That broke the audience. Wails and muffled sobs filled the theater. People shouted Asher's name, as though he could still hear them through the screen.
Sunny felt a faint sting in his chest. The rest of the cohort beside him looked grim, knowing exactly how this story truly ended — and how much of it was sugar-coated.
Still, he had to admit… for once, they hadn't completely butchered Asher's personality. Sure, there was some propaganda thrown in — there always was — but the core of him was still there.
On-screen, Nephis clicked her tongue, turning back toward the gate.
With Aiko's shouts however, Nephis turned back, rushing towards Asher as half the theater jumped in the air while Nephis spoke, "Lead all these people to the Gateway!"
Sunny on the screen looked at Changing Star with fear:
"Lady Nephis… are you crazy? I am just a clumsy kid from the outskirts. How can you entrust something so important to someone like me?"
Sunny in the real world suppressed an infuriated groan. People in the audience, though, were rather emotional:
"You can do it, Sunny!"
"You got this, kid!"
"You're a great scout, don't sell yourself short!"
He sank lower into his seat.
On the screen, the beautiful actress playing Nephis looked down on the comical, slightly pathetic boy in front of her and put her hand on his shoulder.
"We, Awakened, must rise to the occasion to protect humanity. As long as we don't give up, no matter how dire the situation is, there will be hope. I believe in you, Sunny. You are capable of much more than you think!"
She placed a hand on his shoulder, turned, and strode away — leaving him to lead the survivors while she joined Asher in the final stand.
From there, the story escalated into chaos. The survivors fought toward the Gateway while the "tragic trio" — Asher, Nephis, and Caster — faced the Terror atop the Spire.
Throughout the movie had a small love triangle between Asher, Neph and Caster. In Caster's eyes it was impossible love, but he still went for here, fighting the terror alongside them.
Many people in the audience were crying, knowing full well that two of them weren't going to return to the real world.
In the end, Caster sacrificed his life for Nephis to show the love, which Nephis on screen acknowledged with a somber expression. His sacrifice lead to the defeat of the terror in an epic finale as Asher and Nephis stood there, mortified to realize that only one of them was going to leave.
When Asher pushed Nephis through the gate, the theater erupted in tears. The screen dimmed as his bloodied smile filled it one last time.
"They're safe," he whispered.
Fade to black.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then — thunderous applause.
Sunny stared at the blank screen and sighed.
The movie… was terrible.
But he'd be lying if he said Asher's parts didn't hit something deep.
Not that deep, though. Not clap-worthy deep.
He turned to Effie and Nephis.
"Uh… did you guys like it?"
Effie shot him a look like he'd just offered her spoiled milk.
"What am I, an idiot? Of course I didn't like it. It's absolute trash!"
Nephis said nothing. Her face was unreadable — stoic, almost zen in her numbness to public humiliation.
Sunny leaned back, letting out a long exhale.
At least there were still a few sane people left in this theater.
But the movie wasn't over.
It was the end credits.
A line echoed through the theater's surround sound — deep, overly dramatic, and horribly misplaced.
"I'm a man."
Nephis froze.
Her expression twisted into something dark and dangerous — a look utterly unbefitting of the pristine, untouchable angel the world believed her to be. Slowly, she turned her head, scanning the theater. Only minutes ago, the same people had been bawling their eyes out… now they were laughing, clutching their stomachs, tears of mirth streaming down their faces.
On the screen, "Nephis" stood in heroic posture, eyes glowing, her tone grave.
"From now on, I forbid anyone from calling me Lady Nephis.""You will address me only as… Sir Nephis."
Nephis's hand trembled on the armrest. The paper cup in her grasp creaked in protest.
And then, as if the dead gods themselves wanted to mock her, came the final blow.
"Also… if anyone here needs relationship advice… I— I am your ma–man."
The audience erupted. Laughter thundered through the hall, echoing like an earthquake of ridicule.
Nephis closed her eyes.
Her jaw clenched.
Her fingers burned through the cup.
To have that—in the end credits—wasn't just mockery. It was sacrilege.
Sunny watched her from the corner of his eye, a bead of sweat running down his temple.
He swallowed.
He knew that look.
Somewhere out there, a film director had just been sentenced to death by divine retribution.
The director had to die.
***
Looking up from the water, Asher shifted his gaze to the ancient tree and saw two weathered skeletons cruelly nailed to its white bark. Both stared at her with empty eyes, their teeth bared in eternal grins.
After some time, one of the skeletons said:
"My, oh my. Am I that pleasant to look at?"
The other grated its teeth and let out a creaky growl, then strained, trying to wrestle free of the large silver nails impaling it to the tree. However, no matter how furiously it struggled, the nails held true.
Asher tilted his head, smirking.
"My, my… seems I've managed to charm the dead into life just to gaze upon me."
The first skeleton gave a dry, humorless chuckle.
"Aren't you a bold one. Sadly for you, we were never truly dead."
Asher blinked, feigning pity.
"By the dead gods! You've been nailed here for eons, haven't you?"
The skeleton sighed, the sound like cracking wood.
"My, my… must you mock us, little peculiarity? If you want something, ask."
Asher exhaled through his nose, folding his arms.
"Fine. I need to cross realms — to reach the waking world."
The first skeleton tilted its skull slightly, as if in confusion.
"The waking world? And what, pray tell, is that?"
The second skeleton suddenly spoke, his voice deep and full of rage:
"Can't you smell the overwhelming stench of a daemon on this creature! He is obviously one of Weaver's you fool!"
The first skeleton turned its skull a little, and then asked
"Is that so? My, oh my. In that case, you will not find guides better than the two of us. Just take us off this damned tree, and we will lead you to wherever you want."
Asher stared at the two, his mind retrieving information fast.
"Azarax the Mighty," he said, nodding toward the wrathful one. "The Plague of Steel. King of Kings. Conqueror of a hundred thrones."
Then, his gaze shifted to the first skeleton — whose grin somehow widened.
"And you… Eurys of the Nine. A humble slave who slit a god's throat."
Both skulls seemed to straighten with pride, their empty sockets glowing faintly with residual soullight.
"It seems," Azarax rumbled, "that my legend has survived the rot of time."
"My, my…" Eurys chuckled softly. "A mere slave still remembered. How terribly amusing."
Asher stepped closer, planting a hand on his hip. His grin was all teeth.
"Good. Then let's make use of those legends."
He pointed at Eurys.
"You — guide me to the waking world."
Then at Azarax.
"You — tell me everything you know about the progenitor of the daemons… and of the daemons themselves."
The two skeletons stared at him, silent and still, as a faint ripple of dark essence shivered through the air.
Asher's smile deepened.
"Do that… and I'll set you both free."