"A place tainted with blood can also be painted with hope."
. . . .
Hello, reader.
Yes, you, the one reading this right now.
Are you shocked that I can perceive you? Do not underestimate me, you mortal.
Now, back to this story.
After the Unkindness disappeared, a loud silence quietly settled over the battlefield. The courtyard of Legends, once a garden of confrontation and chaos, filled to the brim with youthful energy and the memorials of Zion's most powerful knights, is now eerily still, as if frozen in a time that was too dark to continue.
Only the distant crackling of burnt shrubbery, the blue and green thunderflash speaking of rain, and the hiss of lethal, dissipating grace remained.
Bloodstains plastered the entire premises, with scalds and broken properties evident. Rain began to fall, but the students didn't bother searching for a shelter. They were stunned.
Caesar stood motionless, his grace finally retreating, with the whiplash hitting him violently. He couldn't cry now- he had cried too many times.
His new white hair, splattered with bright hues of various colours, dimmed under the assault of the rain. He grabbed his stomach and retched, his body convulsing, and he felt like it was breaking apart.
Was this the price of gaining the power of a god?
His uniform was torn in various parts, but he didn't mind. The caw of the crows, the painful sting of the doves, the screams of the students, Fenrir's reckless charge, Chalybe's dwindling form, Zeus' burning skin, Jacques golden tears, and Izobel... Caesar refused to think about her in that moment.
Chalybe, the 2nd prince of Zion, looked distraught. Not with pain, but guilt.
He was always taught to uphold and enforce the Will of The Farthest Winter, but his willpower has been reduced to nothing.
The prince of the Zion kingdom proved to be useless in the face of battle.
Even though they told him otherwise, Chalybe knew it was his fault. The enemy was far beyond his power, and his own was laughable. The guilt ate him up inside.
He was completely fine, except for the partial hole in his chest. His grace was vanishing, his death was nearing, but his loyalty still stood.
He gently walked over to Caesar and patted him on the back.
"What happens now?" Caesar slowly asked. "I don't know what to do."
Chalybe took a deep breath, the calm rain rinsing his skin. "An era we never predicted. That is what happens now."
As those words left his lips, Caesar's body finally gave up. His mind went black, his body shut down, and his divinity seemed unholdable.
Chalybe carefully caught the body of his greatest companion, surrounded by the corpses of fallen students.
Zeus knelt under the pouring rain, staring at the bloodied cloth of one of his companions, while Fenrir sat quietly close to him on the cratered stairs.
Fenrir's usual upbeat personality vanished, replaced with...fear.
The Paragons feel fear and dread.
Fenrir was shaking with fear, his hands shivering and his eyes still.
"Did we win...Or did we just survive?"
Megara stood in the rain, her voice still hollow, and her eyes soulless. Devoid of any emotions.
"He...escaped?"
Instead of dread or sorrow, the princess smiled. A wide, devilish grin appeared on her face. She was ecstatic, planting fear in the heart of the Unkindness. She began to laugh manically, startling the other students.
"Hey, why are you laughing?" A student asked, with anger and plea in his voice, but Megara continued laughing.
The student tried to summon an avatar, but his blood boiled. Instead, he resorted to grabbing Megara by her collar, squeezing it like a sword."Do you think this is funny?"
Even with the hint of hostility, Megara locked eyes with the student, "Does it look like I care?"
The student was taken aback. His heart felt like raw cobblestone, and his mind blacked out with rage. "You are evil. You are evil!!" The student brought back his hand, aiming to deliver a blow to the princess, but a hand stopped him.
"That's enough," Jacques said with his blue hair plastered all over his face. "Please, Tigris."
The student stared at Jacques with eyes that had been tired of crying. His left leg was twisted into destruction, but his two cat-like ears, penetrating from his curly, black and blue hair, stood upright, as if afraid to fall.
"Didn't you hear what she said?" Tigris pulled his arm away aggressively. "I don't care if it is a serial killer inside her; it's not fair."
Jacques' lips twitched "I u-u-understand, but w--w-we d-d-d-on't have t-t-t-t-t,"
Jacques cursed under his breath. His stutter worsened over the course of this inevitable battle. He took a calm and deep breath, but his body refused to stop shaking.
"P-please, TIgris," Jacques bowed his head slowly, his pride and ego shattered into a million pieces. "Forgive her."
