Chapter Three: Palms Sweaty, Knees Weak, Mom’s Spaghetti

Verner's entire world shook, both figuratively and literally in a split second, as his head shattered the ground. It didn't do much damage, he'd been prepared just in case; he already had an Aura Construct out already, and was able to transfer it to shield the back of his head. His brains would've been paste otherwise.

His thoughts were running a mile a minute.

Verner Von Bluecher was a seven-hundred year old body snatching wraith cursed to eternally walk the Earth, and he had seen so much in that time. He had seen the wonders and horrors of man, he had touched the eldritch and glimpsed into the blasphemous cosmos. Hell, he had even been there when Vlad Tepes became the first Nosferatu.

He had thought he had seen it all.

…But this was a first.

A bloody shoe slid into his vision, breaking him from his thoughts. He rolled out of the way just before it was brought down, pulverizing the broken concrete to dust.

Verner used his momentum to right himself onto his knee. His breath was a little haggard due to the shock of the situation and he could hear his heart beating in his ears.

His eyes refocused on Dante. The man's Aura was scarlet, and the way it emanated from him, it looked almost like waves of blood flowing off of his body. The blood red gauntlets on his hands… They were bonafide Aura Constructs.

It was like his soul, and by extension, his Aura, was in a constant liquid state!

Dante grinned from ear to ear, laughing like a madman. He raised one of his blood-forged gauntlets, a maelstrom of red aura around his arm. "You should brace yourself, asshole!"

Dante took a single step, and the ground shattered as he shot across the chamber like a bullet.

Verner's eyes widened, and latched onto the surrounding mana. Eight magic circles formed almost instantly, each one exactly the same.

"Bāguà Shén Dùn!" An eight layered magic shield took form in front of Verner, blocking Dante's path. All eight magic shields were gold, transparent, and had yin-yang symbols with Chinese characters circling around the edge of the construct in a clockwise formation.

Verner, while extremely limited in the ways of Aura, was technically a master in the arts due to his knowledge of the intricacies of spiritual energies, and he was able to perform the basics and create an Aura Construct.

This was a technique he had developed against Aura users with his extensive knowledge. The eight shield layers worked together to absorb and disperse spiritual energy. Energy that he could take in and use to supercharge his own Arts and even spells. Magic powered by Aura was on a whole other level, the only way for mortal magic to step into the realm of deities. Even simple D-Rank magic could rival the upper echelons of spellcraft if powered by Aura.

Bāguà Shén Dùn (Eight Trigrams Divine Shield), was a multipurpose spell that he'd originally created to deal with malicious spirits while he was in China during the 1400s. With its reliability he'd soundly defeated the former head of the Brandt family twelve years ago, and new head, Astrid Von Brandt. Even the mighty Phoenix Ascendant, Huang Zhihao wasn't able to get past this technique.

The man from another world reared his fist back, and threw a haymaker at Verner's shield.

Each shield shattered on contact.

Verner had barely enough time to register the fact that there was a fist heading towards his face before impact. Dust and debris flooded the chamber, his eyeballs and brain rattled in his skull, for a few seconds he didn't know up from down. Once again, it was only thanks to his Aura that he survived that attack, and he was incredibly grateful for the centuries he spent mastering those abilities.

"First of all: What?!" Verner yelled as he pulled himself out of the rubble. "Second: The fuck?!"

What just happened might as well be literally impossible!

"What can I say, Verner?" Dante smirked cockily. "I'm built different."

What the hell was that even supposed to mean?!

Whatever, it didn't matter, there was more than one way to skin a cat when it came to Aura users. Especially so when one was also an experienced Aura user.

Verner pulled on his Aura, and reformed his Serpent Soul Rupture over both his hands. The green Aura solidifying over his fingers in the shape of a green sickle-like claws. He had only partially unleashed the Art earlier, now however, he was going to go all out.

"Oh?" Dante raised a curious eyebrow before raising his arms. "Like this, right?"

