"Mono/Dialogue"

  'Inner thoughts'

  Narration

  [Message/communication apparatus]

  Date: 14th October 1085

  Location: Unnamed Wilderness, Leithanien.

  POV: ???

  “How does our situation fare so far? Should we sprung our net earlier than anticipated?” I asked a masked person next to me. All around us men and women are milling about with weaponry and Arts tools to be used for the upcoming event.

  “The surprising visit from the Western People does need rectifying, it did however confirm that these traitors have the Whisperer.”

  “Indeed, His Majesty’s relics are not toys to be trifled with.” I turned my eyes towards where the hovercraft had left.

  “I shall personally attend with the matter of incursion, and may I petition your expertise to attend with The Grey Serpent streak of troublemaking?”

  “Fret not Mein Herren, the matter of her dealing with those savages would be dealt with, and she should be doing a magnificent work, provided no upset occurred. I must confess, however… For someone like you to propose this daring pn; how heavily influenced were you by our dear guests?” A query and not an accusation, when was the st time someone spoke with such decorum with me?

  “It is not merely influence, Herr Heinz, Kurfurst Hohenberg is a dear friend of mine while I also have a score to settle.”

  “You’re not going to let things go as it? Didn’t The Grey Serpent deliver your cherished one for merely not standing in her way and opening up a path?”

  “True but what’s more? Frau Nyx had been quite… persuasive with a feat of arms in an efficient manner with proportioned execution. Truthfully speaking, her reputation and fame suggested otherwise; a brutish and merciless monster whom the world known as was incapable of feelings and trivialities such as decorum. Why, I often being regaled a facet of tales around her revolved and intertwined with violence and blood-soaked earth.”

  “Violence is merely a means to an end. Someone of your caliber would be privy to it, am I correct?”

  “Indeed, nothing can slip past the KdK. I must reaffirm, however, my life and family’s fealty is ironcd for The Twin Empresses’ rule. Regarding the Whisperer; we ought to ensure that our dear Fraulein doesn’t commit what she shouldn’t. Despite everything, Leithanien’s Rules and Leithanien’s Judgment must be ensured and no outside parties should be allowed a ground on it.”

  “Noted…” We spoke no other words and stood impassively on this high ground. Our eyes are looking far into the encroaching cloud, the final step is close at hand…

  POV: Nyx

  While I was waiting for the inevitable interception, I had been ordering Conrad for things to help with the combat that would soon follow. For one; I had ordered him to go scout ahead and this time it was as expected. The Remnants, or Witch King’s Loyalist if you preferred so, had cobbled together a convoy for pursuit. For two, I ordered him to bring out one of my exoskeletons and a particur weapon for use in case I needed to py defensive and reactive.

  "Hey Conrad?"

  [Yes, My dy?]

  "Have you gathered the data?"

  [Positive, it appears that inserting bits and pieces of your Art into words helps her to regain mental stability. We are one step closer to understanding your peculiarities...]

  "Heh.… good work… now, we wait."

  The Drone had confirmed their identities since they still wore that same drab coat and hood back in Mobile City, and boy aren’t they persistent. I mean, I did everything the contract had told me to, and it appears to be working. Viviana’s demeanor shows that she is not, at all, hated by the family, but the fact that her father still let this happen made me question that unconfirmed cim.

  ‘Well, whatever, politics is messy and I don’t wanna dip in too deep more than necessary inside that kind of shithole… I still kinda feel bad about the girl, should I give her the manuscript?’

  Their convoy is made up of bikes and vehicles, but I also saw a particurly rge vehicle amongst their little army. Then Conrad pretty much confirmed a suspicion on the matter.

  [I had detected strong residues of Arts from their center formation of the convoy. Another sensor also detected an anomaly in the massive vehicle. Mechanical-Originium weapon had been identified, please exercise caution.]

  No shit, I mean when that hovercraft came in but fucked off something fishy is already in pce around here, and even more so when they keep on charging my way despite apparent fears. Am I underestimating this situation a bit too much after all?

  After more than 30 minutes, my eyes finally spotted the upcoming convoy through this damn deluge of rain. Before I unleashed my arrow, the biggest vehicle akin to a bus unraveled… and a massive transparent veil of shielding was pointed my way.

  ‘Wait, what the hell is that? Is that some kind of weapon? Wait no… actually, is that some kind of telephone tower? Huh?’

  Testing another suspicion of mine, I released the strung tautly string and the arrow flew straight like a ballista bolt. It then made contact with the shield, and curiously enough it penetrated the outer shielding yer before slowing down and finally falling harmlessly to the ground. That’s kind of awesome, sad I can’t have it regardless.

