4/11/2017 – 9:15 PM
Location: Central Hall of Rinascita - 1 Day before the war.
The Heart of Rinascita stood unusually silent.
The towering circular plaza, known to all as the Forum of Blades, was absent of wandering adventurers or cheerful merchants. Tonight, it belonged solely to war preparations.
Every chair at the long wood table had been filled — Sword Saints and guild representatives gathered under the pale glow of rune-lit lanterns. Above them, carved in marble, the ancient crest of Rinascita shimmered faintly. It was a town born of riches, framed by virtue, and raised through eloquence. And now, once again, it stood on the edge of defense.
At the head of the hall, Lord Avelric of Rinascita rose — his blond hair catching the light like a banner of authority, black eyes steady and deep with the weight of what must be said. He stood with the posture of a man not simply born to lead, but molded by duty as it's noble leader.
The papered plans laid before each representative remained untouched, their content known, yet he had chosen to speak them aloud. Not from distrust — but from belief. Words carried conviction and faith.
"The grotesques will press hard, as they always do," Avelric began, his voice smooth, as if he had done it before. "They do not fear loss. They do not think as we do. But they move to kill. And we must not only hold… we must cut through and fight back."
Behind him, the grand map of the town flickered with magical ink — an upside-down V taking form in blue light, its lines glowing like veins across Rinascita's outskirts. Five guild symbols pulsed where units would be stationed.
"The Crescent Shield Formation," he named it. "Five Guilds to hold the line and strike."
"This—" he traced the top point of the formation "—is where we expect the grotesques to press hardest. They do not fear pain or loss. But they don't know our resolve either so we'll take advantage of it."
He turned, his gaze falling on two women seated.
"Lady Alina, Lady Sylvia—you and your Requiem Guild will take position along the rear southern arc," he said, pointing toward the lower left edge of the map. "Defensive support. Your job is to keep the town's heart beating. That road leads straight to our inner gate—if it falls, the Forum becomes a tomb."
Alina gave no reply. Her hair shimmered faintly under the torchlight, her expression unreadable—calm, cold, composed.
Sylvia, seated beside her, nodded with a graceful poise, fingers gently brushing the edge of her document as she smiled. "We won't let them reach the gates."
Next, Avelric turned to a tall figure leaning with one elbow propped arrogantly on the table—Aaron Kage, acting proxy for the Valhalla Guild's absent leader. His jacket was slung off one shoulder, irritation flickering in his brow.
"Aaron. You'll join them in the rear, defending the western pass," Avelric said. "That path cuts through our farms—sparse, but open. Too open. If they find it, they'll break through faster than we can respond."
Aaron gave a sharp nod, eyes narrowing, jaw clenched. "Fine. Just don't blame me when I start the slaughter before they cross the line."
Avelric allowed a tired smile to form. "We'll blame the wind."
The noble's hand shifted upward across the map, reaching the flanks of the inverted V.
"Lord Xander, Lady Navina—you'll anchor the middle layers. One on the northeast ridge, one on the west. Your role is to pinch them. If they come too close to our front, you collapse inward. Make them regret stepping onto our soil."
Rinascita's outer ring was a strange blend of wild nature and structured stone. The eastern walls shimmered with faint enchantments—echoes of the Celestial Kingdom's light-magic, while the western side had to be bolstered with mortal hands and hardened steel. These assignments weren't just tactical—they were personal.
Navina, dressed in deep crimson armor flecked with dusk-colored gems, gave a confident nod, smile soft but sharp. "Understood, Lord Avelric. We'll hit them from both sides, like a gate closing shut."
Xander gave no words—he only yawned, raising a hand half-heartedly as if that were enough. But his eyes, even half-lidded, watched the map with razor attention.
Lord Avelric's hand hovered over the map for a moment longer before he slowly lowered it, letting silence gather again. He exhaled softly—then turned his eyes to the center of the table.
"This place... this town... Rinascita," he said, his voice not loud, but firm, "is not just a cluster of stone and steel."
Some leaned forward slightly, others just listened.
"Exactly one thousand years ago," Avelric continued, "the very first Sword Saint stepped into this land. Not born here, no—but it was here they drew their sword for the first time… against something far worse than monsters. And from that moment, Rinascita stood. Not as a village, nor a town, but as a symbol—of humanity."
