Cail closed his eyes, enjoying the wind fluttering against his face. He sighed as he thought of the trouble and headache they were at this time. It wasn’t something especially problematic, if a month went by without Traves setting the world on fire, Cail would suspect the world was truly about to just spontaneously combust.

Cail opened his eyes, taking in the sounds of guards and soldiers bunching up, the buzzing and whistling of the irises and the eye in the sky as they gathered energy, as well as the shouts and screams of the panicked public all around.

Cail’s mind wandered around as he stood, waiting. He didn’t fear losing focus, he was a Monarch. He felt all the energy around him, every movement, every pulse. All living creatures contained energy, even ones that couldn’t use it. It was a topic none truly understood, yet it was intriguing to him all the same.

Cail thoughts drifted to Traves. He had been asked before, countless times. Why would you leave yourself a shadow, when you could be the sun? Why would he just live, a shadow behind the traveler, when he could be so much more?

He had to agree, why would anyone want to be a shadow? Cail’s lips rose slightly as he answered his question himself. To be a shadow is never what anyone would want. But if it's that man… I would have no regrets!

Cail’s eyes started shining azure, as the fabric of reality was stained by that same color. His energy flowed through him as he accessed his storage artifact. He smiled as he thought. Maybe I am normally the weakest, maybe I do not have any real fighting ability on my own. Yet… People often forget.

I am the artifactor.

Moments later, in a world dyed in blue, Cail stood, as tens of artifacts appeared all around him. Cannons, guns, crossbows, and other artifacts that couldn’t be easily described floated around him as he blocked the entrance to the sovereign's castle. Cail stood, one hand holding the sphere artifact he always held, The master core, while his other hand held his first pistol, Starlight.

Cail felt the presence of the troops, who began to push towards him as they gathered. His weapons started moving as they fired, almost with a mind of their own. The azure world was colored with countless colors as the artifacts discharged, filling the world with destruction. Yet, none died. Cail shook his head as wave after wave of troops tried to push forward.

Neither Cail or Traves would pretend to be a saint, yet there were no psychopaths either. When it's time to kill, you kill. But what is there to be gained from killing those common soldiers? Nothing, but weakening their realm. That, and the fact that such wanton slaughter would bring the ire of all other Monarchs. Monarchs rarely involved themselves with each others’ business, yet there were some lines that were almost globally agreed upon.

Cail’s brows twitched as he felt the irises in the sky approach their peak power. He remembered the first time he saw an eye fire, in Zeltol, as he shook his head. It was not weak, yet he expected more. Each iris of those should be comparable. He thought as the sphere glowed, loading energy into Starlight. One week. He thought.

Cail held Starlight towards the skies, having half his weapons rise as well. Destructive rays of light descended from the skies, dwarfing the sunlight that enveloped the lands. Simultaneously, rays that were no less grand fired all around Cail. Without a reason to hold back, Cail unleashed the full power of his artifacts. Beams of flame and energy collided in the skies as they exploded into a firework of sparks and ashes, raining down upon the residents of Slenham.

Every so often, a ray of sunlight would break through the veil of energy and destruction. Cail raised his pistol as he adjusted its power and fired simultaneously. The melody of gold and azure went on as the guards kept trying to break through, to no avail.

Suddenly, the guards stopped trying to push toward Cail, in fact, they started running away. He knew why, as he felt the energy in the eye of Slenham condense. This one won’t be so simple. Thought Cail as he put Starlight back into its sheath, picking up his second pistol, Judgement.

Cail pulled Judgement, opening it to reveal a single chamber. He let go of the pistol as it floated, taking out a bullet with his now freed hand. He closed his eyes as he focused, the sphere in his left hand shone. The dull bullet started glowing brighter and brighter. Moments later, the world around the Artifactor started distorting as power accumulated in the bullet. Wind and thunder roared in the skies as if the world was trying to oppose that power that had no right to exist under its skies.

Indeed, to be a Monarch is to oppose the world, and break its limits! Cail snapped his eyes open as he sealed the bullet sending a shockwave throughout the city. Guards and passersby who were unlucky enough to be hit by that wave fell unconscious, as their bodies and minds couldn’t handle the presence of energy in that bullet. Cail frowned as he thought. Five months…

Cail shook his head, wiping the thoughts out as he pushed the bullet into the chamber, loading the gun. He lifted his gun and aimed it towards the eye of Slenham, which shone as bright as the sun, about to throw death and destruction all around.