  “Conrad, am I tripping or something? Think I am honestly, since there is, apparently, a giant fucking tower on top of one of their vehicles. What’s more? They have shielding…”

  [Your eyes are functioning as intended my dy, it is still quite an incredulous idea that they attached a telephone tower on top of their vehicle… one moment please, further analysis is necessary.] Conrad confirmed the situation and I know that originium technology made things lighter and most importantly very efficient for Arts casting. That’s all I know, I was never a scientist nor a think-tank type of person, but it is ludicrous to see it moving so brazenly like… wait…

  [My dy! Something is being stored on top of it, and from my conjecture, that unknown appears to be living in nature!]

  My eyes refocus on a series of wires that are cleverly hidden but not so cleverly blend well with its background when you trace it. Then I also spotted some kind of interference in pce, focusing my mental synapse deep-

  “Ngh!” I flinch with my head tilting sideways slightly from the negative feedback that just rip through my cerebrum. It feels like thousands upon thousands of daggers are puncturing my skull and making a pin-cushion out of my brain. Thankfully I didn’t staggered more than that mere flinch.

  ‘…Don’t project weakness and keep them on their toes.’ Compared to that faux-eldritch bastard of a bde, the pain from this one is like pouring alcohol or salt on the wound. Painful but turns out more on an annoying spectrum the more time passes by. Speaking of which…

  ‘What the fuck was that!? I just got halted from seeing further inside the shield, I can still force it in if that’s what the pain is all about. Worth noticing too was why the pain, albeit very watered down, felt familiar?’ Before I can act, the casters within their vehicles start chanting, pretty much a symphonious cacophony of performances with their Arts. Lightning bolts, wind gales, fireballs, waterballs, and even rocks are flying our way. I can shoot them down, but that sounds wasteful, and the hovercraft was a special case compounded by the fact that I can’t help myself to test the 4 million arrow.

  Thus my hands immediately get into action, holstering the bow behind my back neatly with its mechanism, and pulling out the bde I had hidden behind my back, the bde has been dulled to pretty much a sb of metal. This bde is the same one that had stopped that shithead Emperor’s Bde's own. My accomplice, Dr. Kal’tsit, never said anything about it, only stating that the bde became like this when she arrived.

  Now let me utilize the bde hidden feature I’m starting to be so fond of…

  The bde gleamed with a silvery hue, temporarily blinding the eyes of everyone present. My right hand turned into a blur that divided the rain and caused a ring of void to be created along its path. The silvery sword cut through the incoming Arts with a practiced motion, intercepting and neutralizing it.

  The fireballs that were already weakened by the rain were cut in half, the earth stones were obliterated, the lightning bolt was absorbed, and the waterballs were all returned to the sky. The wind gales? Well… It is cutting my body, bloody cerations are clear for all to see but at least these are unable to cause anything more significant than a scratch.

  ‘Well… Pretty sure I was both wizard and witch more than once… kinda nostalgic.’ My hands alternated themselves when holding the bde, it is dull but I don’t need sharpness at the moment. About the wound that keeps on accumuting? I can only tough it out, cutting winds and the like are harder than it looks when I also have to keep my footing in mind. Luckily, my tail is doing a magnificent job of bancing and clutching at the van’s rail and anything I can grab.

  Conrad is not just sitting there doing nothing. Sensing that he can’t contribute much in terms of firepower due to the shield, he instead gathers for potential weaknesses in their formation. I mean I can just order him to keep pounding the shield, but that sounds inefficient. Not to mention that if it’s not cracking; there goes another hundreds of thousands…

  [Analysis completed, I had confirmed using drone 11’s camera that the shield is only a forward-facing one. Their fnks and rear are susceptible to fnking maneuvers or a penetration strike.] Isn’t it nice to have an assistant?

  “Good work, but we’re not charging out, so prep your turrets. This mission will cost me a bit, but the compensation is well worth it… you know what? To hell with it, arm my bike with both light and heavy ordinances, better safe than sorry.”

  [Acknowledged.]

  The thralls on top of their vehicles are closing in on me devoid of anything, their transport is closing in. Just when I was about to tell Conrad to hurry up, the left and right sides of the van unveiled their turrets, thus a pair of light originium autocannons started bsting at the enemy immediately.

  One of their vehicles got riddled with holes, and its occupant turned into Swiss cheese. The blood was promptly washed away by the rain and absorbed by the soil, then again any corpses left in the wild would make their way into maggots or fangbeasts' stomachs so whatever. Sadly, one of the autocannons got hit by a lucky Arts fireball, prompting a blind side to be created.

  One of the vehicles tried to tch itself using a hook, but this vic is anything but weakly protected and the hook bounced off before getting entangled with one of their wheels. Brant also seemed to try and help me out, when one of the hostile transporters tried to corner the van, he just smashed at them. I think I also saw a blood spurt when he rammed one that tried to get in the way of this 10 tons of pure steel.

