CHAPTER 8
A Tragic Performance
A voice echoed down the empty hallways of the Guild Headquarters.
“Gimme a break! Why’s a god like me gotta do all this work? I ain’t even an adventurer, dammit!”
Loki complained loudly, her vermilion hair bouncing as she tiredly wobbled left and right with a stack of papers in her arms.
“This is exhausting… I just wanna go home and take a bath…in a bathtub full of booze…”
The discontent deity stopped before one of the doors, opened it using her foot, and stepped in. Inside, maps of the city covered every table and spare bit of wall.
“Finn! Sounds like those fortifications you ordered are ready!” she yelled, plonking the papers down on a nearby desk and rotating her aching shoulders. “Once we get the civilians inside ’em, the rest’ll be…Finn?”
The ominous look on her captain’s face gave her pause. The blond prum gripped a sheet of parchment, eyes fixed on its contents.
“What’s up, Finn?” she asked. “Somethin’ wrong?”
“Take a look at this,” Finn replied, throwing the parchment onto the desk in front of him. “Hermes just brought this over from the Guild. It’s a report on the nine gods that were sent back to heaven on the day of the Great Conflict.”
“Aww geez, that mess,” replied Loki, scratching her head. “I still ain’t got a clue how the Evils managed to pull that one off.”
Loki took the list and ran her eyes over it. It named Belenus, Zelus, and other gods and deities who had been fighting on the front lines that day.
Then she stopped.
“Hold on,” she said. “You sure this is right?”
“Yes,” replied Finn. “We all know that nine gods returned to the heavens that day. However, this report names only six of our allied familias. Which means there are still three missing gods unaccounted for.”
This was hardly the most devastating blow the allied coalition had suffered. The number of familias critically weakened or wiped out completely on the first night of the Great Conflict was too large to count. However, those familia who had their gods returned and lost their Falna as a result only numbered six. Even this many was a great blow to Orario, of course, but one whose true extent still lay shrouded in mystery. There could be no miscalculation—Finn had taken stock of the survivors personally after the first terrible night in order to plan their response. So where had these missing gods gone? Or more to the point, where had they come from?
“What’s goin’ on, Finn? You don’t suppose the Guild or that hat-wearin’ dandy miscounted, do ya?”
“What if…” said Finn, “the extra gods are from the Evils’ side?”
“What?!” shrieked Loki, outraged by this suggestion. “You mean, some of our people took their attackers down with ’em?! Or you think the bad guys have it out for each other?”
“I couldn’t say, I’m afraid.”
Finn sharpened his gaze, biting his thumb.
“If we assume this wasn’t a slipup on the part of our foe, then that leads us to only one conclusion. The aim of this planned exodus wasn’t only to break our morale; it was to hide something,”
A hush fell over the room as Loki considered his words. The wings of imagination transformed into the key of illumination that opened a gateway into hell. And after she had eliminated every other possibility in her head, she stood.
“Finn, you don’t mean…”
She and Finn extended the arms of their minds, hands grasping for the truth that lay just within their reach.
“Those shitheads! This whole time, there true goal wasn’t up here, it was down in the—!”
“A-a message, Lady Loki!”
The door slammed open, and in ran Raul.
“A great gathering of Evils has been spotted in the northwest!”
Finn and Loki stared at him in shock.
“Destroy it all! Lay waste to Orario! Advance on Guild Headquarters and slaughter anyone foolish enough to stand in our way!”
After Olivas gave his order, his cultists unleashed their spells and magic swords. A flicker of explosions lit up the sky, bathing the streets in fire.
“M-Master Olivas, are you sure this is the right move?” asked a fearful commander. “Lord Erebus and Mistress Valletta advised us not to act until the time was—”
“I care not for their cowardice!” roared Olivas, his will to fight unbreakable. “Why delay what’s inevitable?!”
Then, with flames in his eyes, he turned to address his army of darkness.
“Orario stands at the gates of hell! It is up to us to push them through! We need not stand idle when our foe is weak and vulnerable! Finish them off tonight and bring a swift end to this war! Unleash your evil, my brethren!”
