“MORE TO BEAR!” The walkway shifts and jostles when the golden legs crush closer.
The thin blade that shall meet it chambers high and level to the right of the heroic elf’s obscured face. Painted blossoms swirl lightly in a perimeter that claims further outward from this hero as evil surrounds.
(A speck challenges a golden giant god… but not just any piece of dirt!)
The plodding masses of squirmy misfortunes close too. Their ugly stalks catch the elf’s uncertain semi-solid body of brush strokes with no hesitation after their lord of twisted brass shows none.
“‘Blind and dumb we might be if silvered evil rings…’!”
A current page with its pop-out figures showcases their Rouvenor facing a similar giant of even grander magnitude than this one with Ave’s narration. Those snaky coils sticking to Adris while using her as an elfin shield vibrate with pleasure. Adris marks Ave as the epicenter of safety when the crisp storybook influence gives her wide berth.
(What happens when this show off leaf pounces?)
But all Adris can manage is glee at the potential turnaround before legs give way to collapse him onto Ave’s soft scales. His groan of pain lodges in his throat, but Still claps to Adris’ back when his heart strains from what tries to yank clockwise inside of it.
(Fuck…! It hurts. The more this elf appears, the angrier it gets!)
{RUN! RUN! RUN—!} His pain colors Still’s panic even deeper, for the signal is an endless repetition that’s contrary to her total rigidity as his extra protection.
“Sparky!” Kol’s tail whips when the painted environment that avoids Ave rolls over Kol. Past even Ave the kobold hedges forward toward the crashing giant to stare at the elf’s blade from around his back.
“Feels… prickle hot?”
(It does, doesn’t it!?)
The strangest of nostalgic warnings from within compels Adris to find the thickest obstruction he can to bury himself in or behind, but only Ave can possibly serve.
“‘… yet, troubled and joyous, this reunion when sunshine sings!’” Ave finishing the page’s prose sends its paper figure striding forward.
“NNN!?” A gargantuan monster shrieks when its brass mass wrenches away from the glow which rises from the leaf book. The paper hero’s thin sword unfolds into a reddish-yellow fury of thin sheets “shining” from it.
To match, the illusory knight’s obelisk’s edges heat to a vibrant red-hot of steel ready to melt. Pores open where liquid pulls away from covering the sword’s core.
(D-Danger. Danger!)
The innumerable threads of invisible harm that he can feel filtering through his Inner Expanse grow to become uncountable. Only aura, “magic”, and one other energy cause these distortions.
“Adris!? One’s apparent pain, from illusion!?” Already, as his throat tightens and he gasps, it might be too late to save whoever is within sight even if Neesiette seeks needed answers. Wind rushes from all around to cradle the knight’s deathly needle. It burns with the grotesque heat.
(IT’S THE [FACING]!)
“… THAT… THAT ARROGANCE…!” The abomination notices how the air cooks, too, stepping back instead of forward.
“‘Sunshine’ most ‘Forlorn’!” Ave coos when pores opening in the blade meet swirling winds to explode into flame geysers erupting in all directions. The impossible display is captured then by a vortex to direct fiery gases into a growing cone.
“HOTHOTHOTHOTHOT!?” Like she’s a receptacle for them, Kol keeps slapping her armor. Even a simple bathing in view of this saturation collapses the kobold onto her back.
Adris blood rushes with alien-in-origination regrets and utter cowardice. Rather than brass key’s anger or his own impending sense of doom, a primal terror urges him to escape from the sun!
(That’s bad for Still!)
Still folds up into insect-like death spasms, sending Adris scrambling to mount her instead with cross in hand for protection. The sneak curls up under his shadow as much as possible given her larger size, and their mutual sharing of sensation becomes unbearable when sunlight burns an undead.
(WE’RE ALL GONNA FRY!)
On each side of the porous obelisk sword, now liquid slats open to unveil the core of what sends Adris’ soul burning!
Past Ave and using her as the shield, he strains to experience the brilliance of a solar blossom.
