Take Up the Cross – Chapter 102: Fanciful and Terrifying, A Heroine’s Tale

A song rivaling the Elveara will be sung by the lindimaitari, their high voices filling the sky with an aurora of notes!

 

Against the wickedness of the impossible mansion upon the hill, with its high halls teeming with vicious hearts that seek to trample maidens, all that is good about the world now joins under the falling orange leaves of a false tree to lift a banner.

A banner of a black cross, that unites fast friends from disparate places, friends that hold hands…!

 

 

 

“Ain’stol varrum, fa’turh venat!”

 

The voice of a bosom companion from this very morning thunders with an order barked out, shaking the resolve of all present as it commands its fell legions to nefarious goals. His arm sweeps wide, exuberant in his thirst for conquest.

 

(Why are we fighting, again!?)

 

Trinkets jangle, foretelling of an imminent doom despite how he offers a cherubic smile while slicking back his crop of black seaweed hair.

These possessions’ names are known to her, for the man spoke eagerly of their finest qualities in order to match each of her own tales.

 

 

 

Soon, despair will descend, claiming them all…!

 

 

 

“[Obscuring Sonjil]!”

 

 

 

Breath taken away by a voice filled with malice is gifted back by the words of a prince who sweeps his own arm, demanding the fiendish tide crash against a barrier of white!

His sonorous words command the fog from beyond, as he leaps tens of feet forward in a heroic advance. Brought low are the ill-smelling, human despoilers slavering toward the great beast of carnage. The thin, exotic beauty at his side shines with darkness streaming from her head, sliding forward like a hovering wraith to swing sharp steel in his wake.

 

Blackness of obsidian god tool steals her eyes from the sword beauty, for a valiant prince with a heart-stopping smile…!

 

 

 

(WHY ARE YOU LEAVING MEEEEEE!?)

 

 

 

The eternal salvation of the delvers, he who leads those who plumb this crazed manse made of shifting sludge that inflicts crippling cold on scaled people, chooses a path opposite of others’ needs!

 

(Where are you going!?)

 

Her eternally dark sun vanishes into the thick mists, depriving spring of the warmth necessary to endure the creeping resurgence of winter.

 

But…

 

(That’s… that’s fine!)

 

For he is not the only hero assembled today!

In addition to the true hero Rouvenor who stays aloof when unbeckoned, fast friends are nearby…!

 

(A cunning plan he has, just like always…! Therefore, I just need to find Kol to…)

 

 

 

“YOUR BLOOD, MY STEEL!”

 

A rampaging disaster of epic proportions storms forth after prince.

 

The ever-decisive, clanking white champion, bathed in scent of blade oil and musk, charges into glory with the tall hunk who is a vision of comforting strength.

 

(Mmm, right, that’s what Kol always does!)

 

 

 

Night claims all sight, as the fine friend who ever straddles the line between mortality and safety brings inevitable doom once more, abandoning the weakest upon the battlefield to seek personal glory in place of sacred duty!

 

Black armor crafted by evil hands of earthen fire departs to seek lupine lifeblood, granting both reprieve from its hunger gnawing at an elf’s soul and also unease at the unraveling tale.

When the hunk with a comforting aura that makes her squirm, and an unbridled body that ripples with each movement which makes her blush, graciously nods his head at the elf and vanishes into the gloom…

 

 

 

(… Where is… where is Still! She’ll save…!)

 

 

 

With hands hopefully clenched, the heroine turns toward her last refuge.

Two flanks formed to protect the miserly soul that brought on this confrontation with evil!

A place of constancy is born there for an elf, too, even if the reminders of rejected touches sting. Never once has this wonderful, sisterly comrade forsaken the covenant of friendship to abandon…!

 

 

 

(Why is that woman even more terrifying than my own problems!?)

 

 

 

Crackling air that smells of sulfur and firestone stains the tongue, as what makes up the invisible world is set alight! A great dancing of sparking green lights spills out, striking wantonly and at random upon the lands, flickering even toward an elf that shrinks back!

 

All hope of salvation is dashed, replaced by lingering dread as the horrors two witches brew unleash.

 

This oldest friend supplicates before a power far greater than any recorded in the annals of stories, save for those born during the First or Second Ages. A skull of vile, rainbow crystal tilts its hinged jaws open, breathing in the cataclysmic display that dwarfs a lightning storm.

 

Sinistraud Spell-King, Annualis the Progenitor, or any other True Kin harbinger of the deepest secrets of mistral weaving would shudder to face a friend’s dark matron!

 

A womanly figure wearing an upturned, dead rose dress imperils the mortal world with its reeking presence; for, her grand adornment flowers at the bottom, yet turns thin, twisted, and constricted as it chokes above. Clad in the bluish-blackness of rot, the stringed brass coins overhanging her hidden face do not even clink as powers collide.

The hearts of all observers would grow equally still, should they seek to also peer into the darkness of her deep cowl.

 

Crone-like spirit of death that she is, an honored sister is named as her “apprentice”; yet, no elvish mentor’s warmth is felt in the cool iciness of her voice, no matter if a constant savior raises a hand burdened by familiar doubt.

 

(… Is she… where you belong…? Would I look like that if I found that?)

 

Withdraw, fools who dare listen to this tale, for the blinding duel honors the memories of the ancients as the two let their tools dance to unheard voices, drawing up their strong castles with towering, burning wards as ramparts!

 

A singsong spellcaster of uncertain sanity chooses a wall of green eyes to start with.

Seeking to deny sight, their stares steal away…!

 

 

 

“If you’re that interested in what the rabbit bitch is doing, perhaps I could provide commentary?”

“Excuse me…!?”

 

Though cruel before, squiggling forward comes a kraken claimer with much kinder tones.

 

(I’m… I’m alone…)

 

Hand upturned and offering, curling tips invite just as another’s often do, along with a smile seeking to charm; but, this attempt to banish clouds does not free the reconciling moons above.

 

The heroine’s heart doesn’t yield, nor does her tail quake.

Even if he is a gentleman with prose, sometimes this new friend…

 

“Um… sometimes… I wonder if you don’t realize how you present yourself might be found uncouth, Mister… Orloss?”

“For… a lass such as yourself to say that is quite troubling, I think.”

Softly spoken, yet his eyes wander with a glint of reproach!

 

(I’m sorry!? Am I wearing something wrong?)

 

Once more, the words of her people are shared as the customary clothing of her kind bears inspection.

 

The Alchemaster’s horrid home and all the shocking nature of it pales in comparison to when his first words rang out, for this gentleman shared a familiar tongue that tasted sweeter than the honey she nibbled upon. Its deep woods origins brought curiosity as to how he learned it, so intense as to consume her!

Burning leaves gently falling around them glitter like his own eyes, trapped behind his colored lenses they do shine!

 

“Despite the situation, I’m overjoyed that we could talk alone! And alone we’ll be…”

 

At these words, the man’s curio comes out!

Shaped like a whirligig, into the air he tosses it. Spinning immediately, it hovers above, muffling completely, as the heroine knows, thoughts shared below.

 

(But I’m alone, so it’s dangerous to talk by myself…)

 

“There’s been many misunderstandings continuing through this evening! [If I could only share a chat with you once more like this morning…]”

 

A voice with succor so plentiful that not even the recollection of when he’d been invited to sit could be found, his participation at her brunch flowed as though he’d ever belonged.

