Chapter 199: Flamme's Adventure and Farewell
Annelise watched him go. He would not be back, she knew. Not until he had found a way to deal with her for good. She was his other half, his dark reflection, the other possible ending to his own story.
"Your Majesty, are you alright?" one of the Sages asked. But she ignored him.
A wave of a strange, almost nostalgic, feeling washed over her. "So bright," she murmured, and her gaze fell on the spot where Shurahat had once stood. "I hope you enjoy my gift."
Just then, a tremor, a silent and soul-shaking vibration, came from a place far, far away. It was not a physical quake, but a psychic one. She turned and looked in its direction, to a holy land, a place far from her own domain, a place far from the kingdoms of men.
In that place, in a hidden cavern in the heart of a mountain, on a stone pedestal, a sword rested. Its blade was a smooth and unadorned thing, but it radiated a warmth, a gentleness, as if it were carved from a piece of jade, a perfect and flawless masterpiece. It was the third of the legendary holy swords, the equal of Org and Athos: the Sword of Salvation, Estorion.
It had not been forged by a dwarf, or by any mortal hand. It was a product of the world's own will, a manifestation of its own balance and order, the true Sword of the Hero. It had no master. It would only awaken in a time of a great and terrible crisis.
And now, after an age of a silent and dreamless sleep, it had awoken.
VMM!!!
The blade began to tremble violently. The soft light around it flickered, and the ancient runes on the cavern walls began to glow.
It had sensed it. The power that could destroy the world. The source of it, a wisp of an aura that had escaped in her battle with him.
She closed her eyes and felt it, the world's own will, now turned against her, a hostile and warning presence. "Did you feel that, Estorion? But there's nothing you can do, is there?" she thought, and a scornful smile touched her lips. "A sword that cannot be drawn is just an ornament," she murmured, and a series of visions, of possible futures, flashed in her mind. "I see... interesting."
She turned her attention back to her own court. Riwal, Beze, Macht, Fin... the strongest of their kind, now all on their knees before her, not a single thought of a resistance in their minds.
"Rise," she said, her voice a calm and level sound. "Rebuild this place. As for Shurahat's replacement... Macht will take his place for now."
"Yes, Your Majesty," he said. The others also acknowledged her command, but a seed of a doubt had been planted in their minds. The Demon King... she had shown no anger, no regret, at his death. It was... strange.
"Riwal, I want you to keep an eye on Rhodes and Serie. Do not engage. Just observe. And Rhodes... he is the priority."
"As you command, Your Majesty," he said, and a flicker of a battle-lust appeared in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed. Observe, she had said. As a warrior who lived for battle, to die at the hands of the god-slayer would have been an honor. But he would not disobey her command.
"Beze, Fin, you will assist Macht," she said, and then, without another word, she vanished.
The four of them looked at each other, a new and unfamiliar fear in their eyes. Their new king... her thoughts were a mystery.
Another year passed.
The forest where Rhodes and Serie now lived was now shrouded in a powerful barrier, a spell called 'Shinra Bansho' ('All-Covering Forest'), a creation of her own, with Athos as its core, a barrier that blocked all scrying. The name, of course, had been his own idea. She had at first thought it was a terrible name and had refused to use it, but in the end, he had worn her down. She had created the spell, and he had taken the naming rights. The audacious human. She made a new entry in the little black book she kept in her mind.
In their hut, Rhodes was sitting in the center of a complex magic circle, Shurahat's head floating before him. He had created the memory-reading spell, yes, but he had had no one to test it on. To experiment on a living person... that was a line he would not cross. A demon, however... that was another matter.
And so, he was now carefully probing the magical imprint in the demon's mind, a delicate and intricate work.
Org was on the floor beside him. A small, residual part of the Demon King's own corrupting energy had remained on its blade, and it had taken him a great deal of effort to remove it.
Serie was sitting by the window, a cup of fruit tea in her hand. The view was the same as it had been for a thousand years, a beautiful but boring sight. And yet, she would still sometimes just... stare, at the trees, at the sky.
