Alan felt a strange numbness in his body. Unsure of where he was, he could only sense that he lay flat on the ground. He couldn't hear his heartbeat or even the sound of his own breathing. Panic began to rise within him. Clenching his numb fists and gritting his teeth, Alan mustered all his strength and pounded his fist on the ground.
A splash echoed, snapping Alan's eyes open. Above him loomed a sky, red and dreadful, filled with dark clouds. Gasping and taking deep breaths, he blinked again. As the numbness faded, the first sensation that returned was the feeling of a liquid, thicker than water, enveloping his backside and palms.
Alan sat upright, looking around. As far as his eyes could see, the desolate land was riddled with corpses and blood. The grotesque view gripped his heart, making him wrinkle his nose and squint his eyes in disgust.
He still felt the thick liquid on his skin and raised his palm to see what had stained his hands. His eyes widened, his senses heightened. Alan jumped to his feet, backing away until his feet touched solid dirt.
His heart filled with revulsion as he realized the liquid he had been lying in was crimson, dark as blood. But this revelation didn't fill Alan's heart with dread nearly as much as what came next.
When the puddle of blood stilled, Alan saw his reflection. Horror replaced his dread as he took in his appearance: bloodshot eyes, dark clothes ripped to shreds, and a bruised, exposed body. His abdomen on the right side was a gaping, bleeding cavity. Half of it was missing, torn away, leaving a bloody semicircle with exposed bones and seeping blood.
Alan's eyes filled with dread and despair. He tried to touch the wound, but he couldn't feel his own touch. He could still feel his stomach, his eyes, his limbs, every inch of his body—but he couldn't feel the wound he was seeing in his reflection.
He looked up, his eyes searching the horizon, where nothing but the air of dread flowed over the desolate land beneath the chaotic sky. Countless dark and bleeding bodies lay maimed, stuck, frozen in time. Taking in the nightmarish scenery, Alan gasped under his breath, "Am I dead?"
"No. Not quite."
Alan's eyes widened once again as a bizarre voice, a mix of a demon's shriek and a pained roar, echoed through the still, dreadful air. The voice, low in tone yet disturbingly human, approached from behind. Alan quickly turned, and the dread in his eyes was replaced with confusion and apprehension.
A figure shrouded in darkness sat on a throne, the blackness of its form contrasting sharply with the throne behind it. A smile, white and eerie, formed on the being's supposed face as it began to speak again in its piercing voice, without even moving its mouth.
"You would have been, if not for your extraordinary body. It is quite a gift, isn't it?" the being said, swiftly leaping from the chair. Standing up, it tied its hands behind its back, and as its long locks of pitch-black hair flowed in the almost nonexistent air, it slowly waltzed toward Alan, continuing, "Even though you believe it to be a curse, for the likes of us, it is a blessing we crave, beg for, and devote our lives to higher beings just to experience what you can perform. But even if I want to, I can't envy you, right?"
The being turned its smile into a grin, creeping close to Alan's face. Frozen in horror and apprehension, Alan felt its cold breath on his skin as it continued, staring with its nonexistent, piercing eyes into Alan's soul.
"I mean, it's not perfect," the being said. "But strange enough to raise suspicions in them. That and your bare body being exposed so many times—I'm sure even your wife has become aware of the nonexistent mark on your body."
Alan's eyes turned into a glare as he tried to speak, but a returning numbness sealed his lips shut. Struggling to make a sound, he watched as the being backed away. Its tone shifted to one of nonchalance and playfulness.
"No, no, you've talked too much. I think it's time for you to listen. Listen to me as I pick out your flaws and criticize the repugnant being you've become."
"You used to be such a great… Sicarius." The being began to reveal Alan's true identity, highlighting the transformation he had undergone. Using its hand to add flair to its words, it continued, "A silent, sneaky, straightforward, goal-oriented, and powerful Sicarius. The best in his country, one of the most trusted confidants of a great empire's ruler. Now look at you—caring, soft, trusting, loud. You're still powerful, but… married? Seriously?"
It paused for effect, reveling in Alan's discomfort. "Didn't you ever think about how your wife would react, having been taught since birth that foreigners are bad omens? How will she feel when she finds out her own love is one of them? Naive as she might be, after a certain time alone, naked in bed, she would be bound to notice your pale, scarred, yet spotless body."
The being's tone grew stern as it settled back onto its throne. Alan, locked in an internal struggle, found himself unable to move.