When the questions started, only after she’d found exuberance in their answers had the room grown fuller and more bustling, pulling her from this dreamlike encounter.

 

“[… perhaps we could avoid unnecessary troubles and find common ground?]”

 

This proud voice questions once more with a smattering of uncertainty that is both sunny and cloudy, recalling the memories of a youth which inflicted both wonder and despair upon a small snake.

Such questions invite the past to reach through the haze, a storybook style speaking with syllables that linger in her pointed ears…!

 

 

 

Crisp is the snap as she awakens in another’s arms, staring up into eyes clear as crystal lakes.

 

“Presence and peace of mind secured would be, if with unclouded eyes ever we’d see.”

“Hmm!? … What was I doing?”

“Forgetting the temptations of oft a forest scamp, one slid almost into the whims of a weaselly tramp.”

 

With black eyes that neatly shine from within, a handsome hero that spoke to her as if she were a royal sports remarkable ears. As long as her own, though he once was of “those fated to end”, Rouvenor is instead…

 

(True Kin! I’ve… met another elf…!)

 

Horrific clamor surrenders to the aura of confident gentleness he broods with, unsure as he is about the subject of his gaze. A sculptured jaw, proud yet demure, and gentle smile, one that plays upon the senses with how there is a hidden taste of teasing to it, speak all that needs knowing about his soul.

Sacred mithril guards his agile form, made with unhammered windcrafting of the eldest weavers from a time before the wind ceased whispering what the future may bring. Beneath its metal, the gentle roots of Greenhate wind artfully around body that is its loam. Eternity dwells within a once-human form!

Though desperate struggles have started elsewhere, in this fabled man’s arms, she…!

 

 

 

“‘Tramp’? Tramp? Are you not the one who looks like a forest hermit!?”

 

Outrage, ire, and venom!

Rising upon on viscous tendrils, the true villain of the night that seeks a dear rival’s slavery raises his voice and directs a waving nightmare of a transforming black cane.

 

 

 

At this order, evil’s minion leaps upon the stage.

 

Born in slanted steel, such full armor leaves a lasting image of himself in motion due to the acute angle its sun-kissed surfaces share. Layers of protective cladding underneath whistle unintelligibly as he moves, their frayed metallic ends only mimicking the shrill call of elfkind.

All about him is wrapped cindered creepers, burning still with the embers of eternal pyre!

Heralding the days of the horse-born braves, those who split the orcish hordes at the great plains west of Giosa, his double-bodied helix lance does as he points it.

 

Pressure hums within the two great dragons’ mouths at their bases, rumbling louder until the yellow flames can be contained no more!

Racing up the lances in a spiral, the punishing fires shoot like a plunging star!

 

(Wowww, fast.)

 

Only with an elfish hero’s gentle sweep does the heroine avoid the sound-snapping, burning missile that explodes far on the manse’ walls. Meek as always, a tongue slithers out to taste the burning of her own hair, a few kindled curls floating away to join the night sky from the tip of a precious ponytail.

 

(Oh, I’m going to fry like a yard bird again, huh?)

 

The vile slayer that comes to Orloss’ aid becomes the enemy champion, staring them down behind a swooped falcon’s helm that surely hides a demon from the abyss’ face within; for great plumes of smoke rise from its aft holes, taking the semblance of horns that trail behind!

 

“Can this bitch’s puppets hit nothing!? Never count on unproven Numbers!”

 

Certain death grasps for them as the peddler’s cane’s unfurled mass bursts outward to punish where slayer fails, devouring all…!

 

 

 

(AHHH!? ISN’T THIS HAPPENING RATHER SUDDEN—LYYYYYYYYYYYYY!?)

 

Whipping winds send her ponytail lashing!

Though ever furious and indecipherable to her when she calls, when the man whistles instead, the zephyrs lay their slavish praise upon him!

They roar their lusts for his own breath to add permanently to their own, as the whole world spins with purple streaks that seek to grasp and smack on her flapping tail as she takes flight!

 

 

 

Blades of spun air clash with a cage of flesh, denying stranglehold, until everything becomes a whirling, whirlliiiiiiingggg…!

 

 

 

“Ugh… uhh…”

“Console oneself right and quickly, for it be no time t’appear as sickly.”

 

At a great distance dizziness passes, for the foe has taken the field at afar.

But distance is no great threat to such a foe!

 

(Where is… a hole? It doesn’t have to be very big. Ave can fit…)

 

At the ending of the world, even an elf can only seek to survive.

Trained eyes, honed by many years of escaping from devilish women, seek a way.

 

“Perhaps one worries by how a fight may end? Ponder instead how we’d set it to mend?”

“Hmmm!? Mend… for who!?”

 

 

 

(What… who… am I fighting for, anyway? Why am I fighting? Why are we… any of us here…!?)

 

 

 

The day that had been picturesque turned hellish.

Even the gloom of Petripolis was banished by earlier sunny successes, though it’s not apparent now.

 

“You’re gonna insult me, then scurry away from your paddling? Ho, I suppose you’re an elf for real with deviant tastes like those…”

The anger that drills out is just as real as the tentacles that rapaciously upturned the garden floor! Painting a picture of the fall of a kingdom’s castle town does the debris about, as the apocalyptic monster confidently seeks the moving keep that touches down.

 

When forced to stand, an elf can manage, for the wind is no illness to a true elf!

She is a true elf, for she stands beside…!

 

(It really is you… Rouvenor, hero from beyond the forest, he who came to its salvation uninvited and achieved immortality!)

 

With clouds momentarily clearing above, the dual lights war to shine down.

 

Absent a single implement of war, the whisperer to the winds instead stands with only blessings to count upon! With wind’s grace, a hundred and one grand foes were promised defeat before him, proved as he gallantly stands between a fiendish friend and herself in order to…!

 

 

 

“To this impetuous, unrelated wanderer speak naught; avail words to the noble girl that you find yourself besot.”

 

(DON’T TELL HIM TO TALK TO ME!)

 

Villainous Friend Orloss grips his own face with a covering hand, finding shyness at the command which others might misunderstand!

“‘Besot’ has implications that I don’t find relevant to the situation at hand! But, why waste words on another puppet, haaaaah…?”

So, too, do they bring shyness to a blushing forest flower!

 

“I don’t see him that way and he doesn’t see me like that, either! Nothing about his cultivated appearance should make you think I have lecherous feelings for him! Stop insulting him, please, Rouvenor!?”

 

Impassioned plea, spoken despite a terror brimming in her heart at others overhearing, seeks to free a scary brunchmate from being—!

 

“THAT ALSO IS CRUEL!”

“I’M SORRY!?”

 

Speaking up, an act that is ever hard to force with the world being so vast and imposing, produces more pain as the man screams out while arching his body.

 

A crack and a boom!

Lightning, supernatural yet real, splits a tree made of crystals only feet away at his flicking finger’s behest, further displaying the disparity in strength!

 

“I was only trying to make him respect your privacy…!?”

“Believe me, young one, I understand your inclinations toward ‘good will’, but be more predictive of the impact before speaking your mind…”

 

 

 

This man had come to her sanctuary of gluttony and honey when a boisterous girl had left. With questions and tales, and questions and crystals, his overriding need to grasp her flowering life blossomed into a complete surrender of that tale by her.

