A shiver runs down my spine—fear of being devoured. Something else takes over my mind; a force that finds it outrageous that a mere fairy thinks she can surpass me.

  “Maelstrom!” I shout.

  Roots of fire wrap around my body and explode like the blossoming of a flower. A storm expands from my body and a flash fills the room with a second. I hold onto the ground to avoid falling against it. A few meters ahead, Aldwyn inhales and regains his balance from the attack.

  I invest. Destruction no longer stops me. Screams and flames, rain and acid, magic and strength. In chaos, I am the favored one.

  My eyes—I understand them now. Able to see the secret machinations of Chaos, they also allow me to perceive magic with precision. My body reacts before I can think and, as soon as the sparks of mana begin to ignite in the fabric of the world, I cut off the fairy's hand using Lugnir.

  The blade shines with divine blue against the profane. Aldwyn roars like a bear, his voice almost deafening my intensified ears.

  I walk away. One blow was all I could get out of the situation. Spheres of water concentrate below the clouds, ready to create more ice needles. I spit out a laugh.

  My blood boils, my heart beats like a bomb in my ears. Aldwyn turns and commands roots to make their way towards me. I hide behind the remaining houses and watch as they are swallowed up by wood and shattered like cardboard.

  Red and blue flames clash and dance across the sky like dragons. Acid rain permeates the wood, freezes and is swallowed up by pillars of darkness. The ground shakes and roars, blocks of stone are thrown into the air along with earth and mud as the spells are counterattacked.

  Sweat pours down my forehead, and I can hardly breathe properly. This pain - I like this pain. I always have. The bloodlust -- power for power's sake. Fighting someone like Aldwyn, I can't deny the shred of happiness in my chest.

  Protecting the child at the end of the gleaming horizon, a pale, old man stretches out in front of me. Dark circles like night outline his face, as do his scars. He carries a crown as red as his own blood and the cloak he wears. The man who arose from the boy's death and conquered the world in revolt.

  Sieghart, that is.

  I step over the figure, step by step across the whiteboard that surrounds us. I let his cloak consume him in his own darkness to the next target. It's no longer necessary to think about what I already knew to be true. There's no point in avoiding the inevitable—

  “Why?” The man says.

  I stop. I turn back to his figure, and he stares at me with wide, tormented eyes.

  “Why are you going to the bottom? They'll let you drown. Don't. Come back.”

  “...What are you saying?”

  “Don't put me through that again. Please.”

  I widen my eyes.

  Aura and wind collide and stop the rain falling on me for half a second. I squeeze my eyes shut and travel through the shadows around Aldwyn, launching fireballs while circling the fairy who defends herself using the rainwater. He counterattacks simultaneously with surgical precision, spears of ice rain down between the fire attacks -- but he doesn't hit his target as he should.

  The emission of his mana fluctuates. Sometimes Aldwyn is slow to launch his counterattack. At other times, he puts in too little or too much power. His spells fail, his tongue gets stuck trying to pronounce them, the runes he invokes with his fingers lose their meaning and are undone.

  Poisoned by Chaos, Aldwyn feels the pressure of the accumulation of the metamagic I've instilled since the beginning of the fight. He strengthens his blows in the war of attrition, eliminating the houses I use to protect myself and bombarding the field with spells that narrowly miss me.

  I spin on my axis to avoid being hit by a spear, only to have another one stuck in my foot. I pull it out and overcome Aldwyn's domination to make it my own, then throw it at the creature, which crumbles into purple butterflies.

  Illusion? When did—

  A presence.

  Aldwyn appears behind me like a figure, his mask smiling like his distorted face. The creature puts its hands together and intensifies, then strikes the shadow shield without caring about being lacerated by the weapons.

  I'm thrown against the statue of the priest in the center of the village, I pass through its structure as if it were made of butter and roll across the cold floor of the main square. A wave of lethargy hits me — I feel the creature's mana seeping through mine and shaking me behind the magical defense.

  The pain burns through my back. I inhale and struggle for air, then pull myself together and let myself be swallowed up by my shadow so I don't get hit by a tree trunk.