  ‘I mean, I don’t mind if you wanna py rough with it, but it’s still my ride you know…? A heads-up would’ve been nice…’

  Several thralls tried to jump and hijack the van, but I just kick those poor sods away with a roundhouse kick before once again adopting the defensive posture. This went on for a while until they realized that the casualties were too much, and the fact that they were having a hard time hitting the van when everything was so crowded.

  Remnants Arts Casters' shocked expressions were particurly delicious when they saw me getting hurt but did not care one bit about it. Then I sensed something I had yet to feel for years; pure hatred. Locking my eyes towards the source, I see a particurly, ostentatiously, dressed and masked woman at me looking at me. Her emotion however is pretty much sheer hatred and disgust like I fucked her son without permission or something.

  She bellowed something in Leithanien, I can’t exactly hear quite right what she said through the rain, the present occasion of me being shot at, and my Germanika is quite rusty for reference. A lull is created, confounded by their unable to do anything much and our combined effort to not make it easy.

  “This day is just getting better. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could do the things they did…” An ice spear was shattered when I called for Conrad, the man they this is getting annoying. Luckily, my tail made me stand upright naturally without a problem.

  [My Lady?] Tilting my head sideway, dodging a wind cutter or whatever, almost getting my face marred, I start expining our next move.

  “Can’t they just give up? Pretty sure the situation back there is really bad for them…” Damn, this sword is hel tough. Granted it is having a hard time cutting paper now, but at least I have nothing to worry about maintenance.

  [I suppose they tried their best precisely because something had indeed happened behind their line. To reiterate, cornered beast fought the hardest when wounded.] I want to answer immediately, but then volleys of crossbow bolts are heading my way. A few made it through and lodged themselves in my body, but I’m getting used to the pain at this point.

  I look towards where it came from and see that bikes and cars pying peek-a-boo by exiting the shield and then entering it back but not before shooting whatever they have in mind. Guess it goes both ways for physical armaments huh? This shield kinda sucks compared to what I had back in some of my old worlds, but impressive judging by their technological level.

  “This is just blind fanaticism, wouldn’t it better for them to just go away and lie low?” This is one weird contract, usually, they break easily if I show my face, unless they’re being backed by something else… Oh, how I hate Shadow Civil War.

  “How about our little passenger? I’m still unsure if I’m doing a great job as a bodyguard, to be honest.” While saying that I just realized that each of their Arts were also ced with sound residue, if not a full melody. Just how much do they love music to the point of weaponizing it!?

  [I shall guarantee that nothing will befall the Young Lady. It appears however, you put less importance on the other two…] Oh yeah… uh… they are grown up enough, they can handle themselves. Well, if the rumors about Gesatzwachter are true, Brant is enough to keep them safe. Still have no idea what Concertmaster Arts is all about nor any about Viviana’s.

  “Lower priority but do your best, we’re paid for keeping only her safe, and the escorts know it.” Settling it like that should suffice, I think- whoops, almost got hit by an ice spear there… This weather combined with their harassment made things annoying to deal with.

  [Technically, you’re the only one getting paid.] How nice really, I’m here busting my ass under hails of Arts, but can still interact normally.

  “You’re also the only one with me to be given pocket money frequently.” It’s really weird, after I had fought that Emperor’s finest mugger, this barely fazed me.

  ‘The whole thing felt lukewarm… ah fuck, I jinxed myself…’

  [A fair point of view but I’m afraid we have no more luxury to spare.] Conrad finally starts to get the extra turret and stuff ready for redeployment, and this armored van plus Terra’ idiotic technological tree is a match made in heaven. I can pack enough arsenal for taking down a whole town with room for extra tonnage to spare.

  I eyed the bike that had been tucked neatly beside it; I could jump on it just when things turned bad. It is nice to have someone to cover your back with logistics and whatnot. If only Conrad was there when that shithead bde eldritch-raped me… of well…

  ‘Wonder if I can get an APC somewhere…? There was that Hovercraft back when I first woke up, is it still there? Maybe I can try to do something about it, but I have neither the mechanic and industrial knowledge nor a good pce to hide something that will potentially make every nation even more interested in me; and my otherworldly ability to be a troublemaker or problem solver.’

  Letting him do his own thing, I refocus my gaze and force my mental synapse to penetrate the hazy shroud that is enveloping the tower. The lull allowed me to do so, and regardless of how much pain I needed to endure, that tower thingy along with the shield seems to be sucking a lot of power from somewhere, and judging by that huge ass vehicle carrying it, which sounds pusible.

  ‘So much for wanting her dead, they are foolish…’ mentally scoffing at it, I carefully divide my mental concentration between protecting the vehicle and penetrating the shield. Gritting my teeth, bite my lips, and squeeze my palms into fists while the other is clenching the bde for precision deflects.

  I have finally managed to break through the enshrouded target and-

  “… Huh?”

