Shilahi's memories of the Steppe were fractured and unreliable. When she, Barion and Dorma had pushed into the wasteland 500 years ago, it was so rife with Demons as to be completely unrecognisable. Their crusade towards the frozen land of Hena was fraught with bouts of endless violence, and many a night did they spend without sleep, eyes drawn to the shifting horizon or wandering to the stars to seek even the slightest solace from their journey.
Now, she wandered the tattered remains of Beastkin tents, shadowed by a tower that seemed positively alien, awaiting the emergence of yet another Demon tide.
"Anything on the horizon, Shilahi?" The girl's eyes detached from the barren hilltops to spot Barion wandering over, "Fusala will be done shortly, or so she tells me."
"This was where the first Demon battle occurred?" She asked.
"The first one I was a part of, anyway." He answered, "A few hundred of them were marching from the north, just over that crest. Fusala told me about 10 of them managed to make it past me, and they slaughtered just about every Beastkin warrior attending the Summit."
"This world is still terribly weak." Shilahi lamented, "Our victory against Manyu may have inspired a golden age of wealth, but the coddled masses have forgotten what it means to fight for one's beliefs. Even the warriors of Fleecia have grown plump and complacent with nothing to steer their ambitions towards."
"What other world were we fighting for, if not one where peace reigns supreme?" He paused, "We fought because we thought that peace would be everlasting. But now we know that Demons are fated to return no matter how successful we were."
"Tell me more of these whispers you supposedly hear from the night sky." She requested, "Do you believe what this Avl claimed? That a Goddess of Darkness lies in wait somewhere above?"
"If that's true, then why doesn't the Goddess of Light have a domain of her own?"
"Wouldn't that just be the moon we're all used to seeing?" She folded her arms, "Two moons--one for each Goddess. Did the Aelvens not once preach that exact dogma?"
"What do you suppose we do, then? Challenge a Goddess?"
"Don't try to humble yourself now, Barion." Shilahi smirked, "I would need more than two hands to count the number of times you proclaimed that even the Goddess herself could not stand in the way of your strength."
"Well, I was a very stupid young man. Don't take anything I said back then too seriously."
"You don't seem to have changed much, from my perspective." She replied, "Shamelessly hopeful and unaffected by even the most tragic of circumstances… the fire of tenacity in your heart seems to have grown brighter, if anything."
"But just how long can I keep it up?" He paused, "At this rate, it'll be another 500 years before we can destroy those underground domes, all the while having to deal with Demons resurrecting and replenishing their ranks from the fallen."
"It was certainly simpler when we only had a Demon King to worry about."
"-And if we don't succeed, the cycle will just repeat." Barion continued, "A new Hero and a new Demon King will be born--two people destined from birth to oppose one-another in a bid to settle some petty conflict between the Goddesses. We've only come this far thanks to the Elven archives, but Aelf'ahlnohma isolating itself is the only reason we even have them to begin with. Now that the Elves are openly participating in the war, this is our only chance to make the information we've inherited from the past count."
"We have centuries to spare, Barion."
"...How long were we fighting for back then?"
"Oh… almost 6 years, if I remember correctly."
"6 years… it didn't feel like that long." Barion lowered his head, "Once I was given the Sword of Light, everything seemed to move so quickly. I met Dorma, and the two of us faced Tiamat together… Leviathan fell shortly after we met you. Then Lilith, Mara… by the time we encountered Atroma at the Demon King's castle, I was already a young man."
"It was certainly a turbulent time, if nothing else." Remembering her younger years, Shilahi smirked, "Do you remember the nights we spent in the wilderness? Sleeping in shifts, jumping at the slightest noise… and during the day, we would carve through oceans of Demons, saving villagers and traders as we went…"
"Hm." He straightened his expression, "Most of those people were just afraid of me."
"They were in awe."
"They weren't." He rejected, "I could see the fear in their eyes whenever Dorma tried to speak to them. They looked at me like I was some kind of monster wearing a human's skin. I suppose it should never have been a surprise that they'd act that way…"
"When was the last time you fought?"
"On the Steppe. And before that, at the Beastkin Summit." His glance went skyward, "Before that… I killed some Goblins and a Demon in a burrow, I suppose. While looking for Dorma--although I just used some dark magic and the Sword of Light to do that."
"Then nobody was there to watch you while you defended the Summit?"
"No." He paused, as if unsure of how to express his thoughts, "I… I don't really want people to see me fight anymore. It just terrifies them."