Fingers opened only slightly permit him to grasp another, completed towering giant adding by the feet to Rouvenor’s tale. It sweeps up behind its lesser kin just in front of where the slagged silver rests, so tall that it could seemingly reach for Zennia’s own variant of a sun.
This perfect joining of the arms and legs has a sculpted torso of spartan perfection to armor the slimy existence within. Two limb parts are midget tyrants compared to its original desire for conquering all lands in stinking fluids!
(In Rouvenor’s story, he met this thing already!)
“IT CANNOT BEEEEEEEEEEE!
ONCE MORE, THIS HATED—!?”
A slug’s smushed, hideous face rises as the giant’s head from the story. All putrid colors, it shrivels in horror equaling Adris’. Its mighty arms raise to block, joined by the lesser giant that stumbles back toward it!
“Not alone, nor reluctant; but, instead…”
Behind both evils, a great bell of the same substance hangs between now painted swept supports. Rough brush strokes cover it with tumorous eyes opening from the sleek metal.
Cold and alone, a crackling greenish aura dips upon parchment to electrify it within Adris’ Aura sight. A beacon for something far distant, possessing this bell are feverish longings that promise everything to whoever will listen. Its evil tilts to try to ring against the light to deliver on those promises!
“First Sunblade, that which was called the Birth of Mando—!”
“Shining!”
The knight cuts off Ave by thrusting the comet in his hands forward. The unleashed the tail of exploding plasma blasts toward the bell!
“HIEEEEEEEEEE!?”
“NOT AGAAAAAIN!?
GGYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!”
Three entities, two as twin slimy god beings and the other a cute little snake, all shrilly cry for deliverance when the storybook hero’s scene becomes the birth of a second day.
Adris’ extra-senses burn until shut off completely, and he just clutches Still with her arms wrapped around him. The walkway shudders with a great weight departing it. Hundreds of squishy slurping noises also slop away in the blinding fireshow.
“Madness… be this.”
Alone over the din of searing sunlight Neesiette can be heard muttering.
(Why are you so unconcerned about dying!?)
But none of the presences Adris has come to covet die out when his senses renew. “Illusion alone, so close to True Art even if representing, compelling such unnatural reactions should this not.”
The burning within that leads to necrosis abates bit by bit with Rouvenor’s assault ending. Adris longs for the medicines of the regents and the highest tiers of Xin’reh that can cure the Torchmarked who have bathed in its severest light.
(It’s too late… I’m dead…!)
The sickness will come, along with the wasting of hair and insides!
Vomiting until nothing is left of—!?
“Cease clutching oneself and attend, Emperor!”
“… Neesiette… can you endure the…?”
“‘Endure’? Before question concludes, identify first what must be resisted!”
The doll yanks Adris back to his knees to face the aftermath of Rouvenor’s attack. Ave’s unfolded leaf book lies on the rooftop, open and still progressing the story as the young elf rubs with both hands to try and clear her eyes.
(Where are they?)
No giants are left when Adris scans the area, not even the completed one that towered above at the bell’s height.
The bell covered by eyes that filled his view has vanished, too, with its evil presence that hungered only a fading remnant impression. Only the original melted silver is left where it’s been the whole time.
Slimy everywhere and squishing beneath their feet, the party no longer witnesses slugs that choose not to stay to get turned to dust. Curiously, the walkway is free of new scorching that should have come.
“All of them burnt to nothing, without damage elsewhere?”
“Burnt to nothing by what questions this lady? Leaping instead into darkness below as sacrifice to the absoluteness called ‘gravity’, committed sub-intellects did to this insane action when fooled.”
(They jumped, rather than face the end…?
Wait, fooled?)
“But, that was the Torch-like Sun? How could it be what fools?”
“Misunderstanding? Be not afraid. Illusion only, certified by this lady’s analysis of the pseudo-Art.”
(Illusions can cause pain!?)
Aura Techniques on Xin could compel others to witness falsehoods, but pain was a part of the process of wrenching new pathways in their Inner Expanses. It was not borne of the result.
(Elves can inflict unreal pain…?)
