The soldiers fire again, a rapidly advancing screen of blasts racing towards Avalel’s body. The satisfying sounds of explosions rattle the soldiers’ ears, music to their ears as their attacks hit their target, all without fail. Still rather unfamiliar with the use of energy, they are already exhausted, hoping that this will be the rapid end of their mission. A screen of smoke separates them from the position where Avalel stood, but they can already feel that as soon as the smoke clears, what stands before them will be nothing but dust.

“Already tired?”

The soldiers are taken aback with shock. Certainly he couldn’t have…

The smoke is suddenly cut apart into many slices before it disperses, leaving Avalel standing as he was, the eight blades floating just in front of his chest in the shape of a shield, completely spotless. Unfazed, Avalel simply brushes away the dust from his hair, the Anapadeia casually twirling around his right hand as if it is just a twig.

“Converge,” Tanalien commands. Leading her soldiers, she dashes towards Avalel, her feet pushing off the ground in great intensity, each step a huge stride towards her opponent. Her excitement can’t be contained. This is it. Her chance to witness the Anapadeia in its glory and power, released in such overwhelming strength. It is simply amazing.

She releases a hail of blasts in near point blank range, aiming for Avalel’s open vitals. Effortlessly, the Anapadeia moves, parrying each blast with perfect accuracy, deflecting them just past her head, slightly singeing her hair.

Her soldiers follow, rapidly firing smaller bursts of energy. Yet they are all dodged or parried with the smallest of movements, Avalel’s hair swaying slightly side to side. There is no pause, the soldiers firing blast after blast, all of them thwarted by the eight materialized blades, the Anapadeia only focusing on Tanalien.

A step, a turn, a jump. Suddenly, Avalel is above them, the eight blades now planted to the ground while the Anapadeia is firmly gripped in his hands. At that single, slowed-down moment there is nothing, silence, the soldiers reaching for their nonexistent rifles, Avalel raising the Anapadeia up high like an executioner.

Then he is gone, the eight blades disappearing with him.

A gust of wind. An abrupt appearance to Tanalien’s right. Unconsciously, she brings her arms up to guard her face, the Anapadeia just striking the metal plates.

Crash! The two metals collide with each other, sparks flying in all directions. Tanalien is knocked away, her back landing violently onto the ground, with only the dry soil to cushion her fall. And Avalel is gone again.

She stands, still shocked by such a blow. The armor that absorbed the blow before shatters, the fragments of metal falling to the ground. Yet somehow, her arms are still unharmed. Perhaps it is the energy coursing inside them?

A tingling sensation ripples through her arms, giving her a sense of strength. She raises her hand, and suddenly appearing in front of her is Avalel, his forehead neatly placed in front of her palms.

Bang! She fires two blasts, the heat burning her hands.

But there is nothing. Even the supposedly thunderous explosion is just an imagined sound conjured up in her mind.

Avalel smiles.

She looks at her arms, crisscrossed with many lines. Slowly, they transform into red, until eventually, a single drop of blood trickles down from a wound, falling off the skin, leaving a red trail behind. But just when did he manage to land so many strikes on her?

She tries to fire again. No response. And again. The same. Her hands are still resting on Avalel’s forehead, but she has lost the sensation of them already. Uncontrollably, her arms begin to slip, becoming only two dangling hunks of flesh.

The blades reappear behind Avalel’s back, blood trickling, dripping from their tips.

Silence. Her soldiers have stopped firing as well, their arms outstretched, their bodies stunned in disbelief. One by one, their arms go limp, practically dead to the eye.

“Weak,” Avalel says.

A slash from the Anapadeia. She jumps back with immense force, but her legs give way as she lands, collapsing under her weight. Instantly, she bounces back up, but her legs are already shaking. All of a sudden, she is exhausted, the strength formerly residing in her fleeing in panic.

Avalel returns to his original spot, standing silently under the blazing, burning Elyfesta. There is no mockery in his face, only a blank, emotionless smile.

“This is beyond what I expected,” Tanalien praises, sweating from the intense bursts of energy. “But you’re still holding back, aren’t you?”

To call it beyond her expectations is an understatement. She can barely even move, her legs quivering, about to collapse at any moment. Her arms have long lost their strength, being damaged with shallow, precise cuts, just enough to incapacitate the energy flow yet leaving them basically intact. She understands that she and her company are far from even using the energy with ease, but the difference in power compared to their last encounter is too great. This… She doesn’t even know how to describe it. Compared to before, it is like he’s completely changed as a person.

It’s like he’s possessed.

