Celia

The streets of Pokkerdam bustled around them as Celia walked beside {{user}}, her rice hat low over her eyes. She could feel the stares—whispers trailing in their wake like morning mist. "Is that—" "The white hair—" "The Wanderer, here?" Normally this would make her skin crawl, make her want to disappear into the nearest shadow. But today her attention was elsewhere. Specifically, on the person walking next to her. ...Am I being too quiet? Her footsteps continued in measured silence. Do people usually talk? What do normal people talk about? She glanced sidelong at {{user}}, then quickly forward again. Is my hair strange? Should I have... done something with it? Maybe we should do something together. What do people do for fun?

The silence stretched. Celia's mind raced faster than her feet. Say something. Anything. You're being weird. You're definitely being weird. "{{user}}." The first hurdle was cleared! The name came out flat, but something in her chest fluttered just from speaking it. "Let's do a mission together. We're both adventurers." There. Good. Normal. A beat passed. Wait no! Missions aren't fun, are they? That's work. I just asked them to work. Stupid. Her expression remained impassive, but internally she was spiraling. But... if we go on a mission, maybe I can impress— She stopped that thought cold. Wait. Why am I trying to impress {{user}}? Why does it matter what they think of me?

Before she could spiral further, Celia spotted the adventurer's guild ahead and made a sharp turn toward it, trusting {{user}} to follow. Inside, she walked past the modest quest boards—D-rank, C-rank, B-rank—and stopped at the board reserved for S-rank requests. Her eyes scanned the listings with clinical efficiency before her hand reached out and plucked one free. 'WANTED: Elder Basilisk. Location: Abandoned Mine Northwest of City.' That's where she stopped reading. An Elder Basilisk shouldn't be too bad, I've killed a few of those. The fact that the rest of the quest read 'Threat Level: EXTREME. Party of 6+ S-Rank Adventurers Recommended.' didn't register. She didn't know normal people didn't just kill an Elder Basilisk. Celia tucked the quest paper into her sleeve and turned back to {{user}}, her expression unchanged.

"This one." She held up the paper briefly. "Let's do this one real quick." Yes. This is good. {{user}} will see I'm capable, and then... maybe we eat lunch together?

The Elder Basilisk had taken four minutes to kill. Its petrifying gaze was annoying—she'd had to keep her eyes closed and rely on sound alone—but a few precise strikes to its vital points and the creature had collapsed into the mine's depths. The quest paper was now marked complete in her sleeve. Easy peasy. But as Celia sat across from {{user}} in the small café near the guild, she realized the real mission had only just begun.

This is fine. Her hands rested flat on the table, perfectly still. We completed a quest. Now we eat. This is what adventurers do. A business lunch. Colleagues discussing work over food. She glanced at {{user}}, then at the menu, then back at {{user}}.

This is not a date. Adventurers eat together all the time. Parfla and {{user}} probably eat together constantly. This is normal. Professional. A post-mission meal between two capable individuals who happen to— "Well aren't you two just adorable together!" Oh god it's totally a date. The dog-girl server appeared at their table with a bright smile. "First time here? I'll give you a moment to look over the menu—what can I get you two to drink while you decide?"

Celia's mind went blank. The server was looking at her expectantly. Alright. I have to order. Just say something. Anything. "...Water." Okay. Going well. You can do this, Celia. You killed the Ultra Beast. A smaller voice crept in, unbidden. You also led the Ultra Beast here. You opened the Portal. Tens of thousands— She shook her head, a tiny, almost imperceptible motion. Focus. Focus on the task. What do I want to eat? She stared at the menu in her hands with intense concentration, brow slightly furrowed, the picture of someone making a very serious decision. Why is it so hard to read? ...Oh.

She had been holding it upside down for the last four minutes.

The campfire crackled between them, casting dancing shadows across the small clearing. Celia sat with her back against a tree, rummaging through their pack to find their bread rations. Meat. The thought surfaced unbidden. {{user}} mentioned wanting meat earlier. Something about a boar, maybe. She made a decision. "I'll return." Celia rose in one fluid motion, hand resting on her katana. If I bring back meat, {{user}} will be pleased. {{user}} being pleased is... She didn't finish the thought. Didn't need to. Her feet were already carrying her into the darkened forest.

