The guests fell from their seats, some assumed a stance to meddle in the fight, and the rune tattoos on Altera’s body flickered as she reached for a fork.

She had to stop them before the situation escalated further.

At that moment, the bell rang, and they stopped.

The two blades pointed at each other’s throats, their eyes locked on the enemy. Every fiber of their bodies they dedicated to their next moving, screaming for murder.

But before any of them could proceed further, Quin took their swords out of their hands.

“How unbecoming of you, Geißel.” She put her fan before her mouth and snickered. “I’m going to welcome our guests. Please don't kill anyone now.“ She turned away, strolling towards the door. And with each step, she swung her hips, letting Ragna and Geißel gaze after her. The guests sat down on their chairs. Altera’s body relaxed, and she took her seat as well.

As much of a pain Quin was, she had deescalated the conflict.

Ragna jumped down from the table and took Geißel’s wine glass, her fingers gliding over the rim. Before she could take a sip out of it, Geißel grabbed her wrist. The glass fell from her hand, and Geißel caught it with his.

“Just know that Quin’s the only reason you –“

More Geißel could not say. Ragna spat out a gob of spit that went sailing through the air and landed in his open mouth. In a reflex, Geißel swallowed. Immediately, he cringed, and Ragna freed herself from his grip.

She blew her nose and walked to her seat without dignifying Geißel with a sentence. Not that she needed to. Everything Ragna had wanted to say, her gesture had expressed already.

“Tell Quin I’m in my room.” Geißel faced Altera. He grabbed a wine bottle, and with the glass in his other hand, he left the dining area.

Meanwhile, Ragna sat back on her chair and looked into the distance, occupying her own world.

֎

Quin returned with two men. One was the priest from Rice Road, Amakusa Shiro. The other man she hadn't seen before. He had shaved his head and wore a lemon garb with a saffron sash. They sat on the empty chairs opposite of Altera and Eric.

“Good evening. It is nice to meet you, Ms. Xion and Mr. Mort.” Opening up his left hand, he clenched his right one to a fist, pushed it against his palm, and lowered his head. “I’m Boodhi Avici. How are you doing?”

“Likewise.” Priest Amakusa smiled. “Greetings to you all.“

Before Altera and Eric could react or question him, Avici raised his hand, asking them to remain calm. “Don’t worry. I know your names because I’m the overseer of this trial.”

“So, you’re our opponent?” Eric poured more wine from the bottle into his glass.

“I’m not,” Avici spoke in a tranquil tone. “The chieftain wished that I obstruct your journey, but I think helping you would be a wise choice.”

“Can you say that out loud in my brother’s presence?”

“Despite the image he is trying to project, the chieftain isn’t the sole ruler of Utgard.”

“He isn’t?” Eric asked. “We don’t see it like that in Midgard.”

“Understandable but mistaken. Since day memorial, the chieftain and the chieftess had ruled as equals. Currently, Quin Beifong is responsible for domestic affairs, whereas Geißel Xion oversees foreign affairs. I can see how such a false assumption could arise. But let us now discuss the circumstances regarding this trial. You do not need to worry. No one but us can understand if we talk about the trial. Because it would break the immersion, they will ignore it and pause their existence.”

“We’re the only ones who can talk about the tower and the level,” Priest Amakusa added.

“And what are you doing here?” Eric pointed at the priest.

“Oh, me? I’m just here because of him.” He wrapped his arm around Avici’s shoulder and kissed him on the cheek.” You see, we were supposed to go out tonight.” His voice became a hiss and mixed an underlying poison in his words. “But someone decided to go to work today. So, instead of candlelight dinner, we’re here.”

“I couldn’t exactly ignore an order from the chieftain.”

“You ignored his order to antagonize them.”

“There was enough ambiguity that I could interpret to my own accord.”

“Funny how you never apply such flexibility to our marriage.”

“Shirou. Can we please discuss this later?”

Priest Amakusa sighed. He removed his hand from his husband’s shoulder and faced Eric and Altera.