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHH!”
His followers roared like wild beasts released from their cages. They descended on the streets, attacking unprotected camps and following their leader’s order to the letter. The unarmed civilians were powerless to resist and ran for their lives while begging for mercy that was nowhere to be found.
“An attack?! A-and so many!”
Lyu watched in horror through the stained-glass window as an army of Evils, larger than any they’d seen yet, marched through the city.
Erebus didn’t even blink at the sight. “Oh, dear,” he said. “That Olivas, at it again. I thought I told him to rein it in. And right before my very eyes, to boot.”
Olivas was most likely unaware that his master was watching him. Erebus, on the other hand, smiled broadly and turned to Lyu.
“At the same time, he just gave me an idea. Alfia, make sure nobody interferes with them. Get Zald over here as well.”
“You wish me to help make more noise?” Alfia asked with open disinterest. “I do not recall joining the ranks of your fawning sycophants.”
Her words were enough to make even the hardiest adventurer shiver in fright, but Erebus bore it all with a smile.
“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport,” he said. “Tell you what: Do this one thing for me, and I swear I won’t ask you for anything silly ever again.”
“………”
“I’ll get straight on with the plan to execute absolute evil, just like you want.”
Alfia paused, as though trying to discern the true motive that lay behind the god’s smug grin.
“Oh, are you worried about leaving me alone, perchance? Don’t be. Anything happens, I’m sure my man Vito will come running to the rescue. Between him and my hordes of loyal followers out there, I think we can handle one little elf, don’t you?”
“I don’t have time for these games,” said Alfia. “Very well. Let us see if you will hold up your end of the bargain.”
With a flutter of her long, ashen hair, Alfia turned and left the building. After she’d vanished, the oppressive silence that had filled the church seemed to disappear instantly, causing Lyu to pop out of her stupor.
“The people…!” she muttered, climbing to her feet. “I have to go save them!”
She could hear their screams coming from the streets outside. Without waiting a moment longer, she ran for the door.
“In the name of primordial darkness, I command you to stay, Leon.”
Lyu froze.
“If you don’t, I’ll call Alfia back, and we’ll have ourselves a real slaughter.”
“Rgh?!”
Never had the god’s threats sounded so real. It felt as if she were suddenly bound by thick iron chains, with no hope of escape. It was clear the god meant what he said. His words were solemn…and gleeful.
“We’re going to stay right here,” he said, “and watch.”
“Th-the Evils are attacking again!”
“Aaaaaaaagh!!”
“Somebody, help us!”
Screams filled the air. Whatever few structures made up the nearby camps were swiftly flattened, and bystanders ran in every direction to escape the encroaching flames.
The Evils arrived in the northwest, in district seven under the shadow of the city walls, and advanced eastward toward Guild HQ. Everything in their path, they torched, leaving a trail of destruction as they moved.
“They’re attacking us now?! Why?” cried Asfi. The coalition’s commander Finn had told her that the enemy would content itself with raids and not conduct any large-scale attacks for the foreseeable future. Did this mean Braver was wrong?
“No,” she said, “I see now. Some of them must have gone rogue!”
The enemy’s movements showed no indication of serving some greater strategy. It was clear this was not part of the Evils’ true plan, whatever it was.
“Asfi!” came a voice.
“Falgar! You’re here, too? And you brought everyone else!”
She was joined by the loyal war tiger who served as her deputy as well as the other members of Hermes Familia.
“We’re here to help,” returned Falgar. “I don’t know if it is good fortune or not that brings us together on the battlefield like this, but we will need all the aid we can muster. There aren’t enough adventurers stationed in this district to repel this attack without reinforcements.”
As Falgar stood beside her, Asfi could see he wore a deeply troubled frown.
“It’s not just the enemy that outnumbers us, but the townspeople as well! Too many of them ignored the Braver’s orders and remained here, on the outer edges of the city!”
“Grr! Reinforcements are on the way! We just have to hold off the enemy until they arrive!”
Asfi’s grief lasted but a moment before she steeled her nerve and drew her sword. At last, she looked how a captain ought. Her words were no empty reassurances, either. Finn would quickly learn about such a brazen incursion.