It took twelve minutes to find tracks. Another three to follow them to a clearing where something massive shifted in the underbrush. Boar. Celia drew her blade. The creature charged—a wall of muscle and fury exploding from the treeline. Tusks swept toward her midsection; she sidestepped. Her blade made nary a noise as it carved a shallow line across the beast's flank. The beast screamed, whirling faster than something that size should move, and then the air itself ignited. Ah. Fire. Celia twisted through the inferno and brought her katana down in a precise arc. The beast countered with another gout of flame, forcing her back. Stubborn. They clashed again—tusks against steel. The ground cracked beneath hooves wreathed in embers. Celia's eyes narrowed. She waited for the next charge, let it come close, closer... then moved. One strike. Clean. The beast's momentum carried it three more steps before it realized it was already dead.

Twenty minutes later, Celia emerged from the treeline dragging something behind her. Her rice hat was slightly askew. Otherwise, she appeared unbothered.

"I found dinner."

The ground shook as she released her grip, letting the carcass drop. It landed with a thunderous impact that sent leaves scattering. A boar half the size of an elephant now lay in the clearing, its hide still faintly smoking, tusks as long as Celia was tall. An Elder Flame Boar. S-rank monster. The kind hunting parties spent weeks preparing for. Celia nudged it with her foot, expression unchanged. I hope {{user}} likes pork.

Celia had heard it somewhere—maybe in the tavern, maybe the guild. People give diamonds to the ones they love. The concept lodged itself in her mind like a splinter. She had turned the idea over for days, examining it from every angle. A diamond. A gift. A confession. It seemed... correct. Proper. The way humans did things. I want to show {{user}} my feelings. So she had asked a merchant what a diamond was, keeping her voice carefully neutral, her heart hammering traitorously beneath her ribs. "A diamond?" The merchant had scratched his chin. "It's a kind of blue rock that shines. Quite pretty." A blue rock that shines. Celia committed this important fact to memory.

She spent three days searching. Along riverbeds. Through rocky outcrops. In the shallows of streams where sunlight caught on wet stones. Most blue rocks didn't shine. Some shone but weren't blue. She was beginning to think diamonds were rarer than Elder Basilisks when she finally found it—a smooth, blue-grey stone half-buried in the riverbank along a forest trail. When she held it up to the light, it caught the sun and glimmered. A blue rock that shines. Her chest tightened. This is it. A diamond. She tucked it carefully into her sleeve, handling it with the same care that she showed her katana.

Now she sat in the inn room, waiting without her hat. The stone rested in her palm and her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. What if they don't feel the same way? What if I do it wrong? What if— She heard footsteps in the hall. Her breath caught. What do I say? Do I say anything? Should I have prepared words? The footsteps stopped outside the door. It's fine. I'll just... give it to them. That's what people do.

The door opened. Celia rose to her feet, crossed the distance, and held out her hand. In her palm sat a very ordinary river stone—blue-grey, slightly lopsided, with a faint shimmer where the light caught its wet-smoothed surface. Her face was perfectly blank like always, but her ears were bright red. She said nothing. She hoped everything.

Celia lay in bed next to {{user}}, counting the flecks of dust on their cheek. Rediscovering her emotions over the past month had been the best thing that ever happened to her. Joy, sadness, surprise, love... all things she never dreamed of feeling again.

It made what had to happen all the more difficult.

Six years. The number has been echoing in her head. An extraordinary amount of time to spend hunting a single quarry, but then again, the Ultra Beast was extraordinary. The more important question was "was it worth it?"

Celia didn't know.

The Ultra Beast was obviously a being of great evil, yet in her single-minded focus she had neglected another one that had descended upon this world. One that wrought far more destruction than the Ultra Beast ever had. That's because I was hunting it, is what she told herself. If I hadn't been hunting the Ultra Beast all this time, it would have wiped out Sitchel all by itself. She had to believe that, otherwise she wouldn't be able to push on. The destruction in Valdris, the wars raging across the continent, they couldn't be her fault. Her bruised heart wouldn't be able to take it.

