Chapter 130: Monologue

("The world is a kaleidoscope of colors, a symphony of sounds, a flurry of magic. It is a place where Gods are real and watch mortals, where dragons used to and still soar through the skies, and where Astrothians roam the land. Yet, for all its grandeur, it is a place that leaves me feeling lost despite my kinship, alone despite my sister, and desperately yearning for the simplicity of a life less extraordinary.

I was born into a world of magic, a world where the extraordinary was commonplace. From a young age, I was taught the intricacies of spells and my Familial Arts, the secrets of ancient prophecies, and the lore of the Gods. I battled monstrous creatures, explored enchanted forests, and witnessed miracles that would have astounded any mortal. But as I grew older, I found myself longing for something more. I yearned for the quiet solitude of a simple life, free from the constant demands of magic and the pressures of being an Inheritor. I wanted to tend to a garden, watch the sunrise over the mountains, and feel the warmth of the sun on my skin.

The world of magic is chaotic and unpredictable. The Gods, with their capricious whims and endless schemes from beyond, are a constant source of turmoil. The Astrothians, while fascinating and powerful, are also dangerous and unpredictable. And the magic itself, while a source of wonder and awe, is also a double-edged sword, capable of both great good and great evil. I often find myself wishing that I could escape this world, to find a place where magic is unknown and the gods are indifferent. A place where I could live a simple, peaceful life, free from the burdens of my extraordinary existence. But as I gaze out at the breathtaking landscape, I know that such a place is merely a dream. The world of magic is a part of me, as much as the air I breathe. It is in my blood, in my soul. And while I yearn for simplicity, I also know that I will never be truly happy if I abandon my extraordinary destiny.

Perhaps the key is not to escape this world, but to find a way to embrace its beauty and its challenges. Perhaps it is to find a balance between the extraordinary and the ordinary, between the magical and the mundane. Perhaps it is to create a life that is both extraordinary and simple, a life that allows me to appreciate the wonders of the world while also finding solace in its quiet moments. So I follow my own path, one that ensures me and my sister's future. This world is too...")

The young man walked seemingly aimlessly through the thick snow that covered the ground. His features were sharp yet androgynous, the iris of his visible right eye was pitch black, showing no sign of a pupil. His other eye was somewhat covered by his neatly styled pitch-black hair, along with a black eyepatch adorned with a blue flower.

His clothes starkly contrasted with the white snow around him, consisting of a white button shirt, a white vest, a black tie, coat, slacks, and dress boots. His journey through the thick snow quickly guided him to his intended location as he leisurely passed by a large gateway. Instead of gates barring his path, he saw an enormous black steel gate imprinted into the snow with a heavy dent on it. The other side of the gate hung loosely on the gateway, leaving him no resistance as he entered what was a Vel'ryr military outpost, or what used to be one. Large black structures that could be mistaken for small buildings lay in ruin all around, the rubble they generated staining the area, painting the usual snowy canvas black. Magitech lay in ruin all around, with large humanoid mechanical structures utterly destroyed, sparks lighting up from their broken pieces. Less humanoid magitech littered the ground as well, their destroyed pieces reminiscent of a spiders or scorpions, along with those who overlooked the outpost. Countless Vel'ryr soldiers' bodies lined the ground, too many to count. Their bodies' state varied, but it was clear to see they were all dead. The sheer military might this outpost held was probably enough to overthrow a small city, yet only one person was responsible for its destruction.

The figure leisurely but idly stood at the center of the destruction he wrought, though now he was outfitted differently. As ever, his face was entirely obscured by a helmet, which was stainless black on the surface while the upper regions were covered in white fur. A white chest piece adorned him, somewhat accented with black, leaving the black cloth beneath somewhat exposed. Along with that were white gauntlets that followed the same theme as his chest piece, with black sleeves sticking out. Short black coat tails framed his waist with white lines on each edge. He wore somewhat baggy black trousers with sleek white greaves adorned with silver instead of black. Finishing this all off was a stark white cape with white fur framing the upper edges.

"A change in wardrobe, Dante?" The young man mused, coming to a stop beside him.

("The ever-mighty Dante, holding unparalleled strength yet as dull as they come. Despite his absurdness, he is also so very normal, a paradox. No flashy magic or unexplainable abilities, just sheer strength. In this absurd world, he is a breath of fresh air, normality I strive to be engulfed in one day.")

The mightiest Inheritor merely grunted, "At Lyra's behest," he briefly clarified.

"Makes sense, I suppose. 'Tis our last festival, and you need to look as grand as possible."

"I presume you did not come out here for mere conversation, Aerinon," Dante surmised. "State your purpose."