To experience pain simply from believing something to be real is beyond Adris’ comprehension. It ices his pride and tinges his knowledge with an unusual timidity.
“How can that have been an illusion? It was exactly the same.”
Neesiette’s normally placid expression turns positively quizzical, then she nods with something approaching disbelief registering. She leans in closer, a curious gleam in her eyes.
“Partially explaining genetic drift of vessel accomplishes this. ‘Xin’s’ source of radiance, providing sustenance for flora, equally matching the output of a true ‘star’; though, by artificial means via a directional reactor (STELLAR MIXING ENGINE) of some nature?”
(Huh?)
Something tells Adris to wake up, to not respond stupidly, so he merely nods inconclusively at an idea he doesn’t comprehend.
“Provide historical data promptly: unknown sicknesses, tumors, lesions, and especially congenital malformities, the peoples ruled by an Emperor suffered these with regularity?” Very near his face, the perfect features are unnerving when he’s still so amped.
“Malformity? From the Torchlike Sun?”
(The scholars had very old oral accounts written down that said we of Xin used to…?)
It’s an inopportune question though, so Adris merely declines to respond while checking Still. He pats her mask when Still stays frozen with a neutral mouth painted on it. She jolts at the touch, then Adris feels her hidden sight on him.
As he’s still mounted on her, the sneak’s emotions are a torrent of conflicting ones when he relishes in their contact.
(Stop. Don’t think about her.)
When his obsession retracts, Still calms too and slides out from under him. Both rest next to the equally burnt out Kol.
Both sneak and Adris share a long look, then both make the sign for “illusion” that they’d ended up agreeing on. And then Adris looks away with tight body language that is also shared by Still. Unwilling to communicate further at the moment, just seething.
(Why did we both treat it as so real!?)
“Kol, not feel like that was an illusion. That elf…!” Kol’s fist clenches and shakes at the painted Rouvenor.
“A shitty sword…! Shouldn’t be that strong!”
“Sword? Misnomer.” Neesiette seems quite perturbed by the weapon, studying its length before it’s stolen when Rouvenor sheathes it.
(I don’t get you two!)
“[Sunshine Forlorn].” Ave is a ghost when slithering circle-like to scoop up her favorite book. She’d sounded so smitten before, but now is muted to Adris’ surprise. “First sunblade, made by meeting of wind and light and forest at the dawn of our arrival in the First Age.”
“In shape only stated it may resemble a sword. From… Lords of Light no doubt claimed elves the core of this weapon, a memory of fission/fusion. By expertise likely irreproducible, cobbled into a mass destruction tool did a forbidden power source end its former service.”
(Elves could destroy the world so long ago!? We’re meeting a lot of such amazing creatures? Are they… possibly…)
Adris licks his lips while staring between his elf and the painted one.
(ASCENDED BEINGS!?)
“It… always sounded so amazing when used for good’s sake alone…” Ave sounds like she’s going to cry, despite Adris normal impression that she should be awed by her race’s might.
{Leave. The book. Here.} While Ave has a conversation with herself, a witch has a one-sided one with Adris’ back. {Partner, let’s go back. Your precious miracle maker has another way, it’s just back at home and I need to retrieve…!}
(Leave behind? This treasure called “elf”!?)
Adris wants to laugh uproariously at this demand, either at the stupidity of it or Still’s lack of something better with the “anything” offer.
“Moon!? Kol didn’t get anything from victory!”
“To receive recompense, battle must be confirmed or surrender recorded. By what measure would ‘a foe leaping to its own demise when having the upper hand’ constitute victory?”
“That makes very annoying sense.” The dark squire pounds a fist into her other one, growling in despair. “Again, Kol wins nothing!?” Not content to just pound her fist, Kol falls to her knees and starts slamming them into the floor with rapid strikes!
“KOL! ALWAYS! GETTING! PLAYED WITH!?
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
After a time of this, the huffing squire just rests on the now severely dented rooftop.
“… Haaah… Kol is trying to change, but this more like ‘repeating’!”
With Neesiette shifting to pat the kobold’s wolf helmet in sympathy, the all-around mood seems miserable in a way that matches Adris’ horrid cramping in his guts.