The body snatching wraith watched in complete shock as Dante's Aura Construct shifted like a mass of flowing water then reformed into the same shape as his Serpent Soul Rupture.

A downside of Aura Constructs was that they were rather rigid in their creation. Once they were created, then that was the shape they took, and it couldn't be altered unless you started the forging process all over again. It was why most Aura Masters picked a single shape and stuck with it. Something like Dante's gauntlets would've been very difficult, but not impossible. Verner's sole Aura Art, Serpent Soul Rupture, contained ten components, one claw for each finger.

…And here was Dante freely manipulating what should be solid Aura like it was second nature.

Verner had never seen such bullshit before. "Fucking. How?!"

Dante let out a mocking laugh, and flipped him off. "Fuck you, that's how."

Verner grit his teeth. 'None of this makes any fucking sense!'

Dante rushed him again, dust and rubble kicked up with every step.

He was like a berserker now. It was something Verner knew first hand, the intense power flowing through him. Back in his younger years of learning magic, he was able to use an enhancement spell to give himself the strength of a bear. The power unlocked some animalistic part of his mind and he needed to destroy anything and everything.

But unlike Dante, Verner had grown past such primitive follies centuries ago. He was the superior combatant, someone who had centuries of combat experience. Someone who had fought some of the best warriors of the past and present. Someone who had faced gods and still emerged victorious. And here was this brat charging towards him like a raging bull rushing towards a muleta, completely ignorant of the cannon behind the red cape.

Verner smirked. 'I hope you've enjoyed your time in the spotlight, 'Player', because now I'll knock you down back into the dirt where you belong!'

When Dante reached Verner, the centuries old wraith could see so many openings to exploit. Just a little closer and…

BOOM!

Verner's ears rang, but he wasn't hurt or pushed back. Hell, Dante hadn't laid a finger on him. Dust and debris were kicked up, and Verner had to cover his face. He quickled casted a quick wind spell to clear his vision and… everything clicked.

The charge was a feint, as was the copying of his Aura Art. It was to get him to focus on Dante's hands instead of his feet, and he used that distraction to kick up a smokescreen, then retreat back further.

…Right next to Gungnir.

Dante gave him the smuggest, most punchable look Verner had ever seen in his seven-hundred years of existence.

Verner's mind halted. 'Oh shit, somehow, I completely forgot that was there.'

Dante reached for the spear of Odin. "Your next words will be: 'Don't you dare, you miserable fucking brat!'"

"Don't you dare, miserable fucking… brat…" Verner's eyes widened at the absurdity that just befell him. "What the hell…?"

Dante gripped the spear, and it was engulfed in the same maelstrom of Aura as him. "Haven't you gotten it through your head yet? I beat you five times. Hell, if we're talking outside of the Terminal, I've kicked your ass for the giggles a dozen times every year for the past seventeen years!" He pulled back his arm, the spear aimed squarely at him. "If there's any moron in this world I know, it's you. Now, get off your bitch ass and catch these rounds, Verner!"

Dante threw the spear with all his might, and the sound barrier broke, a red missile streaking toward Verner. If it weren't for his centuries of experience with spellcraft, he would've died then and there.

A dozen stone walls erupted from the ground between Verner and the spear's path. Gungnir obliterated the first two walls, and made a cannonball sized hole in the rest of them. Verner barely moved his head out of the way when it pierced through the last barrier and impaled the wall behind him.

There was a sting in his cheek, a small cut that was already starting to pool blood.

Gungnir was an Artifact, one leagues above the majority found by mankind. And it had the power to bend causality to hit its target, a truly ridiculous ability, but there was one flaw. It would always hit its target, but that didn't mean the target had to die. A small cut like the one of his cheek counted as a hit. But it would always, always, hit its target.

Verner let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. 'Yeah, that's that fuckin' spear for you, alright. Always a pain in the ass.'

