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THE TRACES

Ion overlooked a massive plain set between two rivers running perpendicular to one another, decorated with occasional slopes of erect stones. Currently, none of the green which it sported just a few days ago could be seen, entirely replaced by jetted, black, silver and crimson dots across. It was a sea of people -- over four hundred thousand in total -- all ready to charge out onto the Holy Continent.

He stood on top of the tallest, flattened stone erection, behind him a flapping tent from which chatter of the voices could be heard. Over a dozen Generals beneath him flared out at one another over the best way to invade, but Ion knew it was pointless. No matter what they did, how they did it, or even when they did it, they would face little opposition. The only trouble they’d come across is when they reached the sects of the Holy Grounds as Defensive Artifacts were difficult to battle against.

None of the other powers on the Holy Continent could contend against the Empyrion, and this was mostly just a show of force -- or at least Ion assumed so. He’d seen Lino angry before, but this time around something was different; rather than just anger, his voice, his countenance, the way he relayed what he wanted to be done, was apathetic. Indifferent. As though he didn’t even care whether it was done or not, but did it simply for keeping up the pretense.

Ion shook his head, dispelling the thoughts; it was not on him to consider the motives behind Lino’s actions -- it was on him to simply do what he needed to do to fulfill the mission.

He wagered that, at this pace, they would depart in three-four days at most, and would reach the Holy Continent, in full force, within three months. The entire conquest should take around a year at most, excluding taking over the Holy Grounds themselves. This was the quickest he could manage, and still, if anyone were to hear his thoughts, they’d think him absolutely mad.

**

Lucky was currently standing beside several dozen corpses, a deep frown etched on her face. Wet blood mixed with dry, dyeing her face and clothes, causing her expression to seem rather demonic to the few still living around her. None dared make a sound, however, cowering and shaking, leaned against the cold stone-walls of the dimly-lit room.

"... the fox really covers his tracks well," she mumbled, ripping herself away from her thoughts after a long while. "You’d think he was a fucking ghost at this point, no?"

"He effectively is, to you." she didn’t seem startled by the newcomer who appeared from the thin membrane of space a few feet away from her. He stood straight, emotionless, draped in traditional armor. Lucky quickly recognized him as Dangwe’s right-hand man, the one everyone called Son because of Lino.

"... for all the power he professed to have," she grinned lightly. "It seems it still can’t rebuild his lacking balls."

"My Lord is simply waiting for yours to regain his senses and end this madness."

"... pfft, ha ha ha," she burst out into a bout of laughter, getting up, playing with a dagger in her right hand. "You two still sound quite hopeful that you’ll come out of this alive. Tsk, tsk," she clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "There ain’t no hole here or elsewhere deep or far enough to hide in. I’ll find you, don’t worry. And when I do, he’ll sweep in and crack your bones one by one."

"... you seem entirely unconcerned by his actions," the old man remained calm, looking directly into her eyes. "You do realize he’s intending to commit dozens of mass massacres?"

"Aye," she nodded. "The bastard should have done it a long time ago. Would have saved us a lot of headaches. Why the long face? He’s just doing what you’ve been doing since life on his shithole existed. The difference is," she added with a faint smile. "He has the balls to do it openly and call out anyone brave enough to challenge him."

"... and you believe there’s no one out there that fits that description?" the old man asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Oh, I’m sure there is," she shrugged. "I’m hardly the wise little lady, but I’m not blind either. I didn’t take you to be, though."

"... he’ll regret his decisions."

"I’m sure he will," she said. "He’s a softie like that. Won’t change a thing, however."

"... you’re mindlessly following his creed without even understanding the stakes." he said. "Can you even comprehend what he is contending against?"

"... who cares?" she shrugged indifferently. "Let ’em duke it out, no? If he wins, great. If he loses, what’s the worst that will happen? We die? Eh, it ain’t too bad. You’re too serious man, you gotta relax," she stretched lazily, yawning. "Now skitter back over to your collar-bearing master and holler at him, will ya’? Tell him his old friend his waiting, impatiently at that, for a visit. They’ve a thing or two to split hairs about."

"... good luck with your search," the old man sighed, withdrawing through the membrane of space. "Though, your results might be rather unsatisfactory in the end."

Lucky watched him leave with an indifferent face, sending a few daggers flying at the throats of those still living, killing them all swiftly. The daggers retracted back into her hands as she twirled them around her fingers, putting them back into the holds on her belt.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the spacetime, Dangwe watched the old man appear in front of him, a solemn expression plastered on his wrinkled face.

Dangwe himself had a deep-etched frown as an expression, tapping his index finger against the armrest, seemingly deep in thought.

"... this might be the end of the line, old friend." Dangwe said after a long silence, sighing.

"My Lord, don’t say that!" the old man exclaimed quickly. "If we continue to hide, they will never find us!"