  …

  …

  …

  “… ha… Ha… Haha…” I can feel my eyes widen into disbelief, my movements dulled and they seem to notice it thus what was once hails of arts and projectile turned into veritable rain of its own. Honestly though? That’s barely important… what I saw takes precedent.

  “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” I can’t help but ugh at what I had witnessed. The amount of unadulterated stupidity that I kept witnessing just tickled my funny bones during the most inopportune moments. I ughed so hard that it felt like the world had gone silent… how quaint…

  ‘… They are so dead…’ My ugh is losing its drive, and shimmering down into a series of mirthless, dispirited, giggles… hah… Humanity, theirs, and by extension mine, mentally and chronically challenged decision-making is just a self-inflicted tragic comedy at this point.

  Rage overcame me and I straddled my bike to unch forward. My sudden change of approach bewildered these waste of airs. I made a beeline towards the tower; and only the tower but hails of ranged attacks only further fueled my distaste. I need to be quick.

  After what feels like an eternity of dodging, shooting, and sshing my way through these bastards. I ride full speed towards the center of their formation, coming face-to-face with the shitty invisible barrier. My sense then screamed when I almost crashed against the shield, the same way it screamed danger when I almost got hit by an oripathy years ago.

  I tried to circle but met resistance every time I tried to.

  ‘Just fucking let me pass!’ I tried to exploit their fnks but was thwarted by these fucking casters. They know that I barely felt shit from their tickles, so instead they start targeting my bike. I cannot let it get destroyed, I will lose my method of transportation otherwise.

  ‘Come on Nyx, you can do it!’ Then I tried to use thralls that are converging on my position as a shield. How long has it been? I had been riding parallel with their formation but I had yet to get close. These fucking shield even reoriented itself to block my shots.

  ‘Please just let me save them!’ I tried and tried and tried… but there was nothing. Until I finally feel the st embers of life from what’s inside the tower was extinguished… my heart breaks. I had no choice but to retreat …

  I don’t know what happens when I’m returning… only that my body is riddled with wounds… strange… I feel no pain now. Then when my sense is back, I’m back on top of the moving van… blood drenching every inch of my body. Guts and torn flesh cling upon my uniform and… he… he… he…

  “AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHH!”

  My true voice has been painstakingly hidden from the world bled itself into my voice albeit only for a fraction of a millisecond, causing the bde in my hand to glow into an eerily subdued shade of light, absorbing and tarnishing it into a grey hue. I can feel my eyes getting blurry, my hands trembling, and my body shaking with barely restrained rage…

  ‘They just have to do it huh? It is not too hard to avoid making me feel displeased really… I can take insults in stride, I can ugh out challenges, and I rarely even care about reputation… but this one…? Welp…’

  My expression is now void, I can’t even feel my breath, body heat, and heartbeats. I’m just tired of dealing with this kind of bullshit, I thought that my reputation would at least give some credence of what not to do, not a checklist of it… or perhaps they had done it out of spite for me? The motivation matters not… so…

  “Shame…” I feel several doses of adrenaline and combat regeneration stimunt shot into my vein, my free hand had pressed a button on my exoskeleton. Not long after, I can feel how my veins are being pumped with chemicals, both for practical and medical purposes.

  My st nigh-catastrophic failure made me realize that packing as much gimmick is a correct approach but it is useless if you can’t use it… so Conrad suggested it and I made some arrangements with a Nearl’s associate to modify this exoskeleton.

  ‘Guess I need to show them why the Ursus 6th Army’s remnants were never thrilled with meeting me again. I kinda feel bad for the spectators, but I just can’t let something like this slide without dire, hefty, consequences…’

  POV: Narrator

  When the Serpent roared against the heaven; the earth trembled; air quivered; and dead souls held their breath for what felt like eternity. Tears of anger poured down her face before her face turned void of anything…

  Witch King’s Loyalists are struck with a tidal wave of malevolent dread, even the thralls that should have been incapable of feeling emotions and having self-preservation had instinctively trembled with an emotion so clear for the whole world to acknowledge. The Casters can feel it, a wave of newfound fear is chilling them to the bone. They can’t help but wonder where this eeriness came from, it was surely not from the Serpentine Nightmare in front of them. Their Arts detectors are not reacting, only tracking the 3 people inside the van that is capable of Arts.

  When one of them tried to force the instrument of locking into the Pythian, all they see is still the same; nothing but void. Not a blip, not even a shred of Art can be detected. They roused themselves from their stupor and continued the assault, thus they noticed how their adversary had changed its pattern of combat.

  Their frontal assault had failed, and all it did was only make her angrier (or so they thought). Wilderness is being painted red with blood and decorated with fresh guts that on itself were grounded and desecrated by the moving convoy.