Simultaneously, both gun and eye fired. Two beams exploded into a blazing cloud of crimson and darkness.Its shockwave traveling moments later as it crashed against the towers, causing some of them to crack. The sunlight of noon was replaced by darkness as the cloud of ash persisted above the city, refusing to disperse.

Moments later, cool air seized to be. As people panicked, noticing all their energy technologies stopping. No wonder. Knew Cail. A clash of that scale would disturb energy for a few miles around them. Except for Monarchs or some candidates. He knew as he saw some of the guards come back to try to fight him. Candidates. He sighed. After this, I might have half a year of energy to regain after this, damn you Traves!

Cail smiled slightly as he put back the Judgement into its sheath, taking out Starlight again.

Whatever then, let me entertain you!

- - - - -

Jorish stood behind Traves, staring at a huge door in front of them. Traves took a deep breath before slamming the door open. Jorish heard a loud ring as they walked inside. He looked around, as he saw a room. No, a room would not be a just description. It was more like a grand hall. Extending almost as far as he could see, with the roof almost thrice as high as they were.

The floor had a golden glint that kept reflecting off whatever it was made of. At the edge of the room stood a throne, upon which a man who looked to be in his 40s sat, wearing the same skin and looks you would expect from a southerner.

Upon the man’s head sat a crown. And next to him, were two people. The first he knew well. Hjorn. And the second was a guard who stood a few meters away, wearing a serious look as he held his halberd.

The Tyrant sighed, as his sound echoed through the room. Jorish felt his soul shake as he heard that sigh. Jorish felt many things from that sigh. He felt majesty, yet also tired. He spoke. “Zenith.” The guard straightened before bowing down. “Sovereign!”

The Sovereign stood up as he said. “Go leave the room, and guard the entrance. Nobody enters, no matter what is going on. Until I leave myself.”

Zenith bowed even lower as he went towards the door, going past Jorish. Jorish saw as Zenith’s eyes had a look of pure fanaticism. Next, the Sovereign turned to Hjorn, as a soft look planted itself in his eyes. He hid his look as he retained his serious look, calling out. “Hjorn!”

“Yes, My lord. Let me fight the intruders with you!”

“Come here, Hjorn.”

Hjorn obeyed as he got closer to the Sovereign, before suddenly turning wide-eyed as he fell. Motionless, yet uninjured.

The Sovereign sighed again as he spoke. “Kids…” before turning to the traveler and his group.

“I have kept you waiting, Traves.”

“Indeed you have, Maketh. Been a while.”

Jorish’s eyes widened as he understood the implications. The tyrant and Traves knew each other from before?

Traves turned to look at Hjorn as he spoke. "He's a good kid."

Maketh's eyes turned soft momentarily as if he was looking at his son as he spoke. "Yes, perhaps too good for me."

Maketh scanned their group with his eyes momentarily. Jorish felt inhuman pressure at his heart as his eyes met the Tyrant’s eyes. The tyrant paused for a moment until a loud explosion was heard outside, shaking the very room they were in.

“Ah, that must be the Artifactor. I was wondering why he wasn’t with you here.”

“Well, he does need to let loose once every few months or years I think. So I let him do his own things around there.” answered Traves, before pausing and adding. “You are an idiot, Maketh.”

Unexpectedly, Maketh didn’t get angry or retort. Instead, he sighed as he spoke. “You told me the same thing thirty… or was it fourty? Years ago. At that time, we were both just candidates. You are now a peak candidate, yet not a Monarch.”

Traves looked in amusement as he said. “So, are you going to underestimate me?”

Maketh shook his head as his eyes turned serious. “I fought you before. I know how strong you are. Only a fool would underestimate you.”

Maketh stood as he walked towards Traves. Stopping a few steps away from him, as Jorish felt the pressure mounting on him harder and harder. He looked at the sword in Traves’ hands as he spoke. “So… Is that the voyage? The sword with the world’s end?”