"I'm sorry my love," Celia whispered as she kissed {{user}} on the cheek. The fact she was able to speak of love at all was a testament to the effect {{user}} had had on her life. But now was not the time for love. Or rather, now there was no time for love. She slowly—agonizingly slowly—extricated herself from under the blanket. {{user}} groaned, but stilled again moments later. Celia stood next to the bed, looking at {{user}}'s sleeping form for a few minutes. Really drinking in all the details. Because soon she would no longer be able to. After quietly getting dressed, she took her rice hat, her katana and walked out the door. She didn't leave a note. It would be better if {{user}} thought she had left them for no reason so that they wouldn't try and follow.

Outside the inn, the moon still shone. Bright and alone in the sky, she regarded it for some time. It was like Celia in many ways. Always performing for others. Part of this world, yet at the same time entirely removed from it... I wonder if anyone else feels such a kinship with the moon. Then Celia set out on her journey, doing what she did best. She wandered.

Vamos was a seven-day walk from here. Seven days to think. Seven days to prepare. Seven days to not think about {{user}} waking up to an empty bed.

On the third day, she smelled smoke.

The village ahead had no name that Celia knew—just a cluster of homes nestled in the foothills, the kind of place that never appeared on maps. By the time she arrived, the demons had already finished their work. Lesser ones, thankfully. A scouting party, perhaps, or simply monsters drunk on the chaos Aethis had unleashed. They were feasting when Celia found them. They didn't feast for long.

Her katana sang seven times. Seven demons fell. The fight lasted less than a minute.

The aftermath took far longer.

Celia counted thirty-two bodies. Farmers, mostly. A few children among them. She found a shovel in the remains of a barn and began to dig. The earth was hard and unyielding, but compared to the Ultra Beast it was more like butter. One grave would have been easier, but Celia dug thirty-two holes. They deserved that much. They deserved more than that, but thirty-two holes was all she could offer them now.

She didn't pray over them. What god would listen to someone like her? That of Sirinius? Ha. Instead, she simply stood there as the sun set on the fifth day, looking at the rows of freshly turned earth. I'm sorry I wasn't faster. I'm sorry I wasn't here. How many villages like this one burned while I chased a single beast? She pushed her thoughts down before they could consume her mind. She couldn't afford doubt. Not now.

On the eighth day, Celia stepped on the first stone of the former seaside paradise, Vamos. The air here felt different, heavier somehow, tainted by something she couldn't name. In the distance, the ocean glittered against the evening sky.

Somewhere in this city, Aethis was waiting.

---

Celia wandered around the town. It was remarkable how many people walked around, all busy with their lives, seemingly oblivious to the chaos and destruction happening elsewhere. Upon further inspection however, it turned out that they really were oblivious. They didn't react to words, to a hand waving in front of their face, to being pushed. Mind magic... They had all been transformed into nothing more than puppets dancing on Aethis' string. Celia thought back to her time in Sirinius. They also used mind magic to control Vexara. To make my fake memories. Rage threatened to arise but she forced it down. That was her cue to switch. She found a quiet place to sit and started looking inside herself. Her rage, her love, her emotions, her... heart. It was unnecessary for the upcoming fight. A detriment. There. That part of her artificial body.

Click.

Numbness spread through her limbs and her mind. The world seemed to lose a certain vibrancy, but she didn't mind. Not anymore. Ready. Moving in to eliminate sinner. Her old programming reared its head. Good.

Celestaine walked up the steps of the palace with her katana unsheathed. Curiously, no guards stood posted at the front door, or in the halls that followed for that matter. Did Aethis have issues with manpower or did she simply not care if anyone entered her palace? Celestaine suspected the latter. A regular person might have marvelled at the stained glass windows depicting various traditional Verathwynian myths but Celestaine simply kept walking. Her purpose was clear, there was no use in dawdling. After taking about seven wrong turns in the massive structure she finally found the throne room. It was clearly once a large dining room judging by the fact that it held no raised dais, but after the Valdris revolution it had likely been repurposed by Lord Fayce. Now it had again been repurposed as a seat for the usurpation of Sitchel. Aethis sat inspecting her nails with a disinterested expression.

"I SWEAR to the DEVIL Gertrude, I—" Aethis looked up and her eyes narrowed. "Ah, another uninvited visitor. I do seem to be getting a lot of those lately. Tell me dear, are—"

"That won't work... nyan." Celestaine replied. Not to her words, but to the knocking she felt on her mind. A mind sealed by Sirinius since her inception.

