Chapter 1: Prayers for the Fallen
Chapter Text
“Please, someone… Anyone…”
The broken words of a broken soul. The “Savior,” once known as Mattias, now stood before the group of eight as nothing but a literal shadow of his former self. His spirit was now forever intertwined with Galdera having harnessed the power of that very god, and as such, his fate in death was set to be nothing but eternal damnation in Hell, locked behind the Gate of Finis. His body from head to toe was covered in darkness, and his eyes now shined with blood-red malice. And yet despite this intimidating appearance, he once again stood no chance against the travelers. Crumbled to his knees in defeat, his spirit began to vanish, returning to the eternal flames that would torment his being for the rest of his afterlife, entrapped within the judgment and suffering that the god he once stole from deemed him worthy of. But before he could vanish, the party would not hear triumphant declarations of resurrection, nor futile curses at the heroes for their insolence. They would only hear sobbing. In a few moments, his remnant was gone. What took his place was a journal, its cover as dark as night. With curiosity overwhelming, the cleric of the group, Ophilia, took hold of it and opened its pages. Inside were details, specifically those of Mattias’ past. The loss of those he cherished, the gradual destruction of his faith, and his true motivations. As the final word was read, the book was silently closed, vanishing as a dark flame consumed it.
Now left in silence, the group moved away in order to decide their next course of action…except for three. Ophilia, Olberic, and Therion, each with their head lowered as thoughts plagued them. The first to speak was the thief, his voice littered with the sour tone that often accompanied it as his iconic purple scarf covered his lips. “Neat story, but my opinion hasn’t changed.” Yet just as he planned to join the others who had already walked away, he stopped in his tracks as he could hear faint words coming from the cleric. “Oh, Aelfric…allow his soul to find closure,” she spoke. Although these words were intended for no one but herself and the Flamebringer, her two nearest companions could only turn to her direction. “You’re praying for that guy?” Therion’s words cut straight to the point. Faith in the gods was never for him, but he had overheard and seen enough of those within the church to understand two things: devout believers were patient and forgiving with others. But this was a step too far in his book. Ophilia’s response matched both descriptions, turning to her ally in violet with a determined expression. “Yes,” she told him with a nod. “His suffering was worse than anything I could imagine. If anyone, the blame lies in Lyblac. She was the one who led him down that dark path.” The claims she made were met with a growling retort from her thieving ally. “And that’s no excuse. He killed your father, and almost took your sister too! You’d forgive him just because of some sob story?!” Raising her own voice, Ophilia gave him a heartfelt response. “It is not a ‘sob story!’ That was his past, and once before, he was a kind and caring man. If that same man still lies within his soul, then yes, I will forgive him!” If things were to continue, a full-blown argument was sure to ensue, and maybe even some fighting. Recognizing this, it was time for the warrior among the three to step forward and speak his piece. He approached the cleric from the side, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You have a kind heart, Ophilia,” he told her, a compliment in an attempt to calm her knowing that doing so with Therion would be a tougher task. Looking up to the Unbending Blade, she took a deep breath before responding. “... Thank you.” After another moment, he retracted his hand as now the ball was thrown in his court. “What do you think, Olberic?” Yet the man seemed unphased by it, as if the question had already been plaguing him the moment the final word was read within the journal of that fallen foe. Crossing his arms, his response was given. “He was a man whose purpose was taken from him, and that is something I can relate with. If things were different, it is possible I could have taken the same path he chose. For that, he has my empathy if nothing else.” The bright smile that was often on the cleric’s face had finally returned, the words of her comrade rekindling the hope that would be needed to combat their future obstacles. “May I join you in prayer,” Olberic asked. “There are some I wish will gain peace in the afterlife as well.” The most enthusiastic response possible was what he was given, the faithful girl clasping her hands together in front of her out of the joy she felt in this moment, unable to tell him anything other than simply: “Of course!” But the thief was not forgotten at this moment. The two turned towards him, the knight gazing in silence while the worshiper provided an offer, their past small argument no doubt already having vanished from her mind. “Would you like to join us, Therion?” Turning his back and waving his hand, he made it clear his answer couldn’t be taken as anything but a hard pass. “No thanks. I’d rather worry about my own life, not ones that are already done for.” At least, that was the act he wanted to provide. The inner thoughts of this mysterious man told another story. ‘ ... Hope you’re resting well, mom…’ He trusted his comrades, even if he would not say such. But when it came to personal matters, especially that of his family, Therion was always sure to keep that to himself. In silence, he would always mourn the dear mother that cared for him like no other, even to her dying breath. Not many knew of his past. But just maybe, these seven would be deemed worthy of hearing it soon enough.
7 souls remain…
Chapter 2: A Father's Love Endures
Chapter Text
“Curse you! Curse you and that unholy witch you brought to my side!”