  “Damn that schweinhund, Eideker will rue the day they cross His Majesty’s path to return and cleanse this world of Unttermenschen!” A noblewoman, a Grafin to be exact, can be seen to be fuming within one of the moving vehicles. She exuded her rage with clear distaste for how things falling apart all too quickly. She moved her eyes up front, still in denial that The Grey Serpent’s feat was not an exaggeration like what she used to see.

  No longer were her parries fmboyant and rexed manner, it is a series of lifeless and mechanical repetitions and patterns. Her unflinching and bloodied body appears to have lost what shred of humanity they so desperately wish to see, a small comfort amidst the death that approaches ever so closer. A particurly strong and brimming with hope of Wind Arts struck her neck, yet even that failed to elicit a smidgen of emotion from her face.

  Nyx’s body nguage and expression, which were scarce to begin with, have been truly made void and cold. Despite being painted by the perilous storms and howling winds beneath the heaven and their mortal attempts, she keeps on deflecting their offenses and strikes. The thralls are moving ever closer to the vehicle. They have no need to eliminate the eerie snake that is visibly coiling itself, poised to strike and inject its venom deep to then tear open its foes' necks when they get too close.

  Her swings and dodges improve minutely for all to observe. The once cuts and sshes by both wind bdes and its equivalent, along with bolts and the more mundane weaponry, made its mark less and less. One vehicle stood out, it was heavily decorated with sigils and runes that one can find in Leithanien’s css of Arts manipution. These sigils are glowing bright in an alternating blue and golden light.

  “Mein Grafin … she’s a monster…”

  “What should we do!? She starts to redirect our wind casters arts!”

  “Get the extra thrall there already! We can always brainwash those filths to fill up the ranks!”

  “That’s not how combat work dummkopfft!”

  “Caster squads 1 through 4 keep up the pressure, 5 through 7 prepare to back them up!”

  “Your orders, Mein Fraulein?”

  “…” The Grafin in question said nothing and instead pulled out some kind of parchment. She eyed it momentarily deliberating on what needed to be done. She then sighed and was forced to acknowledge the fact id in front of her eyes so vividly. Thus she, with utter distaste, must take her opponent seriously. Rectifying her stance and outlook on the situation.

  “Prepare the soldiers for offensive, and distract her while I start the communion. It shouldn’t take too long…”

  ‘How distasteful and baleful it is for me to admit, but the wench certainly has her merits. A shame that I can’t have her body for further research, even a defect’s body can provide insight on our cause.’ The woman bit her lower lips, chagrined but also thrilled with the possibility of testing her creation.

  Back to Nyx

  Nyx is boiling in anger deep inside, but her rational mind holds her back from just jumping straight toward the convoy and wreaking havoc again. She has her bike prepared by the side of the van, like usual, in case she needs to do something drastic. It does irk her that the Remnants seem to have grown passive, oh how she wanted to tear their spine off and piss on their corpse.

  The skirmishers are still annoying as all hell, but she can’t do anything because the moment the sword is dropped, she’ll be unable to deflect further ranged attacks. She cannot afford any more surprises, and she starts to regret being a lone wolf in this type of job. What’s more? She could have saved them if she wasn’t such a chickenshit…

  She eyed her opponent hatefully, their sigils seemed to have something in them to help maintain the shield. Nyx is half-tempted to try her luck, but once again she doesn’t want to let anything harm the van. Especially when they finally tried to just ram this vehicle or shoot out the tires, the former failed because of Brant’s superb driving skill and Conrad using portable unchers, and the tter due to the van’s tires being coated with harder materials.

  These back and forth keeps on for a while until they can see their destination, a valley named Spearedge that is sandwiched in between Fastolf Mountains and Casimir’s Chasm. The rain had now dissipated and rays of light pierced through the gloomy weather that had been accompanying their journey.

  The van finally entered the valley with the Grey Serpent still fending off the Remnants that were getting desperate. It goes on for a while and Nyx has half the mind to improvise with what she has.

  If not for the sudden emergence of a fog on her right side, and without taking too long, a beast leaped out from it and hit her square in the chest. 3 holes tore open her body while Nyx spat blood out of her mouth. With the angle she’s currently in, the beast pushes her over the vehicle, plummeting down from the moving vehicle to the wayside and dragging her toward the lowest point of Casimir’s Chasm.

  [Nyx!?] Conrad is armed by the sudden development, but the A.I. perseveres that its master would be just all right, she is not the famed Grey Serpent for nothing. Thus it pushed aside its worry and just dispatched the bike outside to follow after Nyx who might be locked in combat with the beast that had pulled her down.

  The Remnants cheered seeing their greatest obstacle had finally been dealt with, doesn’t matter if she came back, her absence was already more than enough.

  “The vile snake is gone, all units converge on the vehicle! I want the girl alive; kill the rest!” The Witch King Loyalists’ leader starts barking orders for the convoy to envelope the lone armored vehicle, but the narrow valley causes them to bunch up and clog it full with vehicles.