A hush followed. Even the wind outside seemed to still, as if the weight of old swords hung in the air.
"Tomorrow's weather will hold clear," he added after a beat, glancing toward a scroll passed by one of the town's enchanters. "No storms. No clouds. And thanks to the sensor runes placed across the hills, no surprise."
He looked forward now, eyes sharp.
"Which brings us to the point."
Avelric stepped around the table and faced two individuals seated at the very front: Levi, the Sword Saint of God-Speed, relaxed but alert, and beside him, the calm-eyed Zain, his presence almost hidden from his poise.
"You two," Avelric said, pointing toward the topmost point of the map, "will lead the front—the Celestial Apex, the sharpest peak of our defense. That's where they'll hit first. That's where we strike hardest."
Zain narrowed his eyes slightly. "Why us?"
Avelric gave a faint smile—not mocking, not uncertain, but worn.
"You ask why?" he replied. "Levi—your speed alone makes you a blade faster than death. But it's more than that. You can turn momentum into defense and offense alike. In a war where movement is survival… you are our best chance."
He glanced to the others. "Not to downplay any here, but I've seen enough blood to know: some are made into shields, others to strike. You—" he looked at Levi again— "are the tip of this spear."
Levi leaned back slightly, arms crossing behind his head with a smirk dancing on his lips. "I'll lead," he said simply. "Let every grotesque know that Rinascita's victory rides on my back."
Zain gave a nod. Quiet, accepting. There was nothing more to be said.
Avelric straightened up.
"That concludes the strategic placement," he said—but his tone shifted. Slower. Heavier.
"Now, the political truth."
The atmosphere thinned, like the warmth had been drained from the air.
"Do not expect reinforcements," Avelric said, eyes sweeping the table. "Lucifer Azravael, Demon Lord of the Northwest, has chosen neutrality. No armies, no words, no support. His silence is louder than any threat."
A few exchanged glances.
"Queen Asora Aeralurea of the Elvian Kingdom, too, remains unmoved. No gift or plea can stir her will. Even as grotesques approach her own borders, she holds firm in her refusal."
Alina's eyes narrowed slightly. Sylvia looked down, thoughtful.
"And the Celestial Kingdom… the Divine Family—they have made their choice. They will not descend from their sky-soaked halls to bleed with us."
Avelric's tone dipped lower still.
"Nor will the Asura Empire lend us a hand. We are alone."
There was a long pause. A breath shared by all.
"But," Avelric raised his voice then—not loud, but steady, like a steel flag in the wind, "we are not without hope."
He looked at each face, each name, each soul who answered the call.
"This is no longer a battle between humans and monsters. This is the Alliance of Sword Saints. This is all of us—who were not born here, but came here… with purpose to defend these lands, to defend Celestine!"
Then he stepped forward, and his voice echoed into the chamber's dome.
"When Gods remain silent as humanity suffered—it was mortals that carve fate into the world they created."
He paused.
"And tomorrow, we carve Rinascita's name into legend."
This marked the end of the strategy meeting... Will Rinascita carve it's name into legends or become history?
While being overwatched by Him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------- PART 2
4/12/2017 – 8:25 AM - 4 Hours Before The War...
Location: Main Guild Hall 2nd Floor.
Lucas's Perspective: -
System.
Properties and Status Menu.
Status Menu:
Name: Lucas
Class: Mage
Level: 9 --> 10 (Today)
Age: 15
Attributes:
Strength: 5
Agility: 8
Endurance: 6
Perception: 7
Intelligence: 13
Mana: 8 --> 11
Divine Creation: 4
Skills:
Light-Elemental Magic
Mana Control (Lv. 4)
Divine Protection of Chaos
Divine Protection: Adaptive Venom Synthesis
HP: 450/450
MP: 650/650
I've managed to level up a bit after burning through today's quests.
「 You'd still be level 3 without me. Let's not pretend. 」
Whatever, man. I fed you data, you fed me sources you made up.
Today's the day. The swarm's coming. I could practically feel the tension in the air—like that moment right before a thunderstorm hits, but instead of rain, it's raining knives and death.
I dumped all my points into Mana. No brawn, no fancy footwork—just light and sorcery. If I was gonna play defense, I might as well go nuclear.
System, reserve all mana output until the swarm hits. Prioritize defensive buffering and elemental compression.
