Tales of a Lost Sword 87

Episode 87 The Reason for Being a Fatalist
In the dim light of the empty throne room, Kunai and Fayvard stand at the doorway, gazing with astonishment at the Shield of Wizet lying peacefully in the vacant throne. The sky has begun to turn a shade of purple or blue, as the last dregs of the setting sun disappear over the edge of the horizon.

“The throne’s empty…” Fayvard whispers with quiet awe.

“Yeah,” Kunai replies, “but the Shield…”

Fayvard frowns. “It’s weird, isn’t it? What could Arai be in such a hurry to do that he’d leave something like the Shield of Wizet exposed in an unguarded room like this? That’s not like him.”

Kunai releases Fayvard from his hold. The latter sways slightly before gaining his balance. Exchanging a nod with Fayvard, Kunai dashes into the middle of the throne room.

He raises his arms, half-expecting for an ambush to begin. However, nothing happens. The throne room remains silent and deathly still with no sign of life. Slowly, Kunai makes his way all the way to the empty throne, the Shield of Wizet glimmering softly in its seat.

At last, Kunai places a shaking hand upon the cold metal of the shield. It glows faintly, as if responding to Kunai’s touch. With a heave, Kunai grabs hold of the shield and takes it from its place in the throne, feeling its heavy weight in his hands.

“So this is the Shield of Wizet…” he mutters to himself. “The power to create anything that existed past, present, or future, real or imagined… The things I could do with this, if I had the courage…”

Kunai glances at Fayvard, his tall, proud figure standing against the light seeping into the throne room from the open doors. “I suppose the first thing we should do is reopen the portal between this dimension and ours.”

“Wait,” Fayvard shouts suddenly, stepping forward. He sways dangerously, before grabbing onto the wall for support with a grimace. “Ryuu said that thing takes a ridiculous amount of mana to operate. Since I’m already hurt, I can’t help you much in battle anyway. You should save your strength for the battle against Arai. Let me reopen the portal.”

Unconsciously pointing the Shield away from Fayvard, Kunai narrows his eyes suspiciously. “How do I know that’s what you really intend to use it for?”

Fayvard sighs, narrowing his eyes impatiently. “Come on, Kunai. After all this time, are you still going to question me? I’m not plotting anything anymore. I want to win this war too.”

After several seconds pass, Kunai finally nods. He walks slowly up to Fayvard, his footsteps echoing in the empty throne room. He hands the Shield of Wizet over to Fayvard.

Holding the Shield in his hands, Fayvard frowns. “The Shield of Wizet, huh…? Well, here goes nothing. Open the portal between the dimensions!”

The Shield begins glow a frighteningly bright hue of blue as Fayvard pours all his mana into it. A shriek like an electrical discharge pierces the silent room for a moment, before a swirling blue portal rents the air in the empty space between Kunai and Fayvard.

The sound of birds chirping enters the sterile white room. In her bed, Lillia stirs, opening her eyes slowly. She stares at the blank white ceiling, listening to the birds’ singing from afar as she feels the soft covers of a blanket over her battle-worn body. Raising her head, she finds a few meager rays of sunlight streaming into the room where she sleeps.

No one else is in the room. Peering around, Lillia remains silent, a look of disorientation on her face. Suddenly, her eyes widen with realization.

Still without uttering a single word, Lillia manages to pull herself into a standing position with some difficulty. She slips on her black Fatalist robes and binds her long purple hair into a set of pigtails. Silently, she exits the room, leaving behind the peace and quiet within.

In a narrow courtyard outside the Fatalists’ castle, the Rift Army marches onward to meet the forces of the Fatalists. Before them stand two solitary figures, gazing out at them from a veranda leading into the courtyard outside.

Silver pauses at the head of the army, her eyes widening slightly with surprise as she spots the two. “Zack, Mira! What are you two doing here?”

Zack and Mira sprint forward to join the Rift forces, with Silver at the head and Wake and Rill standing on either side of her. “S’nice to see you guys are still doin’ okay, Silver!” Zack winks.