Only his eyes could shift, glaring daggers at the entity. The being crossed one leg over the other and continued, "And what about your friends? Don't you think they've noticed your lack of a weapon and your extraordinary, almost supernatural physical capabilities by now? The blades you introduced as your weapon are now nowhere to be seen. You can't explain everything away with a forged past and herbs. It's natural they'd get suspicious, and who's to say they aren't already? Maybe they're just waiting for the right moment to confront you."
The being paused, its piercing gaze locked on Alan. "And your new friend... Longiseus. Sure, some of your friends might refrain or even forget if you ask nicely enough," it said, its tone dripping with mockery.
In an instant, the throne glided towards Alan, who widened his eyes in startle and horror.
The being leaned in close, its eerie white grin reflecting in Alan's eyes. It spoke in its bizarre, chilling voice, now filled with an unsettling certainty. "But what about the statue of righteousness, the holy crusader, the apostle of good, Longiseus? There's no way he's going to let it slide. When the moment comes, he will ask you, accuse you. And then, what are you going to do?"
Alan's voice was muffled as he tried to retort to the being's taunts, grinning at his suspended body amidst the nightmarish massacre. Unable to speak, Alan's eyes widened in horror as the being suddenly vanished into thin air. Startled, Alan tried to look around, but he felt the eerie warmth of the being behind him, tingling on his neck. Its voice filled with terror as it whispered in his ear, "But then again, it wouldn't be a problem for the former Alan, huh?"
The being's chilling touch on Alan's chin sent shivers through his numb body, guiding his gaze to the side.
As if on cue, the maimed and bloody bodies, once shrouded in darkness, became visible. Horror gripped Alan's very core as he recognized the severed heads, gouged hands, and bruised bodies of his friends.
There lay the melted forms of Artereia and Bretren, the dismembered pieces of Lyco and Poduria, twisted-necked Orioros, and the bloodied, almost organless bodies of Leotrus and Arian. Aurelia's lifeless form lay nearby, her mouth, nose, ears, and eyes spewing blood, a large hole gaping from her chest. The headless bodies of Longiseus and Lady Roartad added to the gruesome tableau.
But it was Relecta who struck the deepest chord of horror. Her tongue lolled out, her eyes nearly peeled from their sockets, blood staining her abdomen where a huge knife was lodged, clutched in her own hands. The sight seared into Alan's mind, freezing him in terror and despair.
Alan's eyes widened, bloodshot but this time with rage. Every nerve in his body twitched with boiling blood, and the air around him thickened with raw strength. Though unable to free his body, Alan managed to part his sealed lips. In a voice filled with pent-up fury, he bellowed at the grinning being of darkness before him.
"YOU BASTARD!!!! I WOULD NEVER DO THAT!!!! I WOULD NEVER BETRAY MY FRIENDS!!!!"
Alan gasped, his lungs burning after exerting all the air from his lungs in his raging yell. He took deep, heavy breaths as the grin of the being diminished. Sitting back down on its throne, it spoke, its words now ringing with sternness.
"Yeah, I know. You are too weak to do that, but he isn't." As the being finished its words, its grin enlarged again. From its dark finger, it pointed in a direction. Alan's raging eyes followed and saw a man. It was the same man from his earlier dream, draped in crimson blood armor, clenching his fist as blood flowed beneath his feet. Alan recognized him. It was Armis. But before the man could turn back, Alan began retorting, yelling in anguish and rage.
"NO!!! No!!!! He would never do that!!! He is good!!!! Armis would never do that!!!!! You lying bastard!!!"
"Oh yeah he would, if you don't stop him, or kill him," the being spoke nonchalantly, frustrating Alan even further. But Alan realized that yelling and raging wouldn't do him any good, so he took a deep breath, composing himself. Getting stern, he looked right at the being as he argued back.
"And why would I do that? I believe in my friend. I would never even fight him, killing is way out of the question, you fool."
"Oh yeah… friendship." The being stood up from its throne, walking beside Armis. It rested its elbow on Armis's shoulder as it continued in its stern tone.
"But still you would do that. You have to, Alan. He will make you do that, he will surprise you, strike you in a way that will hurt you the most. You would feel so much pain, that all you could think about is I WANT TO KILL HIM!"
The being yelled at the end of its words, filling the still-dreading air around them with tension as it grinned again and gently gestured to his side, making Alan follow the direction. He saw six torches, one distinguished and five others burning and scorching with dark crimson fire. Alan looked at them in confusion as the being spoke in the background.
"One down, five to go."
Alan swiftly turned as he saw the being slowly fading away. Panicked, Alan tried hard to move, and suddenly the numbness faded. Yelling at the top of his lungs, Alan lunged at the being, trying to catch its fading form.