「 Confirmed. Try not to pass out this time, champ. 」
As I climb up the stairs, I could only feel the weight of tomorrow clawing at my back like a slow, dragging chain.
Interrogating Sophia was a must. I had to know what happened—what changed my life forever, what tore it into something so different I barely recognized myself in the mirror anymore. Even if it meant pushing her, forcing her to talk, cornering her until the truth spilled out.
...No.
I knew it was wrong. Violence wasn't the answer—not really. But sometimes, when every other door's locked, you kick one open. That was the only option I had left.
Even this jacket—the one the system made for me, lightweight, temperature-adaptive, resistant to mana corrosion or whatever tech it was packed with—felt heavy.
Not because of its material.
Because of the things I was carrying.
A broken promise to myself. Guilt. And a past that wouldn't stay buried about someone.
The hall on the second floor was less of a war room and more of a noble's library crashed into a tactical office. Warm sconces lined the sandstone walls, casting a golden hue across maps, diagrams, and weapon racks. Several guild flags fluttered from ceiling posts—each a different crest, color, and legacy. The smell of ink, steel, and subtle lavender clung in the air.
Classy.
Navina spotted me first. Her bright blue eyes perked up like they always did, shining with that same radiant sweetness. The smile she gave me wasn't just polite—it was warm, like honey in tea. Lovely.
Azrael, meanwhile, looked like he was planning twelve world wars simultaneously. He didn't even blink in my direction. Just furiously scribbled across a ten-to-fourteen-page matrix of something.
"Lucas," Navina greeted, brushing a lock of her golden hair behind her ear. It looked like she'd just come from her own guild meeting—her usually perfect hair was a little messy, like she'd been guiding her members for a while. "You made it."
"I always make it," I said casually. "Even if it's fashionably late. You good, Navina?"
Her smile faltered for just a heartbeat. "I'm... managing. There's pressure. I won't lie about that. My guild's looking to me like I have all the answers."
"And you're not supposed to?" I teased gently.
She chuckled. "Not when I don't know them myself."
I shrugged. "That's fine. No one here knows everything. We'll figure it out together. Just don't try to solo this. You're not alone, Navina."
There it was—that flicker of genuine relief in her eyes.
I jerked my chin toward Azrael, still hunched over his madness. "And what's our local poker calculator up to? Did someone see him smiling alone?"
Navina's giggle made the tension ease again. "Since this morning. I told him about Alveric's strategy from last night, and ever since... he's been doing math."
I blinked. "Math?"
"Equations. Variables. Consequence simulations. He's been at it for over two hours straight."
I leaned over Azrael's shoulder.
It was like looking into the Matrix. Except no cool green letters. Just absolute suffering in algebra.
Something like:
(Xᵃ * Mᵇ) / (ΔΨ - Σ(λ)) = ∞ if T < 4h, else collapse
...followed by about twenty lines of similar cosmic horror.
「 I have absolutely no clue what each variable represents. This isn't math—it's dark magic or conman tactics. 」
"What the hell is he even calculating?" I muttered.
Azrael didn't respond. Just wrote another line. And another. Dude was locked in.
Navina shifted slightly. Not toward him—away. Her posture was subtle, but distant. Like... cautious.
I noticed it. But didn't want to get into her personal matters.
Instead, I looked at her again. Her lipstick was that same deep red—elegant, with that regal beauty. Her dress, navy with golden trim, hugged her figure modestly but beautifully. She wasn't just striking. She was... composed. Even in pressure.
And those eyes.
Blue eyes...
Hers were like the sea on a quiet morning. That soft hue—the kind you'd see on postcards or painted skies. The kind that made you forget about war, death, and all the ugly things underneath. A tone so gentle it could put your guard down without trying.
The blue the sky was when you finally looked up after days of storm.
Navina glanced at me with a soft smile, tilting her head slightly—like she was trying to guess what I was thinking.
I looked away.
I hated that color.
I hate blue.
Because it reminds me of him.
Her eyes were light. Like the Atlantic from my old world—clear, honest, and endlessly open. There was trust in her gaze. There was kindness with a heart present.
But his?
His were nothing like hers.
Three years ago, I stared into those same-colored eyes—same hue, same world. And all I felt was dread crawling down my spine. A subtle, quiet pressure, like I had already lost the second our eyes met.
His weren't just eyes.
They were seals.