But she was not looking at the view now. She was looking at her two students, Flamme and Ela, who were now preparing for a journey. Ela had returned while he and she had been at the Demon King's castle and had, by chance, met her. If not for the unique magic she had taught her, a magic that had served as a proof of her identity, Ela might have taken her for an intruder. But now, they were fast friends.
And not long ago, he and she had decided that it was time for Ela to take her on a journey of her own, a journey of training and experience. The girl was now a young woman, and a powerful and capable mage. And Ela... her own adventures had made her wise beyond her years. She would be a good guide.
Flamme was now carefully checking her pack. She was wearing a simple, brown traveling robe, and a short mage's cloak. The staff he had forged for her was in her hand. Ever since the battle at Weiburg, her desire to become stronger had only grown. She had readily agreed to their proposal.
Beside her, Ela was a picture of a calm and collected composure. Her own pack was small, with only the bare necessities. The only thing she had in common with the other was the staff in her hand. As an elf, she had a different perception of time. For her, this was just a walk, a stroll, a thing she had done a thousand times before. But she could see the nervousness on the girl's face and had made a secret promise to herself, a promise to her teacher, to protect her.
Finally, Flamme was ready. She took a deep breath and walked to the treehouse.
Rhodes had paused in his work, and Serie had also turned to look as her two students came in. "Teacher Rhodes, Teacher Serie... I've come to say goodbye," she said.
"Yes, teacher," Ela nodded. "We're ready to leave."
"Oh, I see. I understand. You're abandoning me now, are you?" he said, and then, in a strange, theatrical voice, "'We are born of the old blood...'"
A sharp rap on the head from Serie cut him off. "What are you talking about!?"
After she had dealt with the troublemaker, she walked over to her student. "Remember what I have taught you," she said, her voice now a rare and gentle sound. "Magic is not just about brute force. Against an enemy, a calm mind is a greater weapon than a furious heart."
"Yes, teacher! I will remember!"
She then turned to Ela. "I'm leaving her in your hands," she said, her voice now a stern and serious one.
She had told her to protect the girl. But she was surprised that her teacher would care so much. She was a different person now, from the one she had known.
He then walked over to the other girl. "Shouldn't you wear some armor? I have a few sets of the finest dwarven-make in storage," he said, but was immediately cut off by Serie.
"A mage in armor? Don't be ridiculous," she said. A mage's greatest asset was their mobility. Armor would just slow them down.
"You have a point," he said, and his gaze drifted to the depths of the forest, as if to the place where the holy sword, Athos, now stood, the heart of their barrier. "Or... we could just give her Athos. It is the most powerful of all defensive spells, after all. I could find a temporary substitute..."
His words were cut short by a sudden and dramatic drop in temperature. A powerful and unmistakable wave of displeasure radiated from the elven miss, and the teacup in her hand was now covered in a web of fine cracks.
"There's no need for that, Teacher Rhodes," the girl said, having seen the look on her other teacher's face. "I can protect myself." I have to be stronger, she thought, so I can stand on the same level as her.
He also saw the look, and his mouth, which had been about to speak, was now firmly shut.
"Ahem, alright then," he said. He then turned to the other girl. "Ela, she has little combat experience. Keep an eye on her. And remember, safety first."
She was a little surprised. She looked at her 'junior sister', and wondered what was so special about her, to be doted on by both her teachers. "I understand, Mr. Rhodes," she said with a nod.
"Alright, but the girls can take care of themselves. They're not children anymore," Serie finally said, having had enough. He saw the 'don't-push-it' look in her eyes, and wisely decided to just shut up.
He took a deep breath. "Flamme," he said, his voice now a low and serious one, "on your journey... if you can... go and visit the elven villages."
"The elven villages? Why? Is it to learn their nature magic? Sister Ela can teach me that," she said, confused.
"Not just that," he shook his head. "Just... go and see. You might just meet some unexpected people."
He couldn't tell her, of course. The one who was destined to be her true apprentice... he was likely now just a child, living in a peaceful elven village, unaware of his own destiny.
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