Even more difficult to comprehend than a boy, this man had asked…

 

 

 

“… Was it all a lie to get to Neesiette?”

 

A question asked once is voiced again, despite the futility others protested.

With the hero at her front staying silent, she must again rely on the care of others rather than stand for herself when she chooses a childish question.

Eyes of a fair maiden water, for the fairy tale says that cruelties come before the resolution…

 

 

 

“Hm? Bahaha! No!”

 

As if understanding is in an instant, the man cheerily declines to crush her dream.

Slapping his side and sending his possessions shaking, they ring like the hanging silver bells of the mystical paths of the old Myths.

 

(No?)

 

An answer which declines, means…!

 

“Despite how endlessly you droned on about yourself while smiling oh, so smugly when it was about your ‘smart ideas’…”

“I’M SORRY!?”

“… I found our chat quite endearing! Poetic, even! Of all of the things I stand to acquire shortly…”

 

Loosening his kind movements and swagger, the true villain steps forth!

Sending her stumbling back with the imposing aura of his dominance, tumbling on the path to oblivion as she shivers…!

 

“… I truly look forward to learning all there is to know about you, Ms. Avenalliah! Nowhere else could I discover such an oddity!”

“… Thank you?”

Given little time to think, a polite response should be best, and yet…!

“The mere fact that you consider me a friend… though it should be discouraging and pathetic on some level, the fact that you can be counted on not to lie makes it… endearing to be called that by you. What Numbers never grasp, is that Pillars carry the load together…”

 

(It shouldn’t be a lie…! After all…!)

 

“You told me about yourself, too, not just the stars and how they guide us!”

Rising up, the heroine feels her heart overflow with this withheld thought, desperately voiced!

“I didn’t understand at the time, but wasn’t ‘the annoying bird keeper who constantly looks over my shoulder’ talking about Mister Kestner!? What of your ambitions!? About how you were trying to rise up, seeking to gain a number like—!?”

 

A secret shared, one that connects two souls, is proof of…!

 

“Sharing things said in confidence isn’t what friends do, huuuuuh!?”

“RIGHT!”

Another screaming reproach sends eager eyes full of hope staring at the ground, hoping that the rushing, dizzying blood won’t send her down, too.

“Where did you learn what a friend is…?” The man squints his eyes with displeasure, born not of conflicting ideology, but social inadequacy of another!

 

“Right… That’s… I…

I… haven’t ever learned…

what being a friend is fully, maybe…?”

 

(Nobody taught me! I don’t have many to begin with, and with them…!)

 

 

 

Of a fiery friend, all is ever under her control. Energetic and scary.

Of an independent friend, all is ever dependent upon her mood. Distant and concerning.

Of a doll self-proclaimed from the moon, friendship is an impossible claim.

 

Even of a friend, one whose body tastes like honey and the impossible night.

 

(What am I…?)

 

Whose touch is like liquid fire wrapped in skin!

A voice that turns words into pleasure to bounce in her head.

He promised so many things, didn’t he? Everything she ever wanted was mentioned somewhere in his breathtaking demands, yet…!

 

(… Even that… closeness is often…)

 

 

 

Such a friend and savior seems ever capricious at times, for never once does he return to claim what might belong to him, possibly, should he but ask?

No fairy tale starts or ends like this, where the prince plucks the purity of a flower, only to leave its petals to fall upon the ground as he departs…

 

(It was exactly like a fairy tale that day and night, so why did after become so…!?)

 

 

 

“From our discussions, you sound awfully unsure of the world outside of the depths. Could it be those four are all you know of friends…?”

 

(… They are…)

 

Though Petripolis accepts, does it truly befriend?

Where from among its own can one claim comrades?

 

“Though valiant to defend another, especially a partner, I’m sure you know there’s no hope of prevailing. But, why suffer an outcome you don’t deserve?”

 

Silent now, the great hero places his charge upon the ground.

So that she must rise to face the peddler who pushes away his champion, approaching once more with open arms.

 

“If you were to refrain from interfering, I’d be amenable to changing our wager for struggle? Why not prove a voice of reason…?”

 

(Reason? What reason is there? We came here because…)

 

 

 

Behind, a brutal nemesis sits perched on the legs of an equally brutal man, like a petite princess within a cruel king’s embrace.

Already, his many servants have sought to end the freedom of the brave rescuers. Even now, with his composure there is sureness of superiority!

How he looks down on those who he makes fight within his garden, unwilling to step in personally, perchance he offend!

 

(Adris said that… he set us up. Even now, Neesiette doesn’t help defend herself or her friends!)

 

Those who walked into their potential defeat are now cast aside…!

 

“Why not return what’s owed to me, and we’ll protect those unrelated?”

 

(… Could we be free…?)

 

Freedom is so close to being lost.

One long fought for, won only once.

 

“Yes! If you look so lost, I can only be kind!

Give her up, and I will—!”

 

 

 

Sharp is the line of death drawn from the fog!

Its milky redness bisects the world as it travels, rending dark from light and screeching so loud that…!

 

 

 

Slayer twists and jukes, throwing round his great lance after preserving limb from the demise which drives past! In the wake of destroyed lands, a starlit raven bursts from the mists with sword held high.

 

“INTERRUPTIONS ARE ALWAYS MULTIPLYING!

ANA’CHERAI! COOK HER, YOU FOOL!”

 

A maddened octopus lays forth his own tentacles, whipping bout as this dusky lady weaves between appendages with jumps aided not by wind, but something else!

 

The slayer’s helix lance sparks!

 

“[Coal Fire Blight!]”

 

Multitude are the blasting spheres born of dragon’s breath, launched aloft to hum and swirl as they seek to alight upon this new attacker!

 

“By my side remain and pray not wander; for terror springs from mists yonder!”

Rouvenor finally acts, taking the brunt of all threats between his charge and unknown trouble as fires blaze!

Danger sufficient to rouse the hero sends her to his back!

 

 

 

Eyes like dull obsidian glint, before this harried warrioress clenches sword to self.

While streaming fireballs collapse upon her from above, rainbow steel comes alive with burning red, thrashing the air to the roar of a hammering heart!

 

Tens of blades are born in a moment, a volley like elvish arrows shooting all about!

All seek the sky, to carve it for eager hands to pluck free!

Immortal stars shatter, when a blade smelling of rage deeper than fear’s black blood claims the heavens!

 

 

 

Every smoldering fireball splits in two, the fire’s horrid wake brought round herself with each stroke completed! Devastation rakes the vanishing mists behind, before tentacles smoke with flashing yellow left in kind.

 

This war goddess drawn into battle speaks not a word, for edge states more than any prose could afford!

 

(That woman was with him! If it’s her, then it’s also!)

 

While the slavers turn to face this presence, from their flank a shadow chances out into open.

Lit by the approaching wave of sword maiden, he twirls in the air before clashing with cross!

 

When obsidian strikes, gonging bells ring to announce a consuming vengeance’s surrender!

 

Toward the slayer it rebounds while shrieking, and into the man’s back it carves out its glory!

To the sky destruction’s wrath does climb, carrying off much of his armored suit!

 

“Bahaha! Right! Two of them there were!”