To what? I don't even know. Madness? Power? Whatever it was, it made my heart skip—not out of love or awe, but like my instincts knew something I didn't.
It's like…
When you stare long into the void, the void stares back.
That's how it felt meeting Kaiser for the first time.
And honestly? That description still doesn't do it justice.
Navina tilted her head, smiling curiously. "What are you thinking about?"
I forced a grin. "That this is a very well-lit room. Terrible for mathmatics for Azrael."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't press.
Then, softly, "So... four hours left until the invasion, right?"
"Yeah," I said. "We should get ready soon."
She pulled something from her side pouch. A small, ornate wooden comb. Familiar.
"The one from your friend?" I asked.
She nodded. "Yes. I always keep it close to me."
I watched her fix her messy hair. Every movement was quiet, purposeful. A woman preparing not just for battle—but to lead others into it and ensure they live with her to see tomorrow.
And I...
I was ready too.
Or at least, I had to be.
Because I'll save everyone.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------- PART 3
4/12/2017 – 8:43 AM
Four Hours Before the War...
Location: Main Guild Hall, 4th Floor.
Sylvia's Perspective:
I sat at my desk on the fourth floor of the central hall, the sun pouring through the tall arched windows behind me.
Lord Avelric always had a refined sense of nobility—even in the way he had this guild hall built. The structure wasn't just for strength; it was designed for people. Travelers could find rest here, scholars could find peace, and leaders like me could find clarity. Every corner had purpose. Not for grandeur, but for function.
And I suppose that's how I lived as well.
My desk in sylvaris was neat. Not overly sterile, just enough to breathe. Each folder in its place, reports stacked in the order I'd read them, a warm pot of tea set on the right corner—still half full.
Similar to how I set it here as well.
The scent of parchment, light ink, and polished wood filled the air. There was something calming about it, like a mind cleared for thought.
An hour ago, I went over the war plans with my guild members. Lord Avelric had devised a foundation but I had to explain it to our guild members and their roles.
Everyone knew their position once I was done. Alina explained the formation with her usual calmness. Even if she didn't show much in her face, I could tell she understood everything. Her mind works differently—cold, focused, simple. But that simplicity lets her grasp difficult things with little effort. That's something I admire.
I stood and stretched, letting the stiffness leave my back. My fingers brushed through my silver hair as I glanced at my reflection in the window. My eyes—silver as well—held no shine of divinity anymore.
I wasn't wearing anything extravagant today. Just a long navy-blue dress that flowed with grace but didn't stand out. A thin silver lining ran across the waist, a quiet reminder of the past, but no longer a crown. I don't wear gold or gemstones like I used to.
I stopped trying to look like someone above others.
He made me realize that.
That to understand people, you have to walk beside them—
not ahead.
Thanks to him…
I learned what it meant to be human again. To feel. To care. To lead not as someone perfect, but as someone who understands imperfection.
Just as I walked toward the corner cabinet for a glass of water, I paused.
A soft sound entered my ears.
Music.
Piano—low and slow. The kind of sound that doesn't just fill a room but fills your heart.
It was gentle… yet so full of longing.
Like someone crying without tears.
Like a voice asking to be heard, knowing it never would be.
Each note waited for the next, as if they all knew each other since the beginning of music. The silence between them felt heavy… like it was holding a pain no one could name. Then it continued with this heartfelt tone...
I don't even know why those thoughts came to me. But they did.
The moment I heard that song.
Drawn by it, I stepped out of the room. A soft breeze rolled in through the hallway window, brushing the curtains like it too was listening. The wind carried the scent of rain even though the sky was clear.
At the far end of the corridor, lit by pale sunlight, I saw her.
Alina sat by the grand piano—her violet hair almost glowing in the light. Her eyes matched, calm but alive. She was still wearing that same simple white and violet dress from earlier. It swayed slightly with the breeze, like the melody itself had taken form and wrapped around her.
She was playing that song again.
The one I've heard many times.
A song that didn't just play with notes—it played with pain. It touched something hidden deep in the chest. As if it understood sadness more than words ever could.
Alina had always been like this. She mastered the piano quickly, learning every song with ease—sometimes within a day or two. Nothing seemed hard for her when it came to technique. But there was something more in this song. A rawness. Something she couldn't replicate through skill alone.
I walked quietly and sat on the small velvet chair near the window, letting the music guide my thoughts. And as I sat there… something in me stirred.
