Nashandra…
After her match was over, she approached the waiting room while walking down the hallway, and the door to it opened suddenly. Out from it walked an unusually tall woman with dark skin, blonde hair, red eyes, and scars in the shape of dragons on wrapped around both arms.
Her presence was as similarly intimidating as Moyako’s but the woman paid her no mind and simply walked past her quietly.
Before her face could turn completely out of view, she caught a glimpse of red light emanating from the woman’s eyes.
Red eyes…, like the Forrosans, yet she does not share their features. Who is this woman?
A sense of curiosity overcame her as she called out to her and asked, “Excuse me for a moment. May I ask you a question?”
The strange woman stopped for a moment to turn around and look at her, allowing her a moment to ask.
“Your red eyes are very similar to the Forrosans who are blessed by the God of Wrath, yet you do not share their features. How is that possible?”
The strange woman raised her eyebrows in confusion as she said, “You are curious about my eyes…? What about your own? You have the same red eyes as I, yet you are not Forrosan.”
“I do?” Nashandra gasped as she reflexively felt for her face as if she could see the color of her eyes with her hands, though she obviously could not.
“You did not know…? How amusing… Unfortunately, I cannot give you an answer because unlike you, my eyes were not gifted to me by your god, nor was I born with them. Their origins are not something I can explain to you,” she said as she turned around and left for the arena floor.
Nashandra stood in front of the waiting room, even more confused than before. As she was turning around to leave, she bumped into someone who was about to enter the waiting room.
“Oh, I’m sorry miss,” a large man said as he steadied her so she did not trip.
How could I not sense his presence…? she wondered as she looked up at him and recognized him right away.
“Frosk! I am sorry for not running into you,” she exclaimed as she backed away from him quickly and bowed apologetically.
Surprised by her politeness, he put his hands up and said, “No no, its alright…”
His voice trailed off as he looked her in the eyes, his mouth hanging in shock.
“Is something the matter?” she asked, although she knew that it was likely her own eyes that he was so shocked by.
“W-Were you struck by the scarlet bolt during your match?! You were, weren’t you?!” he asked frantically, reaching out his hands as if to grab her by the shoulders and shake her but visibly resisting the urge to do so.
Thankful for the fact that he was making an effort not to literally shake the answers out of her body, she answered him plainly, “I was, yes. During my match against Moyako in fact, though I admitted defeat to her.”
“You did…? You did not win?”
“No. The moment I was struck, I was able to yield the battle to her. She is far more powerful than I.”
“That is strange…I thought the God of Wrath only gave the scarlet bolt to those with an unyielding fighting spirit, but you gave up the moment you were hit…?”
Though it was obvious he was attempting to analyze what was going on with her, the way he was phrasing it seemed rather rude.
Her eyes narrowed in irritation, and upon seeing her expression, he quickly shut up and apologized.
The silence then dragged on as both of them had questions but were unsure of how to voice them properly to the point that it became awkward.
“I wish you luck on your fight Frosk,” she said as she walked around him on her way to leave.
“Ah, thank you,” he replied as he was about to walk into the waiting room.
“I ask that the two of you wait a moment,” said a new voice as a man in a suit appeared between them.
Frosk quickly turned around in surprise, exclaiming, “Lord Azazel!”
Nashandra’s eyes widened at the mention of his name and her thoughts ran wildly, Azazel?! As in, the patron lord of Forrosa?! What is he doing here?! Is he here to talk to me?!
Then Azazel turned to look her in the eyes and said, “Yes, I am and yes, I am here to talk with you. Please, step into the room so that we may have a conversation.”
H-he read my thoughts…
“Yes, I did. Please stop thinking so loudly,” he said with a mildly annoyed tone of voice.
She hugged her body as the feeling of having her thoughts read made her uncomfortable.
“Stop looking into my head if it bothers you so much.”
Azazel then stared at her and said, “I don’t have to look to hear your thoughts. You are broadcasting them so loudly that I cannot ignore them. Please quiet down so I can focus on providing an adequate explanation to you.”
She then folded her arms and frowned in anger at Azazel’s rudeness, to which he responded by rubbing his temples in annoyance.
It was then that he snapped at her and said, “Please, for the love of god, stop that! Why are your thoughts so loud… You are giving me a headache.”
Not only was she confused, but now even Frosk felt bad for her until his mouth opened in an ‘oh…’ expression, as if he understood what was going on.
“Nashandra, if you may, please re seal your soul. You are unconsciously using the scarlet bolt’s power right now. I cannot hear your thoughts, but he is and…”
“But I...I thought I already had sealed them before my fight had ended,” she said as she knew she had done so when the fight was over.
“As our lord had blessed Frosk with a soul far greater than what he had before, it seems that the same has been done to you. You may have sealed yourself already, but those seals are no longer enough to keep down your newfound strength,” Azazel explained before he reached out his hand and tapped her on the head. As he did, a look of relief flashed across his face.