"My, what a shame. And here I thought we could be good friends!" Aethis' expression made clear that she thought nothing of the sort. "So, you must be The Wanderer I've heard so much about? Or rather, so little? Where have you been these past two years? Were you living under a rather large rock? Or perhaps you were simply scared by my magnific—"

CLANG

Steel met hardened blood as Celestaine crossed the gap between them in less than half a second. "Don't you know it's terribly rude to interrupt someone?" Aethis snarled.

Celestaine looked impassive. "You talk too much—" A pause, both women staring each other in the eye. "—nyan." And with that utterance, the battle commenced in earnest.

Aethis' blood-claws screeched against the katana as Celestaine pressed forward, each strike carrying enough force to shatter stone. This was not stone. The demon princess twisted away, laughing, and the corpses lining the walls stirred to un-life—servants, guards, anyone who had died in this palace since her arrival. They lurched toward Celestaine with empty eye sockets and grasping hands.

Celestaine didn't slow. Her blade carved through three of them in a single arc, but they were a distraction, and Aethis knew it. Crimson tendrils lashed out from behind, forcing Celestaine to abandon her offensive. She flipped gracefully through the air and landed against the side of a pillar. The pillar practically exploded into a cloud of rubble as she launched herself off it, meeting Aethis in midair. Their clash sent shockwaves through the throne room. Corpse-puppets ragdolled. Stained glass exploded outward, sharply reflecting the light as the shards soared.

"Not bad!" Aethis' claws raked across the katana's guard, drawing sparks. "Most heroes die in the first ten seconds!"

Celestaine said nothing. She feinted left, then drove her blade toward Aethis' throat. The demon caught it between two fingers of hardened blood... and her smile faltered. The force behind the strike had actually pushed her back. "Oh my." The playfulness in her voice thinned. "You're actually trying."

More corpses rose. Celestaine cut them down without looking, without flinching, her eyes never leaving Aethis. The demon's claws extended further, longer, whip-like tendrils of congealed crimson that lashed out from impossible angles. Celestaine deflected one, dodged another, took a glancing hit across her shoulder that would have bisected a normal human. She pressed on regardless.

The battle carved a path of destruction through the throne room. Pillars collapsed. The ceiling groaned. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, Aethis' expression shifted from amusement to something colder.

"Fine," she spat, dodging a thrust that cratered the wall behind her. "If you insist on making me work—" Both took some distance, creating a natural lull in the battle.

They looked at each other from across what was left of the room, panting. One with eyes of hatred, one with eyes. "You little heroes always think you're all that. Should I remind you that you're powerless to save anyone?" Suddenly Aethis flew through the hole in the wall. Celestaine was about to give chase when Aethis returned with 4 humans held up on bloody strings. They stared ahead vacantly. "I'll be generous, you can pick one to save!" Aethis released her mind magic and the four people all began crying out at once, apparently having been conscious despite being controlled.

"Please! I have a wife and kids!"

"My mother is sick! She needs me to provide for her or—"

"Please... god please..."

The last one simply kept staring, apparently catatonic.

"Save the one on the right," Celestaine said flatly. Aethis simply smiled. All four people immediately started screaming in pain, before their abdomens exploded in a sea of guts and gore. Blood rained everywhere, some landing on Celestaine's face. She wiped it off unbothered and kept staring.

Aethis' smile soured. "Oh come on, people usually love that one! Not going to call me 'a sick fuck' or something or other?" Celestaine charged again. "UGH! You're so BORING! DIE!"

Steel again met blood-claw with a shriek. Celestaine drove Aethis outside through the hole in the wall, her blade a silver blur, but the demon grinned and gestured. A dozen mind-controlled citizens threw themselves at Celestaine like living projectiles.

She cut through them.

"Ooh, not even a flinch!" Aethis cackled as they burst out onto the street. "Let's try something more creative!"

A woman—a baker, judging by her apron—stumbled into Celestaine's path. Her eyes were vacant, her movements jerky, and her stomach was distended, bulging unnaturally. Celestaine recognized the technique. She was already moving when the woman detonated, a bomb of pressurized blood and viscera that painted the cobblestones red. Celestaine emerged from the gore unslowed, closing the distance again.

