. Those in the guild, walking behind Ace chatted loudly and sung along with the bards if they knew the words.

Ace kept quiet but he watched everything with keen eyes. It was so unusual. The only time people ever walked in processions like this one was when they were off to a guild quest.

But at those times they all were dressed in their armour, weapons and though they were happy, there was a certain air of worry. Not all quests ended well after all.

Yet this was nothing like that. People were laughing happily and not worrying about anything. This was a celebration of sorts. Something that hadn’t been done on such a scale before.

A violet carpet showed up when they were nearing the arena. They stepped on it and continued to move forward. Little by little they went and soon it was players that surrounded them instead of people of the land.

They were less exited but their eyes held much more wonder. The players didn’t understand the meaning behind this. It was pretty and all but why do such a thing for simply joining the guild. It was extravagant and cost a fortune without any real pay back.

Or so they thought.

Ace remembered now what his guild had decided on. They were going to do this every month in a way as not to attract attention to the fact that in their guild only a few people could allow others to join.

On top of it, this ceremony was going to serve as a way to attract people. No one else did it and most people would like to, at least once in their lives, to feel like they were knights or ladies, royal wizards or assassins.

The game provided part of it but one thing was only felt by a few lucky ones. It was the chance to dress up as a noble, be at the centre of attention of a large crowd and knighted in a huge ceremony.

And that’s exactly what was going to happen now.

They walked to the throne, crowds having dispersed to their seats and leaving the place where the arena had been free.

Most of the guild members stopped then, only Jackal, Nein, Ace and the honour guard moving forward. They went up the steps to the dais and spread out so Jackal was standing at the front.

He held up his arms up then. “Welcome all! It is wonderful so many of you could join us on this beautiful day whe-” he said, his voice augmented by magic so it could be heard by everyone. Ace listened for the first sentence but then got bored and without attracting attention moved a bit away.

The guy was overly loud in close up.

And it took him ten minutes to finish his talk. Ace thought he’d go deaf in the time but he managed.

When it was done, Jackal sat down on the throne and motioned for the ceremony to start.

Nein stepped forward and called out a name. Some guy dressed in green slowly made his way forward and knelt. “Warlog, a mercenary leader from the city of Kanandra. He is a master of sword and spear, having lived through hundreds of battles defending those in need of help. Now he has requested to join the guild Draugar of Silver and we have granted his request.”

The man smiled at that and Jackal whispered to Ace without even glancing his way. “Take the cloak from the table and put it on the man.”

The kid glanced around and behind three knights saw a small table with a chest on top of it. He went there, opening the box and taking the first item in. It was a brown cloak with a lighter symbol on the chest.

It wasn’t a wing as he had expected but a cross with a circular handle. It was an ancient Egyptian symbol for life, immortality. But to make it the guild’s sign, someone had added a pair of silver wings to the dark blue, almost black cross’ handle.

The thing was simple but surprisingly well-defined. It was perfect.

Ace took the cloak out and carried it to the front. He let his lip corners curl up a bit as he walked and put the cloak around the man’s neck. The guy beamed back at him and after Nein’s nod stood up, turning back to the crowd.

They watched him for a moment, taking in his new appearance and the way he stood a bit straighter, a bit more confidently.

The silence lasted for a while, Ace starting to get worried but then a shout echoed from somewhere in the back. It was soon picked up by other and in moments the whole place was a mass of screams, hoots and whistles.

Nein allowed it a minute or two before waving for silence. It took another minute before people listened to him and the green dressed guy could walk down, leaving his place for another.

And this was how the day ended. It had been evening when he’d come and soon the sun set, leaving them in darkness. But it didn’t last long. Torches were lit, a couple of mage fires added to create a certain feeling of sacredness to everything.

A couple of well-placed musicians only enhanced that.

Ace listened to it all and created an image of his elf, the Infidel. While he was returning to his place after putting the cloak on a purple haired wizardess, he found the right place for his minstrel.

Behind the throne there were higher ground, the arena having been built Roman style. This meant if someone dared, he could sit down on a kind of balcony above everyone.

Perfect place for someone like the Infidel to rest upon.

He created the illusion so the elf was sitting with his legs slightly bent before him. His violet plume was moving from the soft night wing while a smile played on his lips. The flute between his right hand’s fingers.

It didn’t take long for people to notice his shadow in the darkness. Ace could hear whispers starting up in the crowd but pretended not to notice anything.

The celebration continue and he kept on bringing out cloaks. They had been made for each guild member specifically so all he had to care for is taking each one in turn from the chest.

It was a repetitive action but somehow he wasn’t bored. There was something about the atmosphere, about the excitement in people’s faces that made one incapable of feeling tired.

Everyone was even disappointed when it ended near midnight and Jackal said his thank you speech. Ace watched the disappointed faces and wondered whether he wanted to do something.