  The driver is doing his best to navigate through the treacherous valley while the passengers do have not much to do. Conrad is maintaining and feeding the turrets with millions worth of munitions; it will surely hurt the Grey Serpent’s pocket but it is hardly the time for sophistry.

  The van navigated itself across a narrow pathway, its pursuers relentless but having a hard time mustering enough numbers to surround their target. The van banked hard to the right, narrowly avoiding an abyss that would have plunged it down into gravitational death. The situation is worsening by the minute, but they finally made it through a sizable opening.

  The van is now traversing the field of wilted grasses and flowers that surround the Fastolf Mountain range. Sensing the opportunity for interception; Witch King’s Loyalist bikers just sped fast ahead of its target before making a U-turn, directly on the armored van’s path. The van tried to dodge the upcoming crash, unfortunately, its opponent gave no such luxury and deliberately had the van boxed in a tight encirclement.

  The Crash seems imminent…

  POV: Viviana

  I watched as everything turned for the worse, The Grey Serpent had been pushed off from her footing and all I could do was to shear it into my memory. Strangely enough; my mind was not in disarray as I used to be, it was clear but also filled with urgency. Our position is no less tenuous, but my mind and heart had never meld so intimately as one.

  ‘Why, I even felt myself to be soaring… how peculiar…’

  Brant is on the verge of using his Arts; which would overcomplicate the matter the both of them had been discussing during our journey. Ko too chanted out her shield; she had once told me that she worked for the vilest men of Leithanien but never said whom.

  Not long after; a thin but robust film of Arts enveloped us. I can’t exactly see much since the camera only faces in one direction; but judging by Ko’s face which is glistening with sweat and compounded by her rough breathing, safe to say that she is pushing herself. There is less sound being transmitted through; is it her style of pity I wonder?

  I spectated from the corner of my eyes on how Brant seemed ready to use his Arts that was specialized for all Gesatzwachter’s use and no one else’s… It was said that he can use it when 10 people are needed… still…

  ‘What can I do…?’

  Everything slowed down into a crawl; enemies at the forefront and our rear end. My mind raced to find an olive branch for us to do away with the predicament… then I finally recalled the lesson I had taken regarding my Arts; Light absorption and shadow manipution. Through the camera I knew that the weather had turned for the better; thus I started focusing on what little I knew. Words of my father and tutors flow within the confines of my mind…

  ‘Musical Arts is not just that of a tool and weapon or even means of attaining glory; Arts is life. Each sylble has meaning; it must be weaved with both determination and wit. Words uttered by fools can indeed rock the boat, but the wise can move mountains with them. Thus remember to visualize; give meaning; and start singing.’

  ‘Viviana, your Arts signify that even when shadow enshrouded the world; light will always exist. The opposite is also true, there will be no shadow without light illuminating it. Do not feel ashamed for borrowing power from someone else; even I did the same. Remember how Lucinda wanted nothing more than for you to realize yourself? Controlling your Arts is one of the ways forward.’

  POV: Narrator.

  Thus she starts humming. Her voice is soft, and immature, but also bellied with the unbridled passion to be free from a cage that had always been protecting her and her mother, Lucinda Droste. Her passing was hard; she wept for days but her mother's soft smile and parting words were enough to convince her otherwise.

  The lights from both the heaven and cascading luminaries of secondary sources of her foes fueled her. She starts to bleed from her nose; a mark of how juvenile her control is currently at. Ko noticed it and she was about to panic when her humming had finally registered on her ears. And unknown to the Young Lady and her attendants, a wisp of silvery light draped in gray had deigned to be absorbed and used as a source of power. Viviana can feel the burning heat of fme in the palm of her hands; paradoxically however, it is so soft and temperate that she almost mistook it for custom-made gloves during winter, stabilizing her Arts and allowing greater than ever sky of her own making to be reached.

  Viviana loves poetry and reading in general. She practiced her Arts centered on the imagination and need for expression; her idealized look which should have been detrimental when facing reality ended up being the silver lining in this situation. Her innocent fascination with Knighthood became another crutch.

  Her voice is soft like the morning wind during spring. So joyous and free; heralding the coming of a new era after enduring the cold embrace of reality.

  Her tone is like that of vigorous determination, drive, and ecstatic ughter of summer. Welcoming; celebrating; forgiving; and astonishing.

  Her rhyme is that of rueful parting but also an invitation akin to that of the st rain during autumn, blessing the nd once more before entering its slumber.

  Finally, her Arts exploded like the howling winds of winter’s blizzard, the force and meaning of its sylble synchronized as one. It heralded not just death; but a chance for patience for one to finally gaze upon the spring’s sunrise once more.