"WAIT!!!! What do you mean?!!!! Where are you going?!!! Where am I?!!!! WHO ARE YOU!!!!!"
And as Alan was about to touch the fading speck of the disintegrating dark form of the being, he woke up.
Jolted awake from his sleep, startling everyone around him. Thick film of sweat covered Alan's body as he gasped for breath.
Blinking his eyes to clear the hazy view, Alan looked around and saw everyone gathered around the fire, their expressions a mix of concern and relief. Poduria and Lyco shared a blanket, their weary eyes hinting at their interrupted rest. Armis and Aurelia sat together, both with shocked expressions as they looked at Alan. Orioros and Lady Roartad stood nearby, holding boxes and knapsacks, their gazes fixed on Alan in confusion.
In front of him, Alan noticed Relecta, her eyes wide with fear and tears streaming down her face. Without hesitation, she lunged at Alan, wrapping him in a tight embrace.
"Darling…I…I was so scared. I thought…you d—" Relecta's words were cut off by her sobs.
"Died?" Alan finished for her, his voice calm and reassuring. Relecta pulled back slightly, looking into Alan's eyes as he smiled gently at her.
"Well, I did too, until I heard Lyco's snoring. I thought that monster had revived again," Alan said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood despite the lingering images of his nightmare.
"Shut up, man. You're the noisy one," Lyco retorted to Alan's teasing, mocking his screams from when he was asleep, but in a playful manner. Nestling back into Poduria's lap, Lyco looked at Alan with a smile. Poduria, defending her husband, said, "Don't mind him, he's just tired. We're glad to have you back."
Alan absorbed Poduria's words, feeling a sense of warmth wash over him. His gaze then traveled to Armis and Aurelia. At the sight of Armis, Alan's eyes widened in shock as the image of Armis from his dream flashed before his eyes.
Blinking in disbelief, Alan refocused to find the real Armis, first looking at him sternly before smiling humbly. Hesitantly, Alan returned the smile, then turned his attention to Aurelia. She began to speak, but suddenly inflated her cheeks, confusing and startling Alan and everyone around them.
Aurelia quickly stood up and dashed towards the corner. Armis started to rise, intending to follow her, but Poduria halted him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
They exchanged nods before Poduria went after Aurelia. Alan watched as Poduria hurried away, his gaze scanning their surroundings. It wasn't the usual campsite they had set up. Instead, it was a peculiar mix of pillars, doors, and a giant stairway leading to a massive wooden gate.
The setting resembled the interior of a mansion or a castle, but with overgrown foliage, weathered walls, and torn drapes. Scratch marks and burns adorned the pillars, and everything was covered in a black grass-like substance. The once-red carpet now resembled rust, with holes and tears marring the floor. Apart from the area illuminated by their campfire, the entire structure was shrouded in eerie darkness.
Taking in the scene, Alan exclaimed, "Are we in a c—"
"A castle? Yes, only in ruins. She was…," Orioros said, his voice trailing off as he approached Alan, a mug emitting faint steam in his hands. His words paused momentarily, a hint of sadness in his gaze betraying the pain of lost friends.
Orioros stood before Alan and Relecta, then sighed deeply before continuing, passing the mug to Relecta. She began to blow on the soup inside to cool it down while Orioros settled in front of Alan.
"You should have that. It will numb your pain and aid in recovery," Orioros suggested, his voice carrying a mix of concern and reassurance.
After cooling the soup to her satisfaction, Relecta held the mug near Alan's lips, allowing him to take a sip. Alan motioned for her to stop and turned his attention back to Orioros, his tone calm yet firm.
"So… how long was I out?"
"Half a day, I suppose," Orioros replied, mustering a faint smile. He glanced around the surroundings, his tone shifting to one of uncertainty. "It's hard to tell about time in here."
"I guess. What did I miss then?" Alan inquired, taking another sip of soup with Relecta's support.
"Ah, nothing much. When you two fell unconscious, your friend there," Orioros gestured towards Armis, "found the Lord Orb of that floor and eagerly opened this gate."
He motioned towards the gate behind them, resembling the regal entrance of a castle, albeit in ruin. Alan shifted his gaze back to Orioros as the latter continued, "Then we entered inside, and at the first step, we were greeted by those…" Orioros nodded towards a shadowy corner, its darkness unsettling.
Alan's attention was drawn to the dim recess as Orioros continued, "You can't see them now, but they were very ferocious when they attacked us. The shadow beings."
Alan's eyes widened at Orioros's words, while Relecta helped him take another sip of soup. Orioros went on, "They are dangerous, but don't worry. Apart from whispering in piercing voices in your ears, they don't do much harm, and fortunately for us, they are scared of fire."