“Should we give him one too?” Nein asked Jackal quietly and the guy looked up. “Him?” “The elf,” Nein said, motioning with his head upwards where their real guild leader lay staring at the night sky. It was beautifully littered with stars.

“So he came!” Jackal exclaimed, his face lightening up. “I had feared he didn’t get the message or was too far away!”

Ace was surprised by that exchange. “Why do you care so much?” he asked quietly as people in the crowd started to disperse. They were in no hurry but still slowly moved from their seats, chatting amiably.

Jackal looked at him with surprise shining in his eyes. “What do you mean? He’s our leader even if a shadow one. It wouldn’t be the same if he didn’t show up.”

‘Such a good way’ Ace noted, scrunching his eyebrows together. Should he, should he not? ‘Why not?’

“Give me a moment,” he whispered and using his fields jumped up to where the elf was supposedly sitting. There he pretended to say something and the elf nodded with a small smile on his face.

He then stood up and walked to the edge, sitting down with his legs dangling over the edge. A few people noted his move and pointed to others.

The elf waited for a moment, watching the crowd and then brought the flute to his lips. It glowed amber in the torch light as the first notes fell.

They were very soft and quiet, impossible to hear for anyone farther than five meters away. Nein listened to it and knew what he had to do next. He activated the spell he’d used previously on Jackal to be heard by everyone. However, he adjusted the loudness to a much quieter tone.

This was music and not some speech.

The crowd took their time noticing it and when they did quieted down, stopping all conversations and movements.

Lathlaeril played meaningless notes until everyone’s attention was on him. The last pair of eyes turning his way was a soundless signal for him to start his story.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to tell, the plan hadn’t gone that far so he just picked a character. A young man ready for adventure, leaving his home to see what the world is like.

The melody rose as he decided on it. The notes joining in a light tune. They jumped around, laughing and telling stories of heroes and knights. Honour and courage.

The tune rose and fell as it told their short stories, carrying the pride in each one. And it all collected in the first light note. It filled up with dreams and great notions, rushing back and forth, unable to stay still.

A moment of lower notes, some sad goodbye and it rose up again. Running into the world on feather light feet.

It was soon enveloped in other tones, older, wiser ones. They were low and heavy from weight of the years. Darker. They tried to guide the first one, to show it that not everything is right but it didn’t listen, laughing, dancing out of the way.

However, once the old ones were gone, the melody slowed down. It flew through the air, thoughtful. The notes in a simple rhythm.

All until something unexpected happened. A sharp note, dagger’s thrust and a scream of pure undiluted horror. The first melody rushed to it, notes falling over each other in a hurry to see what had happened.

And stopping.

One single note echoing in the still air. Powerful and raw. Soul shattering pain squeezed in that one sound.

The crowd closed their eyes at it, listening to the silence left, remembering their own horrors.

But soon like a small kid tip-toeing, the melody returned. It was very soft and terrified but it moved closer, grew louder. There was death before it, a tune of such coldness, it made many shiver. There was nothing enjoyable about it.

The notes were sharp and jagged, moving here and there. They had no meaning or care, they just were.

First melody quietened down, touching the dead body and crying silently. It was someone familiar, someone close.

The sound of crying continued for a while, hiccups and sneezes breaking the monotone until another melody entered. It was strong, loud and obnoxious.

But it was glorious too. The notes were arranged in such a way as to produce the most perfect sound. It was dead, fake but only the masters could notice it. To every day folk it was one of the most beautiful songs they’ve heard.

And the crying melody was one. It welcomed the newcomer with open arms, joining him in a harmonious rhythm. Or as close to it as they could get for the young one was too soft, too innocent. Not polished to cruel perfection.

And so they travelled together defeating evil in the land. In battles the melodies rung with sword clashes and loosening arrows, bursts of anger and disgust. Innocence pleas unheard. Those made the young one shiver, some notes fall out of place but in time it learnt.

As years of battles passed, the young boy was knighted and made into the hero he so wished to be. It was a moment of glory and joy, the tune reaching for the skies.

It was so thick of it, people felt like they could reach out their hands and touch it. That excitement and unbridled joy. Glory. He was becoming a knight, someone to protect the weak and innocent.

The pride rung loudly in the melody. Desperately trying to hide away the slow, dagger sharp notes of regret and fear. Disgust for what he had become. But there was no rug to push them under.

They rose, jamming pointing fingers all around, the crowd that had surrounded the man to celebrate his raise. Yet they only attached themselves to the man’s melody, slowing it, dimming the joy.

A mission came from the king. It brought the happiness back and everything looked great again. The man’s melody was almost identical to his old teacher’s now and in harmony with the rest of his troops. All of them were knights of the highest order.

But they were boring. So similar and lacking emotion. The crowd almost stood up, growing tired but a different tune raising stopped them in their tracks. It was the sound of an infant crying. Loud wails in ear splitting notes, something only amateur players ever used in performances.