 

Toward a prince the peddler unhooks a book inlaid in silver and gold.

This holy tome is flung headlong, deposited lazily into the youth’s path.

 

“[Preaching Tom], show him the light! And keep him busy while she suffers my ire.”

 

From it springs a thick-robed man when it opens with a clack, who bows his coiffed head before he lifts his arms in praise.

Upon his shining old face benevolence lays!

 

“[SURRENDER THY WILL TO THE HEAVENS, AND CONFESS YOUR SINS!]”

 

All about do pages fly, carried by whirlwind to ensnare sinners!

Into holy man’s path and without deviation, a dark lord of black skies smiles with contempt as he bursts on through!

Pages combust when he sweeps his cross of bane, before preacher deforms with axe-like cleave through brain!

 

“HAH!? You certainly look evil enough for that to stop you!?”

Though Orloss might protest, with him this short king seeks no contest.

 

 

 

Into the slayer both masters collide!

 

“[Swords of Gaunt]! Change UP!”

 

Helix pulls free, with each dragonhead parting.

One man takes on two others, with swords born of unwinding poles that burst into sunlight. Carving up ground and cloth with equal zest, these wicked, slinging weapons wage war against cross and sword.

Without breaking or severing, each is masked by a dreadful power!

The air booms incessantly with each ear-rocking blow that might end all; for, though slayer is fair of arms, boy and woman move as two bodies with one soul!

 

As viper and weasel, they dance madly around dragon!

Claws out, the king of fire lashes, but receives only nips back!

 

Where one would feint, the other does strike; foot to knee, blade travel high, and head suffer ringing by sky-leaping brave!

 

To chase the boy earns the woman’s impassionate rage, a war escalating that is hers almost solely to wage!

Clashing head on with the beauty brings the beast’s tricks, for round angry dragon a loop of golden weave is thrown that sticks!

 

When the great lizard drags away with violence, the gleaming rope comes free of the twirling noble.

A dozen vials sparkle like diamonds as they snap toward prey!

 

 

 

Stinking, burning, and vexing are the tastes that assail!

Into purple flames bursts the slayer, cooking within steel kettle as he smells of burning dung!

 

With damage thus delivered, antagonists… grow more frenetic…

A truly… horrifying display of carnage unfolds after, when kneeling wild beauty leaps into unveiled weakness!

 

Horrifying, because red becomes her edge as she wets it upon…!

 

 

 

“What are your doing!?

… Manu’vehri, intak-dos~…”

 

At first incensed, he who is most dangerous lifts his frock-sleeves and incants a sign well known!

Sky rumbles darkly and monster of depths squeals!

 

A mumble brings the brutality of purple bolt from kraken arm to boy’s turned back!

 

(It won’t hit! DON’T HIT—!)

 

 

 

Fear drinks deep from a well now cheerily tapped, when cross swings swiftly to leave bolt simply slapped!

Thunder claps off silver screen as it flashes brightly round squidlike self, leaving Orloss hooting as the ground begins frying beside!

“Now I get what you see in him, little girl, if he can rebound my pet’s worst!”

 

(What I see in him…? Is it… only the capacity to conquer that I may find…?)

 

Though attractive in a way that she doesn’t comprehend, for him to be only a ruler casts a pall over her feelings.

What is seen within him becomes uncertain, for there is no elegance revealed in a deathly waltz now begun.

 

 

 

In weakness the slayer struggles, flashing like rainbow with the multitude of Talents he asserts.

But against a duo without hesitation, joined by unseen bonds, even the mightiest slayer of Petripolis must succumb.

 

Over and under, around and on by.

Their movements never-ending, though his grow fewer with time.

 

Like acrobats they fight, putting elf-kin to shame.

But then wolves they lap, at the blood they then claim.

 

(There’s nothing beautiful about this…)

 

 

 

Into beasthood they descend, as shadows grow less distant.

Neither flourish nor beauty claim them, as only death approaches soon.

More like madmen they swing and bite, yet their faces betray not a sign.

 

Of the horror, or knowledge of it, growing within each spectator.

 

 

 

In only a minute and more…

 

 

 

Heart is pierced through shattered steel,

while cross claims head for the absolute kill.

 

Two forms drenched in crimson red then turn, back to back as they watch their world burn.

For fires burn that drink not of magic, but something more horrid.

Becoming brighter and more chaotic, as the two’s touches grow torrid.

 

 

 

(I’ve never seen Adris look so…)

 

The story abruptly takes a turn for the worse,

When upon an elf the prince’s eyes alight with a thirst.

 

(Scary… Adris, you’re… scary…)

 

Though strong, never once have his torments added to such sums.

At the side of a blademaiden this kind prince, like a demon he becomes.

 

On his face is not kindness,

but a smile born of evil delight.

 

As he strokes the dark sky’s living face, their relationship becomes clear.

 

(Who is she…? How can I compete with her…!?)

 

Heart races, world ends.

Though salvation seemed close, her body is brutally abused by victory.

 

“Away from him, hearken! For the tide does darken!”

Distance grows with Rouvenor’s gale, setting foot upon soil that they have not tread.

 

 

 

“Ahh… Ser-ras… (LOCUST FLOWER)?”

 

Over the corpse of the enemy champion,

Blood begins to boil at a name now called.

 

“… What was I… doing, forgetting how much was left undone…?”

 

(Were you always so… heartless looking, yet also smiling like in love?)

 

 

 

The winds that ever hate a snake-like elf cry out in pain as hungry darkness raves out.

 

Where once broken garden existed, replacing it is soon a field of gloom and low hills.

Shadows play at edge of view, while voices cry out in language unknown.

As the world surrenders in full, to islands broken and floating in sky.

 

A battlefield of bodies presents for inspection.

 

 

 

“OHH!? What is this!?”

Blustering against the tide that births, many charms come to Orloss’ hands.

He shares in a heroine’s fears while watching two bodies deform.

 

Fear finds anchor and thus plunders ocean!

Everything that could ever go wrong gains form!

 

 

 

“Ah… ahahaha! Right!? We have… enemies all around us…”

 

A boy clings to a grown woman who kneels, trembling as curse from within reveals!

 

“… Weishum vuo dahnjen yochon pe siquing?”

 

Light becomes dark, order reverts to chaos, and thoughtful savior becomes predator!

As the evil prince’s kind, cruel words are voiced to the barbaric lady before him, all else to him matters not.

 

 

 

(You’ve never once said something I couldn’t understand.

How did I think… that meant that I understood you…?)

 

 

 

Cross does ring, though its holder rejects!

On his heels he turns, so that a devil projects!

 

Darkness comes over him, bleeding most from a mask ever worn.

When it drips down his face, no skin left is shown.

 

In blackness he cloaks, while his companion roars loudly.

Blood becomes her guise, as shining hair flaps proudly!

 

 

 

(My heart is breaking…!? Something is… leaving!)

 

… A painful feeling is what is left, as if ripped from her love is, to give back to another…

 

 

 

Into the vortex of their apotheosis, this roaring night sky turned into typhoon, it vanishes. Whatever an elf surrendered to these horrors desired does upend!

 

“This… is getting a bit troublesome.”

A peddler licks his thin lips, before weaving hands around and yelling himself.

 

“But I’ve got a cure, I do!