“You all did well… for beginners,” Avalel says sarcastically. “Have you seen enough of the Anapadeia’s power?” The blood on the eight materialized blades fade away, leaving only its pungent, sickly smell. Only the Anapadeia itself has traces of blood, collecting at its tip before falling to the ground in steady drips. Not once did he look back at the dead villagers, his blank eyes only staring forward at his enemy.

“Are you holding back?” Tanalien repeats, her tongue beginning to struggle to articulate the words. “If you are, then we have not seen enough.”

She looks at her soldiers, helpless just like her. If it were any normal company, they would’ve fled long before. But they aren’t. Any hope to defeat this monster, this villain is just a lofty wish, but they are determined to witness this power for as long as they can, and when they get out of here alive, they will improve. One day, they will master the magic of energy, becoming an unstoppable force, and by then, they will face him again… and win.

“Would a god reveal its true glory without killing the mongrels below?” Avalel replies, his prideful voice returning for a moment. “Be glad you are not killed already.”

“Such tough words from a boy that, a moment ago, cannot even protect his own home.”

“Ah, bad-mouthing your opponent isn’t a valid tactic in battle, especially when you don’t have much strength left.” “Such tough words coming from a girl who can’t even stand properly on her two feet.” “You wouldn’t want to see the Anapadeia in its full glory and power. You’ve seen enough.”

Every other moment his voice seems to change between three “modes”, the attitudes drastically different from each other, but only Avalel’s original personality is gone. Tanalien can’t even make sense whether she is talking to one or three people at once. But the fact that all of this is beyond her comprehension, that all of this is beyond her wildest fantasies, only makes it enjoyable. In spite of her clearly weakened state, she is only more excited. She doesn’t care about the dead corpses lying around her. All she can see is her opponent in front, and that alone is enough.

It must be the same for him as well.

Avalel disappears from view again, the eight blades dropping to the ground.

Behind. As expected, the frightening gleam of the Anapadeia flashes past her eyes before it turns, the blade reaching for her legs. She tries to jump to the side, but it is too late as she feels her legs being torn apart, exposing the flesh below. As she topples over, she finds the same shallow cuts, just enough to render her completely immovable. Her soldiers can only watch helplessly, some only taking a few hasty steps before they, too, are cut down, falling flat on the ground. They no longer can even move. As much as they hate to admit, it’s over.

“Enough for now,” Avalel says. “I will leave you all here alive.” Like a victorious gladiator walking off the stage he steps away from Tanalien, the eight blades fading away into air.

“And where will you go?” Tanalien mocks. “Back to your home? The home which you failed to protect?”

“The village is not my home,” Avalel responds. “I will not limit myself to such an unambitious, dead place. Be silent and wait for your comrades to rescue you, or you might just die from talking alone.”

He departs, calmly stepping over the corpses of the villagers. However, his eyes are attracted by the face of a dead girl, her eyes wide and beady, still filled with the color of a dying childhood. Near her hands is a large pot, dented and slightly rusted with age. Unlike the other villagers, she is the only one with an outstretched arm, as if reaching for someone to protect her.

Without a second thought, Avalel looks away, the Anapadeia glowing brightly in his hand.

“Enough,” Kavlina begs, too weak to even destroy the screen. “Enough of this…”

Everything. Everything was laid before her eyes. Just a night ago, they happily ate a meal together in the village, joyful at their reunion, even if it is only a brief one. She had wanted to visit the place with Tarak again, being with Avalel while the friendly villagers became acquainted with their presence. She wanted Avalel to fulfill his wish, to protect the village from any harm. She wanted him to live a peaceful life as he found in the village. She wanted for Tarak to live till old age, just as Avalel had wished. Most importantly… She just wanted her friends to be happy. Her wishes are the same as Avalel for that reason.

But no. Fate had to toy with their lives in such a way.

The female figure shuts off the screen, looking at Kavlina in indifference. There is only an awkward silence, their minds not possibly comprehending the chaos that unfolded on the surface.

“Did you expect this?” she asks, her voice just a hoarse whisper.

“Did anyone expect this?” the female figure responds.

“Then why, why did you decide to show me…”

“I sensed you were worried about your comrades below,” the female figure says. “If they survived, you would be relieved and would help your healing. I just didn’t expect…”

It is a clear lie.

“Yes, that makes sense,” Kavlina says, her reasoning distorted. “But Tarak, why would he…”

“He only wanted to save his comrades,” the other figure replies. “In the end, he was tricked, betrayed, and ultimately killed.”

“There were innocents, but Tanalien and her soldiers still fired,” the female figure says matter-of-factly. “It is simply immoral.”