  I leap forward towards the fairy. It extends its necrotic arm and multiplies its own flesh to grab me, but I lean on them to jump and throw myself forward. I spin in the air using the wind and slash one of my hands with it; I conjure up another arm with the shadows to intercept an attack to my right.

  I cast a spell and hit an illusion, counterattack another and get hit in the shoulder. Diamond dust surrounds me and tries to skin me, I raise a wall of earth to stop them and throw myself into the air to avoid the roots. I take control and re-invest using fire, I bombard the fairy and hide in the shadows. Raw power clashes against technique - the creature's fear emerges alongside its experience.

  How strong is he really?

  How long has he been alive?

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  It doesn't matter. The increased perception of my Manifestation prevents me from being tricked and impaled by the fairy: I see behind her weakest illusions and feel her mana forming before she makes it.

  “Aura!” I shout.

  My shadow constructions can give me the versatility to hide, but it's difficult to master them precisely. Shaping my own aura like dark, solid steel, I intensify the density, weight and power of the spear and throw it at the fairy. In a clash of spells, Aldwyn would rebound or cancel the attack - but for a split second, Chaos prevents his mana from working.

  The spear pierces the fairy's body. Black blood squirts from her belly and gives me hope. False hope, that is.

  Aldwyn raises his hand.

  “Boomburst.”

  A bolt of lightning. Electricity forms in the palm of his hands and shines through the air until it hits me and explodes. Thrown to the ground and electrocuted even more by the rain that falls on me, I feel my muscles burn and paralyze.

  I taste iron in my mouth. Blood drips to the ground and mixes with the rain. I stagger to my feet, forcing my blurred vision to stop and intensifying my balance. I breathe. I'm tired. My body is slow to respond, even though it's intensified. I—

  “You're dying.” Aldwyn says.

  The fairy stands on the rubble. It grabs the spear that pierces its belly and pulls it out in one movement, then destroys it with its bare hands. A hole so big that I can see through to the other side opens up in the creature's gut, but it doesn't care.

  “I thought Morgana had taught you, Sieghart. Fairies are made of aura, after all.” He says, using magic to regain his form.

  Aldwyn smiles and takes a step forward, but is paralyzed for half a second by the Chaos that has entered his body. Breaking him inside like a poison, he laughs at the effects and forces himself to keep walking. Wet footsteps under the electrocuted floor come towards me, their hands rising to conjure another spell.

  “You consume my flesh, then you wander the slopes of the village for dozens of years until you return and regain your consciousness. A hero who protects the weak at the cost of his life. However, I want you to look around you.”

  My hands tremble. The King watches me, his authoritative figure revealing his heart only to those who already knew him: himself.

  “I'm sorry.” I say, turning my back on him and walking through the white.

  He screams madly for me to stop. “You're damning yourself!”. I know that. Still, my feet only respond to my mind one step at a time, just like I've always done.

  Turning my back on him, I walk through the white desert. “I'm sorry.” I say, then overtake him.

  Even though it lives in my heart, I choose to leave it behind, knowing that I could never do so completely. I remembered the blood on my hands and the destruction of my sins, and was certain of my punishment.

  In front of me, another figure stretches out. The First Demon—a blurred figure—watches me and promises me the world: gold, passion and power. But unlike the Lion, he also offers me a date, a place, a prophecy. He offers me the when of the why's—when I will fall, when I will succeed, and he tempts me to freeze before his darkness in order to have what he knows.

  One particular sight stands out. The body of a dead hero under my sword. A battle.

  “Disintegrated houses.” Aldwyn pulls me back to reality. “Smoke and clouds of acid rain. Rotten, frozen wood. Our Chaos has contaminated this village. Dufae has been destroyed. It will take the villagers hundreds of years to rebuild all this. They will hate you, even if you die to save them.”

  I breathe in. The flames spread as far as the North Gate. Arresting the population, Aldwyn forces them to hide behind the academy. It doesn't matter. As long as they're not in the fairy's presence,

  “They'll be alive to do it.”

  Aldwyn smiles. “You fought well, Sieghart. However, this is the end of you.”

  Chanting profanities and invoking runes all around him, Aldwyn put his hands together and squeezed until his blood fell to the ground.

