Jorish took a deep breath, his eyes centered at the figure of Malik, standing carelessly. Anise stood a few meters away from him, with a worried and conflicted look on her face. Was she thinking about not wanting to fight her ancestor, even as a spar? Jorish didn’t know. What he did know was that if it was that Malik, which seemed to be true, then he had nothing to worry about.

Suddenly, as their standoff continued, Jorish pushed off the guard, causing it to crack as he soared towards Malik. He used his momentum, moving his spear to cut along his rotation, aiming it at Malik’s head. At that moment, he heard a gasp from his side, noticing as Anise stood in shock.

Jorish’s spear whistled, hitting nothing as Malik leaned to the side and extended his land forward. Jorish, still in control of his motion, side stepped as he thrust his spear lightly and rapidly, trying to score a hit. Yet, even as Malik stood, almost motionless, the strikes never found their mark, missing the barest margins.

Jorish grunted his teeth, stepped forward as he gathered his force into his strike. He spied an intrigued look as Malik stopped dodging, blocking the spear’s tip lightly with his palm, as Jorish felt his entire body shudder. Malik nodded. “Good.”

Finally making up her mind, Anise jumped forward, her skin turning scaly, and her irises vertical as she rushed towards Malik. She swiped with her claws repeatedly, finding the same result as Jorish, her swipes and strikes finding no home. She kept attacking, as her face got more and more frustrated, yet Jorish knew.

It wasn’t about this fight.

Anise had lost much, and she was still young. Jorish never fancied thinking of himself as an old man, but he had seen much, and experienced much, despite everything. He knew. No, hoped, time would heal her wounds, as it did him, yet even so, he knew not all wounds heal…

Jorish got his focus back to the fight, watching from a distance as Malik shifted around, doing the absolute minimum movements he had to, dodging the flurry of Anise’s claws, legs and tail strikes that came from every angle. He didn’t move fast, he just moved right. Finally, he stopped dodging, as his fist collided with Anise’s tail, sending her back slightly.

He nodded again. “Not bad, as well.” Before sighing. “Yet, I could feel fear, anger, and doubt.” Anise lowered her face, feels anger and shame, and Jorish couldn’t blame her, how could he with all he knew? Malik continued. “What haunts you, my child?”

Anise stood silently; her head hung low as she muttered. “Nothing.” Before running off, leaving Malik sighing.

Finally, Malik turned to Jorish. “And I feel some indecision from you, something is stuck in your mind. Tell me, Jorish, what plagues your thoughts?”

Jorish looked at Malik, their eyes crossing. He felt Malik’s eyes, ageless and powerful, hidden behind a thousand walls of mysteries. Yet, he knew he could trust him, his very soul knowing it. For he was like his master, Traves.

Jorish thought for a few moments, as he finally spoke. “I need to know, I rose from nothing, I gained much strength in a short time, yet I saw myself, powerless. It wasn’t about being not strong enough, I was left, truly unable to do anything… What… just what can I do?”

Jorish felt hidden frustration surface from within him, his fight with Vencel still playing in his head, the powerless feeling as the light turned to darkness, as the sun set, hiding behind the endless veils. As he was dominated.

Jorish just knew, it didn’t matter if he was two, or even three times stronger, the moment his sun flickered, his own flame followed. He was left, truly powerless.

Malik stood still, deep in thought for a few moments. Then, he spoke. “Have you ever asked Traves such a question?”

Jorish nodded. “I have asked something similar, and his answer while irrefutable… It just wasn’t enough.”

“What did he tell you?”

“To improvise.”

Malik burst into laughter, barely getting words out between his chuckles. “Hah, that does for sure sound like Traves indeed.”

Finally recovering his composure, Malik continued. “You see, such a question doesn’t have an answer. Each person finds their own path, their own power, and their own way of life. It might not make sense to you now, but sooner or later, you must. When thrown to the tide, you swim, or you drown.”

You swim, or you drown.

Those words went over and over in Jorish’s mind, he almost drowned, saved by Dyce’s bravery and strength, before the rest of the squad leaders came and save it all. Yet, he felt bitter, but he understood feeling bitter did nothing to solve it. He bowed, thankful of Malik’s advice.

