Chapter Text
“You!”
Lewyn spotted the robed man and glared at him.
The man turned around with an ominous smile on his face.
“Ah...You are that boy from Silesse, no? Ced’s heir,” he said.
“Archbishop Manfroy!” Lewyn shouted back. “All of this is your doing, isn’t it? All of these wars, turning all of us against each other, you did it to revive the dark god!”
Both Lewyn and Manfroy were surprised by the words that escaped Lewyn’s mouth. Manfroy had thought that his plan was so cunning that nobody outside of the Loptyrian Sect had learned of it. As for Lewyn, he had no idea what was going through him when he accused Manfroy of masterminding the wars; it was as if something took control of him and forced him to say it.
Manfroy’s threatening grin was only strengthened by Lewyn’s words. “So what if I did,” he slowly wheezed. “Hahahahaha...nobody was here to listen to your little slip-up. You will die in this decrepit fortress alone, and nobody will ever hear from you again!”
Lewyn raised his right arm, his left arm carrying his ancestral heirloom: the Forseti tome. A warm glow began emanating from him as he prepared to cast the most powerful wind spell known in Jugdral.
“Not if I can help it...Forseti’s rage!”
A strong gust of wind rushed through the room, blowing down everything within it except Lewyn. It was as if a typhoon had come.
The prince then stood up on the floor and walked slowly towards Manfroy, who seemingly was knocked down. If only he were knocked down…
“Heheheheh….” he panted. “Jormungand!”
A black spell shot out of Manfroy’s hand, directly hitting Lewyn’s torso. Lewyn was pushed over as the spell formed a gaping wound. He immediately reached for his chest, but it was too late. He would not survive even if the best healers in Jugdral were able to attend to him.
“No…” said the prince as he tried to reach for his tome in vain.
Manfroy got up and stood over Lewyn. “Hahaha...so much for the ‘power’ of the wind,” he cackled. “Enjoy Hell,” he added in parting before using a rewarp staff to depart.
“I can’t...die here….Oh, Erin...Mother….Ced…”
Lewyn was about to breathe his last when another gust of wind blew through the room. It created a fog, and a person of some kind emerged from the fog. He had turquoise hair and red eyes and was carrying what seemed to be a lute.
“Lewyn...my son…” he whispered.
“Wha- who…” wheezed Lewyn.
“I am Forseti, the very same Forseti who helped your ancestor 100 years ago…”
Forseti walked up to Lewyn and knelt over him.
“Lewyn...you love your family dearly, do you not?”
“Y-yes…”
Forseti looked Lewyn in the eyes. “I will give you a second chance to save everyone...but be warned, if you do it, your will and mine will become one. My goals will become yours, and there is no going back after that…”
“I…”
Lewyn could barely put together words. He knew that he had no other choice but to accept Forseti’s offer; he had to do everything he could to save his family.
“I’ll do it,” he gasped as he reached his arm out. “I’ll do anything…”
Forseti reached out and grabbed Lewyn’s hand.
“Lewyn...thank you,” he said as another gust of wind blew through.
After the wind settled, only Lewyn remained.