But here it fit.

For they were silenced soon with a swift stroke of a sword. Straight through the heart.

The once young melody stopped like all those ages ago. The knights’ one continued but his stood still, listening in. And as he had expected the death’s tune wandered over.

It gripped the heart’s of its listeners with icy fingers, squeezing, freezing. The man had seen death, the melody of it had become his constant companion but this time it was too much.

The sound flattened out, quieting the knights’ melody. It was made up of only a couple notes. Very simple.

Yet it ruled for it was a soul fed up with the world. The flat note of one no longer capable of feeling emotion. The man held the infants body as he asked one single question. Something he should have asked long time ago.

A myriad of colours, a variety of notes rushed to answer him. They shouted one over each other. Fighting, falling, rising and dropping once more.

For not one was what the man wanted to hear. He laughed, light notes quickly rushing out but there were a few darker ones among them. They made the sound bitter. Not like laughter should be.

And then it fell into a frenzy, anger overtaking. The melody exploded into rushed sounds of clashing and hitting. Bones breaking and flesh getting sliced. It was horrendous but it wasn’t what made people wish to cover their ears.

No, the sound they hated was hidden deeper in. It was a melody within a melody, one intertwined with that uncontrollable rage. But this one wasn’t hurtful in the same way.

It wasn’t what it was that made it heart-breaking.

It was the exact opposite.

Inside the man was crying, shedding tears of innocence shattered. The hidden melody was full of disappointment, notes falling down into the abyss. They weren’t loud but neither were they quiet in their grief. The heart-wrenching sounds of losing trust in people you held dear, in the life you created for yourself. In the world itself.

The rage was gone in time, the sword washed in red. But the sadness didn’t fade away. Lonesome note after note came and went, bringing new waves of suffering. Memories of vile things done. Things unrepairable.

A lighter tune walked closer, some little girl joining the grieving one at the edge of the town. But it didn’t join the man’s tune. They played separately for a while until the girl’s one took a step forward, the melodies almost joining up but not yet.

Are you an angel, it asked as the man noticed white wings sprouting from his back. He laughed then, the sound of light notes being overpowered by self-disgust and hatred. They lasted for a long while, breaking the hearts of those with soft nature.

There was just so much pain in it, so much suffering in the prolonged sounds.

No, the man whispered to the girl as his wings turned black and his melody picked up. I’m a Fallen.

Ace played the tune of death for a bit longer, chilling his audience before swiftly standing up and disappearing into the night.

The feelings of the man still rung in his heart. That wish to destroy, to pay back those that wronged him, that made him become a monster. His whole body shivered with that need.

And he knew how to do it. He knew a man wronged and abandoned. One whose revenge was long overdue.

A mirror and another and he was in another place. Miles and miles away from the place he’d played his flute in.

Through the well decorated corridors he passed until the door he’d needed was there. It was the master bedchamber. The place where his victim spent his nights.

Without a sound he opened the doors and entered. [Mystic Eyes] allowed him to see in the dark but the sight disappointed him. There was no one there.

His target was gone.

It wasn’t going to be okay like that. Ace needed to avenge someone. The man or Skele, it didn’t matter.

A stack of papers on the desk caught his attention. He took a glance at each one and soon knew what had happened. The Duke had left the city. It was deemed too dangerous to live here and pointless for barely any people resided here.

It was good news in a way. Ace knew the twin city of this, he’d been there.

He left that moment, the night covering him in it’s veil from unwanted eyes. Not fifteen minutes later he was by the other city’s wall, the gates barred against him.

For some reason it really pissed him off. How did they dare to block his path?

He used [Radiant Step] to get over it and killed all the guards. Each and every single one he hunted down with [Instincts of a Predator]. They weren’t able to utter a word before they died with Kris in their chests.

The whole ordeal left him empty. He knew it was wrong, the soldiers had done nothing, not even annoyed him, but he really felt like destroying this place. Some slaughter was good once in a while.

It gave him an idea, something cruel and unreasonable but something the Fallen would have appreciated. After all death was a glorious release from the world’s sickness.

He entered a random house and found each living being, slitting their throats. Their breaths hitched, blood spilling on their nightclothes and it was done. Their lives were no more.

Ace smiled at the sight with bitterness evident on his face. He wasn’t sure what he was doing. Or why for that matter but he wanted, needed to do it. There was just something alluring with stealing another’s life and keeping your own.

You were like a thief, just of something much more valuable than normal.

He went from house to house, from room to room. It was a tedious work but he was hard-working if anything. Each life he took was another day of life for [Heart-seeker] and it was devouring them like a glutton.

Natives of the land were no match for him, they all fell in their beds asleep, but players weren’t much of the challenge either. It had been long since Silver Wing’s notorious days in cities and people had forgotten, were unprepared.

