Makeshift shelters of fabric and wood surrounded the town circle, the largest and strongest looking of which would be the Beggar King’s. He is seated on an adobe block with a couple of spittoons on the side, while his companions preferred to stand near him. One of the closest people to him was Lusong, who leaned to their Eminence Noire as the crowds begin to be loud and excited.

“Eminence Noire,” he whispers, “Please forgive me for my intrusion, but is it really alright? You rarely allow someone to take this kind of trial by ordeal.”

The Beggar King laughs, “The people are bored after Bangan surrendered so easily. We need something else to amuse ourselves. What better than to humiliate a paleface foreigner and make him realize his utter nothingness?”

“I know, your Eminence. Still, something tells me this foreigner is no ordinary traveler.”

“The Kwan. Yes, I know. He must be connected to some government official.”

The unyielding subordinate shakes his head, “That’s just part and parcel of it! I managed to take this last night. Valuing it more than anything else, the foreigner got wounded just to protect this.”

He hands what seemed like a well-kept document. The Beggar King cannot believe his eyes.

“T-this seal,” His Eminence stutters, “Don’t t-tell me…”

“It’s likely the case here, Eminence Noire. Dalreida’s dictator is involved with this guy.”

“I see… I see it clearly… Lusong, fetch my stick.”

Lusong feigned misunderstanding, “Your what?”

“My staff. Bring it here.”

“Uh, your Eminence…,” the subordinate pointed, “It’s already behind you.”

The Beggar King reaches out to his back, finding his metal staff strapped behind him. After this discovery, he punches Lusong on the arm. This almost knocked him out of balance.

“Of course, I’m just kidding! Well then, on with the show!”

From the crowd, eighteen people, half of whom are male and half are female, confidently marched with wooden staffs in their hands. If not for their clothing, the discipline displayed may well be comparable to a military parade. They point their staffs towards the obelisk, and then they go around it. After this, each one drew back their respective staffs. As this ritual was ongoing, bowls of soup and pieces of bread were being distributed among the spectators.

The Beggar King stands and addresses the people, “In ancient times, it’s been taught that the circle represents power, life, and the totality of things. But, I told you time and again, the circle also represents nothing. Zero. Therefore, power, life, and everything is utterly meaningless. It has risen from nothingness, and to nothingness it shall return.”

“Everything is meaningless! Just as the Eminence Noire says!”, the crowd chants as they wildly raise their fists up, some of which still hold their bowls, utensils, and bread.

“However, when you put two circles together, they represent infinity, the very quality of heaven. Each one staff is subduing heaven for all eternity. This is the significance of 18.”

“Let’s begin the Eighteen Staffs Subduing Heaven!”

The crowds push the weakened Alus to the town circle, wherein he falls on his knees, earning their laughter. Out of nowhere, someone throws a wooden staff on Alus’s head. He ignores the stinging pain it caused as he rises to face the eighteen warriors.

The Beggar King takes his seat before instructing the soldier, “Dalreidan! Your ordeal goes like this. You’ll have to fight all 18 warriors at once. But be warned, it’s not just a matter of win or lose. This is no martial exercise. There’ll only be one triumph, life or death! Do you understand?”

Alus looks at him with eyes blazing as he slightly nods to express his full comprehension. The Eighteen Staffs did not spare any second of thought for their opponent. All of them charged at him with the full length of their staffs. However, his response proved to be just a tad faster. The surrounded soldier struck the ground with the staff, causing him to go up as he clung to the opposite tip. The Eighteen Staffs crossed against each other, only short of hitting each other.

He pulls up his staff and steps on the web of staffs below him. Seeing this, the Eighteen Staffs slightly dragged their weapons away to conduct a simultaneous rising strike. Alus tries to avoid them, but his wounds began to hurt once more. Worsely affecting his evasive action, the Eighteen Staffs compounded his pain with direct hits. Thereafter, they disperse and let him fall badly on the ground. With this, the crowd roars. Almost all heard some of his bones crack in the process, much to their pleasure.

“I knew this is going to be bad,” Alus thought to himself as he struggles to get up, “But at least, I’ve to honor Lord Piso’s technique in front of these beggars even if it kills me!”

He slaps himself, baffling the Eighteen Staffs a bit. However, it gave enough time for him to move extremely fast, creating three separate figures of him as seen by the naked eye. Without thinking of resolving the illusion, all the Eighteen Staffs charged against him once more. Besides, even if he was able to split himself up into three, they are still far more numerous.