Tigris' heavy chest became light, but awfully dense. His eyes, which were tired from crying, became blurry. Tears started to form again.
"It's not fair. It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair."
Tigris hugged Jacques, his cat ears struggling to stand up, and his anger and sorrow clashing into one another. What was he supposed to do now? Who was he supposed to curse now?
Tigris sniffled, his ears finally falling. "Why don't the evil feel any pains of emotions? Why?"
Megara, who mockingly insulted the demicat heir, suddenly had a splitting headache. It felt like her mind, a loud mess of chaos and war, was tearing into two. Her grey eyes grew heavy. The hollow voice in her being faded. Then—darkness.
Megara fainted.
Medics and apothecaries rushed to heal anybody that they could save, but Izobel was too afraid to touch any of her schoolmates. She felt the souls of the students weighing down on her shoulder, gnawing at her soul for her sins. She was desperate for atonement.
This was traumatic for everyone, as those whom they connected to; Those that proved to be worthy companions, steadfast rivals, and hidden lovers, died before the relationships could be nurtured.
"Wake up, wake up, please." A cry was heard.
"Please, I can live without you." A wail echoed through the area.
"Brother. No, you are alive, right? We will conquer the world, right? RIGHT?!"
Cries and wails spread across the area as the rain fell on them.
Edith ran across the entire field, searching and searching, but couldn't find.
"Leo! Leo! LEEEEEOOOOOO!!!"
The sister of the paragon disappeared without a trace in the battle.
Edith promised herself she wouldn't cry, but her heart was filled with pain, so much pain. The two sisters have finally connected after years of estrangement, and now it has all been taken away by the Unkindness.
She knelt on the coarse floor, her breath hitched and her skin burning. Suddenly, her eyes drifted to the broken blade, still amplified with divine energy. Her head was blurry and distant. Her thoughts felt like water that she couldn't fully grasp. She stared at the broken blade and wondered if it could decapitate her head.
Chalybe set Caesar's body on a mat, ready to be carried away. High-ranking officials weren't present, but they monitored on screens. They were visibly struck.
"Sire, what shall we do to this threat?" A thin, tall man spoke in a dark room. He wore black tinted glasses and an oversized black robe. His voice resonated emotions, like each lyric contained a hidden secret.
Sat on a throne was a silhouette. Reginald Dan Gerald, the Headmaster of Black Meadows. Blending in the dark, you couldn't see his emotions, so predicting his verdict was difficult.
"Gawain, my loyal apprentice. Tomorrow, I summon the War Council. The target was Prince Chalybe, but in a way..." Reginald paused, "Caesar's fate was tied into this."
Gawain slightly tilted his head. "You throw around the word 'fate' a lot, Sire."
"Of course," Reginald said, with his voice getting deeper, more strict. "After all, Fate is my speciality."
Gawain bowed his head and left the room. Reginald's eyes turned dark. "I was afraid this day would befall us." Reginald's eyes drifted to the door, "I know you are there, Gawain."
Gawain, who was resting on the metal door, dusted his robe and strode away.
Black Meadows Academy. What happens next?
. . . .
"You are afraid to talk to me?" The silver thief said to Jacques.
The student stared at his opponent, heartbroken and breathless. The killer of his twin brother stood in front of him, his Older brother, Amédée Baylen Valeur the first.
Jacques knew it was him - His royal blue hair, his mismatched blue and green eyes, and the 'X' shaped scar on his left eye.
Jacques stood atop another of his creations- a large double barreled canoon with thin, metallic legs, fueled by the grace of the noble.
Amédée looked down on his brother from a stone pillar studded with beautiful ores, catching and throwing the light of the 2 suns.
"The 7th day of the month of Arestan, in the year of 49,990. I have encountered my brother."
Jacques was too stunned to move. His stuttering would become worse, and his body would be shivering with weakness.
It was like on that day in Black Meadows.
The Silver thief, dressed in a large cotton sweater with a hood, black trousers with white stripes, and silver boots to match the theme. His mask covered most of his face, but left his right eyes open.
The two brothers stared at each other for what felt like forever.
Amédée slowly turned away to escape, and the words left his mouth.
"W-why did you kill him?"
Amédée didn't look back. He held up two fingers and simulated a gunshot to the head. "I was saving him from what will befall him."