They walked alone or in small groups of two or three for hunting since the ground around weren’t high-levelled. It was like a play in the park for Ace and he hated it. Was a frightened look, a shaking sword all the resistance the people of this town were going to show him?

The answer was obvious as he slew another group of five. There had been a couple of those but neither had stood up to him. Most just abandoned the attacked player and then Ace had to hunt them down one by one.

It was boring and tedious but he had promised himself to be thorough. This had to be done well.

He moved in circles around the city, little by little getting closer to the centre. A red brick castle stood there with towers reaching for the skies. It was beautiful at night with dozens of lit windows that created shifting shadows around.

Ace watched it, basking in its etherealness. Every time he left the house or encountered a window, he would glance its way, unable to wait for the moment to enter it.

When the sun was threatening to rise in the horizon, Ace was finished with the city. There was blood on his hands and clothes. Probably some on the mask too. But the end of his task was already before him.

The Duke was resting in the chambers next door. Ace had entered the castle, being disappointed by its interior. It was almost identical to the Duke’s old one. However, that didn’t stop him from seeking out all the servants and nobles residing here. Even the true ruler of this city lost his life for the sole reason of allowing wrong people in.

It was somewhat sad, Ace agreed, but people made mistakes. The guy should have done a better background check of the one he made welcome in his home.

And that guy was there. Behind the doors Ace opened soundlessly.

The man was sleeping in a large canopy bed, his sweetheart beside him. They looked happy together, both smiling but Ace knew what he had to do. This whole night he had been working for it.

He came closer and stabbed the woman. She managed to open her blue eyes, shock and disbelief evident there as her breath caught and she was gone. It made the emotion disappear from her gaze and her look turn distant, unseeing.

“What have you done?” the Duke shouted out, grabbing for a dagger he’d held under the pillow. “Who are you?” he screamed again.

Ace walked around the bed in no hurry, his steps slow and calculated. At one point he moved into the light of the moon and the man gasped in recognition. “You!” he whispered, taking steps back.

But there was nowhere to go, he was standing against the wall already. “Guards! Guards!” he shouted out, hoping for assistance but those people couldn’t help him. Dead cared little for problems of those still alive.

“Why are you doing this? Please! What have I done? I thought we were friends!” Ace smiled at that, a bitter, disgusting thing. He opened his mouth but no sound escaped his lips. There was nothing to say.

This was how it was supposed to be. Revenge had to be served for all those involved, even if unintentionally.

He closed his mouth tightly and moved to the Duke. The man tried to defend himself but his clumsy attacks did little to prolong his life. No longer than a breath later Ace’s dagger was in his chest and they were staring each other in the eyes.

The Duke’s were green and full of hatred. Anger. And a little bit of regret. Ace wondered what it meant but there was no time to ask. In a moment, the strength was gone from the man’s limbs and he fell to the ground in a pitiful heap.

Ace watched him for a moment longer, thinking of how this pile of bones and flesh had once been a powerful man. He had been prideful and strict, feared by many but he had valued truth. And been honest. Not cruel.

Yet here he lay in this pile. Nothing of him left. No one could now tell what he had been or would have still become. It was just flesh and bones, bones and flesh.

He backed away and opening the window jumped out. The fields caught him and he rose to the very top of the castle to meet the sun. It basked him in the morning rays and he closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth on his skin.

For a long while he stood like that, enjoying the silence and light shining on his tired body. But he had to move out. Soon some players would return from night time hunting and he didn’t want to meet them. His hunt was other. His mission accomplished.

A huge amulet appeared in his hand. One five times the size of the normal one that was given to his victims. He didn’t think long of what to do with it and hung it up on the highest spire.

The silver shone brightly in the sun’s light and a genuine smile passed his face fleetingly. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared and Ace returned to the castle. It didn’t take him long to find a mirror and he was gone.

One more thing to do.

He was back to the Duke’s old city. There was a park nearby and he went in that direction, looking for a man crying over nothing. Or, for those in the know, a child born only to die.

Soon Ace stood beside the grave, a patch of forget-me-nots blooming out of season. Skele or Worglan or Froyan as his real name was knelt there, his head in his hands.

“Why did you come here?” he croaked out, not even raising his head to acknowledge Ace’s presence. But the kid didn’t care. He had been noticed enough times tonight already.

“To pass the word that you can be relieved. Your life and that of your child has been avenged.”

“Avenged?” the skeleton asked, laughing bitterly. “How? Everyone that had participated in it are dead. And who cares about it anyway? My child.... My little child... He never learnt to speak or walk, didn’t learn what love was... What does it matter if som-”

He raised his head to look at Ace then and his words got caught in his throat. There was horror and fear in his eyes. “What have you done?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ace looked back at him with emotionless eyes. “I finished your mission. You have been avenged.”