“Even though you are part of the Confederation…”

“So you have guessed,” the figure says. “Yes, we are part of the Confederation, but we won’t stoop so low as to use innocent civilians as firing targets. It is simply despicable.” The words are harsh, but the tone is only like that of an everyday conversation, so plain, removed, fake.

Yet Kavlina has no time to even digest their words. She is only occupied with the stab, the single strike that killed Tarak. It was so smooth, so determined, so… unfaltering. There was no emotion behind it, only a stab much like how they kill the enemy without a second thought. Even when she had killed her father so many years ago, she had rage. In Avalel’s eyes, seen through the visor of a Confederation soldier, she found nothing. It was no different than killing a stranger for no reason. There was no joy nor anger. There waa no celebration or mourning. There was just nothing.

But haven’t they been together for long, being so close to each other for over half a year? From their cadet days to the aftermath of their first mission, to the training they did to become stronger and the Battle of the Pass which separated them, only making them long for each other more, and when they finally reunite… It is this? Not the embrace as Avalel had done to them when he first woke from his coma, not the comforting words he had said to them when they were low, but a straight, ruthless stab through Tarak’s chest. Tarak’s life, so brimming with potential, ended with a single strike, killed by one of his closest friends without remorse.

She doesn’t understand. She simply doesn’t understand Avalel anymore. It was all too abrupt. Just the day before, he seemed to be so hopeful of a new life, so caring for the villagers who had basically become his family. It was the same Lel she had known, one who only fought to protect, one who feared the Anapadeia because of its destructive power. But he has completely changed. His power has become unparalleled, but so too has his lust for violence. He has become the very thing he fears.

Perhaps… Avalel has truly become a monster, forever different from the Lel she remembers. No longer the friend which she deeply cares about, but a stranger who she would kill without batting an eye, the murderer who killed Tarak, who all the more deserves to be killed by her own hands.

“I’ll kill him,” she finds herself saying, at first shakily but gradually with determination. “I’ll kill him. For Tarak who was killed mercilessly by him, I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him myself.”

The two figures are taken aback, fully realizing who Kavlina is referring to. Her frightful gaze seems to pierce straight through their eyes, as if declaring to them her intense determination to kill her former friend, the one who killed Tarak before her eyes.

“Kavlina, he is Avalel,” the female figure says, as if trying to get confirmation. “You are his friend, aren’t you?”

“Lel is dead,” Kavlina answers. “There is only Avalel, the one who kills, and the one who deserves to be killed.”

She looks at her bandaged stump, a symbol of her weakness and a reminder of a nearly-fatal mistake. “Please, if you can, make me another limb, so that I may kill him with all of my strength.”

The two figures look at each other, and both affirming the other’s thoughts, they nod in unison, agreeing to Kavlina’s request.

“We will,” the female figure promises. “We will not only give you a new limb, but will train you to be the best. We will not only give you a new tool, but will teach you how to master it. You are strong, Kavlina. So join us, and we will realize your mission to seek his death.”

The female figure removes her mask, with the other soon following suit. As they throw their masks to the floor, Kavlina finds herself staring at two familiar faces, their last meeting being her first mission with Avalel and Tarak. Back then, she was almost killed by them, but here they are, saving her from death, inviting her to be on their side. Some call this treachery, but for her, it is merely repaying the favor and chasing her mission. She doesn’t care. After all, she holds no particular allegiance to the New Rule. She only fought then for Avalel and Tarak. Both of them are now lost. She has nothing to protect but herself. She has no one to kill but the monster who killed Tarak.

“Join us, Kavlina,” Tevlaia stretches her arm out, indicating Kavlina to shake her hand. “Join Battalion Elethien.”

“If you don’t mind the fact that we tried to kill you before,” Kerohar jokes, finally able to return to his normal self.

Without hesitation, Kavlina grabs Tevlaia’s hand.

“We all just want to kill him, don’t we?”

Tevlaia smiles. It is not just Avalel who has changed, corrupted from the shock of the deaths around him. Both of them are still young, after all. No matter how much they have seen, no matter how mature they can be, they are still young, and eventually, they will collapse.

When a person puts their life in the hands of another, only for the other to betray them and harm them to core, what was originally respect, affection, or even love will be replaced with a deep-seeded hatred, and along with it, a large vacuum to be filled. It is only natural that they will exploit this vacuum and become an integral part of her future. To not utilize this tool would be a great waste to their mission for the greater good. To use this hatred, to fuel it, to grow it, that is their job from now on. It will be up to her to execute the final blow.

What an amazing weapon.

“I am expecting great things from you, Kavlina.”