'It seems this play won't be as boring as I thought it would be,' Alex mused, his attention now fully captivated by the unfolding events on stage.
The longer he watched, the more impressed he became. The play was so lifelike that it felt as if the gruesome massacre was happening right before their eyes. When Alex first arrived, he had anticipated a performance akin to the old-style theater productions from Earth, with exaggerated gestures and static props. Instead, what he was witnessing was far beyond anything he had imagined. It wasn't merely like watching a movie—it was something far more immersive and visceral, surpassing even the most advanced cinematic experiences he had ever known.
What Alex had failed to account for was the one fundamental difference between Earth and Wadata: the existence of mana.
While many aspects of life in this world bore similarities to Earth, mana made everything drastically different. It wasn't just a subtle enhancement—it was a transformative force.
On Earth, actors relied solely on their skills, creativity, and the limited resources available for effects, such as lighting or props. In Wadata, however, performers could draw upon an entire arsenal of possibilities powered by mana.
The scene playing before Alex was undeniable proof of the power of mana in enhancing this world's art. Everything was so vivid, so meticulously detailed, that it felt as though stepping too close to the stage might thrust an unsuspecting spectator into the inferno unfolding before their eyes. The reason for this realism, as Alex deduced moments after the play began, was the use of mana—more specifically, an illusion spell.
Details such as the burning homes, the lifeless corpses, and the rivers of blood pooling on the ground were all, in fact, mere illusions. Alex wasn't entirely certain, but he was confident that someone among those involved in the play—either a participant or an organizer—had a mastery of illusion magic.
That said, not everything on stage was an illusion. Some of the performers were actual, living, breathing individuals, and certain props and parts of the scenery were tangible objects.
What struck Alex the most was how seamlessly illusion and reality were interwoven. Even though he could identify which elements were fabricated, it didn't detract from their impact in the slightest.
Illusions generally had a significant weakness: once someone realized they were illusions, their effect faded. Yet this play defied that notion. Even with Alex's awareness, the visceral emotions and tension created by the scene remained intact. This mastery of blending real and unreal not only broke the conventional rules of illusion but also made the experience far more captivating.
As the play continued, the massacre inside the small village carried on mercilessly. The orcs spared no one, cutting down men and women alike, whether they were frail elders or defenseless children.
Through it all, the haunting melody of the piano resonated in the hall. Unlike before, however, the music no longer stood apart from the carnage—it became an integral part of it. The notes shifted in tone and rhythm, embodying the despair, the screams, and the violence unfolding on the stage. It was as if the piano itself cried out for the lives being extinguished.
Then, suddenly, the "camera" shifted. The perspective moved away from the village's central chaos to a small, secluded cottage at the outskirts. This house, unlike the others, was untouched for the moment, standing apart from the carnage. However, the echoing screams and the growing sounds of destruction made it clear that its brief reprieve would soon come to an end.
As Alex and the others people present in the theater watched on, a couple, followed by a kid, came out of the cottage. The man and woman, both of them young, looked at the fast approaching flames that rose from the village with a hint of fear, apprehension, and horror. The kid, a boy, meanwhile, looked around in confusion as it seemed that his little brain couldn't comprehend what was happening.
"Let's leave, quick," the adult man urged as he yanked his wife and kid in the opposite direction of the growing inferno.
Unfortunately, they barely covered a few dozen meters before their path forward was blocked by an especially prominent orc. It reeked of blood, and its muscular body was wreathed in blood. The battle axe it firmly held in its hand dripped with blood as it gazed at the family of three with a savage grin on its face.
The sight of this menacing orc momentarily froze them in place, chills coursing down their bodies.
The man shook his head to compose himself, something that was especially difficult as he gazed into the eyes of the orc that glinted with malice, and let go of the hands of his wife and child.
"Listen carefully," the man began as he pulled out a sword that was hanging at his side, "at my signal, you two run in the direction of the forest. Don't look back. Just run." He glanced at the terrified faces of his wife and son as though he was trying to etch what they looked like in his memory, and smiled. "If the gods wish it, we will meet again."
He focused back on the orc, who was casually walking in their direction, gritted his teeth, and charged at it, his sword raised high to meet the monster in a desperate bit to protect his family.
"NOW!" the man shouted as his sword met with the orc's battle axe.
Tears streaming down her face, the wife took their child in her hands and ran away in the direction of the forest, each step moving her farther from the massacre and battles of the village, as well as from the battle of her husband.
Once his wife and child had escaped, a weight seemed to have been taken off the husband, and he fully concentrated on the battle with the orc.
Although he had decided to face this terrible foe, the man had no experience in using his sword, having barely swung it a few times in his life. However, with the safety of his wife and son at stake, there was no way he would back off from this fight.
Fortunately, what he lacked in experience, he more than made up for with raw strength. Even though orcs were naturally stronger physically compared to humans, this man was able to go toe-to-toe with this orc and even seemed to overwhelm his opponent.
After an intense and arduous, but relatively short battle, the man successfully cleaved the head of his opponent, finally killing him, though he himself had suffered a great deal of wounds.
However, he seemed to not care about his wounds as he rapidly walked in the direction his wife had taken, despite his limping right foot.
Minutes later, he caught up with his family, but to his greatest despair, what he found weren't the waiting and anxious faces of his wife and little boy. Instead, he witnessed the severed corpses of the two people he held most dear in his life. Not far from them, several orcs were looking at him with amused glints in their eyes.
Subjected to this sight, the husband seemed to lose himself, his expression turning blank. With tears flooding out of his eyes and roaring in rage, he charged at the group of orcs that had murdered his family.
This action of his only made the orcs burst into laughter. However, by the end of the fight, there were no laughing orcs, as they had all been killed in the most ruthless way possible. Their mutilated bodies, if they could still be called bodies, lay strewn across the forest, most of them missing several parts.
When the husband came to, he was wreathed in green blood and was holding the bodies of his wife and child, tears spilling from his eyes like a flood. However, if one looked at his face right now, it wouldn't be an expression of sadness that one could see, but one of deep-seated hatred.
The man's usual brown eyes shifted, darkening into a deep black that seemed to swirl with an eerie depth. When you gazed into them, it felt as though you were falling into an unfathomable abyss, a void from which there was no escape.
"I will avenge you," he said as he planted a kiss on his wife and child. "I will kill them all."
It was on that note that the curtains were pulled and closed, marking the end of the first part.
When the piano's song ceased, the room fell into such an intense silence that one could almost hear the faint buzz of a fly—if such a creature could be found into this place that is. However, the silence was short-lived, as people quickly began to cheer and applaud.
Above, in the box reserved for the matriarch of the Drazen family, Freya took a sip of her wine and glanced at Alex. "So, how did you find the first part?"
"Interesting," Alex replied, "I'll be honest, it was much better than I expected."
"I'm glad you liked it," Freya said with a smile, nodding. "On another note, did you manage to guess what events this play is depicting?"
"Mm," Alex nodded as he leaned back on the couch, his shoulder brushing against Freya's in the process.
"Oh, do share your guess," Freya said, shifting slightly as she also leaned against the couch.
Alex didn't respond immediately. He took a moment to reflect on the events he had witnessed before nodding confidently. "That's the story of Fiore, the first human emperor, the one who founded the Fiore Empire."