“Follow me!” she yelled, her white cloak flapping as she charged the enemy. It wasn’t long before her party made contact. Before the flustered cultists could work out what was happening, Asfi’s quick steel and Falgar’s mad rush eliminated two of their foes.
“Aaaaghhh!”
“Guh!!”
With their flank under threat, the evil march was thrown into chaos. A melee quickly broke out.
Asfi put her bombs to good use, sowing fear and confusion among the cultist ranks and allowing the mighty Falgar to bring his full strength to bear. A swing of his greatsword flattened several disoriented cultists, gouging their lines and creating openings for Asfi to slip in and take out the troublesome mages in the rear. It was a feat made possible only by the bonds of teamwork the pair had forged in the fires of many a battle. The other members of Hermes Familia acted on their own initiative, disrupting the enemy forces and drawing their attention upon themselves instead of the helpless townsfolk.
Before long, small groups of reinforcements began trickling in. Nearby adventurers who had heard the sounds of battle had come running. However…
“Dammit, there’s no end to them!”
Sweat glittered on Falgar’s brow, but his curses were lost to the waves of evil descending on him from all directions. No matter how many he cut down, there always seemed to be more, fighting tenaciously with no concern for their lives.
“Dieee!” screamed a cultist as he lunged at a bystander and stabbed them repeatedly with a knife.
“Aaagh!”
“You cur! Try this on for size!”
A dwarf adventurer, noticing the heinous act, struck the cultist down in anger, but then a second foe leaped at him and latched on to his back before detonating her bomb. The resulting explosion vaporized everyone in the immediate vicinity. Asfi stared, astonished, as the blast winds ruffled her sky-blue hair.
“They’re targeting the civilians!” she yelled, a disgusted scowl on her face. “It’s to tie us up and lure us in! Despicable!”
Lacking a Falna, the Evils cultists—the so-called Faithful—knew they couldn’t beat an adventurer in a fair fight. Instead, they were determined to take their enemies down with them in a blaze of self-destruction. By attacking civilians, they could corral the adventurers and then rush in close while their backs were turned.
Asfi watched as the same series of events played out again and again. Even when the adventurers knew what the Evils were doing, they couldn’t simply abandon the townsfolk. Slowly, but surely, their numbers were dwindling.
She saw an animal man, covered in blood. One human screamed, desperately rolling on the ground to extinguish his burning clothes. More visceral scenes seared themselves into her mind.
“At this rate, they’ll overwhelm us! Where are our reinforcements?”
There was no way Finn and the other adventurers at Central Park didn’t know about the situation by now. And yet, still nothing. Asfi only grew more and more worried as time went by.
What if they…ran into trouble?! she wondered. But at that moment, a dark, deep, male voice intruded on her thoughts.
“Now isn’t the time to be daydreaming, Perseus.”
Asfi wheeled around to see Olivas, a grin on his face and longsword in hand.
“This place shall be your grave,” he said.
“Hrgh?!”
With incredible speed, the two of them threw themselves at each other. Asfi couched her short sword and nimbly deflected the villain’s steel. There was a flash of sparks, an intense tremor, and the young girl staggered backward. One clash was all it took to reveal the difference in their power. Asfi could do nothing to stop the monstrous man from bearing down on her.
“Grrh! I can’t die… Not here… Not now!”
She kept up her defense as best as her slender arms and legs could manage, but Olivas flashed a malicious and leering smile.
“I’m afraid this is the end, little girl.”
It was the grin of a viper that had finally driven its prey into a corner.
Just then, however, Asfi heard Falgar’s voice in her ears, shouting, “Asfi! Look out!” and time ground to a halt.
She suddenly became aware of a second foe, who had approached silently from behind, dagger in hand. The assailant realized they had been spotted and gave a mighty yell before sprinting at her to finish the job. Asfi brought her blade around and, thanks to a combination of quick wits and luck, made short work of him. Falgar’s warning had saved her life.
However, nothing was safe in war. As if waiting for the moment Asfi would inevitably drop her guard, Olivas closed in.