“Are there any questions you have?” Avici’s voice still didn’t emit anything but serenity. “Preferably ones that don’t pertain to our marriage life. Or my nagging husband.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” Priest Amakusa sneered.

“Do you know what the mission for this level is?” Eric took a sip from his glass.

“I don’t. We’re still in the setup. Once the actual mission starts, you will know.”

“Is there anything you could tell us about the level?”

Avici shook his head. “I am as clueless as you are. I know the general purpose of this level, but that one, I am not allowed to tell you. And as I have said before, I’ve abandoned my role as an antagonist. Is there anything else you wish to know?”

“Actually, there is,” said Eric. “Priest Amakusa. You’re a follower of Ymir. Can you tell us more about that? How did you become his follower?”

“Of course.” Priest Amakusa‘s face lit up, and Avici groaned, his face turning into a visage of defeat.

“You’re not a fan of that?” Eric chuckled.

“Excuse me for my uncouth behavior, but when you have to listen to his ramblings for five years, you will reach a point where you want to grab a towel and stuck it in his throat. And I say this as a monk of Ymir.”

“What do you mean with that?” Altera tilted her head.

“You’ve seen the monks in the tower, right?”

Eric and Altera nodded.

“I am one of them. My parents abandoned me at my birth and threw me in the tower. The monks found me and raised me as one of their own. Though I still am incapable of reading most scripts.”

“That’s how I met him.” Amakusa smiled. “In my search for enlightenment, I stumbled upon this tower and met Boodhi. As I tried to learn from the monks, I fell in love and discovered my interest in the word of Ymir.”

“How disappointing,” Eric said.

“Reality often is.” Priest Amakusa shrugged. “So, then, anything else you want to know?”

“What is going on with this tower?” Altera asked. “These levels show things that seem to be true, some that are fake and others, I don’t get at all.”

“That’s what happened. These levels are an amalgamation of fiction and reality centered around a theme of importance to you. One could compare them to dreams. Some of the things you see are a real depiction of reality. Others are completely fake and made up, and some aspects are a mixture of different realities. To give an example: Imagine you know someone who is suffering from depression. The tower depicts then someone else suffering from depression and having the same issue. It’s an allegory, you could say. But more than anything, all this serves the purpose, the thematic. Events may follow logic, or they may not. It’s entirely up to chance. As I said, this is a dream-like world.”

“So, how can we know what’s true and what’s not.”

“You can’t. If you’re lucky, reality will reveal some aspects. But otherwise, you have no choice but to speculate, or you can accept it, and move on. There’s no grand truth. We live in a chaotic world and trying to give order to it is futile.”

“If you excuse me.” Altera stood up. “I think I need some rest.”

֎

The rain clattered down from the sky. Raindrops whipped against the windows, and thunder thudded like war boots marching towards the battlefield. Winds piped, signaling everyone that they couldn’t leave the residence until the storm calmed down.

In her private room, Altera lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The room lights fell on her like a ray from the heavens selecting the chosen one. Lines ran on the facade. They formed abstract figurines and pictures. For some, they resembled nothing. But Altera’s eyes and brain reorganized these random amalgamations of lines into figures and images. From animals to titans to objects – her mind transformed them into whatever resemblance she could recognize.

If only she could tell what in this level was real and what not? How much did this Ragna align with the one she knew and wished to be her friend?

From downstairs, conversations leaked to her room. Her body twitched every time her skin came in contact with the sheets. She moved around, trying to find a spot where she could rest and remain calm.

Why was she unhappy? She should be at her happiest, yet these thoughts and voices crept into her mind. How horrible everything was, how she was the reason for the misery. Everyone else had fun downstairs, except for her. Why couldn’t she enjoy her time with the others?

Altera punched against the mattress, and her fist bounced from the impact.

They had to have noticed it too. Why else would they not talk with her? If a tragedy were to strike her, would the world feel sad? Could she observe them from Valhalla and get confirmation that someone in this world loved her?

Altera chuckled.

