Purge(7)

Alaric stood tall before Voss, the weight of his recent battles heavy on his mind yet a calmness was evident in his demeanour. This encounter marked not just the close of a chapter, but a pivotal moment of introspection born from his recent endeavours. Time spent recovering from his ailment had afforded him the opportunity to rethink his strategies and motives with a newfound clarity.

As he faced Voss, the memory of his initial plan to dismantle the underworld of Lysandria single-handedly resurfaced, now tinged with a sense of folly. What had seemed like a bold and decisive course of action in the past now appeared reckless and fraught with peril upon reflection. He cringed at his initial naivety. The myriad complexities and potential pitfalls of such an endeavour loomed large in his mind, prompting a reconsideration of his approach. This was not some kind of game and he had largely let himself be misguided. The encounter with the universe's consciousness had returned some of his witts to him in the form of regaining his old memories. From here on out, he would no longer behave like a teenager with a god-complex.

'Technically I am a teenager though,'

The recent trap orchestrated by Voss and Lysandra served as a stark reminder of the dangers inherent in his mission. Their ability to manipulate events and outmanoeuvre him highlighted the need for a more nuanced and strategic approach. It was a lesson learned in the crucible of adversity, one that underscored the importance of adaptability and foresight in the face of cunning adversaries.

Despite his considerable strength and prowess, Alaric acknowledged the inherent limitations of acting as a lone warrior. The events of the day had driven home the realization that victory required more than mere brute force—it demanded strategy, cunning, and calculated risk-taking. It was a lesson he had learned through trial and error in his previous life, one that had been underscored by the events of the day.

Reflecting on the outcomes of his recent battles, Alaric couldn't help but acknowledge the role played by the element of surprise. Had his adversaries been better prepared or more attuned to his intentions, the outcomes might have been vastly different. It was a sobering realization, one that highlighted the importance of thorough planning and meticulous execution in achieving his goals. Until he had overwhelming might like his father, he would need to approach things more carefully.

As he contemplated the nature of his abilities, Alaric recognized the need for a more balanced approach to combat. While his power of antireality was formidable, relying solely on it was not enough at the moment. His current arsenal comprised primarily of a support-oriented ability, leaving him relatively vulnerable in direct confrontations. It was a gap in his defences that he knew he needed to address moving forward.

In his recent skirmish with Edith, Alaric had managed to forestall the deployment of her trump card through the strategic implementation of Oberon's principality before hand. It was a calculated move that had tipped the scales in his favour, showcasing the importance of battlefield tactics and adaptability in the heat of combat.

Conversely, his encounter with Decrov had been swift and decisive, lasting a mere fraction of the time. Once again, the element of surprise had played a pivotal role in securing victory for Alaric. It was clear that his ability to think on his feet and seize upon opportunities as they presented themselves was not lacking in the slightest.

Decrov's bewildered response to the sudden turn of events served as a stark reminder of the vulnerability inherent in uncertainty. 

As he reflected on his victories and the challenges that lay ahead, Alaric couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that lingered in the back of his mind. His energy reserves were depleted from his earlier clash with Edith, and the potential threat posed by any familiars Decrov may have possessed weighed heavily on his thoughts. It was a reminder that even in victory, the shadows held unseen dangers and that his journey was far from over.

As Alaric initiated the conversation with Voss, the tension in the air crackled like static. Each word hung heavy, pregnant with the weight of their shared knowledge and the impending clash that loomed over them. Seated across from each other in the dimly lit lounge, he made himself comfortable, the Duke's son and the underworld lord faced off, their respective intentions veiled beneath a facade of composure.

"Where is Emiel?" Alaric's voice pierced the silence, slicing through the atmosphere with an unwavering determination that left Voss momentarily stunned. The mention of the elusive figure struck a nerve, stirring memories of past encounters and unfinished business.

Voss, ever the composed adversary, responded with a cryptic retort, his voice laced with defiance. "That is just an alias. You won't find him, even if it's you." His words carried a hint of mockery, a challenge to Alaric's resolve and his ability to undo the intricate web of Lysandria's underworld.

Alaric's demeanour remained unfazed, his gaze steady as he absorbed Voss's response. He knew unravelling the mystery of Emiel's whereabouts would require patience and cunning, qualities he possessed in abundance. Plus besides, he already had an idea of who hid behind the persona of Emiel Sacrad. "Don't worry, Voss. I will find him. You just won't be there to see it." His voice held a steely resolve, a silent promise of retribution for past transgressions.