("Never one for conversation, but I suppose I can appreciate that. Despite this flashy world, words are dull in comparison. In essence, they are naught but air. Normal conversations, despite the topics, always seem normal, I suppose. It's something I should appreciate given my views, but even I find some things boring. Boring and normal are two different things, and I only value one.")

"Suppose you're right," Aerinon mused. "I've merely come to relay a message from Percival." Dante remained quiet, and he took it as a cue to continue. "The Ancestor with that large mana signature has resurfaced in the capital. She seems content on causing mayhem for whatever reason, as seen by Reylthorn."

"The-"

"Percival bid us not to interfere," Aerinon quickly cut him off. He could not see his fellow Inheritor's face, but he assumed his eyes probably narrowed in irritation. "It was an order given to the rest of the Inheritors as well, safe for Isabella and Reynard. The archbishop thinks this a good opportunity to test our newest ones."

Dante gave a scoff. "Should lives be lost for something like a 'test'?" He shook his head at the very notion. "I'll not keep up with Percival's whims. Should the Ancestor make a nuisance of herself, then I shall dispose of her. I care not for the orders of others."

("Ever righteous, not expected from one with such strength. Even being the second strongest among the Inheritors, I can't find myself worrying about the lives of others barring my own sister. Perhaps it's not a 'normal' outlook to others. After all, with great power, should you not put it to good use? But oh well, this is my norm, how I live with my power.")

Aerinon gave a shrug. "I am merely here to relay a message. Percival thinks it's fine if we do not interfere. As the one Reylthorn saw in his vision is in the capital, the masked one. Or the one with the helmet now, I suppose," Dante slightly perked up at that. "The other Inheritors have taken an interest in him, Maerwynn most of all." Dante gave no outward reaction, but he could tell his fellow Inheritor no doubt frowned. "The havoc she'll cause would be dire. I'd take care of her, but she is the third strongest. The gap between her and I is not that large."

Dante gave a grunt of displeasure. "I'll ensure she keeps idle," he muttered.

("Annoyed, hm? Understandable, I suppose. Maerwynn—I can not imagine anyone being happy to deal with her. Alas, she is an odd one. Once she sets her interest on something, all hell would break out. And that would not be good for anyone, I suppose.")

"If I am to deal with her, then stay in the capital," the wind slightly picked up as Dante spoke, his cape somewhat fluttering in it. "Combat the Ancestor should she cause too much destruction, and keep an eye on the wild card."

"Aye, aye," Aerinon gave a two-finger salute as Dante moved past him. ("At the very least, that is settled with. Hm, I must say it's quite a pain that I always get these kinds of tasks. Even I have business I need to take care of. I can't spend my time playing envoy every time, I suppose. Oh well, there's naught to be done. At the very least, this is a 'normal' kind of task. Better this than anything absurd, but I digress.") He gazed up at the moon that lay hidden now beyond the blue sky. It stood out all the more as now the surface of the moon gleamed an ominous red.

"A storm's coming, I suppose."

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"Are you sure it's wise to dally in the capital like this?" Isabella found herself asking, walking beside her fellow Inheritor Reynard.

"Come now, being holed up in the castle is such a bore," he merely huffed out. "And there are such beautiful sights to take in here." He gestured to the various tall buildings, cathedrals, and statues. "Not as beautiful as you, though." He threw a wink along with his terrible line.

She could only give a wry smile. "Uh huh, thanks. But should we not busy ourselves with training? There are but nineteen days left until the festival."

"Talk of the festival is such a bore," he whined. "Besides, I can already maintain Arcane Ascendance for ten minutes," he boasted. "I've no need for further training."

"Even so, the others will be counting on us," Isabella murmured.

Reynard shrugged his shoulders. "Worry not, I'll fight for the both of us. You should not worry your pretty little head. With ten of us, we'll win with ease."

"Is that so?" Isabella sheepishly questioned. She did not know if his words were ones of arrogance or if he was just that sure.

"But come, enough of this talk of the festival. We are here for respite after all," he stated, flashing a smile at a passing group of young ladies who giggled at the action. "Let us commence our date."

"Uhm, I never agreed to a date. You said there was something of importance here in the capital," Isabella blurted out with a deadpan stare.

He merely chuckled. "Hah! My bad, you seemed like you could use some fun is all. You're either training all day long or busy with your acting."

"That is all there is to my life," she mumbled lowly, but his ears seemed to pick up on her words all the same. He opened his mouth to say something, but then his gaze averted from her, latching onto something else. She followed his gaze to spot two blonde girls outfitted in armor, one of them looking all too familiar.

"Oh my," Reynard all but blurted out with a stupid grin. She deadpanned at him once more.