Memories came back.
Emotions I hadn't felt in years began to rise, like voices from another life. I could remember it so clearly—three years ago, during my time at Asura Academy. A time when I wore power like crown… and kept my heart buried under layers of responsibility.
As the melody sank into a lower, softer tone, my heart started to beat faster.
And not because of the music…
but because of what it pulled out of me.
Feelings I had once buried deep.
Memories that weren't even mine, but felt like they were.
It was as if the music reached into me and said—"You remember, don't you?"
And I did.
Even if I didn't want to.
Even if I told myself those days were gone.
This vision wasn't real… but it felt real enough to hurt.
As I kept listening to the soft piano, my mind painted a scene—a memory that never happened, yet one that felt closer to the truth than anything I had lived.
I was walking alone through a snowstorm.
The wind was loud, sharp. My steps slow. My body cold and weak, and my stomach empty. There was no one beside me. Just the sound of snow crunching beneath my boots… and silence.
In that moment, I felt like a goddess again.
Not the kind praised or worshiped. No, the kind that stands too high, too far away, to ever be touched by warmth. A figure meant to lead, to stay strong, to never ask for help. Because gods don't bend. They don't fall. And they certainly don't show weakness to those beneath them… right?
But I did fall.
I collapsed into the snow—alone and tired of pretending. I closed my eyes, ready to disappear from a world that never was mine to live, only the image of who I was supposed to be.
That's when I felt it.
A hand. Warm, steady, connecting.
It wasn't heavenly. It wasn't wrapped in divinity or power. It was human… but it meant more than any god's blessing I had ever received. It pulled me back—back to the world I had turned away from.
To humanity. To the small, flawed beauty of being just a person.
He didn't say anything. Just stood beside me, holding my hand, helping me walk through that blizzard. His presence was quiet, but it told me everything.
His blue eyes didn't shine with pity or pride. Just this calm... this silent message that I wasn't alone anymore.
And for the first time, I leaned on someone else and saw them as person.
Not as a goddess, or a leader, or the perfect noblewoman I was raised to be—but as a girl. A girl who had been wandering too long in the cold.
Alina's music pulled me deeper into that vision.
The piano carried a sadness that didn't just echo—it resonated. Each note was a soft ache in my chest, something familiar, like the parts of myself I tried not to think about too often.
I placed a hand gently over my heart. I could feel it—those memories pressing in. Some were real. Some weren't. But they all hurt the same.
Maybe that was the truth of it. Maybe his eyes—the ones that held that endless blue void—took something from me. Or maybe… they gave me something I didn't know I needed.
A sense of humanity I had forgotten. A reminder that I wasn't meant to be above everyone.
I could still see us, walking side by side in that storm. And when I leaned on him, I wasn't afraid anymore.
I trusted him… with my life, my heart, my everything.
Then—just as the piano reached its most fragile, most delicate part—Alina made a mistake.
A single wrong key.
The rhythm cracked. The feeling was gone.
That song that once held my pain so gently… it lost its voice.
And just like that, it became music again. Nothing more.
She always did that—every time she played it. She would come so close to reaching the end. So close to finishing it.
But something always stopped her.
"Alina?" I asked softly.
She didn't look up, but I knew.
Even if her face was calm, even if her eyes didn't shake, I knew that silence of hers was heavy. She always made a mistake at the end—every time. And every time, I saw that same flicker… hidden behind her stillness.
"It's alright, Sylvia," she said after a moment, her voice steady, but faint. "It was just a mistake. I'll try harder next time."
"I know you will, Alina," I replied gently, standing up and walking closer. "You can take your time."
But as I reached her… I saw something I hadn't expected.
Her fingers had stopped above the keys. Her eyes were fixed downward. And for once, she wasn't hiding it.
That look on her face—it wasn't empty.
It was hurt. Quiet, deep hurt… like a wound that had never been allowed to heal.
"…Why?" she whispered to herself, clenching her fists tightly. "Why do I always fail at the end?"
"It's okay to make mistakes, Alina," I said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Don't be so hard on yourself…"
Her hands trembled slightly under my touch.
"It's always this song…" she said. "My first song. The only one I can't play."
Her voice carried something unfamiliar. It was pain. Pure, unguarded pain.
"Your first song?" I asked, my curiosity and concern mixing together.