“Finally...peace and quiet,” he said gratefully.
Nashandra grabbed the sides of her head worryingly and asked, “Were my thoughts really that loud?”
“My dear, I have witnessed black holes colliding that were far quieter than your thoughts. You have an unforeseen reaction to being struck by the scarlet bolt compared to the Forrosans.”
Nashandra and Frosk, both of whom had never heard of the term ‘black hole’, stared at Azazel in confusion.
“How did you quiet down my thoughts then?”
“A temporary and harmless curse to keep your thoughts in your own head. I only hope it holds up long enough for me to finish this conversation before you break the curse on your own.”
She lowered her hands and waited patiently for Azazel to explain the situation to the both of them.
Focusing his attention to Frosk for a moment, he said, “As you already know, the scarlet bolt is a blessing that is typically only reserved for a few Forrosan warriors every couple of centuries. However, it can be passed down through blood, though its strength diminishes with every generation. There have been few examples in history of more than one Forrosan warrior being chosen by the scarlet bolt while another was still alive. You are one such warrior as King Razel Aldia was chosen in his youth and is obviously still very much alive.”
He then looked to her and said, “The case for both you and Frosk is very unique however. King Razel Aldia is not an old and weary man, but is a very powerful and capable warrior even now. With that in mind, there is little reason for Frosk to have been chosen by the scarlet bolt if he were to be seen as one who would take King Razel’s place. Instead, there is a different circumstance in play here and you, Nashandra, fall in line with that as well. The God of Wrath has seen fit to select four kings, his servants that would rule over this world. Perhaps Frosk is not meant to be a king in the sense that he would replace King Razel from his seat of power, but rather to lead the Forrosan people into the future. Regardless, Frosk is among the four kings chosen by the God of Wrath.”
This appeared to be the first time that Frosk has heard this information because he immediately went still and pale as the blood drained from his face.
Azazel continued as he said, “Now, one would assume that by looking at Frosk’s circumstance and assume the same would be true for the other three. Warriors chosen from among the great nations of this world. Mordran has been decimated and its people scattered across the globe, so it is unlikely a Mordrinite would be chosen. The Southern Union of Kingdoms is just as unlikely as it is less a major nation with a significant culture, and more a collection of minor individual communities focused on education and advancement. Many people do live there, but I have little reason to believe a native from that land would become one of our lord’s chosen kings. That would leave Duranell, New Alfheim, and Brunhildt as possibilities for a king to appear, yet you were chosen. It is quite odd.”
“With Amaskia long gone, I can understand why you would assume me being chosen as unlikely, but I heard it from the God of Wrath himself,” she admitted, to which Azazel and Frosk both gave her a slack jawed stare.
Azazel quickly closed his mouth so as to look like a fool no longer, swallowing nervously, and asked, “H-He truly spoke to you? Truly? What did he say?”
Just as she was about to answer, the announcer’s voice called for Frosk to appear for his match.
Grumbling in annoyance, he stood up from his chair as he got ready to leave, clearly upset that he was unable to stay to hear her story.
But before he could take a single step forward, Azazel raised his hand for him to stop and snapped his fingers.
“Stay for a moment. I have stopped time for now to allow us more time to discuss this, so stay seated Frosk,” he said without taking her eyes off of her.
“Thank you sir!” he said gratefully as he sat back down.
“Now, Nashandra, please continue. What did the God of Wrath say to you?”
She spent the next several minutes, or whatever passed for minutes in stopped time, repeating the words that the God of Wrath spoke to her. She told them that it was not just during the match that he spoke to her, but in her dreams as well.
“In your dreams…? That happened to me as well actually,” Frosk said, to which Azazel turned around and stared at him angrily.
“Did it now? Why have you not shared this information with me in all this time then?” he asked with a hint of agitation in his voice.
“W-Well my lord, you were absent after the third siege of Alken and...no matter how many times people called out to you, you did not respond. Besides, I didn’t think much of the dream itself and nearly forgot about it until I was hit by the scarlet bolt.”
“When exactly did you dream of our lord?”
“It was during my coma, right before I woke up and defeated Alan and Lorra. He asked me to prove myself in the face of certain death and defeat. He said that if I did not lose my fighting spirit even in the face of death, that he would grant me the strength necessary to win, and he did. I should have voiced this to you sooner, forgive me,” he said as he bowed his head.
Azazel shook his head and said, “No, forgive me. I had lost faith that our lord would appear in our greatest time of need and ignored everyone who called out to me. At the time, I doubt that I would have listened to you even if you shouted it to me, but enough about the past. Let us continue with you Nashandra.”
“What else is there to discuss?”
“You are chosen by our lord, yet you have no kingdom to lead, which leaves you in an unusual position. I was expecting someone like Dean Smith to be chosen as he was the one who had fought and killed the Archdragon Malthael during the war. He led the charge into Mordran but he was not chosen for some reason, yet you were.”
