In the middle of a whistling white storm, there alone stood a mighty palace of white. Its grand pillars were etched to perfection, so were each curve and measurements that gave its seamless symmetry.
From the size and design, any normal being would think this was the home of the gods.
Amidst the world of darkness, light shone upon a man who held himself entirely with one hand against a half -ball platform.
The interplay of light and darkness etched a still piece of art revealing each and every exposed muscle and contour, leaving no hint of fat.
His breathing was calm and stable, his legs and free arm spread out while his working arm showed no signs of fatigue.
The whiteness of his hair by the nape blended with its goldness, hinting at his age in an otherwise youthful body.
Silence, his only friend that provided him peace of mind as he thought of nothing.
Alas, that silence left the room to the creak and shutting of the door, followed by footsteps inching closer.
"Who's there?" the man asked, his raspy and experienced voice filtering through the calm air.
"Your form is a piece of art as usual, My Lord." said a deep, experienced voice.
"I myself am art." the former declared nonchalantly, slowly descending with his arm still maintaining balance before tilting as he landed. "What truly brings you here, [Medh]?"
"My Lord, I have news from Stepanburg." Medh replied, still out of the man's sight.
He combed his hair up with his hands and flicked his ponytail over his shoulder. "What could this be about?"
"The gangsters. Emperor Faris failed to keep order in the Southern Districts, thus resorting to Martial Law."
"Oh? How interesting." He straightened his body and stretched them sideways. "Say Medh, do you think I made the right decision by giving up my role to Faris?"
"..Thank you for granting me the privilege to speak my thoughts, My Lord.. I'd say it was a terrible idea."
The man chuckled pleasantly. "It couldn't be helped."
He turned around and extended both arms to the sides, flexing his flawlessly toned back and biceps. "If I wanted to achieve something greater, I had to give it up. Medh, the [Art of Magic] isn't something you can learn on a whim, you give up your life for endless pursuit of strength and perfection." he alternated between poses. "You know that."
"Indeed, I do. So then, what will we do about your son's.." he hesitated.
"Incompetence?" he chuckled. "I suppose it's about time we fill the missing pieces. Send [Muspelheim] to [Attican City]." Attican City,—home of the world's biggest craving; magic. It is the Holy City.
"Your wish is my command."
"Also, does she do anything else besides crushing heads in The Forbidden?"
"I believe not, My Lord."
"I see. You may leave now."
As the door shut and echoed, he was left alone once again.
He turned to the half-ball platform, his face bearing displeasure. "This is too easy."
He pointed at the light above and slowly walked with it until he reached one of the intricate pillars.
Engaging his right arm, he punched and broke off a chunk. He held onto the deformation tightly as his body engaged, raising his feet off the ground.
Slowly and carefully, he straightened sideways as if gravity didn't exist.—All with one hand.
He closed his eyes, his mind shutting off into nothingness. It was as if all laws bent to his will in this area. That would most likely be the case, whether literally or not.
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*
In between a space of darkness, light illuminated from the middle, its source a perfectly spherical crystal ball. Within, it revealed the same scene of the man balancing himself with one hand.
In front of the ball stood a woman with long, straight and black hair that spanned to her hips, her boxy eyewear reflecting the image of the ball.
"So that's your plan.." her mature voice filtered through the silent air. "Then, the syndicate shall send its own."
Through exerting hot and rich mana to her left hand, it glowed grey and levitated small papers in front of her. Within the papers were stylised drawings of familiar faces—one resembling Sévir, Sanguinex, Yasume, and a few other but unfamiliar subjects.
She wasn't going to be outdone. Or perhaps she just wanted to play around.
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*
Sitting beside each other by a round table were two siblings. The windows in front and to the right were as tall as two piled people, yet shunned little to no sun rays
"Brother?"
He turned to Zephyr. "What?"
"Your birthday's in eight days."
He folded his arms. "What about it?" Truthfully, he forgot about his own birthday.
Zephyr pouted. "What do you mean 'what about it?' You'll be turning seventeen!"
From her eyes, she seemed fired up. Sévir couldn't share the enthusiasm though,—his birthday was just another day.
"What do you want as a gift?"
Even he felt a little tired constantly saying her presence alone was enough, not because he no longer meant it but because Zephyr didn't like it.
It was clear she wanted to give him something when he didn't want anything in particular.
"Come on, don't be such a bum! Who knows? Maybe I won't be available on your birthday because of, I don't know, a mission?"
He shook his head. "Anyways." There was something more important to discuss than his birthday. "You gotta help me out with Sanguinex."
Yesterday was a big setback. Now Sanguinex is ignoring him.
…
"Sanguinex." his arms instinctively folded.
The red-haired girl laid in bed, facing the other way.
It seems like she was still upset about last night. But no worries, he finally got what she might want.
"I have a gift for you." he climbed on the bed and revealed the gift;—a silver chain bracelet. It was simple, but he hoped she would appreciate the thought.
It was silent as she seemed to dig her eyes on the gift, then she suddenly took it from his hands and huffed.
"So, ceasefire?"
"..Damn coconut." she mumbled.
…
Zephyr folded her arms, shaking her head in disapproval. "Brother is such a jerk."
He couldn't deny that.
