Blades of the Soul

"How in the Devil's name are you still alive?" he slowly turned around as the rain intensified and the wind howled.

Tightening his grip on his blade, he let his gaze burn the man in front of him. He has no care about the sword he got out of nowhere or why it glows. As long as it's of use, he would gladly wield it. Without any other word, he lunged without hesitation. If you can't do it on the first try, then the second try is a charm, he thought. His grin wider than before, he will cut down that man's hands and throat so he'll never hear him in any way possible ever again.

"Interesting, very interesting. It was unprecedented that a traumatic event like this would trigger your abilities—a miscalculation on my part," the bearded man countered with his blade.

Nicolas quickly stepped back before the enemy had time to counter; again, he took a look at his own blade. If it did not intrigued him earlier, now it does, thanks to that man. Seemingly materialized from thin air, he was brandishing a similar blade, though, in contrast to the prince, it takes up light rather than emitting it. It was pitch black, darker than the night sky, darker than a shadow—it's the manifestation of "nothingness" itself.

"Don't worry, I don't care about these pawns if you will still come with me," he said, placing his blade close to his face. "I won't get mad." His eyes suddenly widened, and he hurriedly slashed the boy.

But Nicolas was not an easy target, unlike normal children. He had been trained to handle a sword and even fight at such a young age. Using his surroundings to his advantage, he hid behind a fallen wall. After the attack, he quickly sprawled out and delivered a blow. The bearded man blocked it for the most part, but the force pushed his guard so far that the tip of the boy's blade still reached his cheeks. "You are lucky this body is a bit old!" he answered with a kick that sent Nicolas flying like the severed head from before.

"Excuses," the prince smirked before landing perfectly on his feet. "I don't understand what you want with me. I might have handed myself to you earlier, but you broke the deal. I'll be taking your head instead," he continued his assault.

Joints already aching, lungs barely keeping up, and his head in disarray as if the surroundings is turning. His whole body is screaming in pain and the only fuel for it to move is anger. "Die, you scum!" He kept pushing forward without any regard for his safety. He got grazed, he got slashed, but all that's important to him is that his enemy is suffering even more until one last tricky blow cornered the man as he fell to the ground.

"I'm having mixed feelings here, boy. Should I be proud? Or should I get scared that I'm still as sharp as ever?" he still laughed despite the big cut on his stomach.

"I don't get what you are saying and I couldn't careless," Nicolas prepared the last blow as the atmosphere was filled with his laughter. The thunder celebrated with him as his blade hurried towards his last and final victim.

"You don't think I'd die here, do you?" the bearded man blurted as big, wide hands came swiping the prince. He flew into the air and back to the wall he had hidden earlier, hugging it as he coughed blood from the force and trauma.

As he lied weakly into the muddy ground, he witnessed as the headless giant came walking back up before picking up the bearded man. To him, it was illogical, of course. It's not every day that you see a headless man rise back up from the dead, but then again, his sword is also something supernatural. Bursting into laughter, he slowly came back to his feet and placed his blade in front of him. "Where do you think you are going?" he warned them as the blade grew brighter, but his knees failed him.

"You certainly are hard to get," the man coughed, "But don't worry, I will find a better body, and the next time we meet, I will be sure to take you back."

"I would like to see you try."

"Still tenacious, I see; you really are the one I was looking for. Don't you dare die here, Prince of Gregoria. I will comeback for your soul, so don't you miss me."

"Pretty considerate of you, though; don't lump me with you. I certainly wish for you to break your neck and die."

"Oh, killing me won't make me die," the man cackled as Nicolas just watched them disappear into the damp rainy night before briefly losing consciousness.

The beautiful fireworks are what woke him up minutes later. Despite his fading strength, he finally made his way back to the castle. The rain had now transitioned to a storm, and the lighting and thunder were angrier than before. He must have forgotten what happened to his friend, but when he recognized a familiar thing from afar, his tears came. Memories of Alisa flooded his mind as he washed her tattered ribbon in the pouring rain. He kneeled down.

"Happy birthday to you," he sobbed. "Happy birthday to you—happy birthday, happy birthday— happy." He did not finish the song as his attention got snatched by the castle. The castle where everyone is gathering to celebrate his birthday. The castle where Hunter is heading. "This is all his fault," he whispered as he stood back up and walked. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

While the beat-up celebrant is traversing his way back to the castle with ever-burning rage, Queen Natalia, whose neck is now starting to ache, is wondering why the fireworks display is taking so long. She had already inquired to Frederick about this, but the King does not seem to be bothered by the event, he was just happy to celebrate his son's birthday, but when he excused himself to the comfort room together with Ferrol, they needed to be aided by the knights due to the influence of the alcohol.

Upon getting useless explanations from him, she decided to ask Elisa, a more reliable person, for this kind of celebration. She excused herself from Queen Herina as she searched for the head maid. Inspecting every table in the royal hall, the person she is looking for seems to be missing at the moment. When she tried asking the townsfolk, all they said was that they had seen her leave just a moment ago, together with their cheerful laughs and gratitude to her. She is the queen, but she sure is familiar with the people, for she had not been raised in a castle like his.

There was a time when she too had been wandering the streets and helping around the castle together with Elisa, but not until Frederick, who was still a prince at the time, took a liking to her, and since she's a beautiful and hardworking woman, the past king and queen had approved without fail. Upon failing to find Elisa outside, she continued her search inside the castle, where she found Elisa inside the library, appearing to also be stressed about something. "Oh, thank goodness I have finally found you," she said, feeling relieved. "Don't you think this fireworks thing is taking too long? The night sky is already burning deep and It's starting to pour."

"I have the same concern, Lia. The fireworks are starting to hurt my neck, but we have a greater problem than this, My Queen. I can't." The halting of the explosions outside had stopped, and the blissful sound of the rain making contact with the castle roof brought refreshment to their crying ears. "Oh, thank goodness, but have you seen my Alisa? I can't seem to find Nicolas and her inside the castle."

"Have you searched their chambers? They are quite fidgety; they were just with us before the fireworks started, and then suddenly they're not."

"Fidgety indeed, but they're not there. That's why I am here; I figured they might be looking at some picture books, but no. The worst part is Logan is also nowhere to be found."

"Then they might be together then; I pity Logan for dealing with our mischievous children. Have you checked with the kids below? Maybe they are just so happy that they blended in."

"I was just about to."

The two of them came walking back down the stairs, up the great library, and back to the hall. With the help of the other maids, they checked each one of the grouped children but failed. Elisa had since been carrying a sense of distress, though she can't explain why.