[Gift of the Depths: Ten-Thousand Shipwrecks for A Sea God]!”

He rises above them on long tentacles, sharing his decree that their world should end.

 

Flashing bolts timidly strike, before the whole field lights!

In waves the purple lightning effortlessly flows, crashing down and washing over all its advent froze!

 

 

 

… The horrible tumult blinds and fractures, leaving a poor girl from below swept away in the arms of another yet again…

 

(Stop it!)

 

 

 

The might of the spell does nothing to halt them, even as it tears at the world that their fell whispers gave birth to.

Clad in dark they surge, committed to drop him; like a church before collapse, shadows share their same hue!

 

Around Orloss they synchronize in dance, as each charm or tool is brought forth to resist!

Where variety is cut down with brutality, with powerful enchantments he finally does desist!

 

“Bloody fast little creeps! AHGM’EN IRU’KAL!”

 

Tentacles are cut free, too, as the weapon made of them screams.

With each act of violence, the attackers deviate more from their natures.

 

In an elf’s eyes, they grow ever more fiendish, denying the miasmal grapplers that spring forth from ground to claim them.

Nothing Orloss calls forth is nearly as wretched as distinct twins.

For their appearance is as though a nightmare has begun and is never to end.

 

 

 

“Rouvenor… what’s happening to them!?”

“Uncertain that would be; though, always what we see?”

Her guardian stands ready to intercede, yet still coolly awaits while questioning.

With Orloss pinned down, at their sides he should jump to aid!

 

(But those two… will surely cut Rouvenor down, too, if he gives his back!)

 

“But, can’t you… do something!?”

To him she cries once more, uncertainty clouding her thoughts.

 

(Do something! Solve this!)

 

“You’re a hero! Fix this, please!

You can do… anything—!”

 

To her he turns, a flash of anger tinging a fine face as he hisses,

“To demand of another without grasping your deepest desire…!”

 

before he resumes his watch, tension disappearing ever more.

“… can one be called an [elf] if their heart drowns in mire?”

 

Words spoken tersely wound and disquiet.

Though painful to hear, they prove ever right.

 

(I’m not an elf… if my heart isn’t free…?)

 

Maiden weathers and stains with thick blood, as petals of lotus wind down as living red to overlay fine hair. Where arrogance once thrived, now her stance holds only bestial strife!

 

A prince grows taller, while his tool of power turns liquid and viler than before. Fine clothes made by Still wear ungentlemanly, shredding in garish ways that offend.

But no attention to impression does the man who bears them show, for the smile upon his lips is as inhuman as it is faux.

 

Surpassing mortals they easily do,

as the power within them, that which buzzes in an elf’s heart, continues to grow.

Upon their selves umbral gleam still creeps, to sup upon dread that without ceasing seeps.

 

 

 

(They’re becoming monsters. Like, shades within the dark fey wilds… thriving on horrors that they deliver themselves…)

 

In moments, such a transformation spoken of in lore may become permanent.

For when tasting the lifeblood of their evil work, those afflicted never wish to return to before.

 

 

 

… Subtle doubts about niceness drew her ever closer to him. For beneath his aloof, seemingly honest surface, were hidden depths of possible vice that sent her blood burning…

… Even if a man with flashing cruelty pulls at her heart, to see him reduced to violence alone is a terrible fate…

… The only friend that has ever talked to her and believed in her tales, no matter how obvious or dubious they seem to be, is about to [die]…

 

 

 

“Rouvenor! Will you help me!? My desire… I want to save them!”

A scream is enough to bring knowing attention.

To her side, the man leans in closer.

 

“When spoken, my name alone proves nearly enough; yet, the situation ahead grows ever more tough.”

 

Of the dire warriors that place all upon conquest, Rouvenor refuses to elucidate further.

An aloof man shows patience and disinterest in equal measure, but the elf who has to save…!

 

Rouvenor’s hand finds her face, stroking it gently.

“Of a solution for them, only from you it may stem?”

“Me!?”

 

All the wind calls of elves are still forbidden from her grasp.

To sing to spirits is to write ones own epitaph.

 

(I can’t do anything that won’t hurt them, too!)

 

But as she thinks further, the source of problem seems local.

For the prince didn’t turn until set upon enemies of the heroine.

 

And the way he turns…

 

(Wait, wait, wait! If he’s… like the shades of the fey, then send him away from the corrupting source!)

 

Ideology drives conflict, and shades are no different!

If belief gives birth to evil life, then another’s faith may send them away!

 

“Banish… them?”

At her halting answer, a noble hero only nods.

 

(I have… I have to save them…)

 

 

 

… But to do this marks a pathetic surrender. Because, the power to banish comes from a gift long since abandoned…

 

(… But if I don’t… then…)

 

 

 

The thought of this vile-grinning tyrant that dances ahead becoming all that is left of the prince… is…

 

 

 

… Forward she slithers, though it will always be useless…!

… She raises her arms up high, letting those enslaving bracers be witnessed by all…!

… Even if she calls out for an elvish god, it burns what remains of her hope to rely on…!

 

(“Auntie”! Please! DO SOMETHING!)

 

 

 

“Pellaeon! Intercede on my behalf, according to ancient oath!

And… [Banish] them!”

 

Foul earth rumbles as she praises it with hidden intent.

Its coarse spirits exult the name unsaid, as that goddess’ wrath wakes.

 

From bracers of rough metal and gem, a divine supplication produces a blinding display!

A favored daughter calls upon another to voice a conclusion!

 

 

 

“… GAAAAAHHHHHHH!?!?”

 

With a lancing darkness raised to bring down on her,

the ambushing prince turned almost wholly monster screams in terror of the advent of a snake goddess, being consumed by holiness that he would normally scoff at. Face becomes unseen with reflected luminescence, his horror streaming behind him like burning smoke as it’s driven back.

 

Every fire, corpse, or mystery born by their spirits dissolves away.

Every footprint now covers, as battlefield becomes dust.

All signs of their passing fade with the hissing sight.

 

Their existences are forbidden, as their bodies are unbidden.

Darkness inverts once more to light, as what they are succumbs to their plight.

 

 

 

Into the distance both escape, surrounded by the fears that wrapped around them.

Black typhoon departs, roaming toward a blue-hatted sister’s direction.

 

(Still can deal with that! She can fix anything!)

 

 

 

“… Thanks?”

“HIIE!?”

 

With the voice of uncertain praise issuing from only paces away, the awestruck girl who is revealed in weakness fears for her end!

Even if darkness retreats, the journey itself is now through!

 

Every tentacle will soon smash, grab, and squirm into—!

 

“I’m not such a cad as to win by default, you know?”

Dusting his frock-coat, the final villain of those who oppose the manse’s defenders sounds unusually contrite.

 

With a swishing, cutting breeze, a heroic duelist is once again before her!

Despite prior times, Rouvenor’s strong back and billowing cape strangely seem ready?

 

For something to start…

 

 

 

“To aid others is not wrong, so I shall thank you. What Numbers never comprehend, in their impatience, is that we Pillars are not inimical to one another.”

“… Is that… so?”

Almost silent as he begins, the peddler with colorful glasses takes on new interest.

Though catastrophe rages elsewhere, especially with a kobold’s bold yells, this man seems confident to entreat his enemy himself.