  “Open.” He says, channeling the power beneath his feet. “Atabito.”

  His blood blackens and expands around him. Wood appears beneath her feet and rises up, its bark black as night. It takes the shape of a great serpent, towering over the houses and being taken over by the fairy's blue flames. As if alive, it writhes in the air around Aldwyn, and on his command, it strikes.

  Aldwyn commands his summoning, just as Morgana warned me he would. He moves it from left to right while collapsing the surrounding buildings, vaporizing rainwater and disintegrating everything he touches. His laughter echoes through the sky as red and blue fire collide beneath the silver moonlight.

  I can't defeat Aldwyn that way. I need to weaken him. Destroy his magic. One attack. I can do just one more attack.

  “Aqua!” I collect the rainwater in one spot and throw it at the beast—the steam pushes back the explosion and serves as a better blockade than any structure I could conjure up—but it doesn't matter. The creature continues to advance and consume what little was left of the village. We circle each other, race and fly around the outskirts of the academy.

  Squares and crops set on fire. Houses and stores destroyed to the ground. The barracks had been frozen, and even the forests around the village had been cleared of their leaves. The academy stretches out—I can feel the mana of the villagers sheltering underground and in some empty rooms.

  I point my staff, Aldwyn his finger.

  “What do you know about living…?” I say between heavy breaths. “These people—the sacrifices! Haven't you ever wondered if they would defend you if something happened?!”

  We circled each other, houses collapsed outside. I had never spent so much mana in my life. Not in combat. Not like this.

  “Say that to me, Sieghart? Or are you trying to convince yourself of what you already know isn't true?”

  Dead. Devoured. I grit my teeth. I make signs with my hand, face the creature and check for illusions. I wield Lugnir and wait for the blow, Chaos pulsing from its tip.

  The fairy's words propel me. I return to my consciousness and ignore the promises of knowledge. I let the First Demon be the blurred shadow in my memory and overtake him, his darkness enveloping the path of light and narrowing the passage of light. Centimeter by centimeter, the road thins until it disappears. Around me, Chaos surrounds the void—geometric shapes of a thousand different materials join and deform, colored lines run through the red and intertwine.

  Then the child smiles at me, its mouth opening from one ear to the other and showing all its teeth. It pours the blood from its jaw onto its white cloak and, with wide, strangely apathetic eyes, stands upright.

  But that's not his real face.

  “In the forest, you pointed to the village and helped me get the power to save them. Is that your answer? Fight for them?” I frown. “Why should I? Ungrateful and despicable, my life is worth a hundred of theirs.” I nod to myself. “Why don't you answer me?”

  The child is watching me, but his eyes are on me. My heart is pounding. A different kind of beating from the excitement of the fight or the fear for life. My lips go dry. I swallow, inhale and, with one step, break the spell.

  Chaos wraps his arms around the blessed blade and collapses in disgust before it, but he is still obliged to follow my command. A red aura enchants the sword and intercepts the power of the flaming serpent once again. Earth explodes beneath my feet in sapphire blue as the monster is deflected, its mana emission unregulated by randomness.

  The creature rears up, its face turned the other way. Aldwyn watches me and pushes it back.

  “That power-” The fairy says, then falls silent. Aldwyn continues to cast his spells. I feel my strength being drained. Spell by spell, my body decays. Water, wind, fire, and wood. The flaming serpent chases me and lightning strikes the wreckage of Dufae, but none of them can end the fight.

  Amidst the blackness of my vision, however-

  The question permeates my mind and forces me to ask I already knew the answer to. Watching the lost child, I look at my own wounds. I see the darkness that permeates my eyes and wonder if I don't deserve it. The emotion that doesn't come out shines in my chest by contrast, and it says yes. If this is the truth, however, what would it matter to the divinity?

  I watch as the bridge decays into chaos. I try to step over the void, but I feel my foot go numb as soon as I place it over the abyss and fall to my knees under the gleaming bridge. Against Aldwyn, my body vomits blood and trembles. He watches me, understanding my tiredness and reaction.

  “Impossible.” He whispers and raises his hand to conjure.