My yellow eyes trembled. My sweat was profuse. And my legs had given out.
I was the only one conscious between me and Greed, and the bodies of Snow, Rex, and Zeno lay scattered around me.
Why, now, had two Apostles appeared here? Was I hallucinating?
My skin had turned pale when I saw them. One was larger than the other; he was perhaps the height of six-foot-seven, and the other at six-foot. The bigger one had a muscular physique, evident even in the silhouette of his robes. He was probably the physique of Nash or Jecht. And the other, whom I heard the other call Slayer, appeared more toned, similar to Greed's physique. He was also carrying a large, heavy-looking white cross behind his back—or perhaps it was a coffin… I couldn't tell exactly, but something told me it was more than what it was perceived to be.
But it didn't matter… why were they here? Were they after the Zion Orb as well? I thought they were just taking them from the Kingdoms… why had they come to Lys Anima too?
I began to move my hand to my magic pouch to pull out one of my claymores. I had to do something, even if it might be futile.
I remembered how powerful Pride of the Apostles was. He had singlehandedly taken on every top mage of the Valley and even made Arcane King Daz bow to his knees.
Right now… right now, there were two of them versus me—battered, beaten, and unable to stand.
"Slayer! Look! He moves! I thought he was shocked in fear, but the boy moves!" the larger one said in utter amusement at my struggling.
Monster. I cannot let it all end here, not when I had just convinced that other man to let us leave with whatever was left of our dignity. To be slaughtered here would not be an ending I could accept.
My hand had made it to my pouch, and I pulled out one of my claymores. I used it to help prop myself up onto my feet. It had seemed that my resolve had found my hollow legs as I stood ever so slowly—the two Apostles watching me all the while like predators taking their time with their injured prey.
"Ohhh… this one looks like he wants to fight… can I fight him, Slayer? Please?" the larger one asked like a child.
"You want to play with your food? You're an Ogre through and through, Plague," the other, Slayer, finally spoke. His voice was lower than the larger Apostle, Plague, next to him, and he seemed more of the stoic type than his bloodthirsty partner.
"They don't call me the Ogre of the Apostles for nothing. I want to test his resolve. He looks like a fun opponent." Plague replied, shifting his head back to me. His wide-brimmed hat chimed as the white crosses that dangled from it rested at last.
I couldn't see their faces at all, but I could tell he was writhing in amusement at my strain.
"You called me a sheep earlier… Does that mean you are referring to yourselves as wolves?" I said, my words stronger than I was, "You look nothing like wolves to me. More like domesticated dogs."
Slayer remained still, and Plague laughed maniacally at what I said.
"Oh, by the Keeper! He has jokes! You get it, Slayer? It's because we are wearing cloaks and look like priests—domesticated dogs, meaning we are domesticated priests!" Plague said, thinking too much into what I had just said. That is not what I meant at all.
"You think too deeply into it. A shallow insult. Nothing more. Not everything as a meaning, fool," Slayer replied. Again emotionless, ascetic even, unlike the other.
"Aw… but it would have been a lot funnier if that's what he meant… after all,"—he stepped once, and the pressure from his step made me stagger—"even worthless things become more interesting when you give them meaning!"
I braced myself. I could feel an attack coming.
The large Apostle, Plague, turned the snow beneath him into boiling, purple toxic.
It shot over to me in an instant, and I immediately cast my best shielding spell that didn't need an incantation—I didn't have enough time to cast any other…
The poison crashed into my Firebolt barrier, crackling like lava as it splashed like water on the other side of us. Some of the poison had seeped through, dripping toxic all around us. Some of it had even dripped on my armor, corroding the spots it landed without mercy.
I watched as the poison sloshed. It was like a poison sea. And this spell could have easily killed me had I not chosen to defend.
But then, as if it never happened, he raised his foot and all the poison was gone in an instant. I felt as though I blinked as he dispersed his magic completely and utterly.
"Woops… that was a bit much, wasn't it? I didn't mean to go off like that right off the bat," he said, like mockery, "I want to see what you're made of first before I disintegrate you into nothingness."
He spoke like a gun given to a child, except this child knew how to use the gun…
I don't know what had frightened me more, the immense power of that step without an incantation or hand sign, or the fact that he made it all disappear as if he had never cast the spell.
All the while, Slayer remained. Still and silent like he had been since they arrived.