With Voss momentarily at a loss for words, Alaric's attention shifted to Lysandra, the woman caught in the crossfire of their confrontation. "And you? Will you take his side?" His tone softened slightly, offering her a chance at redemption amidst the chaos that engulfed them. "We only have a kill-on-sight policy for the six overlords. If you surrender, you'll walk out of here alive, albeit in cuffs, but alive nonetheless."

Lysandra weighed her options silently, her thoughts racing as she considered the implications of her decision. Alaric continued, his words cutting through the heavy atmosphere like a knife. "I'm sure you want to live another day to see your daughter. I'm even surprised you're still here." The realization of the choice before she dawned, and shock mingled with fear painted her features, a portrait of inner turmoil.

As Voss observed the exchange, his fists clenched with the weight of the impending outcome. He knew Lysandra would prioritize her daughter above all else, a vulnerability that Alaric exploited with precision. His expression darkened further as she raised her hands in surrender, a silent admission of defeat in the face of overwhelming odds. She moved gracefully to Alaric's side offering her wrists for a pair of cuffs that awaited them in the hands of one of the soldiers. 

With Lysandra subdued, Alaric turned back to Voss and his subordinates, his gaze steely and unwavering. "You may drop your blade if you wish to surrender," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of imminent action. After a tense pause, he raised his hand, signalling the commencement of the attack.

The devil's lounge became a battleground, the clash of steel and the crackle of cosmic energy filling the air as Alaric and Voss's forces collided in a flurry of violence. Amidst the chaos, Alaric's mind raced with thoughts of strategy and determination, his resolve unyielding as he faced his adversaries head-on in the fight for supremacy.

As the shadows enveloped them, Alaric's movements were swift and calculated. Voss, though not physically formidable, possessed a sharp mind honed by years of navigating the treacherous waters of Lysandria's underworld. Alaric knew that underestimating him would be a grave mistake. He would go all out from the start against this man.

°°°°

Within the confines of the shadowy dome, the boundaries of reality seemed to blur, leaving Voss disoriented and vulnerable. Time seemed to warp and twist, stretching endlessly into the void as he grappled with the surreal experience. The very fabric of existence appeared to unravel before his eyes, each moment stretching into eternity as he fought to maintain his grasp on reality.

Amidst the tumultuous darkness, Alaric's voice cut through the haze with chilling clarity, its resonance echoing like a tolling bell in the depths of Voss's consciousness. "In another life, you could have been a valuable asset to this nation and its government, your intellect is truly formidable," Alaric's words carried a weight of bitter irony, their implications stirring a tumult of conflicting emotions within Voss's mind.

Alaric's voice, cool and detached, painted a grim tableau of what might have been, each word a dagger thrust into the heart of Voss's hopes and aspirations. The realization of the paths not taken and the futures left unexplored weighed heavily upon him, a burden too great to bear in the suffocating darkness.

Even amidst the swirling chaos of the anti-reality, Voss's desperation surged forth, his pleas for mercy echoing faintly against the walls of shadow that surrounded them. "Please," his voice trembled with a mixture of fear and uncertainty, his words a desperate plea for redemption in the face of impending doom.

But Alaric's response was as cold and unyielding as the void itself, his words a grim pronouncement of judgment upon Voss's past misdeeds. "Let you live? No, that won't do," Alaric's voice dripped with disdain, his words a condemnation of Voss's actions and ambitions alike. Alaric's voice dripped with cold indifference, his words a condemnation of Voss's past transgressions. Alaric's voice rang out once more, a chilling pronouncement of Voss's fate. "I intended to execute you from the start," he declared, his tone devoid of remorse. "You were top of my list."

"You may not realize it and perhaps never come to realizing it, but you are even more dangerous than Emiel Sacrad."

The realization struck Voss like a physical blow, leaving him reeling in shock and disbelief. How could Alaric know? What secrets lay hidden in the depths of his past?

But before Voss could voice his questions, cold steel found its mark, ending his life in a final, brutal stroke. The finality of Alaric's words hung heavy in the air, a merciless calculus of power and ambition that governed their world. As his lifeblood spilt onto the floor, a chilling promise hung in the air, a grim harbinger of the fate that awaited all who dared to oppose Alaric's will.

Alaric stood amidst the fading shadows, his gaze fixed upon the fallen figure of his adversary. The weight of his actions bore heavily upon him, a sobering reminder of the cost of his vendetta against the underworld lords. But even as he grappled with the consequences of his actions, a steely resolve burned within him, driving him ever forward in his quest for his own peace.

With a heavy sigh, Alaric turned away from the scene, his thoughts already turning to the challenges that lay ahead. The battle may have been won, but the war was far from over.

"On to the next..."