It was one of the weapons Verner had coveted for so long. Its causality altering nonsense was on record for being able to punch holes through the fabric of reality. He just needed to give it enough power to make a gateway big enough for Hastur. Then Odin happened…

The spear kept the red glow of Dante's Aura and trembled in the wall it was pierced through. It then unlodged itself from the wall and shot past him, through the holes in the barriers, and back into Dante's waiting hand.

…And now said spear was in the hands of this asshole!

"Tch!" Verner knew closing the distance was one of his few surefire victory conditions. "Fine then."

He'd have to bait him into it though…

The wraith shot off to the left, magic circles forming around him, firing off golden chains that shot forward towards Dante.

He batted the first chain away with the shaft of Gungnir, jumped back to avoid the second. He rolled to the side, dodging the third and fourth chains, and as he got up, he twirled the spear in his arms, deflecting the fifth chain, and slashed through the sixth one with the spear tip.

They continued this little dance of theirs for a few minutes, Verner keeping Dante constantly on the defensive with his chains, never giving him an opportunity to throw it. While Verner was confident in his ability to skirt by Gungnir's causality manipulation by abusing its conditions, death by a thousand cuts wasn't exactly an appealing option.

But then Verner realized something. Dante wasn't trying to close the distance and go for his fake openings. He just kept blocking and voiding his attacks while pouring more and more Aura into Gungnir-

Crack.

'Oh…' Verner realized Dante's true intent the moment he saw the crack run up the length of the spear. "Oh hell no!"

He stopped pulling his punches immediately.

It took him thirty seconds, but Verner conjured up over forty magic circles. Fire, lightning, wind, ice, steel, light, darkness, and over a dozen curses. He had felled entire armies in the past doing this, becoming a rapidfire mobile artillery cannon. It would more than likely bring down a good portion of the opera house, and Ivan would bitch and moan for a while…but Verner refused to have to deal with that bastard clown of a god again!

Dante, for his part, used the time to pour more and more Aura into the spear, cracks appearing at a rapid pace.

Dante smiled. "Damn, you really want me dead now!"

Verner responded by snapping his fingers, unleashing his forty spells without another word.

The man from another world threw the spear at the tsunami of magic coming his way. And just before it made contact with the spells, it shattered.

A black magic circle depicting a raven suddenly appeared.

A divine magic circle.

A bony hand reached out from the circle and-

Snap!

The entire torrent of magic barreling towards Dante disappeared like smoke.

"Guess who's back, back again…" A sing-song voice echoed throughout the chamber as a familiar wide-brimmed top hat over a near-skeletal face with a single red eye emerged. "Shady's back, tell a friend…"

Verner scowled. "Oh god, not you again!"

"Ha! If that's got your jimmies ruffled, get a load of this!" Odin exclaimed as he raised his arm, the shattered pieces of Gungnir on the ground began floating…and shot themselves into Dante's body.

"What the fuck?!" Dante shouted as the fragments embedded themselves into his flesh, it didn't seem to cause him pain though. "Odin! The fuck?!"

The pieces of Gungnir then seemed to melt into his skin. The veins under Dante's skin became visible for a few seconds, glowing red.

"Now your very blood is the Gungnir," Odin explained. "Now, let's see how 'Verny' deals with rapid fire auto-aim."

Verner felt a pit in his stomach. 'The spear alone was bad enough. But if his blood can produce the same amount of strength and power as the spear did, I might be in some serious trouble!'

Dante smirked. "I got a better idea."

'Oh god, what's he doing this time?!'

"Oooooh?" Odin inquired.

"I'll end this in one attack!" Dante announced. "My secret technique."

Verner gulped. 'A secret technique?!'

Odin blinked. "You…You have a secret technique?"

Dante raised his arm into the air, his fingers spread as a storm of red Aura swirled around him. Blood leaked from his arm and entered the swirling vortex, culminating above his hand, and creating a glowing spear.

