It’s almost as if Avalel’s eyes are opened yet closed at the same time. He sees a system of faint light inside the soldiers, connected to every little part of their body in paths and highways. At the center of all those paths, approximately where the heart lies, is a single radiant core. And despite this newfound “vision”, he cannot see beyond those paths of light. The faint trails all floating around him in the empty abyss, their physical bodies and shapes blending into the endless darkness.

It’s energy, young one.

Everything feels so slow. Even as the soldiers press their triggers, Avalel can see the slow coalescing of energy sapped from their batteries, condensing into a blast before it shoots out of the barrel at him. Everyone, everything, just moving so steadily and predictably, all before his eyes.

Move.

Instinctively, he parries. He doesn’t even think of the object at hand, nor the fact he had never held a sword before. He sees everything. The sword meets every single one of those blasts, deflecting them cleanly before they fizzle out into the atmosphere. The energy weaving and dancing to his movements. His wrists seem to move on their own, spinning the blade to deflect a few more blasts before his legs dash forward, closing the distance. In such a cramped space, there is no space to even dodge.

A single slash at their necks. His victims’ energy paths are severed, their cores gasping before they rapidly diffuse, leaving several lifeless bodies. A stab, and another falls, their heart cleanly pierced through.

Strange. There’s no emotion. He doesn’t feel exhaustion, anger, frustration, ecstasy… nothing. He only sees the bodies shut off like lights, one by one, their cores returning the dead entropy of the steady flow of energy around him. The sword is already smeared in red, the walls of the house already stained.

Avalel should’ve been afraid. He doesn't know how many there are outside the room, brandishing their weapons. He simply doesn’t care. The sword only attacks, the gem pulsing as it imbues the blade in a red hue. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight… The lights shut off before him, their lives gone like the click of a switch.

The calmness, the emptiness… This isn’t him.

Kill them. Kill them all to protect the one you care about.

He steps out of the bloodstained room, immediately facing the advance of six pikes. A jump, then a step, added with a series of simple slashes, and all six soldiers are dead. A parry, a step back, then a thrust, killing another one.

He swings, slicing a small portrait on the wall. It’s a picture he had drawn when he was little, depicting Faresoenn amongst a bunch of houses. He doesn’t even notice.

Feel the power surging inside you, young one. The ability to do anything you desire, to painlessly dispose of the ones in your way. Face adversity with emotionless determination. Break through with ruthless pragmatism. Be bound by nothing but your goals and ambitions.

That is how a ruler is made.

A pike attacking to his left. He turns, parrying as he pins the weapon to the floor. In a rapid series of thrusts, he shatters the soldier’s armor and organs, seeing another light snuffed out. He feels it now. They’re becoming scared. The hesitation is showing in their eyes. Their ranks are thinning. Their strength is depleting. All this time, they cannot even touch him.

He didn’t even think once of Kavlina, her widened eyes staring at bleeding corpses.

Another soldier slumps as Avalel pierces their abdomen. There are still some left, but they no longer have the will to fight. Whoever the lead soldier was, he or she must be dead by now. Those that are left are merely pawns, prey to be butchered. There is no need to be overly torturous. He’ll simply give them a deserved quick, painless death.

How fast one changes once they encounter the incarnation of power itself.

Avalel ignores their pleas for help, driving his blade in one after another, the red hue cleansing the blade from extra flesh and blood that may blunt its efficiency. He exits the house. Twenty left, then nineteen, eighteen, seventeen… Just as he steps outside the fence, he sees the last light being shut off, the core pierced and destroyed by the blade. The tips of his brown hair are slightly reddened, his face decorated with splotches of blood. His tunic is dirtied with a mess of blood and sweat, his shoes practically dyed to a different color.

It isn’t a pretty sight, of course, but at least, now, they’re safe, right?

He suddenly collapses, the symbols on his face and left eye fading away. The gem on the sword stops its pulsing, retreating to a steady stream of dim illumination. He sees his hands, his corrupted hands blemished with fifty six soldiers’ blood. As he returns back inside, he smells the stench from all of them, the ones he killed without a thought. He gags, nearly vomiting as he struggles to retain his footing, leaning against the sticky wall.

What have I done?

He limps into Faresoenn’s room, finding Kavlina sitting in a corner, gasping for air as she tries to control her shock. She stares at him as if facing a monster, trembling and breaking into a cold sweat as she stands.

Avalel drops his sword. “Kavlina, I… I…” I killed them all. He can’t bring himself to speak those words. His apathy, cruelty, and ruthlessness earlier… What can he even say?

You protected her, young one.

“I… I… I managed to protect you.” Yes. He did. In the end, he protected Kavlina, didn’t he? Those corpses could’ve been theirs. He’s justified. He just wanted to protect her. Yes. Definitely. He shouldn’t feel guilty. Those soldiers. They are dead already. He shouldn’t worry anymore.