"You always were terrible with a weapon. I could still best you in a swordfight any day of the week." Shilahi sighed, "...I suppose we should be thankful for that, shouldn't we? Otherwise you would have never discovered where your true potential lay."
"Pale uses it too, you know?" He muttered, "Senpo…"
"I've yet to meet this Rabbitkin girl. You speak her name with a tone that makes me think you feel somewhat responsible for her." She replied, "Now I know why. However did she learn it?"
"She found a teacher in a Wolfkin village. I didn't think any of the old masters had passed down Senpo to anyone but me…" He began, "She's already taken down a Demon. Fusala was there to watch it."
"Do you believe it will destroy her?"
"No." Bairon shook his head, "-But I do wish she had tried something else first."
"How else do you suppose a mere nomad could stand up to a Demon?" Shilahi folded her arms, "If she desires power, then let her have it, no matter where it stems from."
"Senpo isn't a good way to fight." He criticised, "Anger… should be overcome, not used like a weapon. A battle should be decided by skill, and by the clarity of one's mind. Not by wrath."
"If you're so certain, then why not cast aside Senpo yourself?"
"Because…" He hesitated, "I'm no good at using anything else. And I need to be strong."
"-And nobody else does? You've personally seen just how many innocent lives are lost to Demon attacks, and you're surprised when a survivor wants revenge, or to be strong enough that they can fight back? Who are you to dictate what methods are just and unjust?"
"Shilahi-"
"Not to mention, the reason why you're so hopeless with weapons is because you refuse to learn--and don't go suggesting that we don't have enough time for such trivialities. You've had the past 500 years to take up a discipline."
"That's…" Barion fumbled with his words, unable to present a counter-argument.
"You are a fine man, Barion, but your bull-headedness constricts your view of the world terribly." Shilahi admonished, "Have faith in not only the strength of your comrades, but also their will. The burden of a Hero is not one that should be shouldered alone. Of course you must be strong, but do not trick yourself into believing that bottling your emotions will aid on your path to strength."
"I know. Well, I don't know--but still-" He hesitated, "Thank you for being frank with me, Shilahi."
"Sometimes you're in need of a stern talking-to. This isn't my first time handing you a lecture."
"...Dorma said something very similar to me not long ago."
"I imagine her version involved plenty of honeyed words while burying your face deep in her chest." The Great Hermit sighed in a not-entirely dissatisfied way, "In Fleecian culture, relationships move quickly. It is a man's duty to respond to a woman's advances as quickly as possible. The two of you really must hurry up and wed one-another."
"Why don't you find a man for yourself before lecturing someone else about relationships?"
"Hoh. You wound me."
Barion's joking didn't detract from his gratitude. It was true that he couldn't quite muster the motivation that once led himself, Dorma and Shilahi across the world. The revelation of Demonkind's cyclical return had instilled a kind of worthlessness in his heart, strength and achievements aside. But the path of the Hero had never been a simple one--this he had come to understand better than anything else.
They idled close to the Gate while awaiting Fusala, who had accompanied them to thoroughly inspect the metallic tower jutting from the Steppe's infertile soil. When finally the Homunculus returned, her expression, as ever, was unreadable.
"The composition of the tower could best be compared to the alloy currently being issued to soldiers in Gria, but of a significantly higher purity." She reported, "Furthermore, as I once theorised, the tower appears to be lodged in the earth. I would estimate that almost 75% of its total mass is hidden from sight."
"Can you tell us anything about where it might have come from?" Barion asked.
"As with Crucibles, I believe the safest conclusion would be to suggest that they are of extra-terrestrial origin. If we operate under the assumption that Black Luna is somehow integral to the proliferation of Demons, I would assume that it originated from the moon itself."
"I still have some trouble imagining how a moon could somehow be the source of our troubles."
"Considering the evidence at hand, we must assume that it plays at least some part in the cycle."
"...But how would we ever find out?"
"As I'm sure Dorma has already pointed out, a group of sorcerers with a certain level of proficiency could theoretically open a Gate powerful enough to transport one the necessary distance." Fusala pointed out, "Our main obstacles, in that case, would be the high threat of asphyxiation and the temperatures present within the vacuum itself. Unprotected, the sheer coldness of space would immediately freeze you to death, and the lack of protection from our planet's atmosphere would also cause the sun's rays to scald your skin."
"Space is… a little scary, isn't it?" Barion blinked, "I always assumed it was just like an endless sky…"
"With enough research, I am certain that overcoming these hurdles is possible."
"With magic items, right? They seem to make those for just about everything nowadays."