"I'm gonna sit this one out then," he said, moving at last, putting his hands into his coat pockets and turning around, "Don't take too long… We still need to retrieve the Zion Orb—"
"Blah, blah, blah! Fuck off, Slayer! If you're gonna sit out, then sit out! I'm having fun here," Plague shouted, like he had crashed out.
"Fool," Slayer said as he leaped and landed on a nearby tree, where he found his seat. He leaned back on the trunk with that large, white cross coffin still over his shoulders, one leg propped up, and an arm resting over it, carrying the thing like a mere bag.
"Now…" Plague focused back on me. "What's your name, boy? I want to know who I have the pleasure of battling."
I said nothing for a moment. This man—if he was one—had more in common with a ravaging beast than any human of any kind. "I have no words for a monster," was all I said.
He laughed hysterically again like before, "But you just spoke! But wait… does that mean you actually do want to talk? Perhaps you just need a little bit of a push… here, let me start," he said, again reading too much into my words.
Right then, he transformed his arm into a purple, poison glop. It then shaped itself, becoming a claw of some kind.
He went to make a step, but before his foot touched the ground, he disappeared without a trace…
Crap! I thought. Even my thoughts refused me from cussing.
I shot forward with my one claymore away from my friends. He didn't seem to have any interest in them, so I put myself out in the open where he could strike without them getting hit with collateral damage. Even though three have already passed, I still wanted to keep their bodies in peak condition.
Then from directly in front of me, I collided with his claw on my blade as we pushed against each other.
He was massive this close up. I held my own against his claw the best I could.
"Nice to meet you," he said, inches away from my face, "I am Plague, the Ogre of the Apostles… what is your name?"
It was a poor excuse for a greeting. Striking while politely giving your name and asking the other? His quirks reminded me of Rex's, but worse—and more hostile.
"Ryoku, of the Crimson Dragons," I said reluctantly.
"Ah, the Crimson Dragons! Is Ark still the Captain?"
How did this man know Ark?
"How do you know my Captain?"
"So he is! Oh, that's good to hear. I'm glad he hasn't rolled over and died yet, that blind fool!" he said, again his tone twisted in mockery.
"Answer me," I demanded.
"Boy, you're one-sided," he said as his claw rested effortlessly against my claymore. I felt like I was pushing against a mountain. "Didn't anybody teach you how to have basic conversation? I can tell you're disabled just like him…"
I became enraged. Much like Greed's reaction when someone insulted Asura. For me, it was the same way with Ark.
"Don't you dare…"—my feet shifting stance and becoming more grounded—"talk about my Captain like you're familiars!"
My aura blazed, and I was able to push him back—even if it was only a centimeter.
I heard him click his tongue, and he leaped backward.
"Whoa—okay, okay… I didn't know he meant that much to you…" he said. No ounce of remorse.
"Of course he does. He's my Captain." I said. Stern. Enraged.
"Okay…" he said, relaxing himself to say more, "Then do you know how he became blind?"
"From the Great Magistral War. What about it?"
"Yes, but do you know who did it?" he asked more sinisterly.
I didn't say anything. My eyes were just widened and blazed toward this mysterious man.
"I'll tell you… But first, I want to understand your rage." After he said this, he bolted at me again, and I lost sight of him. I thought it was another frontal strike like before, but he appeared from behind with a wicked slash to my back.
I felt a poison enter from the wound he had inflicted, and grunted from the strike as I began sweating more profusely.
"Ah, my bad…" he said, snapping his fingers.
And as he did, I didn't feel the surging pain that was entering. It felt like the poison had left me entirely…
"I don't know my own strength sometimes; I can't have you dying before I tell you." He said flatly.
I couldn't stand this fight. I could have died twice right already, but he held back continuously. It was as if he was subtly telling me that our power differences were worlds apart… and he was right. He was playing me a fool.
"Come on. Show me more!" he roared.
His other arm transformed into that same claw, as he now wielded two.
He didn't disappear like before, so I reached into my pouch to pull out my other claymore, throwing them down and sticking them into the snow, chanting,
"Firebolt Magic: Mana Fusion: Zeus and Hades Tempest!"
My aura blasted out, and I became that blue form I was known for—lightning and fire split, but as one being. This will probably render me manaless after… but I had no choice.
"Firebolt!? What a rare ability! And you Mana Fusioned with it—splitting the two elements? How incredible!" The sound of his words was like ash in my ears. "I knew I chose the right opponent. You see him, Slayer!? You see how he glows so brightly!?"