And as Jacques' vision blurred for a quick second, the silver thief disappeared.
[Master, are you alright? Your heart rate is skyrocketing and your..."
"Sol?" Jacques asked, his voice softer and lighter than usual. "I am not alright."
. . . .
But amidst the battle, Fenrir grabbed his bleeding throat while dodging pieces of mountains.
His speed and endurance were getting lower, and his vision and coordination were lacking.
Canary appeared beside Fenrir, grabbed his wolf's ears back, leapt off Fenrir's shoulder and landed with a devastating drop to the chest.
Fenrir managed to escape, but the damage was already done. The two opponents ran through the terrain, but Fenrir was getting slower.
[Right, left, forwards, 80 degrees east]
Fenrir relied on Sol's instruction to keep moving, but the prince knew he had to do something immediately, or else he was dead.
He couldn't chant to use his roar or summon his weapons, and he couldn't run fast enough to catch Canary by surprise.
Fenrir's instincts screamed as the wolf was sliced by raining crescent blades.
[My apologies, Master Fenrir. It seems that the enemy hid his grace.]
Fenrir remembered his father's teachings. Not the one to get Aurelia, but the one to get victories.
He took a deep breath, forcing his heart to beat faster. The prince's pupils turned sharper, and his speed exploded. He knew he couldn't step into the domain of light, but he could graze that surface.
Canary lost sight of Fenrir, his eyes scanning the field for any blur, any shadow, any fluctuations in his speed.
But suddenly, a claw wound appeared on Canary's arm, his body reacting to an unseen enemy.
"N'e refl'x'es," Fenrir said as his throat began to heal, slowly but surely. "I' ya c'n h'de yo' gr'ce, why c'n't I?"
Fenrir knew his burst of speed was temporary, so he was aware he had to finish this battle immediately. He slashed Canary again in the legs, but the ninja retaliated with a wound to the back, piercing through his armour.
This battle was hectic and difficult, but Fenrir knew a weapon that could give him an edge... no, the prince hated himself for even thinking about that.
Demiwolves, or perhaps, all demibeasts in existence are born with a curse, but only the ones who betray The Almighty choose to weaponise it.
Fenrir accidentally used it in the Battle of Black Meadows. He was drunk with his power and was ashamed of resorting to the curse.
Disgusting!!
Fenrir only had one burst of speed left, so he knew to aim for the chest. Not to kill Canary, but to at least wound one of his heart for either Chalybe or Izobel to finish him off.
Fenrir blasted towards Canary, his head wide open for an attack. The prince's claws grew, his eyes locked on his prey, and the heart pierced through...
Fenrir's claws bounced off Canary's chest.
Fenrir was lost and confused, but his body screamed in pain. His head banged, his bones shattered, and his blood was evaporating. He was going to die.
Canary stomped Fenrir into the ground, a large crescent blade ready to take Fenrir's head off.
"Nice meeting you, wolf," Canary whispered.
[Puppetter mode, activated]
Fenrir's armour moved on its own, attacking Canary recklessly. The armour then began to retreat, but Canary caught up to it, the blade next to Fenrir's neck.
"No, I'm going to die," Tears began to pour from Fenrir's eyes. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no..."
The blade rested on Fenrir's neck, the heat scorching his skin, his head there for the taking...
"B-back off."
Jacques appeared from nowhere, blocking the crescent blade from decapitating his ally's head.
Before Canary could react, 3 missiles were fired from Jacques' armour, forcing the ninja to retreat.
As Canary landed near a stone pillar, a large, metal cannon punched him into the earth, blasting explosions into the thief.
Fenrir's breath was laboured, his blood was burning his organs, his bones were puncturing his muscles.
He couldn't concentrate on using his surgeon attribute, and he couldn't calm down to allow his wolf's genes to heal him.
He was going to die. Unless...
Jancques touched Fenrir's head, and a warm, comforting aura swallowed the young knight's body.
His breathing calmed down, his blood flowed normally, and his bones were healing. All slowly, but surely.
"Healing o-other people is diffi-cult," Jacques smiled. "B-But not impossible."
Fenrir's consciousness was slipping. Jacques' healing wasn't perfect, so he would have to sleep to allow his body to heal itself.
But before his eyes could close, he saw a giant silhouette, steaming and humming like a walking factory. He knew that Jacques had been busy.