“Twelve Disciples!”

Each of his three images, in rapid succession it was almost simultaneously done, strikes each of the Eighteen Staffs with two hits, one on the head, and one on the body. It was powerful enough for all of his opponents to be blown away, flat on their backs. It silenced the crowds, but the Beggar King does not share their amazement. In fact, he smiled upon witnessing this development.

Meanwhile, Alus himself seemed drained by his offensive. Not only did the execution differ from using a sword, he had to exert more force behind each hit of the Twelve Disciples than what was originally prescribed. One of his knees buckles and touches the ground. He uses the staff as his support.

Pegged at that position, the exhausted soldier slowly looks up and finds the Beggar King in the audience, “Your Eminence, I survived your trial by ordeal! Keep your word and let me go!”

His Eminence jumps from his seat, brandishing his metal staff from the cloth covering it, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, foreigner! I make the rules around here!”

He leaps to the peak of the obelisk, and then rushes downward to strike Alus from above. Since his legs are still uncooperative, Alus puts up his staff to block the Beggar King. However, the wooden staff is no match to the metal staff as the former disintegrates upon contact. The Beggar King goes on to striking his adversary's left shoulder, causing him to scream in pain. This excites the crowd once more, albeit some were quite uncertain why the Beggar King ought to step in.

Standing confidently in front of him, the Beggar King swings the metal staff and points it at Alus, “A miscalculation! You’re an error in the system, foreigner! Forgive me if I can’t keep my word, but you shall be eliminated here and now.”

Holding his hurt shoulder, Alus lowers down his head, and smiles, “I failed you, Kimiya…”

As the triumphant beggar prepares to deal the final blow, the soldier closes his eyes, resigned to his fate. What of his mission? What of Lord Piso and his promise of a great reward? It all seemed a distant task now. Top secret it may be, but what else can he do in the face of a formidable enemy? Why continue fighting? All he knows at this point is how big of a failure he is, and failures like him do not deserve to prosper.

“No, Alus! You can do it!”

A shout was heard, which causes Alus to look around with what little strength remains. The crowd does not seem to notice, but surely he heard a voice different from their roars. Who could it be? His search felt like a long time, but it only lasted for a second. It was then when he saw Kisira among them, carrying his sword with her.

She throws his sword towards him and bawls, “If you have nothing to lose, then don’t lose!”

Empowered by her presence, albeit still uncertain why this is so, the soldier whirls away from the Beggar King’s attempted strike on his temple, which proved to be powerful enough to produce a shockwave in the air it hit. He then catches the sword with accuracy, unsheathing it with his one hand through a strong swing of the said weapon. The sheath flies away, almost hitting some of the audience.

His Eminence turns around, “So, you’ve still got some spirit left. I simply have to reduce it to zero then, Alus the deserter!”

As his left arm goes limp due to the Beggar King’s last hit, Alus stomps both feet on the ground. Then again, there was not enough time to consider any new strategy nor tactic. The Eminence Noire is already on to him as the metal staff swings from almost every direction imaginable, featuring its flexibility and durability. Alus deflects these strikes with increasing difficulty as a number of them easily got through his defense. He was being pushed back by the Beggar King’s relentless attacks.

Meanwhile, not only was his arm shot, his legs seem to be giving up on him as well. The power and agility he once displayed against Rabka has vanished without a trace. Gripping his sword with what remains of his might, the stubborn soldier stands his ground and prepares for his last counterattack.

“If you’re planning another Twelve Disciples, forget it,” the Beggar King warns as he lunges to conduct his own special move, “Here goes, Eighteen Staffs Subduing Heaven!”

The Eminence Noire launches a barrage of eighteen strikes from all sides. A physical impossibility, one might think, but such is the skill of the Beggar King. Without any more trump cards left, Alus meets it with his own Twelve Disciples.

The clash was so swift the audience did not manage to catch their movements at all. They only witnessed when two of them were already facing each other’s backs, the distance between them being about a pace. For a while, suspense grappled the crowd.

The Beggar King coughs, “In this world of information, speed trumps all…”

“Yeah, sure…,” Alus weakly yet sarcastically replies.

The one who falls first is the Eminence Noire, who loses his hold of the metal staff, causing a loud clang that accompanies his front kissing the ground. The soldier also loses the grip of his sword as he collapses once more on one knee, his left arm starting to stop feeling anything. The unbelief in the crowd’s faces was evident, and for him, it was enough. Whether or not His Eminence honors the deal, he has finished the deed.