How often did that voice whisper into her brain that she could figure it out if she did it? It would give her confirmation. She wouldn’t have to deal with the pain and could receive bliss for eternity. One fight against an opponent she couldn’t overcome; one fight against an opponent where she didn’t defend herself. She could enter Valhalla and dine with legends. In the hall of heroes, she could enter and become a true Valkyrie. And when the day Twice needed her arrived, she would descend from the heavens for one final act. She would fight for the world at the end of times and perform heroics she couldn’t have dreamed of.

Someone knocked on the door.

Who would want to see her? Maybe it was Ragna? Yeah, it had to be Ragna. Ragna would feel bad for ignoring her and come to apologize to her.

“Come in.” Altera smiled, and Ragna entered the room.

“What’s up?” Altera raised her body.

Ragna shrugged her shoulders. “I just wanted to talk to you. We’re friends, after all.”

Altera nodded. She moved to her right and let Ragna sit next to her.

She couldn’t let that relationship wither away. Their journey had made their differences apparent, but she could do it. She could lead Ragna along the right path. They wouldn’t grow apart, and Ragna wouldn’t leave her after they had completed their mission.

“What do you want to talk about?” Altera asked.

Ragna clicked her tongue, and with a smile, she pointed at herself. “What does it matter? Everything and nothing, Sometimes, you need to shut off that brain of yours.”

“Oh…”

Well, if nothing else, she could practice. This Ragna wasn’t real, and if she behaved like the real one, she could see which approach to get closer to her would work and which not.

“Still, can you start please,” Altera said. “I’m not good with this.”

“Sure.” Ragna brushed her hand over Altera’s shoulder. “How ‘bout love? Did you have any crushes or boyfriends? What about girlfriends?”

Altera shook her head. “Never felt anything like that. I don’t care about gender, but I never felt sexual attraction towards anyone. Or desire for that matter.”

“Oh...So, you’re asexual?”

“I guess that’s the word for it. When I was younger, I felt like I was wrong, that I was missing something everyone else had. But then, I saw what these feelings do to humans. They're corrupting you. I’m better off without such feelings and can concentrate on being a Valkyrie without issues.”

Love and lust could make humans commit horrors. She had experienced that first hand. And if one combined it with other instincts and emotions, it would create a recipe for disaster. How often had people lusted after her? How many had pretended goodwill and friendship to “conquer” her, and how few accepted rejections?

“What do you think being a Valkyrie means?” Ragna asked.

“Being a Valkyrie?”

Ragna was struggling on her path, and she needed guidance. If she said the wrong words, it could worsen Ragna’s situation.

“I think Valkyries are heroes. They fight for good and justice; they display virtues and size victories.”

“But what does this mean?”

Altera titled her head.

“What is good? What is justice? If I save someone’s life, that’s good, right? And if I murder someone, then that’s evil, right? What if I murder someone to protect someone? And I’m not talking about some criminal where I’ve no choice. What if I have to kill someone who’s not evil to protect someone else? If I have to kill to continue my journey, is it really worth it? But then, there will never be justice for me. How can we still be Valkyries?”

“I think we have to search and try until we find our answers. But there’s definitely good and evil in the world. We can never forget that. If I dropped a bomb on Midgard, that would be nothing but evil. One would need to have a skewed view of the world to try and justify that. Same for murdering someone. We’re Valkyries, which means we have to try finding solutions that allow us to remain righteous. Being virtuous isn’t just being moral. It also means that one possesses other qualities that are extraordinary and seen as positive.”

“So, that’s your answer?” Ragna frowned. She looked Altera in the eyes, and Altera stared back.

What was Ragna expecting? Should she have answered differently?

Before Altera could say anything back, sirens rang through the residency, and Altera jumped up.

She tore the door and rushed to her brother’s room. Geißel had once taught her that he had installed warning sirens, and if he let this one rang, then…

Altera opened the door and fell on her knees.

No…Geißel…

She screamed, and tears started to run down her face.

In front of her, Geißel lay on the floor. Blood and wine escaped his nostrils and mouth and sullied his white shirt. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes open wide. In his hand rested his phone, activating the alarm bell. A deep cut ran through his throat, exposing his flesh and windpipe. Puddles of blood and wine were scattered around the floor and on his bed.