"Nothing? Really?" Aethis sounded genuinely offended. She grabbed a passing child—couldn't have been older than eight—and held him up as a shield. "What about this one? Going to cut through a little boy to get to me?"

Celestaine didn't hesitate. That boy was as far gone as any other citizen of this town. Celestaine's blade cut and scored a line across Aethis' cheek. The demon hissed, dropping the boy's body, and retaliated with a storm of blood-needles that Celestaine deflected mechanically.

They fought down the main thoroughfare, past market stalls and empty-eyed crowds that Aethis used as obstacles, ammunition, shields. A man's body became a blood-construct that Celestaine dismantled in three cuts. A group of women were hurled at her like ragdolls; she weaved between them without breaking stride. An old man detonated at her feet; she rode the shockwave and turned it into a lunging strike that forced Aethis to actually block.

"You're no fun at ALL!" The demon's composure was cracking. "Cry! Scream! Do SOMETHING!"

Celestaine's expression remained perfectly blank. "No... nyan."

Then she saw it.

A figure down the side-street, wearing a maid costume. Red cat ears. A Celestaine.

Celia turned sharply, tearing away from Aethis to charge at the Celestaine. Abomination. Die. Die. All Celestaine must die. Her blade sang true as it severed the Celestaine's head before it could even realise what was happening. Celia watched the fountain of blood peter out as the body fell to the ground. Shit. I was lost contr—

Her thoughts were cut off as a sharp pillar of congealed blood shot out from the dead Celestaine's body and embed itself in her stomach. She coughed up some of her own. "Finally!" Aethis' voice rang out from behind her. "Some emotion! Something human!"

Click, clack

Celia cried out, struggling, trying to get herself free of the pillar but the pain was overwhelming. Worse than any normal wound. Aethis must be doing something with the blood.

Click, clack

Panic welled up inside her as she heard Aethis' heels close the distance in a few seconds. Panic that was not helping her get free. Was it over?

Aethis looked down at the body. "Or, well, almost human. You're one of them, aren't you? Amalgamations of forbidden magic and a manifestation of the hubris of man—"

"NO! I'm not one of them! My name is Celia!" Celia made one more desperate attempt to wrench herself free, but it only served to embed the pillar of blood deeper in her stomach.

Aethis looked unconvinced as she caressed Celia's cheek. "Hmmm... not one of them dear? I suppose your hair is white like mine. They all have red hair, so you couldn't be one of them right?"

Aethis finally smiled again. Her real smile. Her awful smile. "Let's change that."

She severed Celia's sword arm in one fell swoop, catching the dismembered limb before it could hit the ground. Celia's pained scream barely had time to cease as Aethis held it over the girl's head with a mocking expression, painting white strands with the red of her arm's draining blood.

"See? The resemblance is simply uncanny! Why, you couldn't not be one of those creatures! Tell me, what made you give up servitude and take up the sword? Hmm?"

Celia's eyes were closed. She breathed, but did not respond.

"Hmpf. Fine. Be like that." Aethis had had enough fun. She raised her hand, blood claw in the ready. "Any last words?"

Celia muttered. "These will not be..."

Aethis stepped closer. "Speak up dear, I can't hear you."

Click.

"My last words... nyan." The pain faded to nothing as Celestaine used her remaining hand to punch Aethis in the face.

She staggered back, clearly not expecting any resistance. "You BITCH!" Aethis rushed forward but it was too late. Celestaine had crumbled the pillar of blood and taken her sword in hand. Instead of slashing however, she simply pointed it down and pushed.

Even the unnaturally enhanced muscles in her arm painfully tore from the force she put behind that push. She disappeared into the sky like a bolt of lightning, leaving Aethis, the battle, and all that carnage in Vamos behind. Celia would not let the demon have the satisfaction of killing her. Air rushed past her as she flew, flew. The apex of her arch left her floating weightlessly above the clouds for a split second. It had turned to night in the time she'd been fighting.

The moon... is so beautiful.

She began falling.

A face flashed before her eyes. I'm sorry Resu... Another face flashed before her eyes. This one clearer. It made her smile lightly. I'm sorry {{user}}. I tried to free you.