A final yell as oblivion took hold. After the defeat of Mattias’ darkened soul, the group of eight took their advance to the next spirit that awaited a battle. The individual who forced them into a duel was none other than Yvon, and the monstrous form he obtained with the flawed blood crystal. Every change that occurred to him in life had remained in death. His body, large and grotesque, clothes tattered and torn from the sudden transformation, and the essence of the crystal he absorbed ever potent on his chest, pulsing blood not of his own through his very veins. But now, darkness had enveloped him, and his eyes raged on with potent fury, their red glow matching that of the villain our heroes had faced just before. And to bring yet another similarity between them, he was soundly defeated as well. His corrupted self’s form could only fall to its knees as it began to fade away. But while Mattias responded to a final defeat with tears, Yvon’s answer was that of a maniacal smirk. He raised his head, throwing that mischievous gaze to the traveling scholar with what last of his energy he could, seeming to revel in something that only he knew. Cyrus could only raise an eyebrow in confusion by this action, but any questions he came up with would be answered shortly. As the headmaster disappeared, a dark novel appeared in his place, and the group of eight made no hesitation in approaching and opening this one. The Flatlands researcher held the dark truth in his hands, and so he turned the cover for him and his friends to finally grasp a clearer picture. Akin to the journal acquired from Mattias, this one contained the past of Yvon, along with his personal thoughts. His infernal meeting with Lyblac, the actions he took to become the headmaster, and even the brutal betrayal by the hands of his own apprentice. The diary was closed, and thus was burned away in violet blaze just like the last one.
Five of the travelers turned, small bickers beginning amongst one another after such revelations. But while they began to walk away, three remained. Cyrus stood in place, his eyes wide as they stared down at the same direction he once held that forsaken book just a moment ago. His hands shook slightly, but for a reason unknown as of now. In truth, he appeared practically petrified. To his left stood Primrose, her arms crossed as she looked to him with a partially raised eyebrow. And to his right was Ophilia, worry plainfully written upon her face as she took slow and careful steps towards the knowledgeable man. “... Professor Albright,” she asked calmly and softly, as to not startle him more from his current state. Thankfully, her words were enough to pull him back to reality, if just a little. His shaking hands clenched into fists as a sparkle could be seen falling from his eye. A tear. “It was him.” Cyrus’ voice quivered as he spoke. In his mind, he gazed back at so many memories, each one forming the answer to the question that haunted him since he was a teenager fifteen years ago. “The previous headmaster, my father…it was Yvon who killed him.” That was all it took for the cleric and dancer to react, their eyes going wide just like their scholarly friend’s. As they read that book and saw the mention of assassinating the previous Atlasdam Academy leader, they were naturally a bit disheartened to hear such a fate befell them, but now to know that such a person was actually the parent to their comrade was shocking. But even more so for the teacher in dark attire. “I was a fool to not realize,” he commented, his growing sadness swiftly converted into passionate rage as he yelled into the void before him: “A disgusting, damn fool!” The power in his voice caused everyone to look in his direction, even the five who had stepped away. Yet even if his anguish shocked his friends, they would be there for him nonetheless. After a moment, he was given a quick hug by Ophilia, who made sure to provide what comforting words she could after letting go. “You’re not a fool, Cyrus. You were young at the time and had no way to guarantee it was him. You shouldn’t blame yourself for that.” He turned and prepared to give his response, but Primrose managed to step in just before he could get a word out. “She’s right. Yvon said it himself in that book, he took your father’s life and made sure not any evidence was left behind. No one could have solved it, so it’s no one’s fault except his, Lucia’s and Lyblac’s.” Their words rang true in the ears of all who could hear them. But even still, the emotions Cyrus felt in this moment were just too great, as the old wound in his heart had now been freshly torn open once again. His expression returned to sorrow as his head lowered. A few more tears began to fall from his eyes as he poured his heart out for the group to witness. “...I looked up to him every step of my life. I researched, I taught, I did it all just like him. If he could see where I was now…would he even be proud of me?” Instead of immediately giving assurance to the question he threw forward, Ophilia decided to calmly and reasonably explain her response first. “You became one of the best professors Atlasdam had ever known. You brought justice to two of your father’s killers. And now, you’ll be the new headmaster of the academy soon.” With the evidence sprawled out in front of the troubled man, the worshiper smiled as she took it all and combined it to give the truth he needed. “He’s more proud than you can possibly imagine.” After a few more spilt tears, Cyrus swiped away on his face, clearing up what he could as he finally managed to muster out a smile. “Thank you. Both of you.” The cleric was as cheery as ever upon hearing what he had to say, yet Primrose still had one last point to make for her ally. She made that abundantly clear when she spoke up. “So now you know the truth, Professor. Yvon, Lucia, and Lyblac. Each one played a part in your father’s murder, and now only one remains.” As she asked her final question, she placed a hand on her hip, eyeing the scholar with great interest. “So what will you do?” He looked down as that one query now begged for a response. Even if unknowingly, he truly did bring partial justice to the death of his beloved parent. The last that remained was no doubt the toughest of the trio, now that her connections to Galdera had become clear. But it didn’t matter to Cyrus what origin this lady had, the answer was clear to him already. Whether she be peasant, noble, angel, or devil, justice needed to be brought. Not just for family, but for all who suffered under this woman’s schemes. Looking to his group of friends, a fire ignited in the eyes of the scholar, one similar to what Primrose had during her journey of vengeance. With unparalleled determination, the teacher made his goal clear, the tone in which he spoke being enough to make even a full-grown dragon cower in fear. “I will reach Lyblac…and burn her like the witch she is.”
6 souls remain…
Lola_Legendary on Chapter 2 Thu 11 Apr 2024 01:42AM UTC
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