Hearing this, something was nagging at her that she had to ask, “How is it that the two of us have heard the voice of our god, yet you have not? How do you know what the God of Wrath wants from us?”
This question seemed to have embarrassed Azazel as he looked away sheepishly and answered, “I may have not had the honor of hearing his voice as the God he is meant to be, but I have it on good authority that this is what he wants. Your statements have only reinforced my claims.”
He then continued as he held his chin in his hand while pondering a thought, “Since you truly are one of the kings he has chosen, I have to wonder what kingdom you will be leading… Who will the other two kings be and where will they come from…?”
He then shook his head and snapped his fingers as he said, “That’s enough of that for now. Frosk, why don’t you head off to your battle. We can continue this conversation once I have acquired more information.
He then stood up and held out his hand as he said, “I am grateful to have you serving our lord Nashandra. May we give all that we can to him.”
She hesitated to shake his hand but could tell that he was genuine in his words as she nodded and smiled before shaking his.
“The honor is mine.”
Camilla…
Today would be one of her most intimidating match ups during her participation in this tournament.
Ever since Raum told her that Nøkkra would abandon her, she assumed that the God of Wrath would be the one to choose her rather than the God of Humanity.
With Frosk being chosen, very directly, by the God of Wrath’s scarlet bolts, it made her somewhat nervous to fight against him.
Not only did Frosk’s magic involve the Shadow Realm, something she had little to no understanding of how to manipulate, but he was also empowered by the scarlet bolt, another source of power she could no understand.
He was the perfect counter to her magic and he was unbelievably fast and powerful.
At least in Moyako’s case, she knew that she was obviously more powerful, but spending decades fighting alongside each other made her fairly familiar with her fighting style and overall abilities.
To make matters worse, Frosk had defeated two of the most powerful champions in the world of their time, Alan Mercer and Lorra Lazuli.
Could she really managed to win and move on to the next round?
She anxiously tried to anticipate the scenarios of the battle that would take place during her fight when the announcer’s voice called for her appearance in the next match.
She clenched her fists as she psyched herself up and left the waiting room.
Yet she did not make it five steps before she heard a voice call out to her from behind, “Camilla, may I have a word.”
She was shocked to have not sensed the person behind her and turned around suddenly, unsheathing her sword as she prepared to defend herself against whoever managed to sneak up on her.
Before she had the chance to do anything, a pair of fingers were pressed against her temple and her body was frozen in place.
H-How did he-?!
How could anyone manage to break through her ‘Almighty’? It should be impossible for anyone to touch her while she was using her magic.
But then, a spark of red lightning appeared in the corner of her eye as her vision finally focused on the person who stood in front of her.
The man who had frozen her body with merely a touch, was Marcus Wright.
Yet as she looked at him, she noticed that something seemed different from how she had seen him during his fights.
Rather than blue eyes, a feature he uncannily shared with Moyako, were now blood red.
“M-Marcus, what are you…why are you doing this?” she stammered as she asked him.
“I must act quickly before he catches up to me,” he said as red lightning sparked along his fingers and countless images flashed in her head, filling her mind with information.
As soon as he pulled away from her, she held her head and groaned as she stumbled from the overwhelming intake of knowledge that he forced into her.
She then found herself leaning up against another man who appeared behind her as he roughly grabbed her by the shoulder and said, “Go to your match Camilla Lykos. Now.”
She did not bother to look at who had appeared as she ran off to the arena floor.
Ruvick…
He stood in the hallway after sending Camilla on her way while staring at the man who appeared to be Marcus Wright but was not.
The man sighed in annoyance as he looked at Ruvick and said, “I thought that I would be quick enough to avoid running into you, but perhaps not.”
“Who are you? Are you the God of Wrath?” he asked and the man shrugged.
“Maybe I am, maybe not. It should not matter to you, not now at least,” the man said.
“I can understand why you would wear Marcus’s face to approach Frosk, by why continue wearing it to approach Camilla? What use would you have for that?”
“Why don’t you use that big brain of yours to find out?” the man said mockingly.
Ruvick tightened his fists in anger as he said, “It matters not to me what kind of primordial god you are. I will force the answers out of you even if I have to drag your existence all the way to The Empty itself.”
The man shook his head as he said, “You have such vast knowledge, but you understand so little. If you believe that a primordial god is the extent that beings such as you and I can reach, then you are sorely mistaken.”
There is something greater than a Primordial God…?
Seeing the confusion present on his face, the man seemed disappointed as he started to turn around.
Seeing his opportunity for answers leaving him, he called out one last time and asked, “Wait! Are you Ender?”
The man paused as he slowly turned back around and smiled.
A long silence stretched on between them until he said, “No.”
In the very next moment, every trace of his existence disappeared, leaving Ruvick enraged and scrambling for answers.
He clenched his hands into fists, lowered his head, tightened the muscles in his shoulders and back as he tried to contain his frustration and anger, before he could no longer as he shouted at the top of his lungs.