With a swift motion, Orioros conjured a fireball in his hand, captivating Alan's attention. He hurled the flaming sphere into the corner he had previously indicated.
As the flames consumed the darkness, the shadows in the corner dissipated with shrieks and contortions, shocking Alan and filling his heart with apprehension.
He tightened his grasp on Relecta's hand, seeking solace in her embrace. As the corner became visible and Alan realized that most of the darkness was comprised of these new creatures discovered in this hellhole, he took a deep breath.
"Hey! Knock it off!! Their voice is irritating!!" Lyco exclaimed at Orioros, while lying down, trying to sleep. Armis, engrossed in the same book Longiseus had given to Arian, chuckled at Orioros's antics. "But they are funny," he remarked.
Alan smiled at his friends' strange yet amusing behavior just after such a horrifying confrontation with death. He felt grateful that the conflict hadn't caused any damage to their morale. Taking the final sip of the soup, Alan returned his gaze to Orioros. Relecta, after casting a loving glance at Alan, planted a kiss on his cheek before standing up and leaving with the mug in her hand.
"Nice lady you got there. I envy you. She was so brave when you were unconscious. She even threatened the shadows to back off or she would annihilate the whole place with them. I'm sure rather than my fire they all retreated because of her anger," Orioros remarked.
Alan chuckled at Orioros's words, scratching over the bandage inside his overall, which he just realized was actually Armis's robe.
Alan suddenly became aware that Armis had been sitting bare-chested this whole time. Remembering the words from the being in his nightmare, Alan felt a gaze turning stern with supposed suspicion from Orioros.
Slowly, Alan closed the robe even further, speaking cautiously to avoid raising suspicion.
"So…where is Arian and Longiseus? Are they alright?"
Orioros stayed silent for a moment, his gaze still fixed on Alan with a hint of suspicion. Just as he was about to speak, Longiseus's voice broke in from the side.
"Don't worry, Alan, we're perfectly fine," Longiseus reassured, approaching with Arian trailing behind, both of them bearing bandages.
"Oh, Commander, how was your training session? Everything went fine?" Orioros asked, abruptly breaking from his reverie as he stood up to greet Longiseus and Arian.
Longiseus turned towards Orioros, offering a smile. "Oh, all good. How about you, Alan?" Longiseus then turned towards Alan, who looked at him with confusion. "How are you feeling?"
Alan, feeling a bit disoriented, tightened Armis's robe around him and staggered to his feet. Meeting Longiseus's soft gaze, Alan replied, "All numb, can't feel a thing. I'm not even sure why I'm bandaged."
Longiseus chuckled at Alan's response, surprising him. "So, how about a spar then? It might bring some sensations to your body, help us both regain our reflexes."
Longiseus's suggestion left Alan momentarily puzzled, his mind racing to formulate a response. Before he could reply, however, Arian swiftly bowed before him, catching Alan off guard.
"What?! What are you doing, Arian?!" Alan exclaimed, his confusion evident.
"Master Alan!" Arian's voice rang out, his usual arrogance replaced by humility. "I envy the strength and mastery of your air wielding. As an Air wielder myself, witnessing your skill and grace in battle, I now hold you in high regard. Please, teach me!"
Alan's confusion only deepened at Arian's unexpected request. "What are you talking about?!" he exclaimed, his voice betraying his bewilderment.
"You…your power and strength in the earlier battle. Wasn't that an evolved form of Air Wielding?" Arian's tone matched Alan's confusion as he awaited an answer.
"Huh?" Alan could only gasp in response, still trying to make sense of Arian's words.
"Arian, we've discussed this," Longiseus interjected, putting an end to Arian's questions with his authoritative tone. Arian nodded in understanding and stepped back, deferring to Longiseus's authority. With a smile aimed at Alan, Longiseus continued, his expression now somewhat unsettling to Alan, "So? Shall we?"
Before Alan could respond, Lyco, roused from his sleep by the commotion, chimed in irritably, "You know, I envy the obliviousness of you all! Can't you see a man is trying to sleep here?"
Armis, without missing a beat, retorted, "And I envy your nose! I can't believe you can sleep in this disgusting whiff. It's repugnant," wrinkling his nose in disdain. But his banter was cut short as Lady Roartad swiftly snatched the book from Armis's hands, chastising him, "And I envy your nonchalance and shamelessness. Please, get dressed."
"Give it back, old woman!" Armis retorted, attempting to reclaim the book from Lady Roartad's grasp.