She hesitated, her mouth opening slightly before closing again. She looked away, as if even saying it would break something inside her.
"This was the first song Master taught me… it was his song."
Her master…?
I remembered the few times she'd mentioned him. She always kept those details quiet, brushed them off with cold words or avoided the topic entirely. But I could tell—he mattered a lot in her life. More than she ever let on.
"Sorry…" she said, lowering her eyes again. "I didn't want to bother you with it."
"You're not bothering me, Alina." I knelt beside her, gently brushing her hair out of her face and resting my hand on her head. "You've been with me since the start. We've built everything together—you can always share something like this with me."
For all her coldness, all her control, she was still a child.
Fifteen.
A girl who carried the weight of a Sword Saint. Who led because she had to, not because she ever asked for it. And in this quiet moment, with no one watching, she wasn't heartless.
She was just tired.
"I wasn't really the type to have people to talk to…" she said quietly, eyes still on the piano. "Master was the only one who… taught me anything. Everything, really. Even this—this feeling of love for music."
"He was the only one who spoke to me even..."
There it was again. That crack in her voice. Not weakness—no. It was something more childlike. The sound of someone remembering a part of themselves they had buried long ago.
"I play music… to express how I feel. When I can't express it anyone. I just… play. This was his song. He played it for me the first time when I was hurt."
I sat down beside her, leaning slightly forward to glance at the notes. "Did he really compose this? It feels… honestly... Heartfelt."
She nodded slowly.
"This is a song about a heart too full to speak," she said, echoing the words with soft reverence. "When you let the music become your voice. That's what he told me."
For a moment, there was only the faint sound of wind brushing past the windows. And her eyes, still locked on the piano, seemed to shimmer—not with tears, but with something softer.
"What's its name?" I asked gently.
She hesitated, then whispered the answer like it was something sacred.
"…It's called A Silent Voice of Love."
"Your master was your everything, right, Alina?" I asked, my voice soft, a hint of concern edging through. I could see it in her eyes—the longing, the absence.
"Everything... I am today is because he was there for me," she replied, her gaze drifting out the window. It was as though she was looking for something, or perhaps just lost in memories. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and for a moment, I wondered if she could still feel him somehow—his presence, his influence, even though he was no longer here with us.
I understand that feeling. I thought, the thought echoing deep inside. There was someone from my past who helped me, someone who shaped me into who I am today. I, too, am in debt to them.
"How was your master like, Alina?" I asked, genuinely wanting to understand, to hear more from her.
She was quiet for a long moment, her lips pressed together in hesitation. "Do you really want to know?" she asked, her voice carefully guarded, as if she were afraid of revealing too much.
"Yes, I do," I replied softly, pulling a chair closer and sitting next to her. "If you can, tell me about him. I want to know."
Her eyes flickered, and for a split second, I saw the walls she'd built around herself crack, just a little. She exhaled slowly, collecting her thoughts, and then, unexpectedly, her voice softened.
Her true voice. The one that rarely surfaced.
"He was always there for me... when no one else was. He never treated me badly. Even when I was at my worst... when I didn't understand myself, he always spoke about me, never about himself," she started, her words coming out like a quiet confession.
"He was good at almost everything. Flawless, even. And no matter what... he was the only person I could trust with my life."
I could hear the emotions in her voice. The love, the admiration. It was raw, untouched by cold logic she used to always express. For just a moment, I saw the real Alina—the one behind the mask. She wasn't the cold, calculating person the world knew her as.
She was just a little girl, who once had someone who cared for her.
She reminds me of him now. The thought hit me with a sharp, almost painful clarity. I knew I didn't show it often, but I could feel it. These feelings were still fresh for me. It's only been three years… But still.
He may not have been a good person, someone who cared or loved others... or even knew what love was like.
I didn't know how he treated others. But I knew one thing. He helped me become who I am today.
"He may not have been... human in his methods, but I suppose my own strength was brought back to me because of him," Alina continued, her voice distant again.
I couldn't help but let my mind linger on those words. His methods weren't human, but... they worked.....
That was far too familiar to me... far too much......
Could... it be Him?
"Alina..." I called her name, pulling myself from my thoughts. She turned toward me, her eyes curious.
"Is your master's name... Kaiser Everhart?" I let the question hang in the air, my heart beating just a little faster.