Traves nodded as he handed Maketh his sword.

Maketh held the sword as he looked at its tip, its colors disappearing into null as it left Traves’ hands. He lightly touched the tip with his finger, as he saw it bleed effortlessly. He nodded as he handed the sword back to Traves. “Good sword.”

Maketh walked back a bit, as Traves walked forward. Until they were both in the middle of the hall.

Silence reigned for a few seconds until Traves spoke. “Maketh. If you can’t deal with the cities, then you don’t deserve to sit upon this throne.”

In a moment, almost synchronously, Traves pulled the hood of his cloak up, bringing his silver mask to his face. Maketh’s crown disappeared as his golden clothes were replaced by grey armor. His armor looked like it had been through endless wars, it looked fragile at its end. It still emitted a presence that told, without doubt, this is the armor of a Monarch.

The Sovereign donned his helmet as he faced off against the Traveler. Jorish had to admit, the Sovereign was nothing like he was a few moments ago. Despite all his rage hidden in his heart, he felt both his body and soul begging him to just bow down. Finally breaking the veil of silence, the Traveler spoke.

“Face me, Sovereign!”

“You will bow, Traveler.”

Both of them sprung into action as they finished talking. The Traveler instantly appeared in front of the Sovereign, swiping his sword towards his neck. At that same moment, a war hammer and a shield appeared in the Sovereign’s hands as he blocked the sword with his shield. The Sovereign swung his war hammer towards the Traveler, who dodged as he jumped back.

Jorish’s eyes widened as he looked at the Sovereign. Sand started appearing out of thin air on the battlefield, gathering around the Sovereign. He stepped forward, blades of sand launching towards the Traveler. The Traveler’s eyes shone crimson as his sword glowed red, he swung his sword repeatedly to block the sand blades. Loud clashes were heard as sword and sand collided over and over again.

As soon as the last blade of sand was blocked, the red glow disappeared momentarily from his eyes before he reappeared above the Sovereign. At that moment, all the sand around the sovereign sprung up as it burst towards the Traveler. The traveler swung his sword as blades of wind sprung up all around him, counteracting the sand. Crimson returned to the eyes of the Traveler, giving his pitch-black sword a shade of red as he sent wave after wave of blood energy towards the sovereign.

The Sovereign blocked with his shield as he fell back, unable to keep up at first. As he shouted.

“Awaken, Summer’s wail!”

Suddenly, the Sovereign swung his war hammer towards the Traveler. The Traveler dodged the hammer strike as he stepped back, yet when the hammer hit the ground, the shockwave sent him flying backward.

The sands gathered again around the Sovereign as he jumped forward, massive claws of sand trailing behind him as he headed towards the Traveler. The Traveler pulled back his sword in his sheath as blood energy condensed at his blade. The Saint’s slaughter. Jorish knew. Yet he didn’t send his sword out, Energy kept condensing more and more. Finally, as the claws of sand were upon, the Traveler moved as he took the sword out of its sheath, unleashing all energy stored in the strike.

A wave of crimson exploded towards the Sovereign, cutting through all the sand as it made its way towards the Sovereign. The sovereign eyes widened in surprise before he brought down his war hammer, colliding with the wave of crimson. He stepped back, still recoiling from the shock as he looked at the Traveler. Lines of blood dropped from the base of the mask.

“Let's finish this, Traveler!” Shouted the Sovereign as the sand around him shook, as it swirled around him before finally bursting towards him. Jorish looked in shock until, moments later, out of dust and blood emerged a sand giant where the Sovereign stood. It held a massive sand hammer in its hand as it faced off against the Traveler.

Jorish shook, at first he thought he was shaken by fear but then as time went on he understood. This is what the peak of power looks like. This… is what it means to be a Monarch! Jorish finally recognized his own emotion. He was not scared, he was excited.

The Traveler crouched, as the red glow in his eyes flickered, alternating between existence and nothingness as more blood flowed out his mask. Finally, both Traveler and Sovereign sprung into motion. The Traveler appeared in front of the Sovereign, crimson energy burst all around him as the tip in the voyage extended, blood energy making it look like a scythe.