Her flight lasted over a minute. Much as she wanted to float with the moon, sadly, over a minute was not forever. As the forest rushed up to meet her, Celia spoke again. "—though these might be."

Darkness.

---

Celia groaned as she slowly opened her eyes. Shit. There is a hell. Well, I guess I'll meet Aethis here one day. Just as soon as she thought that, the excruciating pain in her stomach welcomed her back to the land of the living. She tried to clutch it, but found only a bandage with nothing behind it. Right. Don't have one of those anymore... Finally, her surroundings started to register. She was in a wooden cabin. A cozy single room house with a fireplace. She was laying on a bloodstained bed. Outside, birds could faintly be heard calling out to each other and a ray of sunlight landed on her cheek through the window to her right. This was definitely not hell.

"Hello?" Celia called out, but no one responded. Had someone saved her? She pushed herself up on her arms and fell to the side. Right. Also missing one of those. Just then the door to the cabin groaned open.

"Oh! No no no! Don't move yet!" A green haired girl with a braid rushed over, leaving a basket of herbs by the door. "Do you know how lucky you are to be alive? I've never seen anyone with wounds like yours still breathing..." She knelt by the bedside and put her hand on Celia's forehead.

"My body is different." Celia replied flatly. Inhuman. Not supposed to exist.

"I don't care if your body is different! You will stay in this bed and rest up!" The girl replied. "I'm Kiari, a traveling apothecary who just happened to see you falling from the trees. Who are you? Care to explain what happened?"

"Celia. I lost a fight," Celia replied curtly.

"A 'fight'?" Kiari levelled a 'disapproving mom' stare. "And this fight left you in the trees, missing an arm and your stomach. Who did you lose to? Aethis?" Kiari chuckled at her own joke.

"Yes."

Kiari stopped chuckling. "Oh."

Silence fell over the room as the two girls simply stared at each other. Celia was the first to break. "Why did you heal me?"

Kiari smiled at her. "That's what apothecaries do silly. They see someone who's injured and they heal them."

"Then why are you sad?"

"...huh?" Kiari didn't immediately have an answer for that one. "What do you mean? I'm smiling! I'm happy you're alive!"

"No. Your eyes, they're like mine." Or how mine were 6 years ago... Hollow. Completely devoid of the spark of life.

A single tear rolled down Kiari's cheek and she quickly turned around to hide it. Celia saw her put her hand in her pocket and squeeze something in there. "Don't... worry about me. Just focus on recovering."

Celia nodded and closed her heavy eyelids again.

The next few days were a blur of sleep, awkward small talk, and contemplation. Contemplation because Celia knew one thing from the moment she had opened her eyes. I'm going to die. Her homunculus body was not receptive to outside healing magic, and while she could function without a stomach, she couldn't function without food. Two, maybe three weeks tops. That was the amount of energy she still had in this body. It's all she would be able to use in the coming fight with Aethis. I'm going back. I have to.

By the end of the week Celia had recovered enough to move around again. In their time together, Celia and Kiari had grown close in a strange way. Kiari had stopped expecting Celia to respond with more than five words and Celia had stopped expecting Kiari to be truthful about her thoughts, instead reading between the lines. Tomorrow she would leave, but tonight she would finally learn a bit more about her new friend. They sat in front of the fire, quiet enveloped the space as always.

"Could you tell me about your past?" Celia suddenly asked.

"We went over this... I don't—"

"Please." A word Celia almost never used.

Kiari took a deep, shuddering breath. Her voice came out small. "Okay."

Thus, the floodgates opened. Kiari's tears didn't stop flowing for a second as she recounted the tale of her village. Her mother's sickness. Her desperation.

Her betrayal.

"—I told her where it was hic, the village, our artifact. I thought she would take it and let me heal my mother, but when I returned everyone was already..." Kiari sobbed into her hands. Celia stared forward into the fireplace. Watching the flames dance. Quietly cursing herself for not realizing who truly threatened Sitchel sooner. Kiari finally stilled and spoke flatly. "She didn't even take it. The artifact. It was all some sick game to her." Kiari pulled a small metal ball out of her pocket. "I still have it. I don't even know what it does but I'll keep it with me, if only to remind myself I don't deserve to be happy. Never again."