(If it weren’t for that book…?)
The Alchemaster’s mansion disrespects all sureties, demanding challenge. Yet even with the world gaining a pink hue at the edges of his sight, Adris can analyze the worst elements that targeted this party’s weaknesses just now.
Golden armor that resists magic and damage, again demanding some special method of circumvention for their mostly-average weapons to defeat it.
Aphrodisiac that has left three people breathing heavily with just a slime coating, making Adris a target during combat by his own teammates with how Kol keeps staring more intensely by the minute.
And the very nature of the enemy such a shock to mentality that even Adris, a boy who lived in the trashy alleys of Zon’til where the stench could overwhelm the heart, seeking to clean himself somewhere else.
No chance was given for victory to begin with.
A reversal of the arbitrary rules of the Castillo implies a change in aggression by it.
(That bitch’s key is no longer “playing”.)
It seethes even harder in his heart with its ambitions thwarted. Of all present though, the most disappointed at their salvation seems to be an elf who droops unenergetically.
“Rouvenor is a once-in-a-world hero blessed by wind and carrying the sun in his hands… that’s amazing, but…? Ave thought that… it’s just, when describing his deeds and zest for adventure, that those victories…
and what he did…
should maybe be…?”
(“Maybe be something you can achieve”!?)
Then it hits him how uncouth it is for him to be sitting on the ground! Disappointment is such an unnecessary emotion when a priceless artifact summons painted elves that can wipe out gods.
“On the path of a hero is where you now trail, Ave!” And only one man is charismatic enough to turn a burning in his gut into an uplifting chorus.
“Hyah!? Adris!?”
“Why is ‘disappointment’ spreading?”
Ave shivers when his arm goes around her waist, then she hisses in fright at how he clutches and urges her to take in Rouvenor by drawing her toward the knight.
“Are we… inferior to him?”
“… Inferior?”
Walking down the spine of the greenhouse and toward the world tree, in the afternoon sun this painted elf begins to flake into nothing as the scene ends and Ave’s book courts a new page to turn.
“Not inferior! JUST PISSED!” Kol answers for Ave, tramping up to spit next to the book. “Stole Kol’s prey!”
“An admirable feeling, Kol, though why care about victory now?”
“Because Kol likes winning?”
“Then, if we want to win…?”
Adris pokes Ave’s back to force her to rear up a bit with shock.
“… then we will many times soon. For, if a painted elf is that strong heading toward the world tree, Kol, then what will happen when ours gets there?”
“Oooooh!? Right, Elf is an elf!” With a single promise of potential, Kol is back to a hundred percent enthusiasm and stomping after the missing Rouvenor. “On to big tree and bigger wind to stuff into our Elf!”
“I…!? Me…!? Don’t be so fast!” Ave blusters, but Kol doesn’t turn back.
Silently, but with mild distemper toward Ave, Neesiette slowly swishes her long dress after the kobold. Both look cute when framed against the immensity of the greenhouse complex and hazy giant trunk.
The fear of again possibly losing them doesn’t measure as strongly against Adris’ elation at having found a cause for them.
(You’ve seen what the possibilities are.)
“I, though, compared to a hero, it’s not fair!?”
“Think of this, Avenalliah…”
“Hmm!?”
Ave’s tail obeys Adris’ touches, and the timid elf’s cheek comes side to side with his as Adris showcases their destination. Less see-through now, even he is beginning to feel dwarfed by its enormous paradise for fey.
“Inside there, a child of the forest like you can discover what mediocrities like the slayers never could…!”
(You have a — LINEAGE.)
From Rouvenor, a hero that turns into a force of nature, to…!
“Ave… I will protect you from the lacking of opportunities.”
“Oh!?”
Though the breeze is absent now, Adris pulls her into it with his own body believing it’s there.
“Because you’ve believed in me, I now will grant that favor back.”
Around her waist and sliding his fingers over the protective scale suit she wears that guards that deliciously milky skin that tastes so sweet, Adris lets their bodies share sensations that are worth more than any rational words.