“We came here with the others to fight Arai, but got separated a while back,” Mira explains. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We came for a showdown against the Fatalists as well!” Wake pipes up, gesturing at the wide range of Rift World troops now gathered behind them. They give a loud roar of approval, clearly eager to fight.

“So that’s how it is, huh…?” simpers Zack, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

“In that case, you guys might find these useful!” Mira cries, reaching into her pack and drawing out a few canisters of the soul capsules.

“I see!” Silver replies, her eyes lighting up enthusiastically. “It might be better indeed then if you two joined us. Your soul capsules will surely come in handy. That Ryuu certainly knew what he was doing when he ordered you to make these.”

“Ryuu, huh…” Zack mutters out loud.

The others look away as well at the mention of Ryuu’s name. Rill growls softly to himself, clenching his fists. Silver herself stares down at the floor. “I apologize for bringing him up. It was careless of me. But the Rift Army will defeat the Fatalists for his sake, and for the sake of all those in our dimension as well. Just because our dimension is not the real one does not mean we can just be thrown away like that!”

“Yeah,” Zack smiles, “that’s t’spirit.”

“One, two, three! One, two, three!” From far deep within the depths of the Fatalists’ castle, an army of over a hundred Fatalists begins to move, driven by the ruthless crack of a whip from stern generals.

Each Fatalist is adorned, not with the typical skull mask of the Fatalists, but with a much heavier metal helmet that nonetheless recalls the eerie emptiness of the Fatalists’ skulls. Yet their helmets resemble more the skull of some horrible bull-like creature, with horns creeping out of the backs of their skulls. Additionally, each Knight carries an Eviscerator in his right hand as he marches to the pace of a drumbeat.

Silently, the ranks of this Fatalist army march onward, line by line, ten to a line. The Fatal Knights march forward relentlessly out of the darkness of the Fatalists’ castle, urged onward by the incessant sound of a drum beating from somewhere within.

The quiet ticking of a clock is the only sound that disturbs the heavy silence. Sasha sits alone by herself behind Ryuu’s desk, poring over several lengthy documents in front of her. Her back faces the only window in the room, where purple-orange sunlight from the setting sun filters into the half-gloom.

Pausing in the middle of signing a document, she sighs, and leans her head against her fist, using it to prop herself up. “Ophelia…where could you have gone?”

A knock suddenly sounds at the door. Looking up immediately, Sasha shuffles about some of her papers before shouting, “Come in!”

The door opens and a messenger dressed in brown enters, bowing slightly to Sasha as he does so. Sasha shakes her head, raising her voice urgently. “Do you have any news on Ophelia or the Fatalist?”

Slightly taken aback, the messenger eventually shakes his head. “N-No, I’m sorry, Madam Sasha,” he mutters. “We searched all over the island, but there is no sign of them. It is possible they may have already escaped into Ossyria or elsewhere.”

“Damn it…” Sasha growls between gritted teeth. “Where could the two of them have disappeared to? I should’ve been more careful, if I’d done a better job looking after that Fatalist this would have never happened. Ryuu is going to kill me if he hears that I let a Fatalist run off with a student!”

“W-With all due respect, Madam, but perhaps it may be possible that they both ran off separately on their own—”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course they’re together!” snaps Sasha, rising to her feet impatiently. Catching herself a moment later, Sasha sits back down, sighing again. “I’m sorry…you may leave now.”

Nodding, the messenger bows again before departing the room. He slams the door shut behind him with a click, leaving Sasha sitting alone in the room again with only the sound of the running clock keeping her company.

Resting her head against the seat of her chair, Sasha stares up at the wooden ceiling, her normally clear blue eyes glazed over with worry. “Where could they be…?”

Absentmindedly, Sasha swivels over in her seat to stare out the window at the darkening fields outside, still showing signs of the damage from the confrontation with the Nightless Empire.