“We do struggle against each other, as all siblings do, but our fellowship is real! Only Master Brother Peak matters, after all. All of us are yet parts, not the whole, but all together the sum?”

Whimsical is how his story flows, leaving the listener wondering how she relates to this tale.

“And, as such, we, in our own way… well, we… value strength of character. Conviction. Obedience, yes, but also belonging!”

Soothing and solemn once more, his voice invites, like fairies dancing upon flowers, yet with amply more vice.

 

(Those are things I wish I had…)

 

“Rather than be extinguished with great pain… why not simply seek a better life path?”

“A better path?”

 

Such a way through with easier stakes…

 

 

 

“Let us be clear: Miss Avenalliah, your heart is not crafted for fighting.”

 

… That statement is a knife, with a mangled heart accepting it obediently…

 

“You have no bravery to spare. After listening to you for most of this morning, how troublesome your childhood must have been?”

 

… Seeing right through someone is what the strong can do. Those with wits and the willingness to use them; for those who are witless, no matter how smart, they can only learn to hide or say “yes”…

 

“Your friends are not what you thought they were, I take it? That is fine, friends rarely are! Rather than linger in the Grand Collection, where often relics are… ‘abused’…”

 

 

 

… Abuse is what the mansion delivers!

At the unavoidable hands of strong men, everything may be taken…!

… Held onto for so long in the hopes of finding love, a foolish endeavor almost always ended in loss…!

… Just as another said…

 

(I should go… go…!)

 

 

 

“Why not simply surrender, and be left to go home? Zennia is not a safe place, especially topside. Why not go—?”

Dour and sour is her voice, as… as…

 

“… I can’t go back. There’s nothing there but pain.”

 

 

 

… The tale is always ending before it begins…

… No matter how bright one tries to make the world around them, “reality” is crushing…

 

… The wonderful sky in stories? It turns out, it’s too tall, so high that one vomits…

… The crowds of smiling peoples, with tales a plenty and big hearts? Instead, their cities are too wide, too uncertain, and too disgusted with those who wish to talk…

… All of the adventures that one reads about, they always end well, but almost every adventure with them has been…

 

 

 

“Ahhh, an orphan priestess? How strange? I was sure that those snake women took care of each other, even if their society is very stringent and stratified?”

Alluring is his voice, as he offers a crystal statue.

Of a tall, regal man wearing armor, within appears a tag as beguilement fades.

“No matter, no matter, look upon this…!”

 

Number Nine-Nine it reads, offered to a girl who has nothing much left.

 

“Come to the Mansion! Join the Pillars of Zenith as my comrade!”

“… What? I… I have my…!”

 

… Salvation is at hand. Like everyone before now, a way out is offered…

… No matter how dire, the “blessings” always seem to direct her elsewhere…

 

… Away from the forest, the air she’s yet to taste, which within a world tree was almost so close…

 

“Oh? Yes, your friends! Let them come, too!”

“… Huh!?”

“Of course! From the beginning, I wanted to col—

Ahem, gather you all! This battle is only a formality, a terrible mistake!”

“A mistake…?”

 

… There are always mistakes…

… Choosing to leave in the first place, that might’ve been the biggest…

 

… But the pain grew to be too much. Being desired, and sought, but never for what she wanted to be…

 

(I want to be…)

 

 

 

“Right! A mistake, when you could be together once more! Surrender, help me to make them see reason, and I promise, right now in fact, to amend the terms of our struggle! In place of dire warnings from earlier, I will allow you to stay together! I can even make a special area just for you five! Within and in no trouble, wouldn’t it be wonderful to grow closer?”

“… Just… us?”

“Yes! Aside from a few of my closest aides’ intrusions! I’m interested in all five of you, even the nightmare child! What that doll is, kept from me for years, I long to learn!”

 

(… It’s always about her…!)

 

 

 

… “[Jealousy] is our motivator, our raison d’être. If you don’t feel envy, it’s because you’re dead, little freak.”…

 

… Thus had been spoken by a pearly vixen who embodied that feeling…

… Though confident and strong, that terrifying queen had never once stopped wanting…!

 

(But… I want them, too… Those [friends] that always seem ever distant…)

 

“I don’t want them to leave me…”

 

 

 

… Into despair it’s easy to fall.

Especially, when you’re climbing out and the distance isn’t far…

 

… Just slide back into the deep, dark pit…

 

 

 

“Right! This is perfect, then! A girl who sees reason…

Okay, become wonderful little subjects added to my private collection! Don’t worry about danger: I am strong enough! If ever that is in doubt, you first I will save, I swear!”

 

… The congratulatory peddler chatters on further, offering dreamy solutions to the dimming world around…

… While others struggle, a snake girl clenches her hands, pitifully hoping that the world will move on by…

 

(Because… I am pathetic…)

 

… Never once has she won…

… All the others have strength that she’s never found herself…

 

“Ahhhh, how grand! I’ll build a room for you with a pedestal!

A perfect tree for you to coil around!

Wouldn’t that be comforting?”

 

(HUH!? No… no… not again…!)

 

… Memories of hands and tails, groping and savaging her…

… A never-ending nightmare called “worship”…!

… All for the sake of someone named…!

 

“‘Daughter of Daala!’

A prime example of your kind… if a little odd with the ‘elf’ delusion? And of your friends, why, they’re rebellious now, but soon they’ll learn to be obedient like y—!”

 

(YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE!)

“… You can’t learn anything about others by locking them away…!”

 

“… ou…!

I’m sorry, excuse me?”

…He gets furious…

… He…

 

 

 

Terse he grows, when the emotions change source!

Yet smiling he remains, as the heroine stays course!

 

“Only when others live their own lives do you discover them, who they can become! … No… no wonder you never discovered anything about Neesiette! You treated her like a doll, instead of as a person!”

“We never learned anything because she wouldn’t talk! … Should’ve prodded her with more divinations…”

“What!? How cruel! If you stifle growth, you will never discover ‘truth’! Do you… not comprehend what it means to be locked away from sun and stars, despite yearning for them with all your heart!?”

“Mercy me? Of course I do…”

 

To the infuriated maiden, the peddler raises a throat collar he grins proudly to show!

 

“I am a Pillar. My life belongs to Master Brother Peak Zenith, high up in the mansion is where I seclude. Until the day that I decide to challenge and usurp him, he is my brother and owner!

With pride, I—”

“How horrible!?”

A screeching elf’s voice pricks upon observant ears, sending Orloss flinching with the subtlest tears.

 

(Self denial is the ultimate death! No wonder you’re twisted! You’ve been dominated by another’s life path!)

 

Rubbing his eyes, the evil collector from the Castillo starts smiling once more.

 

“How is that—?”

“People can’t be what they’re meant to be if you lock them away! Mister Orloss, no matter what you think you know about your… well, collectibles, you know nothing!”

“Excuse—!?”

“Neesiette is the finest example! I’m not sure what that smug buffoon was like when you had her, but since getting out, she’s blossomed into an even more insufferable wretch! The plainly dumb things she’s said with absolute certainty would drive you to cry!”

“… Truly!? Like wha—?”

 

Rapid fire are the accusations that spill forth, with elf, proud elf, approaching to stick a finger to tentacles that seek to forestall her!

 

“Listen here!

I don’t know what your methods are, but only in the world at wide may the true natures of others be seen on display! Ah, of course!?”