"I'll help you," her smirk grew, "in one condition."
"That is?"
She leaned closer until their faces were inches away. "You tell me what you want for your birthday!"
He found himself a little speechless, but seeing the fire in her eyes, he could only sigh. "Fine."
With clasped hands and a delighted smile, she cheered in victory.
He scratched his head, unable to figure out her deep fixation in giving him a birthday gift.
If it meant helping him though, then he supposed it wouldn't hurt.
He tried to recall the last time he actually got a birthday present.. It was quite long ago.
The image of a smiling silver-haired and bearded man flashed before him, the man holding a dark longsword with his two hands.
The sword was tainted by slate, blood and gold, the slate image of an owl bearing a red gem against its head, and the gold edges of the sharp and intricate crossguard designing the unconventional sword.
The boxy lines connecting to one another stood out in the blade, its looks throwing off its otherwise clean state.
It was unmistakable;—it was Sanguinex, the family's last gift for him. Perhaps he was acting very careless towards their gift this whole time.—A companion, not an object.
The question lingered in his mind, and so he had no choice but to open it up to Zephyr when he knew she would listen. "Zephyr."
"Hm?"
Silence. He breathed in his strength to ask. "..Is Sanguinex really more than I see her to be?"
He knew Zephyr knew his perspective:—To him, she was nothing more but a human polymorph.—A fake human. He was convinced her feelings were hardwired from the very beginning. "If her feelings were set from the start, then could you still say her feelings to us were genuine?"
Zephyr's expressionless face said nothing about the matter besides the heavy air.
"Nex is honest."
He looked up to her from her comment, which she seemed to think about for a second. He expected a frown to follow from her blank tone, but only saw a soft smile.
"Nex is kind, she may have been set in the beginning, but everything beyond it is genuine. More importantly, she isn't human because she's a human polymorph," she put a hand on her heart, "she's human because of her heart."
He kept silent as he let the words sink in.
"Brother, be honest with me." she remained toneless, "you and Nex aren't just thieves, right?"
That very question sent a shiver down his spine and immediately broke a cold sweat.
"You guys kill for a living, right?" Of course she was smart enough to figure that out. Given the amount of times they went out, the city should've been drained of everything they've stolen already.
"When did you figure it out?"
"Years ago."
She hid this from him for years? Quite impressive if he had to be honest.
His impression faded away when she turned around and uttered, "You guys are no different from Emperor Bernard."
That's right.—Many have died at their hands, it wasn't hard to see they were becoming who led them to who they are now.
He looked away. "That's.." he thought hard of all the counters, all the justifications. "Combat is our prowess, the military was a no-go."
"That's not my point." her shoulders tensed. "To think my brother and my best friend would kill hundreds of lives to just let me sit back comfortably.." The edge in her voice was unmistakable, so was the trembling of her clenched hands. "I don't like it. I don't condone your methods."
That's to be expected from a heart like hers.—Exactly why he never wished to tell her.
"I should be sad, I should be angry.." She turned to face him, a confused and upset look in her face. "Yet, I feel happy knowing you guys love me that much."
"....."
"Brother."
"....."
"Do you think Nex still isn't human?"
No words escaped his mouth despite his desire to answer.
It wasn't just about Sanguinex that she asked that.
He saw through it,—her attempt to get rid of his own view.
But how could he when it was so deeply ingrained, and has been for years? The fact he was the same kind as Bernard: a heartless murderer.
Seemingly noticing the conflict in his face, she smiled. "Answer me when the time comes."
Her assurance lifted some weight off his shoulders. Ah right, this was Zephyr he was talking to. Zephyr would never say anything to hurt him or anyone.—She was an angel.
Zephyr coughed a few times, hinting her desire to change the topic. "Brother, I have a mission the day before your birthday." In other words: seven days.
The mention of her mission made him instinctively raise a brow. "What's the mission?"
She stood up, her hands clasped behind. "The Trystan Knights are launching a counter-offensive into Eatsa in three days, then Nursia in two." she walked around the table as she spoke.
That only meant one thing: Emperor Faris decided to put his foot down.
"The Director's sending our team to the frontlines, assuming the offensive will be successful."
Dread attacked his heart as he thought deeply about what she said.
Zephyr? Directly in the frontlines? No, she would be even deeper given the academy's recent movement,—spearheading attacks for the knights to follow through.
Should he stop her? Or should she trust her skills?
Already able to imagine the sad look on her face if he were to say no, he bit the bullet. "Okay. Be safe out there." That's all he could say.
She smiled. "Of course I will."
With that out of the way, Zephyr cleared her throat again. "What did you do with Ms. Meredith?"
Huh? "Huh?"
"You were with her yesterday, right? Mr. Percival told me."
He didn't know whether he should be mad about the fact Percival snitched on him, or the fact Percival's talking to Zephyr behind his back. Eitherway, he instinctively wore a frown.
She put her hands up. "Woah woah woah, calm down a little, Doggy."
"Don't call me 'Doggy'. Also, what breed?"
"Uh, [Weimaraners]? You know, the silver ones?"
He folded his arms instinctively. "Whatever. I'll have a talk with that damn 'Golden Retriever'."
As if she knew what he implied, she frowned in worry. "..You don't need to do that.."
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