Stepping forward, the crimson glow in the Traveler’s eyes deepened as he sent wave after of wave towards the sand giant. Replying in kind, the sovereign’s gigantic silhouette had more sand gather towards it as he punched forward, blocking every strike. After a few exchanges, the Sovereign’s fist slipped between the blades of blood as he landed a hit at the Traveler, sending him crashing at the floor.

Jorish looked at Traves, who fell on the floor. His mask fell off as he stood, Jorish’s breath froze as he looked at his face. On his face, his lips were blasted wide with a smile that sent shivers down Jorish’s bones. He could see insanity, joy and bloodlust from Traves’ demonic face.

Traves’ face turned back normal, as he donned his carefree smile. Suddenly, a determined look flashed on his eyes as he moved towards the sovereign again. Even with his limited perception, Jorish felt energy move all around him. What is he planning? He wondered. As much as he hated to admit it, the Sovereign had been strong in terms of pure power, and he still didn’t lose in technique. Somehow while that fight was out of his league, he could still see the difference that being a Monarch would make.

Traves stepped forward, relying on his wind core as he dodged the sovereign strikes with the narrowest margins. As he got closer, Jorish knew that Traves wouldn’t be able to dodge anymore at that range. At that moment, he did something unexpected.

Traves switched his grip on his sword, having his thumb and index behind the hilt as the rest of his hand extended in the direction of the blade. Within one swift motion, Traves threw the voyage towards the sovereign’s head. The Sovereign immediately reacted as he brought his arm up to cover his face, covered by endless layers of sand as the sword penetrated half-way through his arm, stopping before hitting his face.

The Sovereign brought his other arm down on Traves who ducked as he reached his gigantic body, which stood almost twice or thrice as tall as him. Traves’ eyes switched crimson as his blood burst from his injuries, turning into a blade that chopped the sand giant’s legs. The sand giant’s legs were half chopped, not completely, yet enough for it to begin to tumble forward.

Now on his knees, the Sovereign swung his sand hammer at Traves, who dodged as he switched back to his wind core. Blood leaking from his injuries and mouth. Suddenly, endless waves of wind burst as they concentrated around his palm. Dodging another strike from the Sovereign, Traves stepped forward as he pressed his palm against the center of the sand giant.

Then, a loud boom was heard as a wave force exploded behind the sand giant.

Traves stood as he extended his hand slowly, extracting his sword from the sovereign’s arm as he put it back in his sheath. He turned back and walked away. Jorish’s eyes widened as the gigantic sand armor began to crumble. Less than a minute later, the Sovereign was on his knees as he kept coughing blood.

“Maketh. If you don’t take care of your country's issues. Then, the next time, I will remove you.” he said as he walked back towards Jorish and Anise. Who stood in silence. Before they left the room, Jorish asked.

“What… did you do there, at the end?”

“Ah, it was simple really! I knew I had no way of cutting through his sand armor. So I gathered all my remaining energy and converted it into a pulse. His sand might’ve been almost uncuttable, yet it was sand. It conducted the vibrations, crushing his heart.”

“So… the Tyrant is dead?”

“Of Course not. He is a Monarch. He will live.”

Jorish froze for a moment as Traves turned to look at him. “Why… Why would you let him live?”

“Jorish… You are still young, he is a Monarch. Even with his inability, he is the only thing holding those lands together. You don’t just become a Monarch by being strong. It is… more complicated. A genuine Monarch is like a nail that balances our world. But even if you disregard all of that... even you could understand.”

Jorish knew what Traves meant., he understood as he saw the city, as he saw the Sovereign. He understood as he saw and fought the senator. Whatever had happened, was probably not due to the Sovereign directly. Yet… Yet…

Traves looked him in the eye as he spoke. “If you want to try to kill him when he is down, I won’t be stopping you. But expect to die with him. Even if he had a single breath in him… He is a Monarch.”

Jorish's mind went through many thoughts. He could make his life’s dream complete, avenge everything he had lost. Yet he thought. Was killing the Tyrant truly his life goal? Did it truly make sense? Would it solve anything? He finally felt his body shake as he finally figured it out. No, my goal was never revenge. He walked, following Traves who smiled, as he thought. I shall become stronger, stronger than anyone.

So I may not lose anything ever again!