Malik laughed. “Boy, you take a lot from that punk Traves indeed, but unlike him, you do have some respect.”

Jorish chuckled, imaging the carefree Traves. Yea, I get you.

Then, they returned inside, as empty talks went on, Jorish resisted laughing, watching the normally eccentric Dyce stiff as a pillar as he spoke with Malik. So even he has people he respects, huh.

Suddenly, felt a tingle in his body, standing up in a hurry, as he felt something was wrong. He saw Malik stand as well; his face turned ugly with anger. He turned to Sayaka as he ordered. “Get everyone in this village to the army camp, and march towards the closest city.”

Sayaka looked in confusion for less than a moment before it was replaced with clarity, nodding as she headed off. Malik rushed forward as Jorish and Anise followed. He moved for a minute, as Jorish and Anise struggled to catch up, until he stopped staring forward.

Jorish recovered his breath, as his lungs froze as he looked forward. It was a flood, flames, ice and darkness moving like waves, and behind the moving wall was… nothingness.

What… is going on here?

Jorish turned around, spying an equally confused look on Anise’s face, before noticing Dyce. A deathly grip on his spear, his knuckles turning white.

Suddenly, Jorish felt as if thunder struck him, taking out his book, as he read once again.

Qotru, the Grand Witch of the Akase

None knows where she was from. Yet when she appeared, none didn’t know.

She appeared hundreds of years back, as villages and towns disappeared. They didn’t simply disappear, the earth they were set upon was almost removed from existence. Flames, ice and darkness filled where humanity once lived. That land would no longer be suited for humanity, as any who treads upon those lands would slowly lose their life as they flicker away.

From her blood, abominations which were not human nor beast rose. They caused destruction, feeling no pain or emotions. Just destroying. Her body, blessed by the blood of countless innocents was indestructible. No mortal weapon could harm her. The bravest Candidates and Monarchs of the south gave their lives to seal her hundreds of years ago, granting the world peace.

Legends speak of her still waiting, for the day her seal would break and she would bring death back to Regalia.

No wonder, no wonder… Jorish felt his blood freeze in horror, he remembered hearing of how Malik, with many other Monarchs and candidates, including the Sovereign, were barely able to seal her back then. He heard from Traves, how she was even stronger than back then. What could they…?

As he was stuck in his doubt, Malik stepped forward, speaking calmly.

“It was unfortunate, I would’ve liked to spend the next few years just relaxing calmly, passing away under the sunset, with no worries or regrets, yet it seems that fate waits for no man.”

Anise shuddered as she heard him, tears flooding her eyes. Yet Malik kept talking.

“I would’ve liked to hear more about you both, my descendant and grand disciple. Alas, I cannot. You were both great, worthy of much. You have your worries, as does all, and perhaps I cannot relieve all of it, but I will leave some few things.”

“Anise.”

Anise shook, as he nodded, looking at Malik.

“There was one lie, and only one lie you were definitely told. One lie that not even the ones who lied to you knew about. Because it’s a lie that I created, none knows about it, but now that I am departing, you must know. Our bloodline is not of the sand dragons.”

Anise froze in confusion, unable to comprehend Malik’s words. Suddenly, Jorish shuddered as he looked at Malik. He started to float, a purity and concentration of Energy Jorish couldn’t begin to comprehend glowed around him, his Energy suddenly started getting more concrete, turning into fiber, as it raveled around him. His robes slowly got grander, the Energy getting more and more material.

Malik’s looks got more focused, his silent and ancient eyes turning vertical, no longer hidden, no longer mystical, there was only one thing. Absolute power.

Behind him, a projection formed in the skies, as his Energy took form, as if painted in the skies, the figure of a dragon started getting painted in the skies. Jorish never saw a dragon, outside of drawing and illustrations, and he never knew of the types of dragons, but he instinctively knew that it wasn’t a sand dragon.

Malik finally spoke, standing in the skies, an absolute Monarch. “Indeed, we are not sand dragons, yet we are dragons. Dragons are kings, and we are gold dragons, kings of dragons, kings of kings.”

Anise stood motionless, her eyes still teary and frozen, until she widened, as she heard Malik’s next words.

“My child, if you could, go to the Islands, and find Zami. Another one of my descendants, and distant cousin.”