"... they will. It will take some time, but they will." Dangwe said. "We’re only delaying the inevitable. We made a wrong bet, and we lost. It’s fine. Next time, we’ll do better."

"... this... it wasn’t supposed to be like this..."

"Blame that lad," Dangwe said, his eyes growing misty as he looked past the membrane of reality, his sight catching a figure standing tall on the snowy mountain. "Take care of the home, old friend. I’ll be seeing you in another life."

"--my Lord--" the old man stretched out his arm, but it only reached emptiness -- the young man that was sitting opposite of him vanished.

The old man crumpled to his knees, tears beginning to stream out of his eyes. The end of an immeasurably long story... has arrived.

**

Lino spun around slowly and faced the newcomer on the top of the mountain; he still maintained the appearance of a young man and was clad in relatively ordinary clothes. It was clear from a quick glance he wasn’t here to fight.

The wind around them blew relentlessly, snowflakes joining into swarms as they belted the earth. However, as they touched Lino’s exposed torso and arms, they melted straight off and turned into droplets of water. His black hair billowed violently behind him, the pair of dark eyes meeting Dangwe’s squarely.

"... I thought you’d hide till your bones turned to ash." Lino said emptily.

"I thought so too," Dangwe replied, smiling faintly. "But then I saw how lonely you looked up here, so I figured I’d join you."

"... you came to terms with it?"

"Aye. I suppose I have. Or, at least, as well as I ever would."

"This feels... rather anti-climactic." Lino said.

"What? You expected me to go out and fight you with all I have?" Dangwe asked, his smile widening. "You seem to seriously doubt my intelligence."

"Among other things."

"... I suppose I deserved that. I truly am sorry, Lyonel."

"No you’re not," Lino said, shrugging. "But, it’s fine. I don’t need you to be sorry."

"I made a bet."

"You made a choice, Dan," Lino said. "Don’t relegate it like that. Don’t make me lose whatever little respect I’ve left for you."

"... a startling variable," Dan mumbled, sighing. "You really pulled the wool over our eyes, Lino. You’ll make it far."

"Wool? When have I ever pulled anything?" Lino said. "I always told everyone I’d win. For decades now I’ve been saying that. It’s not on me that you lot are morons."

"Ha ha, I suppose that’s true. You really did always ooze confidence. We thought it arrogance, however."

"... hm," Lino hummed lowly, walking over to Dan, pulling out the Slayer from its scabbard and pressing it against the man’s throat. The latter flinched slightly, though didn’t cower, still squarely meeting Lino’s gaze. "You’re yet to lose the last bone, I see."

"..." Dan remained silent, finally closing his eyes, exhaling deeply.

"I’ll leave him alone," Lino added in a whisper.

"Thank you..."

Lino heaved the Slayer back and swung it in full force, prepared to end it all swiftly. Just as the blade was about to cut into Dan’s neck, however, he felt immense force break out of in-between the two, a sort of a wall built up entirely of an unknown form of energy that caused the Slayer to bounce back violently, pulling Lino with itself backward. The blade cried while Lino channeled Qi rapidly, startled.

As he regained his footing, he looked at the similarly-confused Dan; the man clearly had no clue what happened either. It was then that, above him, the space tore open as a figure clad in holy, golden armor, a spinning halo of pure energy superimposed over her back, walked through. She was perhaps even more beautiful than ever before, drowned in the light so holy Lino was unable to stare at it directly. However, he’d recognize her whether he could see her or not.

"El’?" he called out, finally getting used to the light slightly, managing to meet her startlingly bright eyes. "Where the hell have you been?" he asked, walking back toward Dan. "Give me a sec. I’ll finish it quickly." Back off, Lino! He, however, ignored Ataxia’s warning.

"... you can’t kill him, Lino." Ella’s voice was as melodic as always, though there was something different in it. It caused him to come to a halt, warily glancing up.

"... it is you, El’? Right?"

"It is."

"Any particular reason as to why I can’t kill him?"

"Any particular reason as to why you should?" she asked back.

"Plenty."

"..."

"What’s going on Ella?" he asked, taking a step back and drawing the Slayer forward, entering a fighting stance, his eyes turning into slits.

"..." she looked at him emptily for a moment, though he did spot a faint crack in the facade. It lasted for less than a flash, though it was there. Which only made it worse -- as he confirmed it was really her.

"Why can’t I kill him?" he asked again, his muscles stiffening. That warning was back again. It was calling out to him once more, even more violently than before. It felt as though the Primal Chaos within him was about to rip through his body and escape.

"..." Ella stared at him for a moment before sighing, shifting her eyes sideways and onto Dan as her expression grew even more complex. The man stared back at her, stunned beyond belief, his lips trembling, legs quivering, too weak to keep him afloat. He collapsed to his knees, his entire expression distorted.

"L-Layla?"

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