Watching the match ever so still, Slayer didn't utter a word. He merely spectated, clenching a fist to crack his hand…
I blitzed toward him, swinging both Zeus and Hades.
And we engaged in a series of close combat, but it had been mainly me on the offense while he remained on the defensive—merely observing what I would do next.
I slashed over and over, repeatedly—either missing or my attacks being blocked each time.
When I landed on a tree branch, the snow fell from it, and I found him across on another. I pushed off, bolting at him and swung; the large tree toppling slowly after my leap.
My sword made contact on the tree he occupied, but he hopped down as if nothing happened and walked casually away as the massive tree behind him timbered.
The sound of its crash sounded as he made his way back to the snow clearing where we had started our match.
"I've been meaning to ask… but what is this fodder on the ground here?" Plague asked, triggering me.
I flew as fast as I could, stopping yards between him and standing ahead of my friends.
"You will leave them out of this," a futile command.
"Well, no shit… they're all dead." His tone was so oblivious, and I had no time to be offended. "Well… except for that one." He pointed at Greed, lying face flat in the snow. "Strange… I don't sense any mana from him… Even when a mage is unconscious, they still emit mana. So, why does he have none?"
"Stop." I said, my rage building, "Stop acting so clueless all the time. Stop acting so familiar. Stop messing around!" Shouting now, "You've made it very clear you are the stronger opponent. Even at my best, I doubt I would be able to beat you—I am aware of that. But even so… if there is one thing I hate, it's when an opponent messes around in a battle they are supposed to be taking seriously. At least let me die like a man and not a fool."
Plague became intrigued with Ryo's words. It was almost like he sparked a light into him.
"Wow…" he said, the closest he sounded to being sincere this whole time. "At least let me die like a man and not a fool… That line was badass."
Ryo burned brightly once more, taking his mana to the brink of depletion.
"Alright then… I'll stop messing around. If an honorable death is what you wish, then I will give you the grandest one!"
Plague's aura roared, pushing Ryo back a whole yard. Greed and the others even flipped back as well from that alone.
Then, without uttering a word or a hand sign, Plague stepped on the snow-filled ground, and a pool of poison emitted from it like last time.
He wasn't just emitting it—the poison didn't just trail over the snow and over the ground… it had become poison itself. His magic… it was awakened.
From the pool of poison he stood over, purple hydras began forming out of it and hovering in the sky. They were so huge, they reminded me of the Phantomdrakes, and even that time I had fought Demi, and he shot out those shadow dragons at me.
As a Crimson Dragon Knight, I had always found myself in situations where I was fighting the enemy dragons, and then, more recently, an actual dragon in the abandoned streets of Lys Anima.
With each felled dragon, I always thought of the irony. And here I was against venomous ones… was it my fate to die fighting against them?
As the poisonous hydras hovered over him, they dripped massive droplets onto the trees and snow, melting them unforgivingly.
This was a grand-scale spell… and to cast it without an incantation or a hand sign, was he a nameless spellcaster as well? Like Star? If so, this couldn't get any worse.
"I never talk about my magic when I fight because, well… I often forget. It's all natural to me after all. What is an incantation? What is a hand sign? I always thought it was the weak who had to shout out their spells. 'Fireball! Fireball! Fireball!'… They all sound like a bunch of fucking losers… Don't get me wrong, though. Your Mana Fusion was cool, and it even had a cool name. It's spells like that that deserve a name… a meaning…"
I couldn't even stop him from talking. The poison hydras hovered and flew over the sky so slowly, dripping their decay onto our snowy battlefield. I was more focused on watching my friends in case any dropped on them.
"I know maybe two or three spells at most… only the big ones that can crumble a Kingdom. Anything else below that should not need a mage to chant; people like that are just a waste. I could never understand the weak because I have never been… but I do try! It's just so infuriating to listen to someone's story who's just going to die anyway. That is why I give them a meaning of my own—you see… what if… their purpose is just to grovel and die when they meet me? What if I am the one who must bring about their end so that stories may be told of a mage who was so strong—a story about a mage who did not need to chant spells, form hand signs, or succumb to mediocrity? What if their purpose was to be fuel for my glorious story? So when people speak of me, it makes them tremble and hope to the almighty Keeper that they do not cross paths with me? Yes… That's it. It's the only thing that makes logical sense. Why else would the Keeper keep putting fodder against me?"