Something shiny shimmers in the empty fields far down below. Sasha immediately rises from her seat, pressing against the cold panes of the window to stare. Far below, a crack appears to form in the air, seemingly wrenching apart the atmosphere as a swirling portal materializes.

Eyes widening, Sasha continues to stare with awe at the enlarging portal. “That can’t be…”

The tiny metal device utters a little beep every few seconds. Flynn glares impatiently at its small screen, narrowing his eyes as he stares at the spectrum of moving blue and orange dots against a black graph. He raises his eyes, looking about at his surroundings.

Next to him, Ophelia stands uncertainly, her hands bound together behind her back. Her feet, however, are unbound. She follows Flynn by foot willingly.

Looking at the tiny device over Flynn’s shoulder as well, Ophelia lets out a hum of interest. “Hmm, what’s that, Flynn?”

Not replying, Flynn continues to look around distractedly, his eyes darting about furiously. He bites his lip, his blond head swiveling about. “It should be around here…” he mutters to himself irritably.

The two of them stand side by side in the middle of an empty, grassy field. The sun has nearly set, rendering the field dark and gloomy. Still, a few feeble rays of sunlight manage to sneak past the tops of the trees surrounding the field and light their path with touches of gold.

“What is?” Ophelia blinks, still staring interestedly at the device in Flynn’s hand.

“The portal to my dimension,” Flynn growls impatiently.

Ophelia freezes with surprise. She stares at Flynn with slightly widened eyes as he stalks away absently, scrutinizing every detail of the darkened field. “Eh?” Ophelia murmurs. “We’re going to the other dimension?”

“Yeah…”

“Are you going to reunite with the other Fatalists?”

Silently, Flynn glances back at Ophelia, his eyes gleaming maddeningly for the first time. “Not quite,” he replies, an unsettling sneer creeping across his face. “I have decided that it is no longer worth my time being a Fatalist. I have discovered quite a distaste for their ideals. This world, despite its faults, should not be destroyed. It should be protected, allowed to live side by side with ours. I credit you for teaching me that. Now you shall aide me in realizing this dream!”

“Really?” Ophelia wonders. “I’m glad, then! But why are you taking me with you?”

Flynn’s clear aqua eyes glow devilishly once more. “Because…I shall need you to acquire the Sheath of the Sword of Nexon. It is the only way to stop His Majesty Arai, after all.”

Arai stands alone at the precipice of the world. The walls around him have all come down, revealing a single, narrow pathway made of a glassy marble extending from the very edge of the platform into the void of the descending night. It stretches far past the reaches of the castle, fading away into the nothingness in the distance.

A loud rumbling from the sky persists throughout, as Arai waits by himself, a slight breeze causing his robes to billow faintly in the wind. His magnificent blue hair waves along with the breeze, as he prepares to greet his guest. Lining his face is the greatest frown that has ever penetrated his face.

Another crack as of lightning rains down from the sky, as the line in the sky begins to dilate. The sound of footsteps rises from below. All at once, Kunai and Fayvard make their way to the top of the Fatalists’ castle, their eyes widened with awe, their breathlessness forgotten in the chaos of the moment as they find Arai.

“What…is that?!” Kunai gasps, looking up with a gaping mouth at the crack in the sky. It begins to shudder and throb, almost like an egg hatching.

Turning around, Arai places his eyes upon his two visitors. The frown from before still lines his face as he gazes at them coldly, his yellow eyes completely lacking in warmth.

“So you have made it here, Kunai.”

“Arai…” Kunai hisses, the cold wind now chilling his every bone. “What…exactly is going on up here?”

“Kunai, Kunai…” Arai sighs, gliding like an angel towards Kunai and Fayvard, who stand at the very edge of the top of the staircase leading up onto the platform. “It is a shame that you must witness this. I never intended for you to learn about it. But I will not allow your selfishness to interrupt my plans.”