“You know what Zald told me, little girl?” he said. “He called me a maggot. A maggot fit only for crushing other maggots like you!!”
He swung his sword and sliced her back open, spilling beautiful droplets of fresh blood like so many flower petals.
“Gaagh!”
The young girl staggered forward, very nearly falling to the ground. Olivas merely laughed at her. He pulled a second blade from his belt and leveled it at Asfi.
“Allow me to finish you off with this magic sword,” he said, and the air grew blisteringly hot. Asfi spun round to see Olivas’s sadistic smile, framed against a backdrop of burning crimson. The next moment, a raging hellfire descended on her.
Falgar screamed, “Asfiiiiiii!!” but the roar of the flames blocked him out. A braying tempest of fire drowned out every color except fiery red. The townspeople screamed, the adventurers went pale, and the cultists cried out in glee.
The earth groaned. Smoke and wisps of flame filled the air. Asfi shot across the sea of broken rubble.
The sky was red. At some point, the clouds had broken, offering a clear view of the setting sun that dipped below Orario’s seventh district. Olivas saw the madder-stained skies as a blessing on his wicked task, and he smiled.
“Gah! Kagh…! Ugh, ahhh…!!”
Meanwhile, Asfi staggered to her feet, coughing up blood. It was no miracle that she had survived that explosion. It was thanks to her snow-white cloak—an ingenious magic item of her own creation. Just before the fires engulfed her, she had wrapped it around herself, boosting her physical and magical defense.
Unfortunately, it couldn’t protect her completely due to the sheer power of Olivas’s sword. Scorch marks lined her face, and her arms and legs had suffered intense burns and couldn’t stop shaking. Her back stung where she had been slashed, and Asfi scowled in discomfort.
Olivas laughed, grinning with glee at the blood-soaked girl’s pitiful state.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Even now, you vainly cling to life! Give it up, Perseus. My next attack will end this.”
With that, Olivas pointed his magic sword at her once more. The blade glowed red-hot before launching a massive fireball in Asfi’s direction. The girl screamed as it exploded.
“Aaaaagh!!”
“Asfiiii!” screamed Falgar. “Dammit, get out of my way!”
But no matter how many times he swung his greatsword, the war tiger failed to carve a path through the countless number of cultists. There were simply too many of them. A wall of evil that offered no way through.
Olivas’s magic sword released projectile after projectile. Asfi tried to run, clutching her scorched arm, but eventually one of them hit its mark. Even if she used her cloak to protect herself, it wasn’t enough to protect her from that merciless barrage. In a burst of fire, she was thrown to the ground, her clothes tattered and burned.
The townspeople nearby covered their mouths in shock as they were assailed by the deafening, incessant roar of flame.
“That’s horrible…” said a woman.
“I-is that because we didn’t evacuate in time?” asked a man.
These people had disobeyed the adventurers and refused to move closer to Central Park. Some of them had even been in the crowd that threw stones at Astrea Familia.
“Oh, yes,” answered Olivas, his lips twisted in a grin. “That poor adventurer is going to die, and you’re all to blame! Or should I say, to thank?”
He chuckled and threw his arms wide.
“The brave always die so young! You know why? Because the cowardly use them as shields!”
It was a fact oft repeated, a history eternally retold. A crushing truth that even the most heroic of tales was obliged to include.
“The powerless! The ignorant! The feeble-minded! They cannot swing a blade or master a staff! They can only be as chains for those who fight on their behalf, cursed to guide the enemy’s blade directly into their backs!”
Those content to stay at a distance, offering words but no actions.
Those who put their own safety before everyone else’s.
Those who spoke highly of rights without ever getting involved.
There was nothing wrong with people like that. In fact, it was beyond ordinary. Not everyone had the strength to be a fairy-tale hero. And it was these masses who decided whether a cause was righteous or not; every would-be follower of justice needed to obtain their approval.
“At last, bear witness to the moment justice falls! Never have I felt so alive!”
Olivas spoke with open contempt for the twisted form justice took. His repulsive laughter filled the air. But the people could say nothing. Never before had the consequences of their actions been laid out in such stark relief before their very eyes. The knowledge that each and every of them was party to this tragedy was too much guilt to bear.
