Andrew watched from atop the great wall as the war raged below, violence at its finest.
Hundreds of melody creatures were being killed with every passing second.
The musicians fought in such coordination that they seemed like a hive mind, their movements flawless.
Among the numerous Portuguese musicians fighting, Andrew had noticed one of the many harmonics in particular.
His blond hair waved as he moved at lightning speed.
As he moved, he gave the impression of being a tornado of pure, calculated slaughter.
The melody creatures barely had time to analyze what was happening to them; these thoughts came to nothing before the man's great sword dismembered their bodies.
His large guitar, modified into the shape of a sword, destroyed and mutilated creatures without restraint, showing no mercy. His fencing was lethal.
It reminded Andrew of the brutality exercised by elite symphony musicians. Andrew hadn't seen them in action very often, but when he was in the presence of that power within the Nadira, he understood how they had liberated all of Europe.
Each of them, trained to kill and exterminate all kinds of threats, were able to destroy the creature that had destroyed Europe decades ago, the fifth-rank creature: "Candamius."
Perhaps Andrew was overestimating this man, but he could truly sense a resemblance to them.
"Forget that..."
Andrew used to have nightmares when he remembered that apocalyptic day, the day Europe fell.
At that time, Andrew lived a monotonous life with his parents in Barsical, at only thirteen years old. It had been so long ago, and yet he could remember it as if it were yesterday...
Turning his attention to the ongoing conflict, old Obel skillfully adjusted a suit that seemed to be tailor-made for him. The suit seemed to vibrate in harmony, and Andrew could even bet that the air around him moved to the same rhythm as the melody of the suit.
As Obel adjusted his suit, a group of tuners carefully approached Obel from behind. The three tuners were carrying a kind of spine made of steel. This time Andrew was sure that this artifact was singing. A beautiful, epic melody made the artificial spine vibrate.
The three tuners carefully attached it to the back of Obel's suit and let it mold itself to the old man's shape.
"What is that?" Andrew asked, brimming with curiosity.
"You mean the arrangement? It's just an aid. One of the best aids we musicians have," Obel replied, focused on his flute knife.
"And what does it do?"
Andrew approached slowly, observing the device.
"It stabilizes the musician's melody and enhances the harmony," Obel replied with a big smile.
"Impossible," Andrew refuted, "there is nothing that can stabilize someone's melody, only the musician himself can stabilize his melody..."
"Well, it's not that impossible."
Smiling, Obel approached the edge of the great wall and jumped.
"Don't move from here, boy!" Obel said in midair.
Andrew ran to the edge, surprised by Obel's fall. When he reached it, he could see the old man falling. When he hit the ground, everything around him was drowned in a toxic cloud, the poison destroying the internal organs of nearby creatures with ease...
"Poisonous songs... The Fang of Portugal, of course!"
Andrew had heard rumors from some experienced old musicians about a fourth-rank musician who used poisonous songs and had also led Portugal's liberation six years ago.
Most spoke of him as a madman who tried to commit suicide heroically so as not to look like an idiot in front of the Symphony. After this attempt, he was considered missing in action.
At the time, Andrew had taken it as a bad joke. Apparently, it wasn't a joke.
"Damn, that's impressive."
The moment Obel entered the fray, the entire course of the war changed.
The difference in power between ranks was staggering...
His poisonous songs were deadly against creatures of melody lower in rank than his own. It was pure power, the power of a Master of Symphony, a human of the fourth rank.
Over time, the universal rule of Nadira applied even to Obel. This rule, established by the most experienced musicians humanity had ever produced, dictated: "No Musician can make an orchestra alone..."
It was easy to understand; no musician could win a war alone. Unlikely situations were everywhere, and incomprehensible beings kept appearing in a war. Having someone accompany you was always necessary.
And that was exactly what was happening. The blond boy never left Obel's side; he was the second line of defense.
The few creatures that escaped Obel's control were unable to escape the blond's lethality; there was an impressive cohesion between them.
"It's too much..."
The cohesion was too much, it felt unreal. The boy was in the exact moment and exact place that Obel needed him, he never failed.
Andrew, tired of being useless and only able to watch, sighed. He wanted to be helpful. What good were these powers if he couldn't be of assistance?
In the distance, in the dark forest he had left behind, near headquarters, the second war was unfolding.
The enormous harmonic fought against the giant melody creature, a war of titans.
The mountain that covered headquarters was almost completely destroyed, the harmonic musician was losing...
People ran seeking refuge in the city, lost children screamed looking for their families.
The explosions of the massive war lit up the sky.
Far, far away, more melody creatures continued to come here, and they would continue to do so without cursed singers to calm them down.
The situation was worse than ever, and Andrew didn't have the power to change anything in this conflict. At least not physical power.
"I have to do something."
It was time to make a difference.
There had to be some way to make a difference in his current state...
"How could I be so stupid?"
It was simpler than Andrew had imagined. He had to help in the best way he knew how: by tuning. It was time to resume his role as a tuner.