Inhuman methods.... but still remaining flawlessly and winning at the end... that was the only person I knew him as.
Her mouth parted slightly, but then she closed it, and after a beat, she answered. "I don't know who that is, unfortunately," she said, the faintest trace of confusion in her voice.
"His name wasn't Kaiser Everhart. I know I never told you his name before... His name was Aether."
As she said that, she gave me a small smile—just a little one. It was a smile I hadn't seen her give in a long time. One that came when she thought of him.
"Aether," I repeated, tasting the name on my tongue. "I see."
It wasn't him, I guess. I had been half-hoping that I might see a glimpse of Kaiser in a long time, but I couldn't deny Aether's qualities.
I guess there are other flawless beings in this world after all. But there's one thing that'll remain as the truth...
Nobody can reach his potential, not even when he's not trying. I had seen it firsthand, and I had suffered the consequences of going against him. I'd been foolish enough to think I could stand in his way, but now I knew better.
There was no one else like him. There never would be.
I exhaled sharply, pushing those thoughts aside. Enough of that. This wasn't about him anymore.
I focused back on Alina, her faint smile pulling me from my thoughts.
"Hey, Sylvia..." Alina said my name, her voice steady but carrying something more—a vulnerability, something I hadn't expected.
I turned to her, surprised by the change in her tone.
"You're like a sister to me... right?" She asked, her voice softer.
I stared at her for a long moment, and the words hung in the air, thick with meaning.
She had always been so distant, so controlled—never giving anything away, always measuring every word, every action. But here now... She was finally letting herself open to me.
A sister? It felt strange to hear it come from her, but as I looked at her—I realized just how much she had grown. She wasn't the same Alina I had met years ago.
"You are like a little sister to me," I said softly, my voice gentle. The words felt right. "I've always seen that in you."
I reached out slowly, hesitant at first, but then, instinctively, I pulled her into a hug. I felt her stiffen for just a moment, but she didn't pull away. She was letting herself be human for once.
"You're not alone, Alina," I whispered, my voice quiet but firm. "You don't have to express yourself in music anymore. We're in this together. You can always come to me if you need anything."
She didn't say anything at first, but I felt her body relax in my arms.
And as we stood there, holding each other in the quiet of the moment, I realized that this was her beginning. She had taken the first step toward healing.
Only thing that remained as a huddle was the grotesque war… that was in the next 3 hours.
Alina might've taken her first shaky step toward trusting someone outside of her master, and good for her—but I knew better. She was still far from being normal. Far from being someone who could live without wearing her coldness like protection.
That smile… that warmth… they weren't habits yet. They were flickers. And flickers die fast on the world.
I smirked to myself as I held her in that quiet embrace, the warmth not quite reaching my own chest. Because deep down, I knew the truth.
The war had already ended the moment it began.
Someone… had gotten his interest. Someone out there made Kaiser Everhart choose to move—to partake in this war. Someone special enough to make the Marionettist walk onto the stage himself to protect them.
That someone must be special. Truly special.
I've only ever seen him do that for Elfie—sweet, precious Elfina who practically had his undivided attention since the beginning of the academy. She had this deep connection with him. So I do wonder… who is it now?
So special, in fact, that he's bending the order of things again. That he's sewing the strings onto others just for them again...
It can't be a male, right? If it was just a friend, he would've helped. Maybe with a whisper, maybe with a plan—but never like this. Never with blood on his hands.
Ugh…
I won't lie. It makes me a little jealous.
Imagining him standing behind someone else. Fighting for someone. Choosing them.
What do they have that I don't? What makes them worth his time, his power, his attention?
I'm special too, dammit!
I'm not just another noble!!!
Ugh, forget about that, Sylvia. Don't spiral.
Whoever this person is… they must be something else. Not just beautiful. Not just powerful. No, to get Kaiser Everhart's attention—his willingness to act—they have to be something unreal.
Something carved from another world.
Actually no…
Getting Kaiser's heart is like trying to catch a shadow in a collapsing void.
He doesn't give it away. It's not something you earn with time or affection. You can't bribe him with beauty, or bait him with power. His heart… it isn't even made of the same material as ours. I think it doesn't even beat, and always is unreachable. You can't earn his trust or love...
But now I wonder…
Was he the one wanting her?
Or was she the one keeping him?
Only time will tell me the truth. And when it does…
I'll be watching.
Very, very closely.