The looks on their faces drove Olivas to even greater heights.
“Ha-ha-ha! Yes, yeesss!” he gloated as a sadistic shiver ran down his spine. “Such despair! This is what my lord and master wishes to see! The beginnings of a chain reaction that will grind Orario into dust!”
The setting sun dyed his smile the color of blood.
“Change of plan,” he said. “We’ll still slaughter all these foolish townspeople and proceed on to Guild Headquarters, but before that…”
“Rgh…!”
“Perseus! I’ll stick your head on a pike and parade it through the streets!”
Olivas set his wide, mad eyes on Asfi with disturbing clarity of purpose, as if his god had just granted him a vision. Asfi desperately tried to crawl to her feet but was in no state to stand. Olivas looked upon her, covered in blood and unable to manage anything besides a feeble twitch, and his darkness grew deeper. He licked his lips, spread his arms, and prepared to steep himself in the simplest evil of them all—violence.
“You shall become a symbol,” he said. “A symbol of this city’s despair!”
With that, he launched another fireball. It hit Asfi head-on, and the crimson blast flung her away. Like a broken rag doll, she skimmed the ground before finally coming to rest in a crumpled heap.
Olivas could barely contain his glee. He had defeated Asfi in the most brutal manner imaginable, and now the people cowered in fear of what he might do to them next. A deep, dark vibration originated in his stomach before working its way out of his throat.
“Heh-heh-heh-heh. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!”
“Andromeda?!”
Within the church, Lyu screamed. The Evils were committing their atrocities right before her eyes.
“Oh, Olivas,” said Erebus. “You really don’t hold back, do you? But at least you’re out there, making a difference.”
His detached admiration made it sound as though he were watching characters in a play. People were dying outside, and while Lyu gasped and cried out, Erebus simply smiled and laughed. The stained-glass window might as well have been a portal to another world, or a theater screen, and Lyu an unwilling spectator to this tragedy.
But the screams ringing in her ears were real, and so were the blasts that shook every bone in her body. This wasn’t a play or a bad dream she could wake up from; it was the real world.
Then, all of a sudden, Erebus turned his attention from the screen back to Lyu.
“Let’s play a game, Leon,” he said. “Have you heard of the Trolley Problem?”
“The what?”
Erebus smiled and launched into a courteous explanation.
“Imagine, if you will, a rail cart that suddenly loses control while in motion. Ahead of it are five men at a worksite, all of whom will surely die if the cart continues along its path. Luckily, there is a switch. One that can divert the cart onto a different path. But if you do, the cart will hit someone else. Hmm, let’s say…a woman.”
Erebus chuckled and glanced out the window.
“Yes, there’s a single woman working on the other track. Now, what is the correct course of action in this scenario? Do you pull the switch, condemning the woman to death, or do nothing and let all five men meet their end?”
“Huh?”
“It’s a little thought experiment, Leon. Honestly, you mortals come up with the most interesting diversions.”
Lyu didn’t understand where Erebus was going with this, but she got a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. His unending smile made him seem like a hunter eyeing his prey, and his thought process was entirely beyond her comprehension.
It was here that Erebus chose to make his point crystal clear.
“It’s a simple conundrum, but no example more perfectly encapsulates the situation I place you in now,” he said. “So choose. Will you let the men die, or allow the woman to take their place, knowing her blood will be on your hands?”
The world flickered before her very eyes. A fire raged in the back of her mind. Lyu felt her heartbeat reverberate throughout her entire body.
“…You don’t…mean…”
“Oh, but I do. Now, make a choice.”
All the color drained from Lyu’s face, while Erebus’s lit up in a broad smile.
“One woman’s life in exchange for all those people,” he said. “What will it to be, Leon?”
An unbearable fear came over Lyu and caused her to shudder. At that moment, she knew—there could be no clearer embodiment of evil than the one who stood before her.
“You can leave this building right now and run to save your dying friend. But if you do, it will be the end for all those innocent people.”
His words were the words of a god: unbreakable and absolute.