It was a Phyrric victory. A victory that lost him his life, and won his freedom. He then falls down like the Beggar King, or so he thought. Beyond his knowledge, Kisira runs to him and catches him as he loses consciousness.

Looking at his broken frame, Kisira whispers with a reassuring tone, “Whoever loses everything will save them all…”

The Beggar King and the Eighteen Staffs were immediately taken by their comrades for healing and medication. However, for those who remained in the scene, they were not settled on what to do with the fallen victor. The foreigner survived his trial fair and square, but he is still a foreigner of doubtful intentions.

One by one, the beggars left him, until only Kisira was left. Carrying him on her shoulders, she picks up his sword and went to bring him in a nearby box house. Similar to the town hall, it was abandoned after the Beggar King took over, but it appears she has converted it into her own home. Upon placing him on bed, she labors to ensure Alus will recover as soon as possible.

“Kimiya…,” the unconscious soldier said as he tries to reach out his able hand, “Kimiya… Kimiya…”

Kisira gives a tight smile as she treats his wounds and bruises. As for Alus, who began to sleep soundly after calling his lover multiple times, he manages to wake up the day after. Slowly opening his eyes, he winces as he felt aching all over his body, and especially so in his shoulder. How was he still alive? More so, he did not imagine it to hurt so much if he did survive the fight. Somehow, his senses are back, but not his prowess. No matter what he tried, his movement has been severely limited.

Looking around while still lying down, he muttered, “Where’d I end up this time? Surely not the afterlife, if there’s anything like that.”

A wet cloth smacks right on his eyes, blinding him of his surroundings.

“Wait, what’s this?! I’m being abducted?! I got no money!”, Alus wailed as he tried squirming around.

He then feels the sting of a pinch on his ear, after which he takes off the wet cloth to see.

“Who are you?! Are you trying to kill me?!”

Seated beside him, Kisira pouted, “You ungrateful deserter! You said you wouldn’t forget me!”

He squinted, “Hmm… You’re not Kimiya, I’m pretty sure.”

She pinches him on the ear again, “Kimiya me one more time and I’d be giving you hell!”

“Ow! That hurts! Hey! Ouch! Wait… you’re that, that beggar girl at prison?”

She folds her arms, “Well, what’s my name?”

“Any hints?”

“No. And I’m positive His Eminence didn’t get to hit you hard on the head.”

“Ah, I see… Is there an A?”

Kisira begins to feel sad as tears form on her eyes, “I can’t believe I believed in you…”

Alus slowly and carefully extends his able arm to reach her, “No, there’s no need to cry. It’s… Um… Ki…”

“Ki…?”

“Ki… Ki… Kimidayo kiminandayo?”

“Urgh! That’s it! That’s the limit! If you’re not injured now, I would’ve turned you to porridge!”

Kisira angrily walks away, but when Alus tries to catch up with her, his legs fail him. He did not get to venture beyond the bed. He falls on the floor with a thud. While the soldier was struggling and trying to assess his overall damage, Kisira goes back and helps him in returning to bed.

Alus looks at her as he sits up on the bed, “I’m sorry, Kisira. My head’s quite foggy just now.”

“Wait, what did you say?”

“Uh, sorry?”

“No, after that?”

“My head’s foggy.”

She thumps her hands in the air, “No! Not that!”

“What?? Kisira?”

She can no longer contain her excitement as she springs to hug him, “Yes! Yes! Oh, yes, I am! I’m Kisira!”

While being hugged by a joyful Kisira, knocking can be heard from the door.

“Dalreidan,” the voice outside said, “It’s me, the Beggar King. Is it alright to come in?”

He slowly shoves away Kisira before answering, “Yes, you may.”

The Beggar King enters alone, albeit he did bring some of his people who stayed outside. He sits beside the bed. Noticeably, absent from his accessories was the metal staff he used in battle.

With a serious look, the humbled beggar opens, “Don’t worry. I’m not here to retaliate for your victory yesterday. Actually, I believe we haven’t been introduced well. Alus the deserter, they call me Mehn Dhi Kant, the Enlightened One of Alittan, the Eminence Noire of Bayan, the King of Beggars.”

“Okay, I suppose so… Just in case, I’m Alus, a deserter from the Dalreidan military.”