He then took a stand. Low to the ground, the spear's tip pointing at the floor. "Get ready for the real deal, Verner!"

Verner proactively prepared all of his best defensive spells as he braced himself and-

Dante threw the spear at the ceiling, it blew a large hole out of the basement level of the opera house…

"Nigerundayo!" Dante shouted as he leapt out of the basement.

Both Verner and Odin's jaws dropped.

"I…you…what?!" Verner's mind practically short circuited for a few seconds before he properly processed what just happened, and then came the unholy ancient rage of a seven-hundred year old wraith. "OH THAT MOTHERFUCKER! GET BACK HERE AND DIE LIKE A MAN!"

"By my missing fucking eye, at least have the decency to take me with you!" Odin yelled before he disappeared in a swirl of black mist and feathers.

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My heart was beating in my ears, it was deafening, but not nearly as deafening to the screaming next to me. I looked next to me and saw an older, balding gentleman in what appeared to be a prison guard outfit looking at me fearfully.

I looked around me, gold and red everywhere. Stage props, rows and rows of seats filled with people. Oh yeah, I was in an opera house.

I dusted off my bloodied clothes and approached the fearful man, he stood there frozen in terror. Though the audience wasn't panicking like he was… did they think this was a part of the stage play?

I threw an arm over his shoulder. "Don't worry, sir, I'm not going to hurt you."

He began to tremble in fear. "W-W-W-W-What about h-him?"

I looked over to where the man was looking and saw another gentleman knocked out and covered in debris. "He… is still breathing. And I don't see any bleeding. Maybe a concussion." I shook my head. "Anyway, what play is this?"

"L-Le Comte de Monte-Cristo!" He answered.

I blinked, the French name of The Count of Monte Cristo? I had listened to the audiobook a few times while at work to make the day go faster. "Oh. What part are we at?"

The man looked more confused than scared now. "Right as Edmond Dantès is about to escape Château d'If after swapping places with Abbé Faria's body."

I felt a rumble below the stage.

"DANTE!" Verner's screaming, rage-filled voice could be heard through the hole and echoed throughout the stage.

Golden chains erupted from the hard-wood floor of the stage, and I pulled the actor out of the way just in time before he got impaled.

Alright… I've a stage, and an audience.

"So, this is the fabled curse of Château d'If!" I shouted dramatically.

"What the hell are you doing?!" The actor exclaimed, my arm still over his shoulder.

"Improvising. You want this entire theater to fall into a panic?" I whispered back.

The man looked at me like I grew a second head. "Y-You…! Ugh, fine!" He removed himself from my arm and faced the audience nervously. "Y-Yes! The curse of Château d'If! The golden chains of righteousness of which no prisoner has escaped from!"

I gave him a bland look. "Buddy, there's nothing righteous about those damn chains!" I cleared my throat and faced the audience, seeing Ivan and some of his goons in one of the theater boxes with an absolutely bewildered expression on his face. "Then I shall be the first! Though my path to escaping this horrible place has been foiled, I will fight off the entire prison if I must so I may exact my vengeance!"

Suddenly, four of Ivan's goons stepped onto the stage. These ones were different from the riff raff that made up the majority of the reformed Sabalenka family. These ones were dressed in fine black suits and wore sunglasses inside like the jackasses that made up the current mob family were.

"Come quietly, or we'll kill you on the spot," the one in the front said as he and the others either leveled a sword at me, or a conjured up magic circle.

"So, the cavalry has arrived!" There was a cocky grin on my face. "But I see that the warden should've sent more men. To arms! I shall run thy pockets!"

The audience, who still didn't quite realize what was going on, began to laugh at my ad-libbing, but as the thugs cried out and charged, I dramatically shoved the actor out of harm's way and unleashed my Aura once again. Power flooded through my very cells once again, and my brain's ability to process images skyrocketed. The goons practically slowed to a crawl.