He was insane. For someone so delusional to be blessed with so much power… why did someone like him exist? Why was he my last opponent? What was the meaning of all of this?
I had always been a faithful believer in the Keeper. Never outwardly, but internally, and I let my actions show for it. It was the reason I was who I was. Why I seldom cussed, why I became so virtuous, why I always carried a smile and a laugh everywhere I went. Because I thought the world needed someone like that amidst them.
And here was this atrocity of an Apostle before me with warped beliefs of why he came to be. Why was he blessed to be so strong? Was he right? Was I wrong?
What is right and what is wrong?
Greed… were these the thoughts you struggled with?
I understand why you were so conflicted with it… because right now, I do not understand.
"Because I like you, Ryoku of the Crimson Dragons, I will give you a meaning worth telling stories about. How about we tell stories of how a valiant warrior from the Valley became the steppingstone for the Ogre? How even such a respected and strong warrior had no chance to defeat such a powerful enemy—let alone save his already dead friends."
Shadows fell over my eyes. I began to feel another emotion aside from dedication. It felt like a sin against my beliefs. I knew it was wrong. I knew I should not feel such displeasure. But in this moment… I felt nothing but…
"I…"
"Huh? What is that, Ryoku? Are you speaking to me?"
"I…"
"Oh, come on… What did I do now? You told me to stop messing around. Look at the power before you, understand it! Unlike most things, this power has meaning—it has purpose!"
My eyes blazed unlike they had before, and I knew the feeling was not okay, but oh, did it feel good to say, "I HATE YOU!!!"
When I said this, Plague laughed so hysterically that it had to be the laugh of pure evil. Like a psychotic child who knew nothing but tyranny and bringing pain onto others, watching his food struggle before he killed and devoured it.
"You can put meaning to something all you want,"—I stepped forward with a defiance I learned only from one of the closest friends I've had the pleasure to be associated with; someone who wouldn't think twice but feel his unfiltered, raw emotions, and make the world understand who he was—"but at the end of the day, to others, it's still meaningless. So all your talk about why you are who you are and the justification to treat others weaker than yourself like fodder, it is absolutely meaningless to me. No matter how powerful you claim to be, to me, you are nothing more than a speck of dust at the end of my boot. Even after death, I will die believing that was all you were."
He continued cackling to the point of losing his breath, "Then if I am a speck of dust, and you die by my hand—what does that make you, Ryoku?"
"Absolutely nothing." I replied without a second thought. "And I am okay with that. So long as you continue living, having killed someone so insignificant who still thought little of you. I will live on in your thoughts as the doubt that eats away at your struggle to find meaning in everything. Let the thought of me be a reminder to you that everything you do is meaningless, and you were the true fodder after all in this world."
His laughter stopped. Though I could not see his face, I could feel the blood boil through him. For someone who always had to find the meaning in everything, the thought of being meaningless himself was something he could not accept.
"Not funny anymore, is it? When you find out just how truly worthless you are," I said. My words doused in hate.
"How utterly infuriating you are… and to think, I thought I liked you for a second."
His poison hydras all faced me then, and my blue aura had started fading… Talk about perfect timing.
To think after living my life with the best intentions, becoming the heart and pride of the Valley, that my last words would be that of utter hate toward someone I couldn't acknowledge—couldn't—no… refused to understand.
If there is a Keeper, may he forgive this meaningless man with the name Ryoku. For he will be there soon to apologize and repent in the soul.
The poison hydras roared, and I could do nothing but use the last bit of strength in my body to kick Greed to the side as far as I could. When the four of us disappear: me, Zeno, Snow, and Rex, I hope you will not blame yourself for our deaths. You were the one who inspired us to be who we truly were.
Goodbye, my best friend, Greed…
The hydras crashed onto me, and I could have sworn I saw Slayer stand from where he had been sitting this whole time on that nearby tree.
I closed my eyes to welcome death.
But then…
A familiar figure stood in the way of me and the impending collision.
"This job is beginning to be more of a hassle than it's worth…" he said as he completely and utterly vanquished the poison hydras that charged me.
I was shocked to see him there, let alone be able to disperse this massive attack. I hadn't known him then, and I didn't know him now. But what I did know was that he saved me.
"I didn't let you walk free just to die immediately after. I would have just saved you the trouble and done it myself."
How he looked right now reminded me of Greed, but alas, it was not.