"Indeed. I trust you would have no objections to approaching Black Luna, if necessary?"
"No. I'd like to see it up close for myself, actually." Though invisible in the daylight, Barion's gaze nonetheless found its way towards the sky, "I feel like… I have some kind of connection to it. Like it's trying to call out to me."
"These preparations of yours will take time, I expect?" Entering the conversation, Shilahi posed that simple question to Fusala, "I travelled to Gria with the expectation of throwing myself into glorious battle, but I've yet to see a single drop of Demon blood. I would much rather be liberating Tor's villages from the clutches of darkness than escorting research expeditions."
"We can't liberate anything without the Sword of Light." Barion replied, "Cleansing villages, moving Demon corpses, relocating evacuees… we've already made plans to expand Gria to accommodate those who arrived from the countryside."
"A fine answer, but not a particularly satisfying one." Shilahi complained, "The city is in dire need of a morale boost. We ought to organise an event to improve the people's spirits."
"You mean… a fair, or something like that?"
"Use your head, Barion." The Hermit tapped the side of her horns, "Fairs require food and drink--two luxuries we cannot afford to waste. Tell me, what do we have an excess of in Gria at the moment?"
"Evacuees?"
"Soldiers, Barion! Warriors!" She exclaimed, "The walls and gatehouses are rife with guardsmen arriving from the countryside, content with nothing else bar twiddling their thumbs. What we are in need of is a tournament!"
"You're out of your mind." Barion couldn't help but smirk, "What if there's another Demon attack? We need as many guards on hand as we do precisely in case of an emergency."
"The city's arena is still kept in good condition, is it not?"
"This isn't going to happen, Shilahi." He tried to let the girl down easy, "Granda would never approve it, and even if he did, the council would probably overturn the decision."
Contrary to his tone, tournaments had been a steady and popular affair in Gria for centuries. Healthy competition between the nation's guardsmen and travelling mercenaries made for fantastic practical training, and though society had been coddled towards bloodless conflict, the screech of metal against metal remained as exciting as ever among the common folk.
"You wouldn't happen to be suggesting this only because you haven't been able to fight recently, would you?" He asked.
"If you're suggesting that I planned to participate myself, then you would be sorely mistaken." Shilahi deflected, "-For what better demonstration of mankind's power would there be than a clash between the most powerful warriors the realm has ever seen?"
"Shilahi-"
"A special event." She raised a hand to silence him, "Those of exceptional skill--fighters and sorcerers alike, duelling for the approval of the city. You and I, Dorma, Fusala, Pale, the court sorcerers Lotte and Yula… it would make for a spectacle grander than any other. Running parallel to a bout between more middling combatants, of course."
"It sounds to me like you need to cool off a little." Barion turned around, "We've done everything we came here to do, so let's return before a horde of Demons show up."
"As you wish. But rest assured that I'll be presenting the idea to His Majesty right away."
"I hope you're ready to be disappointed, in that case…"
...
..
.
"Yes!?"
"Well, naturally." The ageing king replied matter-of-factly, "What an excellent idea. Fewer events would be more uplifting than bearing witness to the Three Heroes themselves doing battle, and the arena is always prepared for such occasions."
"But… won't this affect your credibility?" Barion protested, "Will the evacuees really think it's noble for a king to be arranging a tournament instead of planning for their futures?"
"Lord Barion, we have done all we can to accommodate those who have already gained entry to the city." Granda answered, "New homes and jobs will come, but time is necessary for all things. Even a sorcerer cannot make a town appear overnight."
"This pleases me greatly." Shilahi seemed chuffed with herself, "Barion, you must agree to participate. I would not be motivated enough to join in on the festivities if facing you in battle was not a possibility."
"We haven't even made sure that anyone wants anything to do with this!"
"Arrange some prizes, and even the elderly will line up to have their bones broken." She argued flippantly, "No doubt this castle has treasure to spare."
"She puts it crudely, but it is the truth." Granda agreed, "Our tournaments are quite popular indeed. In what better manner could the spirits of the deceased be honoured than a demonstration of Gria's strength? It will do wonders for morale regarding the state of this terrible war."
"Dear oh dear…" He muttered, "Well, if His Majesty is so certain about it, then what's a lowly Hero like myself to do?"
"A tournament to decide the strongest in the realms…" Shilahi smirked, "No doubt the rumours of it will attract fighters from across the world. For those who call themselves 'warriors', what could be more irresistible than watching the Hero of Legend himself taking to the field?"
And thus, the seeds of an outlandish idea had taken root.