I did have to run away from Verner for a reason: I was running low on Aura. Unlike mana, which came from the World, Aura wasn't virtually infinite. I had gone a little gungho in trying and failing to kill Verner as fast as possible. Then that trick to shatter Gungnir took another big chunk. The Aura Construct I made not only left my reserves dangerously low, practically running on fumes, but I was also starting to feel a bit woozy for blood loss.

Fuck, I didn't even have enough time to grab Gram before I made a run for it.

But mama didn't raise no bitch.

I dashed forwards, and backhanded the first man. I ducked under the fireball the second man conjured and embedded my fists into both his stomach, and the stomach of the man next to him.

I then reached into their pockets and stole their wallets. Hey, I did say I was gonna run their pockets. Plus I had like no money whatsoever, and was going to need something to help me get my footing in this world.

I still had my momentum going, so I smoothly slipped past the two goons next to me, and immediately bent my knees, getting lower to the ground and ducking the sword that sliced the air where my head used to be. I spun on the balls of my feet as I rose up and uppercut the final goon in the chin and sent him flying.

It took only five seconds.

Fucking hell, I love Aura! It's so busted.

My posture relaxed as I heard the unaware audience begin to rise with joy. The chorus of voices cheering me on gave me a rush I'd rarely ever felt before. Damn, I should've gotten into theater growing up, gotten myself into the acting business or something.

I opened up the wallets and stuffed the bills into my pocket. I tossed them aside once they were empty. "Faria's training served me better than I expected; there's no chance those rotten curs will escape my vengeance now!"

Alright, fun's over, time to start looking for escape routes.

"You were a fool to not accept your fate down there, you miserable runt!" A familiar voice shouted from the highest theater box.

Ah, yes, Ivan. His black and blue coat made him stand out like a sore thumb amongst the gold and red of the opera house. But the theater box he was in…

Ivan's boss fight in the game took place within the opera house. His Grimoire, Blood Pact, was the main gimmick of the fight, but more than that, the opera house was a dungeon (in the game sense), and there was a hidden path to the back exit of the theater. Specifically, it was through Ivan's personal theater box.

In the game it just led to some loot, a lore note and some health items in particular. Now, it was going to lead to my escape.

I reinforced my legs with Aura, and poured another huge chunk of power into making another Aura Construct over my right arm.

I leapt high into the air, higher than I had ever jumped in my life. Ivan drew his pistol, a multi-layered magic circle appearing in front of the barrel, a textbook sign of quality dwarven gunsmithing. Two loud bangs deafened the roar of the audience, two extremely concentrated beams of pure plasma heading towards me. I used my Aura Construct to shield me, my arm buckled on impact, and a good chunk of the construct was shattered, but I received no harm.

"The hell?!" Ivan's eyes widened as his weapon did little to stop me.

With an all too wide grin, I reared my fist back and decked that son of a bitch in the face as hard as I could.

"Ahhrrggh!" Ivan was laid out flat, clutching a bloody nose.

I gave him no time to recover and lifted him up by his collar, his feet no longer able to touch the ground.

"Y-You…!" He cursed as he tried to pry my arm off of him.

I then turned around to see Verner climbing out of the hole I made on the stage.

Target acquired.

If I tried that blood trick again for an Aura Construct, I was pretty sure I'd die on the spot. And I had an abysmal amount of Aura left, but I threw caution to the wind. I poured as much aura as I had left into my arm. It wasn't a construct, but basic reinforcement would have to do.

"You are the fool, warden!" I said in my best dramatic voice. "NOW ENJOY A FOOL'S REWARD!"

I chucked that motherfucker as hard as I could at the emerging Verner, and I felt a series of cracks throughout my arm as it felt like liquid agony was being injected into my body. The look on Verner's face when Ivan collided with him was priceless, and they both tumbled back down the hole!

I broke my arm dunking on Verner and Ivan, 100% worth it!

Also, ouch. Gonna need some Ibuprofen for this.