 

(Right! The wild! Elves… elves belong in the wild!)

 

“Rather than locking us up to observe, why don’t you come out of the Castillo and come see places with me!?”

 

An offer to shake hands and tentacles is batted away!

 

“What drivel is this? Now, see here—!”

“See them!? Yes! How can you say you know a thing without watching the wind play upon it!? The Tree of Life, have you ever gone there?”

“Eh? No, I am too bu—?”

“It’s so wonderful in the story! Let me explain…”

 

In destroyed garden, a vibrant picture is spun.

Of travels yet taken, of a life only now begun!

 

These glorious places, spread far and wide,

Across the lands of Zennia, we—!

 

 

 

“STOP! HOLD!”

“What!?”

“You’ve become awfully exuberant… What is with your changes in moods!? You still can’t defeat your better, and now you’re close enough for…”

A creeping tentacle carries a crystal statue, close enough to almost touch—

 

 

 

Swishing winds immediately forfend, as into their currents a maiden will ascend!

 

“INSUFFERABLE, MYTHOLOGICAL, POINTY-EARED, BACKSTABBING…!”

“Rouvenor!?”

“ENOUGH! CHAU-F’ARGH ME’HD! I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF ELVES FOR TODAY!”

 

Touching down again, this action changes all.

For Orloss enrages, ready to bring their fall!

 

“If you want to discover ‘truth’, then FEEL it with the ionization of the wind you crave!”

 

As kraken lord draws upon rampaging, roving clouds which form above, the hero drops his charge.

Forward he steps, without fear!

 

 

 

Behind him he chambers an open fist, holding onto nothing.

Before him, he raises an arm with naught strapped upon it.

 

“Spoken truly, one’s trembling heart; braver now, you’re finally art!”

“Rouvenor…?”

 

(What… this almost feels like I’m in…?)

 

 

 

“One’s own story be we ever a’writing! Forget not oneself with foe we’re a’fighting!”

Poetic in all cases, just as written in his memoirs of travels, this elf hero blessed by wind now shows spirit.

Rebellious is his tone where previously placid, something of a fire burns in his empty heart.

Upon his body, Greenhate’s roots pulsate!

 

“My story!?”

“Aye, ‘your tale’ it be so.”

“I can fight with you!? REALLY!? Ave…! I… I WANT TO!”

“Then, now… be ready to go.”

 

His fist held behind him flexes, inviting a missing element!

 

“Though ill-equipped to fight solely for oneself, one’s blessings may become the arms of an elf!

And so, of you I beseech:

 

Grant me the noblest, peerless sword,

fit for the hands of a First-Born lord!

Upon my arms shape an implacable shield,

so my foe’s lightning be turned, ever sealed!”

 

“Are you not forgetting who you were speaking to prior, little one?”

An angry foe, now being ignored, storms forth to menace of his own accord!

 

(MEEE!? Wait… wait, sword and shield…!? The… [Calling to Arms]!?

You’ll die, you’ll—!

 

… Wait.)

 

Rouvenor is a hero blessed by the winds, but the specific passage is clearer in the texts:

“So that no harm may come to you, every gale shall be kind and true.”

 

(YEEEEEES~! I CAN’T HURT HIM~! I FORGOT!)

 

 

 

Towering overhead the maiden does, coiling up suddenly to speak.

All of her view, and beyond, becomes to whom she screams!

 

“[OH HIDDEN BLADE AND SHIELD BE GIVEN LIFE, TO BRING SWIFT END TO ALL EVIL’S STRIFE!]”

 

(With all of my power! HAAAAAAAAH! AUNTIE, GIVE IT UPPPPPP!)

 

Even if it’s the earth that cries out, it’s the wind that answers the call!

 

A terribly… angry wind!

One that… desires to bring harm to a specific voice!

 

(SAVE MEEEEE!)

 

 

 

“HUH!?”

 

Orloss screams out as well, when a great tumult collapses from above to crash through gargantuan limb and branch.

The sky’s clouds swirl toward a champion, slamming into him like a hammer from heaven!

 

(I’VE BROKEN ROUVENOR!)

 

But that thought turns into lie, when the winds cheer out with relieved cries!

 

With shimmering sword and shield the hero twirls, lashing about at a crop of tentacles’ curls!

 

“… You… you’re not… just a Daughter of Daala…”

“Hmm!?”

 

Sweat more profuse than spring rains slides down her skin, as the heroine seeks a place to be unseen.

 

“[Mortal Heir] of Daala…? You’re… what… why would such a treasure even be up…!?”

“SHHHHHHSSSS! SHHHHHHHSSSS!”

 

A hissing joins shushing, as the elvish heroine begs words to stop!

 

“Ahaha… ahahaha! You’re…!”

As one man collapses into a collector’s frenzy,

 

“For what reason does one act?”

the other asks a very direct question sans whimsy.

 

(I act for…!? I…)

 

 

 

… To not be a slave again, to not be an object of worship, to be…

 

(I want to be free.)

 

“To escape chains…”

“Be that all?”

 

(No!)

 

Looking past her champion to the tentacled peddler chattering to himself, his hands stroking his head as he loses sanity in discovery of another, the heroine…

 

… A girl named Avenalliah…

 

 

 

“I want to save my friends!”

“… How kind, but foolish.”

A teasing man with a strangely familiar face snorts.

“Foolish!? Maybe!? Also… I… want to… save…”

 

When he follows her finger, the hero laughs contemptuously.

“Save one this cruel? Become you, a fool?”

“NO! … He isn’t always difficult! His heart opened to me earlier, despite frustrations! He’s just… his mind needs correcting!”

 

(Never once did he deny being my friend… and he looks like he could use one like me!)

 

“Ah, how will you cry red tears after, when failure comes with stinging laughter?”

 

(I won’t cry! I won’t… fail…!)

 

 

 

The hero wastes no more words, simply lifting his sword to the heavens just vanquished.

“Oh, my, very well! Then, let us compel…”

 

A sword of wind slashes forth, scattering glittering seeds upon the ground that shine like gems!

 

“HMMM!? That’s… will I get to see!”

 

(SIGNATURE STYLE!)

 

As roots upon an ancient elf pulsate, calling clear rain from above to soak the false soil.

Seeds crack open upon kissing water, digging deep as green rises from them.

 

 

 

“I… I HAVE TO SAVE YOU…”

Unlike a man now, the crazed collector surges forth.

“… TOO VALUABLE. YOU’LL DESTROY YOURSELF IF LEFT FREE!

SO, BE—!”

 

 

 

“[Be consumed, wholly and all, by a wicked fate.]”

Sword swings wide behind, as shield raises artfully high.

Rouvenor, Human-then-Fey, takes on the stature of a true hero.

 

(SO COOOOOOL~!)

 

 

 

“[As you soak the roots of the forest Greenhate.]”

 

 

 

Steamy fey mists spring up from seeds!

Lines of brilliant emerald green wriggle out, cutting through the yard and dividing it!

 

All that once was vanishes,

All mysteries obscure!

 

Kraken and orange tree both depart, replaced by arched forests that curl around ancient ruins.

 

Canopy above is merely the first tier of greenery on high, as below tempts with burrows and dens that dig to earth’s depths!