“I protected you, Kavlina. I protected you. We would have both been dead if I didn’t kill them. I needed to. I finally protected you. I—”

“Yes. Yes, you did protect me, Lel,” Kavlina answers, her mouth moving slowly and deliberately. She takes a deep breath, regaining much of her composure. “Please… don’t torture yourself anymore.” She blinks, rubbing her eyes a bit before she approaches him, staring firmly and directly into his eyes.

Avalel looks around him. Just a short while ago, Faresoenn was training them, teaching them how to defend themselves. The house was their only shelter, so warm and comfortable at all times. It’s all gone now. The interior is littered with bodies, faces hidden behind cold helmets. He doesn’t even dare to remove them, lest he sees a face that resembles a person.

He’s always been weaker than Kavlina. Despite wanting to protect her ever since they met, it’s almost always the other way round. He’s even forgotten the reason for protecting her, other than the simple will to do so. But now, when he finally manages to do so once… Why does he feel as if his entire world is crashing down?

He didn’t do anything wrong. Then why…?

You’ve done well. Don’t blame yourself. It’s natural you’ll feel this way when you’re not used to it.

Yes. He’s done well. The guilt is only a burden pushed upon him by the dead. They wanted to kill him, it’s natural he killed them to defend himself. Self defense. That’s all it is.

“Don’t… hurt yourself anymore,” Kavlina says, her voice trembling. “Y-You… protected me, didn’t you? I should’ve shared that burden with you. I… Thank you. I’ll remove them from your sight. Take a rest, Lel.” She clenches her fist, making her way to the nearest body before she begins dragging it outside.

Thank you. Her words strike a chord in his mind. He has protected her, after all. That’s all that matters.

Avalel sits in his room, staring at the sword in front of him. He’s calmed down now, he thinks, his breathing returning to a somewhat stable state. The weapon, wrapped up so long under a layer of wood and cloth, now stares at him through its aged, beautiful gem, the colors inside swirling to the reflection of whatever starlight there is.

The gem pulses again, releasing its dim red light in slow waves, the handle just beckoning for his hands to touch it once more. Avalel looks at his hands, the ridges still painted red despite his best attempts to wash the blood away. It just stubbornly stays there, refusing to be erased at least for a while. And those same hands, so resentful of that sword, still find themselves trembling, stretching towards it. He doesn’t know why, but he just… has to hold it.

His hands touch the sword, and immediately, he senses it again. The all-encompassing darkness arrives, the same flowing bright trails of energy illuminating the environment. And at the center of his vision, the gem, red as before, sends out eight strands of energy, coiling around his arms until they converge at his left eye, forming those same symbols as before.

So you have returned, young one.

He hears it now. So clear in the hazy silence. It was faint in the chaos earlier, but he hears it now. The calm, feminine voice of a certain person… if he can even call it so.

“Who are you?” he asks.

That is not of your concern at the moment. I will answer when it is the right time.

“What do you want?” Avalel doesn’t know what to ask. The gem’s light is growing stronger, carving its own radius yet allowing both the darkness and the energy to pass while temporarily in its hue.

I simply desired to test your power at the moment. I apologize for controlling you then.

“You… what?” The pieces begin to fit in. The change in his vision as soon as he touched the sword, his seeming invincibility, his emptiness as he killed each soldier, the flood of guilt toppling him when all was done… “Then it’s not…”

It’s not your fault at all. It’s all mine. You can simply pin the blame on me. For this time, for the next, for every time you make a mistake.

“But I—”

You have power now. The power to do what you desire, whether it is to fight, to protect, to rule, to blame… This power is yours to inherit.

“I can’t… I can’t just do that. I allowed myself to be controlled by this tool, by you.”

But you managed to protect yourself and the one you care about, did you not?

“It’s just… dangerous. I don’t know why, but I just… can’t.”

You can’t allow yourself to take up this power?

“I can’t. I’m scared for what I’ll become. I only want to protect Dad and Kavlina, not to have a power that allows me to kill without remorse!”

It is already too late, young one. From the moment you had picked up the sword, everything was already put into place. This power is yours to wield, this dangerous power as you say, is for yours to take. I cannot deny this fact, and neither, unfortunately, can you.

“I refuse.”

You cannot.

“I don’t know who’s speaking to me, but I don’t want this power from you. I will protect them with my own abilities. And maybe, just maybe, this won’t happen again.” He stares at his bloodied tunic. “I won’t allow myself to lose control to… you again.”

There will come a day when you will unconsciously accept my complete control. For your sake, receive this power before then. Then perhaps, I wish, you may still retain a piece of who you are.

The voice of the Anapadeia warns you so.

Perhaps of some invisible feeling of urgency in an otherwise monotonous voice, Avalel shivers. The strands of energy grip him tighter, his eye straining as the symbol seems to burn itself into the pupil and iris. For a moment, he sees her again. A small girl’s silhouette that he just seems to recognize from somewhere, from some place he no longer remembers.

And then she disappears again.

He looks at the sword, the gem dimming as the red light retreats back into its sheltered interior. The handle itself suddenly feels so cold to the touch, no longer as welcoming to his hands. He drops the sword, letting it clatter on the ground.

The Anapadeia, huh?