"Hey!" Orioros and Arian exclaimed simultaneously, disapproving of Armis's behavior toward Lady Roartad. Arian, stepping forward, added sternly, "Mind your language with Lady Roartad, you brute!"
As Orioros and Arian walked away, leaving Longiseus and Alan alone, they exchanged puzzled and bewildered looks.
Alan nodded in response to Longiseus's expectant gaze, and together they headed toward a room, its interior dimly lit yet holding a glimmer of illumination.
Longiseus led the way, and as they approached the room, Alan noticed Aurelia and Poduria emerging from a similar chamber nearby. Catching a snippet of their conversation, Alan overheard Poduria speaking to Aurelia with a smile and humble tone, "Oh... I am so happy for you. Seriously, I envy you right now." Aurelia responded with a smile before Alan and Longiseus entered the room.
Longiseus paused upon entering the room, courteously gesturing for Alan to walk inside. Alan stepped into the room, observing the long table adorned with broken and weathered wood, one of its legs missing.
Around it lay ruined chairs and cushions, torn apart and cloaked in shadows. The fire cast flickering light on the worn paint of the walls and the scratched, tattered drapes. The structure oddly resembled a decrepit meeting room.
Alan's attention snapped to the gate behind him as it locked with a metallic clang, followed by the unsheathing of a sword and a flash of green light. He felt the cold touch of metal against his neck, gradually dispelling the numbness.
Longiseus's voice pierced the tense air of the closed room. "Alan... I want the truth... who are you?"
Sensing the sudden tension in his recovering body, Alan decided to approach the situation calmly.
"What do you mean, Comm—"
"Stop, Alan! Don't beat around the bush!" Longiseus interrupted, his patience wearing thin as he conveyed his frustration and the basis for his accusations. "Your powers, your abilities, your speed... I have fought and seen many warriors, but none could even come close to what you did earlier. Even with the leaves, no man should be able to achieve that."
Longiseus's words echoed in Alan's ears, eerily similar to what the dark being had uttered. Sweat began to trickle down Alan's temple as he struggled to maintain his composure.
Desperate to deflect suspicion, Alan forged ahead with his lies. "You know what, Arian was right. I am an air wielder. All that you saw—it's all because of the evolution of my wielding and the leaves, just like your sword, remember?"
"Oh... really? I thought chained blades were your marked weapons..." Longiseus's voice carried a grim undertone, causing Alan to clench his teeth. As Longiseus continued, Alan felt the last thread of his argument, the final hope of hiding his identity, begin to unravel. "The ones you used alongside Armis, to battle me in the final trials. Where are they now, Alan? Can you summon them to prove me wrong? Prove that you just lied?"
"I... I just... I—" Alan faltered, struggling to find a response.
"You can't prove me wrong, can you? But I can prove that you lied," Longiseus interjected, cutting through Alan's attempted retort.
His accusations hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the crackling fire before them. "I have seen your body. It bears scars—scars that speak of your many encounters with death. But it does not bear any mark that speaks for you being a Pompeiian. And don't try to argue with me about being from the eastern province. Because let me tell you something, Alan—something I wanted to tell you the second time we met, when you tried to shut me off. I wanted to tell you that the eastern province of Pompeii was purged long ago."
Longiseus's revelation struck Alan like a bolt of lightning. Shock widened his eyes, and dread crept into every fiber of his being.
He clenched his fists, feeling the burning sensation in his lungs intensify, and beneath the bandages covering his chest, a strange discomfort gnawed at him.
Images from his nightmare began to flicker before Alan's eyes, sending strange sensations coursing through his body. In the midst of this chaos, Alan focused on slowing his heartbeat and regulating his breath, trying to maintain composure as Longiseus continued speaking, "No one knew, not even the almighty Pope. It was all a web of deceit from the elites. I still hate myself for being a part of it," Longiseus confessed. "I have to commend you, Alan. You too wove a convincing web of lies and deceit. But then you became too soft, too careless. I had my suspicions from the start, but they became absolute when I woke up earlier than you. After the monster perished, delivering the killing blow gave me its aura, healing me in an instant and evolving me and my sword further. But instead of joy, I was filled with shock when I saw you lying unconscious. None of the glow traveled to your body, none of the power or aura was absorbed by your mark because you possessed none."
Longiseus's words hung heavy in the air, the tension palpable as he stared at Alan with a mix of accusation and resolve. Alan felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him.
"I have no idea how you have deceived your friends so thoroughly, that seeing the first sight of your exposed body, Armis and your wife rushed to cover it quickly." Longiseus continued, "but I am convinced that you are not what you say. So, you have a few moments, Alan. Speak the truth of your origin or face your demise, right here, right now."