Act I: Misery

The feeble noise of silence exploded in the dead moment. It told a nervous story of how destructive intimidation where beating hearts, loud exhales and the dripping of red had created the same flaccid noise.

So the story goes on. The story of the pitch black cat, the boy now covered in red and the girl with inhuman abilities. Their situation unfolded feelings inflatable as a balloon befriended with holes in it. Their choices shrunk by the second, where there was no best one to pick.

There was a common quote circling the districts of the lands which peaked to the ears of all citizens, especially children of young age.

Do the best bleed?

To be completely honest and quite upfront, no one knew who "the best" actually were. It was left up to debate and to the free will of personal beliefs. Some proclaimed the Lord himself with such valiant title, some proclaimed the magic seven, very few thought of the military as such, and the rest would usually envision no one ever carrying the title.

Eivör believed in the last option. Blood was something she would often see, even if she tried to avoid it. It was too prominent to outrun.

Outrunning it now was impossible.

Bright red fluid was dripping down to the ashy soil, seemingly somewhat like in slow motion. This was surely not what she had hoped for. However, here. Go ahead and try to counter the event — all of this had happened in the last day and a couple of additional hours. Let's not be ridiculous here. Let's not expect something out of the ordinary. Not yet, not here.

To add up with a surreal question — is it even possible to counter everything bad to the point where all of it simply disappears?

Or does something else come to mind, in a very literate and formal way?

To Eivör, something certainly did come to mind. In that peculiar moment, she remembered her stepfather Mosel and her mother Eva.

They were spending their day peacefully in the countryside, near the wheat fields. Mosel, being the perky stepfather he was, had a piece of wheat in his mouth, imitating a cowboy of some sort. Everyone knew that cowboys were a myth of the future — they were too modern to even be considered real, or something that could have lived in the same age as all of them.

Eva was telling him to stop, Eivör was holding on to her small tummy — she couldn't stop giggling uncontrollably.

"Hold 'yer horses!"

"I'm pretty sure that is a pirate, not a cowboy…"

Her mother Eva would oppose.

"Don't seem to matter ye – the sooty one is lovin' it!"

"Hahahahah! Silly!"

"She is, isn't she…"

She never fully grew fond of Mosel.

When Mosel first arrived when she was six, she used to hate him to the guts. The story of her father was far too tragic, but her love steadily lived on. Therefore, no one was in the position to replace such enormous love. Even to this day Eivör doesn't feel the fatherly connection with Mosel.

She probably never will.

When she looked at her mother Eva, a whole new story unfolded. To tell the truth, she could see parts of Eva in the boy. Not in the physical look or appearance, no. In the spirit. In the way he moved, the way he talked.

In the way that his blood slowly dripped down the sullen ground.

She stared for a while. After that, even a longer while.

Ryohu was not behind her anymore. The boy was still on his own two feet, however, with spiky wooden roots engraved in his stomach. He wasn't moving for a while and neither was Eivör. Her eyes trembled, thoughts played an uneasy dance.

"Back to reality, I have to save myself now…" Her thoughts whispered to her.

But the imagery was still hard to swallow and left her paralyzed for another few seconds. The boy reached out both his hands and started pulling out the wooden roots. Even though not a fatally deep wound, the pain was immeasurable. His face turned pale blue, body temperature was morbidly decreasing. The whole thing looked incredibly miserable. But still, somehow, he wasn't stopping.

While pulling out the roots, the boy started screaming in agonizing pain.

IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS!

The pupils of his green and now bloody eyes wouldn't stop rising aloft. It was like they were reaching out to the forehead and to the brain. That sheer fact still wouldn't restrain him from releasing words and eventually screaming.

"You… Ghhh… Could… Have… Left.

Go… NOW!!!!!!!"

"And leave you like that?!"

"I'm not… Talking to you…"

"—?!"

Eivör threw her look at Ásdís, only to see Ryohu standing on her left shoulder. He was biting the neck of the ruthless Witch.

Nothing was guaranteeing that this was a mind contraption of some sort, or even a perfect diversion, but in that moment, it truly looked like it. The boy previously yelled his commands loud enough so that his words would reach the ears of Ásdís, then occupied her and made enough room for Ryohu to do his part.

But alas, maybe this was just a classic case of a loyal pet defending his owner.

That was what all pets would do.

"I know… Cough… I know… Till the end.

But why…?! You know… You're not making any damage to her!"

Even at the petrifying point of somewhat ludicrous pain and rushing adrenaline, the boy still seemed to consciously talk to the cat as it was human. Was he truly a madman, or, did the cat genuinely understand the words of his owner? Eivör would restlessly think to herself.

Ásdís, with just a few scratches on her, proceeded to grab Ryohu by the back of his neck, holding the poor small cat in the air. He was fluttering his tiny legs as much as he could, but it was no use.

The boy started yelling louder than ever before.

DON'T YOU HURT HIM!

I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU! LEAVE HIM BE!

Eivör stared hopelessly at this misery, still not knowing what to do.

No, it was no misery. It appeared as an atrocity.

Countless expeditions and missions where blood was shed, people wounded, hurt, killed, punished, you name it. All of this was seen one too many times by the light-brown eyed girl. A dear friend surrendered to the pale hands of Death, but could it be that only this mere fact separated this mission from the others? It was as if deep down Eivör knew that the death of Masuda Honnin was not the only representative of the hollow and of the sorrowful.

Proof to her was given, though. The fact that one of them even managed to approach the Witch, let alone touch her was fascinating. Unfortunately, it was all for nothing.

However sly and clever they could manage to get, they were up against no match, and while knowing that very fact, they still seemed to not give up. Was this the firing amount of will and hope at its purest glory? If it was, then it was miraculous and ridiculous at the same time.

Thinking about it wouldn't get Eivör anywhere, neither would hiding or running away. In that very moment, her next action was guaranteed. She would have only resulted in foolishness if she didn't even try to reach their level of persistence.

Maybe persistence wasn't the right word, but that was what she was telling herself. Boldness wasn't the thing either. The true word might have been unknown to even Eivör, at least in that moment.

With energy equal to zero and with no bees around, she grabbed a rock she found on the ashy soil and threw it at the Witch simply to distract her. After this, she started walking angrily towards her.

"—"

"E-Eivör…"

[This is the end… I'm no match for her…

This is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end this is the end...

Is this…?]

Just as she approached Ásdís, the whole terrain suddenly went up in an explosion.

That was no ordinary explosion. It resembled a thing Eivör consistently hated. It was a thunder bolt — rather, electricity.

Ásdís blocked the blow and made a safe distance. She would nod her head down, only to notice the cat missing from her terrible grip.

The boy, now lying on the grass could barely open up his eyes and feel the roots out of his stomach. Someone pulled them out so swiftly that he barely even noticed it.

Blood kept pouring out of him like mad, thus he quickly pressed the lower part of his stomach with his shaking hands. He then turned his head to the side and saw Eivör and Ryohu next to him, both safe and sound.

When he looked at the expression sleeping in Eivör's eyes, he noticed a story about the killing of a giant. Her facial attributes became lighter, eyes less watery and mouth wider. Even though one of many, in that moment, a burden had surely vanished.

She was looking at a short figure meters in front of her.

It was Kollie Schwimmer, the sixth human magic wielder, known as the Jellyfish — setting foot in the wrong terrain at just the right time.