  The Shadows, be it the vehicle she had sought refuge at; the towering mountain range that shielded the field from encroaching light; the deep abyss in distance she had once traversed; the clouds hanging upon the heaven; or even the abominable tower own. She takes it all; she rules it all! Her mind twists and turns to realize her desire and necessity, a performance of her validity.

  What would she be? Would she be a halberd; a weapon to cleave and smash forward against her enemy? Nay, her heart is still unable to fathom hurting others.

  What else then? Would she be an arrow? Nay, she has no desire to expend herself when she has yet to understand and realize her dream.

  Then what should she be? A spear with an unfurled banner mayhap? Nein, she has yet to see herself capable of shouldering such a burden…

  Options running thin; what doth the maiden desire? An elegant sword surely fits her, aye? She wishes for grace, but an ostentatious bde hardly a path to deliverance. Thus she discards it…

  What else then? There is one… not a weapon; but no one said it can’t be one either. Meant to protect and you must bear the weight yourself. A creation since the dawn of man destined to shatter but not without battering its foes one way or another. Thus she chanted aloud:

  “Fidelis Aeterna; Argyraspides!”

  Resplendent light bathed the valley, the light had pushed away the remaining dark clouds but not forcefully; more in line with guiding it to rest and gracefully slumber until the spring called forth for it stand awoken. Her beautiful melody and determination to be the shield were enforced by her true desire, to be A Knight who embodies chivalry but never for glory.

  Pilr of light manifested and transformed into the eponymous Silver Shield; the guardian and companion from a world unknown yet known. Viviana’s mind was both rend and free; she was caged no more and she wished to sing her praise for the freedom she had finally attained. She will be a knight worthy of her freedom, but she will never forget the cage that had protected and served her faithfully.

  Everyone who witnessed such a splendid show of Arts was left agape, befuddled, dazzled, and impressed regardless of who they were no matter how brief. The Silver Shield repelled all and any attempt to harm her and those she cherished, living or otherwise. Her Arts cshed like a mountain being smashed with a hurricane; natural and potent.

  Leithanien always strives for the finest shows of lexical glory and literature prowess; Viviana has showcased its maximum potential. No matter how virtuous or vile someone is, they are always captivated by a superb creation of music and melody.

  Her pursuers are all left stunned and astonished seeing what can only be described as a miracle, for she had truly and well transcended and exceeded her limitation. This brief splendor is enough for the vehicle to narrowly avoid the upcoming csh of steel and blood, leaving their dazzled foes back to square one.

  Viviana colpsed, her body was feverish and her nose bled; yet satisfaction graced her face. The Remnants tried to resume their pursuit of those they had briefly admired, only for the entrance to colpse. Thankfully, their van passed by safely while their foes left trapped behind them, speeding away.

  When the Witch King’s Loyalists are about to re-track back towards the other end of the valley’s opening, the pce where they entered, explosion rocked the said end. They are now the one entrapped between the rocky mountains of Fastolf and the deep abyss of Casimir.

  “What happened!?”

  “Something just sealed the other end out of this pce!”

  “You there! Contact our backup forces in the city, they need to leave that pce for good.”

  While they argue, however; the remnants finally notice that the valley has gone quiet, eerily so. Then cpping sounds echoed in the empty valley; they looked around and turned their head upward… there they see an Efian man. His hair is styled into a neat trim, his face is wrinkled, and his posture and visage are that of an old man; evidenced by one of his hands clutching a cane. Despite that, however, he still stood ramrod straight while being garbed in the finest military gear.

  “A fine day to you, Grafin Herkaienen, what a lovely day we’re having here. If you would be so inclined, I would be more than thrilled to share a cup of Tea with you.” The man said courteously, but it didn’t take a genius to notice the vitriol and mockery in his voice.

  The Shield’s direction shifted towards the test intruder. The man does not appear concerned with the shield’s existence.

  “Eideker, it was your doing all along!? You better not cross me, else your son-”

  “My son is safe, Grafin… so that’s why… it’s a checkmate…” That’s all he said before contingents of figures cd in armor, uniform, and Arts garb are standing on top of them. Leithanien Knights, Casters, and Gendarmeries surrounded the valley with their weapons and arts ready to rain hell upon their target.

  “… Insolent cur! You will regret this sacrilege against His Majesty’s most faithful!”

  “That may be, but I will not busy myself with such a trifling luxury if I were you… Please, do acknowledge reality on your end of the Abyss.”

  With his words, the remnants all pulled away their gaze from the metaphorical guillotine… straight unto the literal meat grinder by comparison. A lone bike engine can be heard vividly from their rear position. The Grey Serpent has gone full throttle onward, her hand clutching the originium carbine tightly and her expression morphed into utter distaste.

  She navigated and butchered her way toward the tower, those who defy her are turned into a bright red puddle on the ground or mangled artwork etched onto fleshy canvas. She stood up from her ride and started using the clogged crowd of mechanical steed and its fleshling of riders. All happens in a mere blink of an eye, but she had truly reached the top of her most hated icon and she roared against the heaven before smashing her sword downward.