Anise, unable to contain her shaking, asked, her voice trembling. “We weren’t… the only ones?”

Malik chuckled. “See, my child. Not to brag, but I have lived quite long.”

Jorish watched, the wall of destruction getting closer, almost collapsing on them, yet he felt calm. Malik turned towards Jorish. “You asked me your question, and I told you each person has their answer. You know Traves’ answer, and now you shall hear mine.”

Jorish’s eyes froze on Malik’s figure, ignoring the walls of destruction that moved, endlessly wide and tall, covering anything and everything. Malik smiled slightly.

“When you face the impossible, when you are against undefeatable odds. When you have no way to victory, when you are powerless to win, you…”

Malik lifted his palm, as he stepped forward.

“…dominate!”

Malik thrust his palm forward, as the wall of flames and ice, darkness and destruction suddenly shattered, as if it collided with an impenetrable wall. Finally, the wall was pushed back, as he skies cleared up slightly, showing a dark figure that flew in the skies.

The Witch, Jorish knew.

He felt every hair on his body shudder, tasting death in his mouth. Jorish never knew what death tasted like, yet that was the best description for what he had felt, as the Witch spoke, voice muddled, indistinguishable, filled with anguish.

“Dragon Monarch… You… still live? … Matter not, you… live, no more!”

Suddenly, a dragon’s claw appeared in the skies, cutting the skies in half, as it struck a barrier around the Witch, sparks and flames bursting as the claw tried to cut through, until finally, the Witch was sent bowling, crashing into the ground.

Malik stood, majestic and grand. “Indeed, you might be stronger than you used to be. Indeed, I am at death’s door. Yet, since that day, I got much, much stronger.”

“I am Malik. Once, they called me the Dragon Monarch.”

“Once, I was the strongest, I was… The Monarch of Monarchs!”

Malik flew, appearing where the Witch fell, his hands moving in punches and palm strikes, each strike followed by a dragon’s claw, tail or fangs from the dragon which floated in the skies. Destruction reigned, yet stopping just before it reached Jorish, Anise and Dyce. They watched somberly as the Dragon Monarch kept striking down the witch, colliding with her barrier.

Finally, the barrier broke, as the dragon’s claw vaporised the Witch’s body. Jorish felt a sigh of relief about to leave him, yet he felt his body shudder, remembering.

Malik’s next strike was blocked, as an explosion of flames burst around them, burning stones, bursting in every direction, cutting Malik slightly. Within a few moments, the Witch stood, still indiscrinable, a mass of humanoid darkness, yet she was unharmed.

“You… cannot kill me.”

Malik nodded. “Indeed, I cannot. If I was at my peak, I could’ve kept destroying your body over and over, until the Energy ran out, and your body couldn’t self rebuild anymore. Yet, no I cannot. With you on this trail, I wouldn’t escape either, not without burning my life force.”

Burning. The word sparked something within Jorish, feeling pain as he thought about Malik’s sacrafice. He knew what it was like to burn, and when a Monarch mentions it, it is much, much worse.

Suddenly, Malik moved, disappearing from view as tens of cyclones appeared from every direction, breaking through the flames and drilling into the Witch’s body, breaking the barrier once again and destroying her body again.

“Indeed, I cannot kill you. But he can. And I shall make sure you are as weak as I can get you, vile creature. Face me!”

Jorish looked at the sky, destruction, absolute power. Dominate. He understood Malik’s words, Traves was not weak, but he wasn’t suited to that answer. He understood Traves’ words. Malik was strong, stronger than anyone, yet Traves’ answer wouldn’t suit him either.

What is my answer?

Jorish stared at the sky, crimson, scarlet, azure and black. Colors alternated as the man who was once the strongest faced his impossibility, faced death. He looked, engraving the painting of his glory into his memory, never to be removed, never to be washed away or removed. It was engraved, drawn in stone.

Finally, Jorish turned around, grabbing both Dyce and Anise. His eyes filled with determination, as they shook, looking at him in confusion and anger.

“Malik is fighting to keep us safe, waste no time, and let us depart. We must finish this soon, so it won’t be in vain.”

Thus, the trio embarked, explosions and destruction, light and darkness, Monarchs clashing in the skies behind them. They left, broken, yet fixed.

As the curtain grew, ever closer.