“I was planning to visit you last night, but when I heard you talking just now, I figured you’re feeling better this time around. Say, who are you conversing with this early in the morning? Surely, it must be one of my people. Most, if not all, of the townsfolk in Bangan already left.”

The soldier motioned his hand towards Kisira and introduces her, “Mehn Dhi Kant, this is Kisira. Kisira, your Eminence.”

The Beggar King was puzzled as he searched around, “Alus, is this a running gag you’re gladly making to amuse me? I don’t see anyone here except us.”

Alus’s eyes ran back and forth between Kisira and the Beggar King, “W-what do you mean…?”

The Beggar King looked at him in the eyes, “I mean what I mean. I don’t see anyone here, and I’m not aware of the person you call Kisira.”

“H-hey…,” the baffled soldier nervously laughs as he clutches his bed, “Y-you’re having me on, right? Right?? You had a misunderstanding or something? Right?! W-what game do you call this…?”

“I didn’t think I hit you that hard now, did I?”

“But she’s right here! She’s with us now! As in at this very moment!”

The Beggar King places the back of his hand on Alus’s forehead, “Is the desert heat getting into your system? I apologize. You need to take more rest and more water for a while, alright?”

The angry soldier slaps his hand away, “No! I know what I’m talking about! Don’t shut me down, will you?!”

Kisira touches Alus’s shoulder. With a crestfallen face, she looks at him and shakes her head.

The Eminence Noire says before leaving, “Don’t overthink it. After the Eighteen Staffs Subduing Heaven, we’re no longer enemies. We’re brothers. I’d be having some of our medics look after you time after time. Just rest up until you’re better. If you need help, you know how to see me.”

Wide-eyed, Alus gaped long after the Beggar King left. Kisira takes the seat beside him again.

He asked, “Kisira… What’s happening? Am I dead?”

Still having a gloomy look in her face, she responds, “Alus, it is what it is. Please understand.”

“I don’t understand! Nothing at all! Am I already dead at the beginning?! If so, just tell me, okay?!”

Kisira holds his arm, initially hard enough to remind him of his pain, and eventually with a gentle touch, “On the contrary. You’re very much alive, I can assure you that.”

She then tells him how she became invisible to everyone’s eyes. The soldier was not all ears at first, but such an unbelievable story did not escape even him. It was as if Kisira never existed in the world at all. Being a daughter of a well-known Bayani official, she always attracted attention, particularly from men who wanted to be involved with her in order to gain patronage and rise in the ranks. She represented the province in various occasions and events, but she did not enjoy them.

She knew better that she was being used as a political, economic, and diplomatic tool than anything else. Suddenly, there came a day when she was lost in the consciousness of every person around her. Family, friends, acquaintances, even strangers. This goes not only for the city she resides in, but for the entire country. Initially, it only lasted for a couple of hours, but then, the length of time with which she cannot be observed by anyone extended so much that she left the city out of frustration and melancholy.

Days turned into weeks as she fervently looked for someone who can perceive her existence as a person. Her aimless journey brought her to the company of the Beggar King. Unlike in the city, where everything must be bought, and therefore interaction with others is a must, the beggars inculcate a shared community. They do not mind having the same food, same clothing, same shelters, as long as they can scrape anything to survive for another day. They do not fight each other when there are missing things among them. Instead, they get up and beg their way to have just enough. It was not the most attractive of options for a woman who was born with a silver spoon, but communing with them gave her the hope of resolving her existential crisis. She no longer disappears from their consciousness for weeks.

However, when the Beggar King began his campaigns against Bayan, the camaraderie which she found comforting among the beggars drastically changed. They began to be consumed by the material yet temporal possessions which they gain as they go win against the Bayani forces, even when the Beggar King himself preached nothingness as the ideal to live with in this world and in the next. The better organized the beggars become, the harder it is for her to somehow live with them.

In retrospect, she eventually saw herself as the personification of this doctrine, because she is literally nothing in their eyes. When she is there and they perceive her, they know her. They treat her well. So on and so forth. However, when she ceases to be observable, the people also forget that she ever existed. Thus, to this day, her periods of non-existence continues to lengthen once more, and she fears that it would keep up indefinitely, until she is no more.

“When I saw you,” Kisira continued, “I didn’t get my hopes up at first. You looked just like any other foreigner who visits Bayan. So yeah, I just sneaked in to your cell as a sort of prank.”

“Funny. And surprise, I can actually observe you,” Alus skeptically said, “Is that it?”