Before I made for my daring escape, I spotted something shining on the floor and picked it up.

Befreiung, Ivan's gun.

A large silver pistol forged almost entirely out of mythril, resembling a modified Desert Eagle with stylized grips twisting into sharp points. At the bore of the pistol were scrollwork engravings to add some more flare to the design. It had no magazine, the grip was pure solid metal.

It was his father's before the little shit slaughtered most of his family. It was one of two symbols of the head of the Sabalenka family, gifted to them by one of the greatest dwarven gunsmiths in history. It was technically an Artifact, something forged from the broken chains of Fenrir. When first created, it was a firearm far ahead of its time. No, it wasn't really a gun in a traditional sense, more of a magic catalyst that could shoot pre registered spells.

Regardless, this shit was powerful and I needed all the help I could get.

So, yes, I stole the weapon of one of the game's major bosses.

Not my fault he's got butter fingers.

And so, I began to run like hell down the path out of the theater box, the cheers of the audience growing fainter the further I went. I slipped into the third room on the right. It looked like a small (for rich people) private lounge fitted with a personal bar and everything, and best of all it was empty.

The lounge, I mean…and the bar. I was very very tempted to grab a bottle of those oh so expensive-looking wines and brandy, especially since my arm hurt like a bitch and a half right now. But my attention was drawn to the bookcase, specifically a book labeled Les Misérables by Victor Hugo.

Now, while it was a good read, I wasn't exactly here for classic literature.

Adjusting the pistol in my left hand, I reached out and pulled on the book. It made it halfway out of the bookcase before I heard a click and the case began to move, and revealed the hidden passage. This was actually a shortcut out of the opera dungeon once you had beaten Ivan.

To be fair, I technically just did.

I made sure to close the bookcase behind me before I went down the hidden path. Soon enough, I had made it out. Back into the dark alleys of Paris, cold winter air fogged up my breaths, biting into my skin and made my broken arm ache further, but it was better than whatever Verner and Ivan had planned for me.

I had no more Aura to spare, I was woozy from blood loss and my previous injuries, and had a broken arm.

So, I ran. I picked a direction and just fucking went for it. I didn't have the energy to give a damn where I ended up.

I don't even know how long I even ran for.

I just kept going until my body couldn't take anymore.

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Tatsiana Sabalenka was a C-Rank Knight working directly for the biggest Knight guild in Paris, Blade. She was the former heiress to the Sabalenka mob family, at least until her brother slaughtered their family ten years ago. She didn't know why he let her live that day, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that she was alive, and that she was going to kill him with her own hands for what he'd done.

It was only thanks to Huang Zhihao, the woman who became her adopted mother and combat master, that she was even alive today. She owed a lot to Zhihao and the training she'd given her, she'd even learned some basic Aura techniques and even some Arts.

Her brother, Yegor, now went by the name of Ivan. People only saw him as a wealthy entrepreneur, owner of the Palais Garnier opera house. But she knew the monster behind that facade, he had twisted the Sabalenka empire into a monstrous shadow of its former self. Drug trade, human trafficking, organ harvesting, and doubtless far, far worse. But while the knights were able to bust a few operations, nothing could be truly pointed towards 'Ivan' as the ringleader.

As much as she would've loved to walk right up to him and slit his damn throat, she couldn't. He was too public, to put it lightly…and too powerful. If she attempted it, she'd be at the top of Knight's shit list right next to Verner Von Bluecher. Though considering the connections between the Yellow Monarch gang and the proxy gangs under Yegor's payroll, it seemed like she'd be taking two heads when everything was said and done.

It was why she joined Blade as a Knight, to gain the authority to do proper investigations and eventually expose 'Ivan' for the monster he really was. And when she did, she'd have the biggest Knight guild in Paris at her back to beat him into the ground.