With her cheek burning so hotly, the elf slowly nods at the offer.
“So, you must do something for me.”
“… What… can I do…?”
Adris whisper earns hers, and then he chooses to throw a little arrogance into his reply.
“For their sakes, you must look at Rouvenor as more than your hero. Because there is potential in you that even you don’t see, you must cast yourself into the ocean to trust that the waves will guide you.
Because… you could be the most important one for…?”
There’s a twitch inside Adris when he whispers this, joined by Ave’s own when she hisses.
“Important… doesn’t sound…!”
(What was that feeling? Nevermind, press on!)
The seduction is so trite with this girl. Resistant, but pliable until she collapses, Adris remembers what she loves.
“Please, Avenalliah… Rouvenor’s story leads to your own destiny, to save your Song of Elveara. Not just for elvish sake, but for mine, too.”
Adris enjoys the shudder that runs through her at being reminded of her personal quest against the Alchemaster, and how it transforms into a promise made to Adris that she never agreed to make just by suggesting it.
(Of everyone here, Ave’s metrics are the highest overall.
She is a powerful child of the wind, I can… feel it!)
“If we are to become heroes as you once desired, then who can be an example?”
Ave bursts from his embrace, slithering to where Rouvenor was standing as if seeking that knight’s back. She huffs so rapidly that Adris wants to pounce after her.
“Mememe…!?”
(Overwhelming you universally gets what I want! Though, that potion of yours makes it harder to swoon you.)
She stares up at the world tree while shivering, then pulls the rest of her tail forward to coil. In the aftermath of a battle that was won by a trick, this elf who should appreciate the joke only brings her hand to her chest and slackens.
“Me?”
Adris pursues to pull up on her ponytail and let it glide through his hand.
“Tell me, Ave: which star can shine the brightest?”
(Manipulating Ave is as simple as…? AH!?)
Ave turns around slowly, facing him just as a spike in Adris’ heart strikes.
Her smile tries to be bright, but lidded eyes are heavy with concern rather than eros. It confuses Adris’ senses even more, folding inward to feel the attack ongoing with more severity.
There’s a coldness slipping through Adris’ insides that leaves him wanting to shake. It comes from all around, pressing harder when Ave lifts her hand to hide her troubled smile.
Something about what she was feeling was contrary to his seduction, but Adris’ mind can’t concentrate to determine why.
(The… key is… it!? Suffocating!?)
The closeness of demise washes through Adris as he tries to discover where it comes from!?
But the feeling becomes only an abiding outrage after this briefest of moments. What caresses his skin becomes just the crisp afternoon air of a mountaintop.
“It…?”
“What’s wrong, Adris?”
The boy surreptitiously scans the area again, in case he missed a hidden enemy to explain the key’s emotions.
{Really? We’re still going there?
… Why are you sweating like a pig?}
Adris’ partner wipes his brow for him with a handkerchief partially soiled by the slime she’s been cleaning from her black mesh and fencing jacket. His frown earns only an extra rub on his cheek.
“The hero’s path, of course.”
{The idiot’s path, of course~.}
A witch with a painted smirk throws up her hands like she’s done with everything, then adjusts her steeple hat.
{We’d better catch Kol before she tries to hump the scenery.}
(I understand that desire…)
Still hustles past his gravitating hand, before stopping next to Ave. Both share a brief look.
{Come on, Ave.}
“Eh!?” Ave flinches back, but calms when Still tilts her head in confusion.
{Let’s follow your rainbow to the pot of gold, okay?}
“… Sure! Although, I still have no idea why it’s doing this, do you know why!?”
{You’ll have a tree full of… elves to ask that.}
The two girls forge ahead in each other’s company, leaving Adris clutching his armor over his heart.
After a moment more, Adris just smiles to himself and follows after the herd of renewed warriors.
Merry as can be…
Until he notices the hand he has held to his chest doesn’t fall away, for a question remains.
One that leaves the coldness in his heart fighting the painful fire.
(Why would Aurumia’s key feel “jilted”?)