“Yes, I’m really, really surprised. Even I don’t know how this is possible. It just never happened.”

“Not even animals can see or hear you?”

She shook her head, “No. Believe me, I tried.”

“Woah, now that’s something… We sometimes refer to animals when trying to read natural phenomena. But... If even they can’t observe you, I guess I don’t have any logical reason for it.”

“But you can observe me while they can’t,” she says as she lightly tugs his arm.

“Ah… Don’t move me that hard,” Alus flinched, “Yes, I can see you and feel you. So what now?”

She trembles and smiles, “I’m glad… I’m really glad…”

“Hey, wait. For what? I should be the happy one here. I just troubled you for taking care of me,” he said while holding her wrist, “Again, thank you.”

Upon noticing how he holds her, Kisira becomes flushed and releases her hold of his arm. The warmth of his hand has been ingrained in her senses. After all, even if the desert clime has always been warm, the human touch evokes a different sensation for someone deprived of it for a long time.

“D-don’t mention it,” she says after turning away, “I j-just figured you need help, that’s all…”

“It feels like you still have pulse… That’s good for your vital signs,” the soldier said as he checked his own pulse from his neck, a hack he learned in the academy, “But I’m no expert at this supernatural stuff! How long is this going?”

“W-wait, now you want to k-know my age? A-a-aren’t we g-going too, too fast?”

“Look, I’m not that all bright, but I can still think. It helps when we retrace our steps.”

She faces him again and nervously laughs, “Oh! Is that what you meant? Aha. Yeah, of course, I know that. Hmm… I guess... I acquired this about five years ago.”

“Five years,” Alus mutters to himself, “Around the same time Kimiya died…”

Kisira narrows her eyes, “Hey, if you’re thinking I’m an old hag, you’re sadly mistaken! I’m only 22!”

Alus waves his hands, “No, no, no! I’m not too concerned with your age, okay?”

“Suit yourself. What are you thinking about anyway?”

“Lord Piso, or maybe even Kayapa, might have ideas about this…”

“Piso? You mean the Dalreidan dictator, the Benefactor of the Republic?”

“Yeah, you sure do know your politics. No less is expected from a noble like you.”

She pinches his ear, “Don’t bring that up.”

This time, the ache does not seem too much to bear. What could have helped him ignore his pains, he did not seem to mind. Still, he thought of humoring her.

“Come on, it’s like the third time you did that today! My ear’s going to break!”

“Granted, those people can help you, but they’re not here.”

“What if… Have you tried discussing this with the Beggar King? He looks smart.”

“Huh? Why him? Didn’t he just try to kill you?”

“It's not about me. Anyway, have you tried?”

“Killing you?”, she asked mischievously.

“I don’t know about that, but what I meant is… Did you try talking to him?”

“I did…”

“And?”

“He thought I was one of his followers. Patted my head and preached his usual lessons on the go. You know, the philosophy of the Beggar Way and all those principles of nothingness.”

Alus snickered, “He’s a man of the masses, alright.”

She did not share his little fun as she looked down, “Alus, uh… will… will you talk to him for me?”

“What?! No! I’ve got a mission to…!”

Kisira then raises her head and looks at him intently, “Please?”

Her appearance is not at all appealing, perhaps because of her sooty face, but her eyes felt like communicating with him. It was a beautiful sight, a rarity for him for the longest time. Is she just manipulating him? Was it all a trap set up by the Beggar King and his associates? But then, why invent such a ludicrous story?

Alus massages his forehead, “Why do I always get extra missions on the side? Is this a setup?”

“Then you would…?”

“Hrgh... Fine, I’d do it.”

“Alright!”

“But only to repay you for your help!”

“I don’t care! Just do it, okay?”

Alus smiles when he saw how Kisira’s face lightened up, even when she tries to contain her joy.

He thought to himself, “Look at her, full of hope, even when she must have lost more than I did…”

The mysterious lady rose up to joyfully prepare their meals. It was nothing grand. They were cooked well, but still a poor man’s fare. However, both of them saw the difference. For Alus, it was the first time since Kimiya did he eat privately with another woman. For Kisira, it was the first time since she shared a meal with someone who does not appear to have the tendency of forgetting her existence thereafter.

Nevertheless, Kisira’s curious case somehow lingered in the soldier's mind. How can she exist and not exist at the same time? Why did the Beggar King have a change of heart after the trial through Eighteen Staffs Subduing Heaven? What happened to the original residents of Bangan?