Unfortunately, that upstart Ichiro was making her investigation a lot harder than it needed to be. He was taking out too many hideouts too fast; she hardly ever got the chance to interrogate any of the members. She couldn't forget about the power vacuums either, especially after he single handedly took down the Russian mafia syndicate called Motel Chernobyl. There were even talks about him being promoted to S-Rank sooner or later.

Which was why she was here now. There had been multiple disappearances lately, not much of a surprise considering how much of a crime ridden shithole Paris was in this day and age, but in particular, it was happening to adventurers, specifically E, D, and on occasion, even C-Ranks.

A bit of asking around, and she had more or less put the pieces together. A majority of the missing adventurers had gotten involved with the Yellow Monarch gang in some way or another, usually ending up in debt to them. And considering some of the horror stories surrounding the gang and their weird cult, it wasn't hard to see why these adventurers disappeared. Her goal was find out what branch of the gang was doing this, and legally torture them for any information related to either Verner or her brother.

So far, her investigation had pointed her in the direction of a pair of brothers that ran a butcher shop in the Fifth Arrondissement, though a majority of the disappearances happened in the Seventh Arrondissement. And that was where she was heading, to interview a few more adventures before heading back to that butcher shop.

"Hmmm?" She squinted her eyes as something caught her attention, a red dot in the sky, drifting.

Curiosity getting the best of her, she decided to follow it, skillfully slipping past the bevy of people that made up Paris's nightlife. As she followed the light, she noticed that it almost seemed like whatever it was wanted her to follow it, she could barely even make out a silhouette, but it looked like a bird or sorts.

Eventually, she was led into a dark alley.

Of course, she wasn't stupid, so she upholstered her father's magic pistol, Bulmung, and lightly reinforced her body with Aura before stepping in. Being a werewolf enhanced her senses greatly compared to that of a normal human, so she heard the man before she saw him.

Tatsiana craned her head down to see a sorry sight. A young man, probably a year or two younger than her, clothed in torn up bloody rags and bandages, and slumped against the alley wall. He was covered in blood, most likely his own, and she could see bruising all over his face. Hell, his lip was busted in a few places, there was a clean cut near the right edge of his lip, and his right eye was blackened.

He looked like a corpse, it was only due to the sound of his breathing and the rapid rise and fall of his chest that she knew he was alive.

Kraa! Kraa!

Tatsiana looked up.

Perched at the top of the building was a raven. It looked odd though, its beak was bone white, and it had a single red, glowing, eye.

Kraa! It cawed again before flying off.

Tatsiana sighed and shook her head before she crouched down to inspect the young man's injuries. Then she spotted something shiny in his left hand.

A pistol.

A very very familiar pistol.

The very same pistol used to shoot her father in the head and her mother through the heart.

Balmung's twin, Befreiung.

And the only person that should have that pistol was her brother, Yegor.

But the person currently holding it was most certainly not Yegor.

"Who are you?" She used her hand to brush the hair out of his eyes.

"H-Huh…?" His voice was weak as he opened his non-swollen eye.

Red. A beautiful shade of scarlet that glowed weakly against the darkness of the alley.

Then Tatsiana grabbed her head in pain as a sudden migraine overtook her. Stars filled her vision and then..

She saw something.

Herself, and… Ichiro?

No, not quite, he had the eyes of the young man in the alley.

"I… I know, you don't approve of my methods, but this is my one and only chance to make Yegor pay for what he's done!" the other version of herself cried. She found herself unable to look this alternate Ichiro in the eyes.

The alternate Ichiro took her hands into his own, and spoke in a tender voice. "It's alright. Whatever happens, happens. I'll be by your side no matter what. I promise."

The other Tatsiana looked at the alternate Ichiro with tears in her eyes before she embraced him.

She blinked as the vision in her mind flashed white. She was back in the alley now, and the young man had passed out.

Tatsiana stared down at him in utter bewilderment for a few seconds. "Just who the hell are you?" she uttered, her heart a whirlwind of emotion.