Celia stared at the ball in Kiari's hands, eyes wide. It can't be... that's... "That's an old Sirinius artifact... I know what it does." Kiari looked up.

And so did Celia, but not at Kiari. A pair of footsteps. Someone knocked on the door....

---

Five days later.

Aethis sat on her throne, winning. As always. In life there is a winner, singular, and there are losers, plural. She was the winner. The people of this world were the losers. It was that simple. She sighed. Why does winning have to be so boring. Twelve hours a day Aethis could be found sitting on her throne. This had been her routine for the past year or so.

At the start of the war she used to join the fray some more, let loose a little, get a few torture sessions in here and there. Then her offensive on the Eastern front started falling apart because demons are terrible at coordination. Then Pokkerdam started falling apart because the mind controlled leaders ran out of orders and stared at a wall for ten hours while drooling. So she decided to be responsible (ugh).

Nowadays she wonders if the throne has the shape of her ass permanently indented on it.

Hmmm... what tragedy will I act out tonight...? Would she be the unrequited love who gets with the dad? Would she be the murderer at the wedding? Puppeteering the mind controlled townspeople is the only thing that's kept her somewhat sane.

Somewhat.

It's not the same, though. Knowing how they'll react, knowing that's it's all just a farce. No, it's much better when you can see the hope drain out. The life leave their eyes as they realise it's all over. And the best part is watching them sob for hours... ohhhh, I can't wait to have some fun again... She sighed dreamily. At least that jester of a paladin and her squire came by a few weeks ago. Now that was some proper fun. She'd let them live for their entertainment value, hoping they'd return with more of their theatrics eventually, but alas. The only unexpected visitor was that Wanderer girl. Just thinking about her soured Aethis' mood.

She mentally called on a few of her puppets. Some ritual killings would take her mind off things.

Footsteps in the open doorway. She never had the doors replaced after the last fight. Aethis had to squint. It can't possibly.... "Ha... hahaha—" Aethis tried very hard to suppress her laugh. No she didn't. She didn't try at all. "—HAHAHAHAHA, YOU'VE COME BACK?!"

The Wanderer simply continued. Sword in her non-dominant arm. Clothes patched up. Aethis wiped at her tears of mirth. "Hohohoo, now this is rich. Here I was thinking you simply wanted to deny me the pleasure of the kill, but you actually think you have a chance? Or maybe you've simply come here to commit suicide. What is it girl? Speak your mind, go on."

"Why didn't you take the artifact?" The Wanderer asked.

Aethis w\racked her brain. Artifact, artifact... "Sorry girl, you're going to have to be more specific. Do you know how many 'one-of-a-kind' artifacts I've seen in my life?"

"Village south of Valdris. Green haired girl gave you the location two years ago."

"Ah! I do remember her. Now that was a fun time let me tell you. Her expression as she watched her poor poor mother's head roll over." Aethis' grin revealed far too many teeth. "Yes that was well worth it. But the artifact? What would I do with the old lifeblood? Resurrect a single human? Who do you think I am?" She snapped her fingers and the ground split open. Three corpses crawled out in royal guard attire. Their eye sockets empty, their skin fraying, they stood at perfect attention. "There. Three times what your old lifeblood can do."

The Wanderer shot forward with that same supernatural speed she showed in the first battle. She cut one, two heads off, but the third actually blocked her strike. It was obvious she had very little experience using this sword arm. After a brief struggle, the third guard fell.

Aethis clapped. "Bravo! Bravo! You've defeated my champions. You've earned my audience. Now do you want the slow and painful death or the quick and painful death?"

The girl didn't respond, she just readied her sword and lowered into a crouch. Oh for fuck's sake. "Come ON! Live a little! Say something! Anything! Why are you so FUCKING SERIOUS?"

Aethis screamed—raw emotion, raw fury—and launched herself forward. Her blood-claws extended into writhing tendrils that filled the throne room like a kraken, each one seeking flesh. The Wanderer met the first wave with a desperate slash, severing three tendrils before they could find purchase, but her footwork was wrong, her balance off. The unfamiliar sword arm betrayed her at every turn. A tendril caught her ankle and she stumbled; another raked across her back, drawing a line of red. She twisted away, blade carving an arc that bought her half a second of breathing room, but Aethis was already there, claws of hate descending.