Andrew turned his attention downward, to where the group of lower-ranking musicians in charge of directing the evacuation of civilians were located.
Andrew walked to the nearest stairs and descended nimbly.
Being among the crowd of people, Andrew felt suffocated. Screams, cries, and soldiers' orders filled the entire place. Andrew could see at least five people mortally wounded in the time he had been down here, no more than a minute...
Andrew, frowning with concern, raised one of his hands in the air and began to shout.
"Does anyone need a tuner?!"
Andrew was trying hard to be useful right now; he needed to prove to himself that he could be useful after all.
In the crowd, a severely injured musician approached Andrew, pushing the civilians aside slightly and slipping between them. When he reached Andrew, he grabbed his arm urgently.
"I need your help," said the veteran musician.
This man bore a certain resemblance to Obel, except that this musician looked a little younger and his beard was better groomed.
"Okay, what instrument do you need tuned?" Andrew replied calmly.
"Follow me."
The old man slipped back between the people, trying to find a quieter place.
The two entered a laundromat that had been abandoned due to the current situation. Upon entering, Andrew stifled a scream.
One of the many white washing machines in the establishment was now painted with a large crimson stain, and on the floor next to it, a woman lay leaning against the washing machine, breathing heavily.
It was the first time Andrew had witnessed something so atrocious, so much so that even Andrew felt a panic attack coming over him.
The woman was pressing hard on the area where her intestines were, or what was left of them at least, since more than half of them were scattered on the floor of the laundromat reception area.
Even in this situation, the woman tried to keep her expression strong. Her stylish short hair was in the same condition as the white washing machine. Except for the fact that three fingers were missing from her left hand, there were no other fatal injuries. Andrew took a deep breath, controlling his panic.
"Are you going to help me or are you just going to stand there admiring my curves?" said the woman wearily, with a hint of mischief.
"Oh, of course, I'm sorry."
Andrew entered the establishment and walked nervously toward the woman. Kneeling beside her, Andrew reached his hand toward her lower back, hoping to find his usual first aid kit. As he felt around her back and remembered that he had been deprived of his equipment when he was kidnapped, Andrew opened his eyes in fear.
"What's wrong?" asked the old musician, noticing Andrew's expression.
"I don't have my equipment..." replied Andrew, his voice trembling.
The old man growled and grabbed Andrew by the hair, lifting him up.
"Are you kidding me?!" shouted the old musician. "You dare to play with a musician's life? We save your ass and all those useless people without musical energy every day!"
"Sir, please calm down!" said Andrew as he struggled futilely against the old musician, the difference in strength absurd.
Desperate because of the old man's impulsive behavior, Andrew decided to act. He closed his eyes and stopped resisting. He breathed deeply to calm his heart rate, and then he felt it—that little flame of musical energy singing the beautiful melody of his existence, that little flame of musical energy giving life to his young soul.
And as if the air understood what was about to happen, it decided to make its presence felt inside the establishment. The windows opened violently, and the musician lost his concentration for a moment. That was the moment Andrew acted. Andrew's eyes opened, illuminated by an emerald flash, and the man instantly let go of Andrew's hair when he felt a wave of heat that surpassed his resistance as a first-rate musician.
Andrew raised his right hand toward the musician and clenched it into a fist, waiting for the iconic green pentagon to emerge from his hand and throw the musician away.
This time, it seemed there was an exception, as the reliable barrier did not appear on this occasion.
"Oh, oh..."
Seeing Andrew's hopeless reaction, the old man walked mockingly toward him.
"Well, it seems you're not as voiceless as I thought. That makes me want to kill you even more."
"Wait, Alfonso! Leave the boy alone and calm down," interrupted the woman lying on the ground.
"He tricked us, Camila! He pretended to be a tuner!"
"So what? You're wasting time fighting with the boy, time you could have used to go find another tuner!"
Alfonso stopped his threatening walk as he was about to reach Andrew and looked at Camila on the floor.
"Well..." Alfonso said, embarrassed.
Surprising them both, Camila began coughing up blood violently.
"Oh no..."
Andrew went around Alfonso's large frame and slid to his knees toward Camila on the ground, his knees completely red.
Standing next to the woman, Andrew put his palms together and placed them on the girl's open stomach. The blood wouldn't stop flowing out.
"Think, think..."
Then, a crazy idea filtered into Andrew's head. With his palms still positioned on what little abdomen Camila had left, Andrew concentrated again, searching within himself for that little flame... Andrew had remembered the conversation he had had with that researcher at headquarters, she had talked about the classes on musicians.
If this theory was true, Andrew's idea should work...
The moment Andrew found the flame and extracted it, an almost automatic process occurred. Andrew's defensive musical energy flowed through his veins to the palms of his hands, and as a result, this wave of energy entered Camila's body with force. For a moment, nothing changed.
"Come on, help her."
Sensing Andrew's intention, the energy slowly flowed into the girl's body, restoring everything in its path. Seeing Camila's stomach regenerating, Andrew smiled wearily before collapsing onto the blood-soaked ground.
"I did it..."