[Madikai Molotov.]
Those who live and breathe, devoting themselves to a single cause, a single blinding goal, weave the illusion of opportunity and perseverance.
They chase it endlessly, until the last ember in their hearts burns out and crumbles into ash.
And what then? Do they rise as beacons of hope, shining beyond their graves?
Do they liberate the fallen, return to the light, and carve a new dawn for mankind?
No. They do not. They are left adrift, cast into an ocean of futility, drowned by a cause that never deserved them.
Their blood feeds nothing. Their sacrifice redeems no one.
Devotion is not noble; it is a flaw. It is a curse and a chain, a chain I have long since shattered.
There is no distinction between the zealot and the slave.
Both march without choice, both perish without freedom, both exist only for another's design.
I lifted my sword, its cold steel glinting in the sun, and studied its frame. "Do you think I am a slave, Aubrey?"
She sat opposite me, hands resting neatly between her thighs, clad in her small, militaristic garb.
Her gaze was steady, yet measured. "I suppose not. You… you have quite a bit of freedom."
The carriage trudged faster along the road, wheels groaning against the uneven path. "Freedom, you say? Tell me, can you fly?"
Her brow furrowed, and she scratched her chin. "I… I don't know. I can't."
I chuckled softly, placing my hand gently atop her head. "Then that makes you a slave to the dirt below, does it not?"
She thought for a long moment, then leaned back, her eyes narrowing with curiosity and caution.
"Are you saying this because of the battle we're riding toward?"
Her words carried both fear and pride, a duality that intrigued me.
"Do you believe yourself a slave of life?" I asked quietly, almost to myself.
Mirabel had ordered us to march toward that island, to tear down its walls with blood and might.
The western continent loomed with dragons and threats beyond reckoning, while the eastern continent had withdrawn from the world, leaving only this, this final, tangible challenge.
Those who claimed to be holy stood between us and whatever fleeting peace might exist.
I had fought many in this endless war. Too many deaths, too many screams, too many lives erased to count.
And yet, as I prepared to swing my sword, to erase them all in a flood of fire and steel, I felt an emptiness gnawing at me.
Something was missing.
"What do you think life means?" I asked, turning toward her. "Could you define it, Aubrey?"
"To me, sir?" she said, her voice quiet but unwavering.
"To be alive is to be myself. After all of this, I… I do want to lay down my sword."
Her words struck me. She was a soldier, yes, but also a survivor, a student of conflict, a fighter who had faced holy men herself.
Perhaps it was time to lay down my title, to relinquish the weight of the sword.
Or perhaps it was time to swing it until I died.
"Aubrey, we're nearing the coast. Are you prepared to lay down your life?"
Her hands moved toward my face, breaking through her usual timid reserve.
Her eyes blazed with unyielding resolve. "I shall lay down my life a million times if it means killing every last one of them."
Her courage was infectious. I couldn't help but feel the weight of her conviction, the fire in her spirit matching my own.
And yet… even with her at my side, even with the clarity of purpose burning through us both, the truth remained: there is always a cost.
Freedom, life, meaning, they are all chained to the choices we make, to the blood we spill, and to the lives we take.
I gripped my sword tighter. Perhaps this was not merely a battle for victory.
Perhaps this was the crucible in which we would discover who we truly were, and what we were willing to become.
Over this age of battle, I had grown more aligned with myself and had begun considering other ways to live.
Yet no matter what, I could not betray my nature, in truth, I was merciless.
Aubrey, however, could be guided to a new world, a new way of life, one that would not define her existence.
I glanced out the window as the landscape passed by. We were close, closer than I had anticipated.
"It's time, Aubrey," I said, my voice low but firm. "Prepare yourself. You're about to step into the realm of those beyond mortality."
The carriage slowed and came to a halt. A voice called from outside: "We're here."
I pushed down the handle and stepped out. Before us, waves of water rose high into the sky, thrashing violently against the shoreline.
The man leading the ride tipped his hat. "So, hey… I'll be getting paid for this, right?"
I checked my pocket. "Return to Fertical. The queen should reward you."
He hesitated, mistrusting my words. But after Aubrey's cheerful smile, he nodded and drove away.
"I don't understand why they fail to trust me," I muttered. "When have I ever broken my word?"
She gave me a thoughtful look. "If you prefer, I could list each instance I've observed."
I waved her off. "No need. I have near-perfect memory."
I turned my gaze to the distant island before us, then to the sky above.
"Impossible," I muttered under my breath.
"There's no way we're the first ones here. Kivana has that damned Mythical Creature flying around this forsaken planet."
"I think we should go first," Aubrey said, her lips curving into a small, confident smile. "Just in case they left us waiting."
"Fine. But stay close," I warned. "I don't want you getting stranded in the miasma, the concentrated mana, surrounding that island."
She reached for my hand, and I took it firmly. Together, we leapt from the carriage, landing onto the beach with a thud.
The island trembled under my boots, the ground beneath us shivering with the impact.
I crouched slightly, sensing the air around us. "Hmm… there's residual energy here. Lingering traces of a battle. Someone with time magic was here."
Aubrey tilted her head, her brow furrowed. "Time magic? The only Saint I know with that power is Satire."
I clenched my jaw. And spread my mana throughout the world, I discovered something disgusting.
"I know. Which makes this… quite the annoying spectacle. It seems Mirabel's information isn't wrong, someone is raising the dead."
The act of resurrection is a vile one. Just as time transcends space, so too does death transcend life.
The two are not separate paths but mirrors of one another, bound in opposition and yet unable to exist without the other.
Life is only defined by its inevitable end, and death by the fleeting light it consumes.
The duality of life and death is not a cycle of balance, but a prison where meaning is born only from the certainty of decay.
For someone to raise the dead, they must possess mastery over every law of biology, every mechanism of existence itself.
Such a feat implies they are no longer bound by the natural order, no longer capable of dying by conventional means.
Against these aberrations, destruction is futile.
The best method, the only method, is to seal them away, to deny them both life and death.
I turned to Aubrey. "It's time. You'll need to discover the true name of your Regalia."
During our training, both she and I had attained absolute mastery over our Regalias, each Inheritance a culmination of our essence.
Mine, the Reckoning, remains the key I reserve for my final battle with Malachi.
Until that day, my raw strength will suffice against foes such as these.
Aubrey met my gaze steadily. "Madikai, I ask permission to release my shackles."
A smile tugged at my lips. I reached out and patted her head. "Go on."
Her body shuddered as she inhaled, and then, with deliberate control, she flexed her will.
Shackles forged from beyond space and time peeled away one by one.
The air distorted, her aura surging outward in waves that warped space and bent the rhythm of time itself.
Aubrey exhaled slowly, her voice low and steady. "Alright. I've reached a decent level of strength."
She was right. Her inner world pressed against this reality, forcing its weight upon it.
She had broken through to the eleventh wall, a realm so few could even comprehend.
And to think, before our training, she had been little more than a fledgling struggling to hold a blade.
I folded my arms and grinned. "Truly, I am the greatest teacher."