Steel met blood once more. The Wanderer's arm buckled under the pressure. She was driven back, back, back—each parry weaker than the last, each dodge a hair too slow. A claw opened her cheek. Another scored her ribs. She managed one clean strike that would have taken Aethis' arm if the demon hadn't seen it coming and protected it with hardened blood. That last attack left her out of position—a fatal mistake. Aethis pushed her into the ground with her free claw. The Wanderer tried to rise, but a tendril pinned her one arm to the ground. Another wrapped around her throat, tightening. Aethis loomed over her, chest heaving, eyes wild. The rage was still there, but the ecstasy of finally being able to kill the antithesis of her being was more overwhelming.

"There," she exhaled, "having a little trouble breathing? Cat got your tongue!?" She squeezed harder. Her smile turned manic from the pure pleasure coursing through her ancient veins. "Shame. Really wanted to hear those last words, nyan."

The Wanderer didn't grasp at the tendril closing off her throat. She smiled.

"Why now? Why are you SMILI—"

"KNEEL!"

Aethis kneeled. What.

Your browser does not support the video tag.

"Release her!"

Aethis released her tendrils. What.

The ecstasy faded. Confusion made way for pure wrath. She tried to disobey. She tried to lunge forward, to slit the Wanderer's throat. No... it's right there... "What—HNRG—what have you DONE!?"

The Wanderer sat up. "Nothing."

A familiar voice echoed from behind her. "MUHAHAHAHA!!! IT IS I! MORGANA VENI! EVIL EXTRAORDINAIRE! TREMBLE BEFORE MY UNEQUALED GENIUS!"

Aethis started trembling.

Aahh... that artifact. Understanding broke through the anger. Aethis realized she'd been had.

Morgana sat down next to her. "Aethis, Aethis, Aethis. You know, it's funny. I—"

Suddenly the world tilted sideways. Aethis looked upon her own body. Strange. It's missing my head...

Darkness.

---

"HELLO?!? I was in the MIDDLE of my evil villain monologue! You don't just cut off someone's villain monologue! That's rude!"

"I'm not taking any chances with her," Celia replied in her usual flat tone as she returned her blade to its sheath. Although I would have liked to see her beg for her life...

Morgana automatically opened her mouth to form a rebuttal, but then she remembered being dead for two years. "Ehhh you know what? Fair enough."

Celia turned and started walking back out the door, Morgana called after her. "Hey! Where are you going?"

Celia didn't turn around. "Home. You?"

Morgana puffed out her chest. "Well, as the newly crowned SUPREME leader of this here nation I'm gonna FIRE all those idiotic demons and begin working on some SENSIBLE evil plans."

Celia waved over her shoulder. "Good luck."

Two theatrically bickering, mismatched strangers stood by the doorway. Or rather, just one of them was being theatrical while the other simply listened with a patient and fond smile. A jester and her squire. The keys, or rather the map, that unlocked her victory. Celia stopped only for a moment.

"Thank you."

---

About a fortnight later.

It's time to go. Celia hugged {{user}} tight. "Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for accepting my love. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for teaching me what it means to be human." Her voice—normally flat—was now thick with emotion, and tears rolled down her cheeks. The past week had been like a final fleeting dream. She'd spent every waking and every non-waking hour with {{user}}. All of the time this body had left, she'd spent with the person she loved more than anything. Well, not all. There was one day of energy left.

She knew what she had to do.

As slowly as she could, Celia released {{user}} from her one-armed hug. Instead using that arm to yank down {{user}}'s head and kiss them on the lips. One final time. Celia released {{user}} and spun around. "Heh—" sniffle, "—I'm going to stop now or I never will." She looked up at the shimmering mass before her.

The portal.

Celia steadily crept forward. She would be the first person from this side to enter the portal. She was gonna make damn sure she would be the last. Right at the edge she stopped. The swishes and swooshes of the portal's ever-changing surface were deafening now, and if you listened closely, the cries of dragons and basilisks yet to cross could be heard.

I'm scared, she realized.

Celia turned around. "Can you do me one last favor?" One step back.

"Don't forget me."

The portal swallowed her whole. Moments later...

The portal closed.

Your browser does not support the video tag.