“You have my word,” he said. “Whatever it takes, I will not rest until each and every one of them is dead.”
A sadistic, predatory smile traced his lips.
“Or,” he said, “stay here. Let that woman die as if you had killed her with your own hands…and in return, all those poor, innocent people will be free to go.”
All of a sudden, his voice took on a more merciful, benevolent tone. But what the dark god suggested was anything but.
“No lies, no tricks. I promise. I swear on my soul they will not come to harm.”
A holy, yet incalculably dark pact.
“Let her die, and I will order my followers to stand down. They won’t so much as touch those bystanders.”
Concealed by his deceptive words, the evil god had made one subtle but considerable misdirection. The original trolley problem asked whether it was better to let the many die through inaction, or to take matter into one’s own hands and kill the few. But what Erebus was proposing was the precise opposite. The tracks were switched; Lyu could do nothing and let Asfi die, allowing the citizens to go free, or condemn them to save her. There was no moral conundrum in this case. The utilitarian answer was quite clear.
The crux of Erebus’s new problem, therefore, was not about cause and consequence, but about duty. About whose lives Lyu valued more. There was no doubt what the correct choice should be, but was Lyu strong enough to pursue it? Or would she instead act contrary to what her principles demanded to rescue her friend? It was the ultimate test of Lyu’s commitment to upholding justice, and one she couldn’t run away from.
His words still hanging in the air, Erebus silently awaited Lyu’s decision. To Lyu, the momentary silence felt like an eternity, but to a god’s infinite being, it was nothing.
At last, the final vestiges of justice within Lyu wrenched her reluctant lips apart. But all she could do was unleash her emotions in a vain attempt to make it all go away.
“…You’re mad… You’re insane!” she screamed. “What do you think you’re doing?! Does life mean so little to you?!”
But try as she might to disguise them, the flames of outrage in her heart were not nearly hot enough to sway Erebus’s course.
“I’m not interested in hearing you spout clichés,” he said. “I asked you to choose.”
There was only one thing he wanted to hear.
“Show me your answer, Leon. You can’t dodge my question this time. I’ll make sure of that.”
Lyu froze. Her breath caught in her throat, like her lungs simply gave up and stopped working. And starved of air, the fire in her heart fizzled out. There was nothing she could do or say to avoid the choice presented to her.
“…I can’t choose,” she said at last. “You can’t make me choose! How could I?!”
Her voice cracked and quivered. Lyu found she couldn’t move a muscle, like her feet were stitched to the ground, while her blood raced so fast through her veins, it felt like it would burst out of her. She had only the strength to manage a single step back. She couldn’t move her head at all, only shake it almost imperceptibly left and right in denial while her lips shivered.
But the god did not laugh at her feeble state. He only spoke.
“You can choose, Leon. But you refuse to. That in itself is an evil act.”
“What?!”
Lyu was speechless. The dark god continued his rhetorical advance.
“I mean, just look at me,” he said. “I could save them all with a wave of my hand, but I don’t. Everyone agrees that it’s evil to let people die while you have the power to save them. No ethical or philosophical argument, no matter how sophisticated, could ever justify that to the world at large. And the same goes for you, Leon. Do nothing, and everyone will know you stood idly by while innocent people suffered.”
Lyu felt as if she were being pushed closer and closer to the edge of a bottomless chasm. She heard a noise, like the last few cracks of a glacier before shedding a massive block of ice into the sea. Her mind felt as if it were breaking apart, and tears welled up in her eyes as the stress of the choice threatened to crush her.
“Come on,” said Erebus. “Hurry up. There won’t be a choice left to make at this rate. The girl will die, and it’ll be your callous indifference that killed her. You wouldn’t like that, would you, my little follower of justice?”
Erebus grinned. A vicious smile that ran all the way to his eyes, and he repeated the question that had led the two of them here, now with more anticipation than ever before.
“Tell me, Leon! Make a choice! What will your justice be?”
Lyu’s sky-blue irises contracted to a pale speck. While the scales of justice trembled, she let out an ear-piercing shriek.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaghhh!!”
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