  The tower that was brimming with perverted purpose was destroyed, and soon Nyx dropped down with something in her hands… a pair of emaciated children. The remnants should have swarmed her, but their primal instinct had cowed them into utter submission. Thus Nyx is doing her best to resuscitate them… She tried and tried and tried… but no pulse, no heartbeats… she finally stopped.

  Her hand gripping the bde that shone a darker shade of grey… There now stood someone all of them, safe for one, dreaded the most. The Grey Serpent was battered and bloodied but very much alive. Nyx walked forward but no one dared to stop her, her gaze was level towards the noble that she accused of being the one behind those 2’ suffering.

  Herkaienen panicked seeing how death was advancing nguidly in her direction. Her mouth stammered out melodies and tones to activate her Arts. Balls of fire form on her hand and are promptly shot toward the Grey Serpent, it hits her square in the chest but even the sound of sizzling and burning flesh doesn’t deter her.

  The Grafin tried everything but accomplished nothing. Soon she is finally standing in front of her, eyes devoid of anything.

  “Y-you can’t touch me! I’m protected by the w of this nd! Learn your p- gah!” Nyx is having none of it and starts swinging down her fist.

  Each swing cracks her bone but does not shatter it.

  Each swing inflicts pain in the thousands, but she cannot have the luxury of the subconscious.

  Each swing elicits wet and bloody sounds; the spectators are aghast no matter who they are.

  Each violent swing is filled to the brim with hate; and useless anger, they had departed this world after all.

  “…Magnificent.”

  While the Remnants and Leithanien watch on in muted horror, that word roused them from their stupor. A single figure garbed in resplendent military regalia worthy of a ruler had been observing the situation with interest. The figure is revealed to be a woman in her 30s-40s, when those present realized that one of Leithanien’s most feared and influential figures is amongst them; the majority kneeled in unison while their body shivered with both awe and terror. The rest? Swept into the dustbin of history without even a chance to blink.

  Nyx only looked up from the bloodied, barely clinging to life, visage of this sorry excuse of a beast dung. Her eyes locked on the Bck Haired Caprinae, she sports an amused smile and appraising gaze.

  The Grey Serpent then stood on her feet and stared at her square in the eyes, such a sacrilege and impudent dispy prompted the Bck-Haired Caprinae bodyguards to unsheathe their swords, but she told them to stand down.

  “Fraulein Nyx… I must say, you exceeded my expectations.”

  Despite still fuming in anger, Nyx still has some sembnce of rationality. Thus she dipped her head low in a bow, still irreverent but better than the st, before uttering her greetings towards Leithanien’s dreaded Empress. She uttered an extremely archaic form of Leithanien, which is why the words that flowed from her lips surprised the Empress’s bodyguards and everyone present except for the person in question who was more intrigued with the meaning and style of her dialect.

  “Verzeihen Sie meine Unversch?mtheit, Ihre Kaiserliche Majest?t, die Schwarze Kaiserin. (Forgive my impudence, Your Imperial Majesty, The Bck Empress.)”

  “Fret not, I never styled you to be one with decorum…” The Bck Empress, Hildegard Grimmmacht, walked passed her. She gazed upon the remnants who opted to surrender, no doubt that their punishment would be severe but order existed. She then turned her gaze back on The Grey Serpent, who was being encircled by Empresses’ Voices and Gesatzsw?chter in case she thought anything untoward, and spoke…

  “Let’s talk, shall we?”

  [END OF CHAPTER]

  Author’s Note:

  Yo there! This is me, myself, and I the author who is not having a good time… In other news, my thesis is kinda fucked. So… uh… yeah. I’m screwed, to put it mildly…

  Regarding the steedbeast, it is practically a horse but it has horns, like a triceratops, a fanged mouth, and 3 pairs of legs an interesting part in my opinion, is that the beast’s body is covered in an oddly crude-looking armor. I take inspiration from the Norse mythological horse; Sleipnir, FF12’s horse thingy with metal mohawk, and of course triceratops.

  I have decided to scrap 4 or 5, except maybe for one, detailed scenario I have in mind. I just want to expedite Nyx's faster up to speed unto the canon timeline, since she is good enough in terms of influence, foothold, and financial… heh, IFF… anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, expediting the story.

  Otherwise, I’m afraid that I’ll get into more tangents where I just can’t help myself and start typing in words that made me wonder what I snorted st night. I might or might not revisit these scenarios as side stories, but only after I managed to get Nyx into the 3rd Episode at a bare minimum, so brace for the Nyx’s express.

  I’ll be taking a vacation since it has been a rough year, I’m having a migraine.

  So see you on the 15th of January.

  Ciao