Trees-upon-trees invite home their True Kin,

While promising horrors to those who bring din.

 

As impossibly wide and vast as all other Myth, Greenhate the Wandering Forest is replete with withe.

For enormous elms connect by unscrupulous vines, with undergrowth choking passage for those who don’t belong.

 

Crisp breeze flows, bringing scents not experienced for centuries.

As powers that avoid scrutiny awake within demesnes just always out of view.

 

 

 

“This is… a true mystical world!? I admit, I have no concept of your legend, false elf, but for you to summon forth an existence like this with her aid…”

“And her aid is what you must curtail; for, this shall, alone, begin her tale.”

 

With those words, the champion ready to fight leaps away.

Leaving an incensed, wild man to stare down his prize.

 

“… Really? Then… please come here, kind girl. I’ve got a story to read to you.”

“… Let’s, um, chat!?”

 

Meekly, the heroine scurries for cover.

At the fastest pace she can slither, as lightning strikes misty woods and rolls down sloping hills!

 

“STOP RUNNING! COME BACK!”

“I KNOW THIS IS SUDDEN, BUT PLEASE LISTEN TO REASON, MY FRIEND!”

“THAT’S MY LINE!”

 

(FAIRY CIRCLE! FAIRY CIRCLE! AHHHHH—!?

Oh, there’s one!)

 

Into a circle of mushrooms, a brave, bravest heroine dives headfirst!

Tail slides after into a sparking pink vortex, before lightning obliterates all within sight!

 

“Where did she go…?”

 

Upon inspection, nothing remains.

Yet, the forest called forth continues to stay.

 

 

 

(Caller’s Reed? This is what I need! Truly, this is a Myth!)

 

In another place, the heroine finds aid from forest bounty!

Within oldest forests, lore uselessly gathered pays out!

 

 

 

“This plant here… Syrthrus!? This is extinct!”

Lifting shining weed to the hidden sky Orloss does. Though only trees above should hear his cry, another voice agrees.

Booming from the distance, a honeyed temptation begins!

 

“It’s really tasty! You should try it while we’re in the dream…!

Ah, so, Ave was… No, I was thinking, Orloss?”

 

Bolt of purple cleaves through woods, leaving incineration in its wake!

Yet, without…

 

“Neesiette isn’t that difficult to recreate physically. After all, her shell is made of materials from Zennia, for the most part! I know, because I’ve—”

“WHERE ARE YOU!?”

“HIEEE!? I’m… I’m here?”

 

The man turns his eyes toward a lake with crystal clear water,

To see Avenalliah Aurmaris slithering atop it like a riverway daughter!

 

“[SEA KING’S WRATH!]”

 

Sparking currents gather around this quivering girl,

 

Before the lake disappears, and an anxious man cheers.

 

 

 

Much of the forest in view turns into smoky red and orange, as Orloss cackles to…

 

“… So, if you just made a copy of her—?”

“I JUST VAPORIZED, ahhhh, an illusion?”

 

As a man continues searching, the conversation turns serious…

 

 

---

 

 

Time passes as two people converse, to the pangs of an infinite forest’ destruction.

 

“And so, if you go with this plan, you can fool Mister Peak into believing that you’ve recovered her. Just substitute the copy after confirming the return with the collar~.”

“FOOL!?”

 

As his voice raises, the arched trees above burn.

Another crop of forest explodes, revealing…!

 

“HIIE!? Um… siblings… fool each other constantly, as a joke, right!?”

“THEY CERTAINLY DO! GOT YOU, YOU SCAMP!”

 

Tentacles aim for a flopping snake with a smoldering tail!

But invisible air carves through them, before dust takes both heroine and hero!

Lightning fizzles noisily off swirling shield, proving true the quality of armaments gifted!

 

“YOU FUCKING DID IT AGAIN, YOU ACCURSED PUPPET! I JUST FOUND HER AFTER SEARCHING FOR FOUR SHORTS!?”

“Never, not once, was it spoken, that the hero would be only a token.”

 

On long limbs Orloss pursues the nimble Rouvenor, but to no avail, as he reaches fresh foliage!

For in the distance, a timid voice finds new heart to crow out.

 

“… You can come visit us in Petripolis, and we’ll tell you all about ourselves!? After all, we’ll be stronger delvers later than now! If you see—!”

“FINE! I DON’T CARE! I’ll agree to your terms! It’s not like I’m losing, anyway!”

 

 

 

Hands raise high with coat flapping, sending his bandoleer clattering!

 

“[Gift of the Depths: Ten-Thousand Shipwrecks for A Sea God]!”

 

Waves of striking lightning sweep through Greenhate once more, laying waste to all within sight.

 

“BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

 

 

As the sturdy mystic groves and deep grottoes ignite, a cackling madman receives another horrific fright!

 

“Wonderful! I’m looking forward to you visiting!”

“CONFOUND IT! HOW DID YOU ESCAPE THIS TIME!?”

“Um, [Valerian Sunshine] is an herb that allows you to walk through trees to other ones, if you know the right sylvan words?”

“… I’ve never heard of this. Nor of this Greenhate!”

 

A kraken caller screams out, driven insane by his plight!

 

“‘STRETCHES TO INFINITY’? ‘TIME DOES NOT PASS BY’!?

What is this fraudulent elvish bullshit!?”

“I’m sorry! But… with this…”

 

(It’s always wise to be conciliatory!)

 

“… It will become your loss, Friend Orloss, eventually! For I pride one talent of mine: I am fast on my tail!”

“LIES!”

“Forever I can flee, until you run out of breath. I’ll hide where you can’t find me, no matter the smell! And never can you break Greenhate, without alerting the rest!”

“STOP TRYING TO SOUND WHIMSICAL! I’M SICK OF IT!

… If only I didn’t have to keep a low profile…”

 

 

 

More lightning is uselessly cast out to rake the forest.

More trinkets are used to hunt her, yet all fail to sylvan herbcraft and fey secrets.

 

“You can’t change my mind! I am Orloss, Kraken Slaver, one of the Pillars of Zenith!

I will never surrender! You will fail!”

“Umm, elves can’t fail, Friend Orloss.”

“YOU DO IT ALL THE TIME, YOU TOLD ME SO!

… Wait, right, but I forget you aren’t an elf!?”

 

 

 

While waiting for patience to dry up, an elf maiden has a screaming, wonderful, horrific, hilarious chase within a dream-like forest.

Aided at times by a silent man who leaps in with armaments gifted by her to liberate at times, she still uses mostly her own wits to keep safe.

 

“Hey, Friend Orloss, an old-eared elf told me this one day:

‘The First-Born had no word for failure until the races doomed to die appeared. All choices are just as valid to us, no matter the outcome, for they are made freely by whimsy of our hearts.’”

“That’s useless sophistry! You should punch that idiot in the face! Surrender to me, and I’ll fry him for you!”

 

(He’d deserve it, you know!? Someone should cook him, at least once, cause I know nobody ever has managed! But…)

 

 

 

Within Greenhate, an elf can never lose as long as their heart is unburdened.

 

(And I am an elf, even if a cowardly one. But… not a coward enough to curse others with my failures. So… you’ll have to become a better friend, while I try to be free~!)

 

 

---

Characters:

 

Glossary:

Chapter 101         Table of Contents          Chapter 103