“Our selfishness?!” Kunai growls back. “How dare—”

“Arai!” Fayvard shouts, interrupting Kunai. His face is contorted with repressed rage and impatience as he glares at the crack in the sky. “Who is that up there?!”

Kunai glances at Fayvard, confused. “What do you mean ‘who?!’”

The frown across Arai’s face disappears at last, to be replaced by a tired smile. For just a brief moment, his face appears peaceful, almost relaxed. “Nothing gets past you, Fayvard. That is Grendel.”

“What?!” Kunai cries, staring up at the gaping hole in the sky too. “That is your grandfather?!”

Next to Kunai, Fayvard merely breathes heavily, remaining silent as his eyes trace the massive black hole steadily sucking all life and light from the evening sky.

Without warning, Arai raises his right arm, in which he holds the Sword of Nexon. Its shimmering blade shines in Kunai’s dark black eyes. Kunai reflexively takes a step back, his eyes trained onto the sword that Azuma once hoped for him to wield.

“Perhaps I owe you an explanation, Kunai,” Arai continues. “Yes. It is my fault this has all occurred. I should have killed you from the start. Unfortunately, I could not do it myself. The Sword of Nexon requires an inordinate amount of power and attention to wield, and even I needed to engage in mana meditation for five years in order to build up the strength to be able to use it today.

“For failing to kill you first, the Fatalists owe you an explanation. Having come here, Kunai, you see with your own eyes the hell that is the true dimension of human existence. Long ago, there was peace, but it exists no longer. My grandfather, Grendel, was a maddened maniac who only sought to control the entire world. He killed the other members of the Four of Victoria Island, took the twin weapons of the Sword of Nexon and the Shield of Wizet for his own, and crowned himself emperor.

“Grendel eventually became so powerful that he did not even need the twin weapons any longer. Using the Shield of Wizet, he constructed a replica of the world in a separate dimension and hid the weapons in there so that no one else could wield them. Thus, the unholy history of your dimension was born.

“Grendel held the world in his grasp, Kunai. My grandfather was the face of evil. Yes. Indeed, by some stroke of luck, his own Fatalists came to their senses long enough to revolt long ago and trap him in yet another dimension, a frozen time zone away from us. But his power was too strong for us to contain him forever. He was not destroyed, only momentarily imprisoned. That is why we had to acquire the Sword of Nexon from your dimension. That is why we had to create the Myougun, Paradoxes, and the Phonemes—all in order to acquire the Sword of Nexon and kill Grendel.

“Yes. The Fatalists exist for this sole purpose: to kill my grandfather.”

As Arai finishes speaking at last, Kunai remains silent, his eyes glimmering with fear as he stares into Arai’s hollowed but handsome face. Kunai gulps, licking his lips uncertainly. “That…that…can’t be the truth!” he whispers. “What are you saying? That all this time, you were the good guys? That all this time…we were just nuisances in the way?”

“Precisely,” Arai replies sharply. “It was a mistake indeed for me to have sympathized with you. You should have been destroyed from the beginning once we obtained the Sword of Nexon. Your dimension is not the real one. You are a sin given life through the schemes of my grandfather Grendel. All your lives, your friends, your family, your memories…they are all false! You should not exist!

Fayvard chuckles to himself, smiling despite the enormity of the situation. “That’s a hell of a way to put it,” he laughs. “I should not have been born, huh…?”

Kunai clenches his fists. He begins shuddering, anger pulsing up from deep within him. “How dare you say that?!” he howls, his voice low at first. “The Arai I knew definitely no longer exists, because he would have never said anything like that! Regardless of how our dimension started, everything we have there is real! My life, my feelings for my friends, for those I love…they are all real! They—”

“ARAI!” a thunderous voice booms from within the depths of the blackened sky.

Arai spins, his eyes widening with horror, as a black figure now emerges from the clouds, a powerful black lightning emanating from it in all directions. Into the light now steps the bearded figure of Grendel, the little light left in the sky bouncing off the face that once tortured Arai as a child.
—END EIGHTY-SEVEN—