The space inside the box was enormous. Absurdly so. Ars was certain you could fit the entire City of Lamberg within it. The walls, floor, and ceiling were made of impenetrable darkness. The atmosphere felt eerie, partly because of the black void, and partly because...
Ars could faintly hear what was happening outside. The wind, muffled voices—they reached him, but strangely distorted, making the sounds feel unreal and uncanny.
His abilities were rooted in perception, especially sight. But that didn't mean his hearing was weak. He could detect subtle disturbances in the air, distinguish voices even through mimicry, and sense the hum of spirituality coursing through the world.
The soldiers huddled together, some tending to their wounds, others trying to sleep. Sleep was a gamble in the cold, one could never be sure they'd wake up in the land of the living. But inside the Present Box, the temperature was surprisingly warm. Comfortable, even.
Ars didn't fully trust Alastor or Kios. Alastor was charismatic, polite, and well-spoken, but something about him was off. A hidden layer of madness, perhaps.
Kios was similar, but without the charm or handsome features. Yet there was something else about him. Ars noticed it immediately. His aura, or rather the spiritual energy within him...
It was tainted.
By what, Ars couldn't tell.
He sat far from the others, seeking solitude. Eventually, exhaustion won out. He closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.
"I don't know why you refuse to go inside the box. You're tired, cold, and wounded. Shouldn't you rest?" Kios moved through the snow with ease. Unlike Alastor, and to a lesser extent Liras, he appeared entirely at home in the elements. Alastor even felt a bit envious, as he suspected that it had to do something with that black cloak he always seemed to have on him.
Liras followed close behind, wrapped in a thick coat Alastor had given him. The wind was biting, but their close proximity helped preserve their voices.
"I don't trust you," Liras said flatly, without emotion.
Alastor's eye twitched. "How many times do we have to convince you we're not planning a betrayal? If we were, you'd already be dead."
Liras sighed. "Fair point. I'm not exactly in the best of conditions." He paused, then turned to Kios. "Still, something's been bothering me. Something about you."
Kios was stretching lazily nearby. Alastor had noticed it too when he first met him. He still suspected Kios wasn't fully human, perhaps half-demon, even a descendant of one of the Princes of Hell, similar to him.
Kios stopped stretching and frowned. "What's strange about me? I'm just a guy trying to get rich."
"Maybe. But you're far from ordinary. I don't mean that as a compliment. Your aura—it's revolting."
Kios paused, shooting Liras a disdainful glance. He scoffed, then said mockingly, "Funny coming from someone whose aura I couldn't sense at all." His tone shifted. "But hear me, Dawnmaker, and hear me well. Some truths are best left alone. Some mysteries should never be uncovered. The truth is often worse than the lie."
He hesitated, then smirked. "But I'll give you one truth. I suspect you'll play a key role in our little adventure. The reason my aura is tainted, why my spiritual energy is so corrupted, is because I'm an addict."
Both Liras and Alastor raised their brows. Kios elaborated.
"How nosy. You see, I'm not particularly special. Actually, my spirituality is below average. But that never stopped me. I drink these..." He reached into his cloak and revealed a small vial of black, frothy liquid.
Alastor's expression changed. "Demon blood? Are you insane? Ordinary humans can't drink that. It causes madness. How many of those have you taken?"
Kios shrugged. "Countless. I don't keep track. That's why my blood's contaminated too. Yet, no horns. And holy spells don't burn me. Best of both worlds."
Alastor's eye twitched again. "You can go insane. More insane, I mean."
"I'll be fine. I embrace my nature. Madness can't claim me. In fact, some say I'm the sanest man alive."
Liras actually smiled at that, more amused than anything. "Who says that?"
"The insane," Kios replied, deadpan.
The three fell silent after that. The wind had weakened, and the descent downhill quickened their pace. Soon, stones poked through the snow. Then grass.
The Present Box floated behind them, carrying the army and Ars inside its pocket dimension. Liras was tiring, though he didn't say so. Alastor noticed and suggested they rest and strategize before entering the City.
They sat on a large rock. It was cold, but not unbearably so. Alastor opened the lid of the Present Box and called out.
Ars was dreaming.
A mountain. A mountain of bodies piled high. Their faces were a blur, but atop the heap, sunlight broke through a cloudy sky. Ars drifted upward, toward the light.
Closer... closer...
Then, he saw the faces. He recognised some.
And when he looked down from the sky, he saw it.
A flag. Red and gold. A black eagle at its centre.
The Flag of Lamberg.
Their flag.
He was looking down at the corpses of his own men. And so was the Sun.
"Ars!"
He awoke, dazed. One of his men had gently shaken him.
"They're calling for you."
"Ars!"
That voice—Alastor's. But something felt off. It was colder. Brighter?
He looked up and froze.
A massive head loomed above, golden eyes twinkling. A white-gloved hand reached down and gently plucked him out. As the hand lifted, Ars expanded in size so quickly that Alastor stumbled backward.
"Steady," said Liras, sitting nearby.
He pointed to the horizon. "What do you see?"
Ars's eyes flashed turquoise as his Spirit Vision activated. He frowned. "Yes, I see Brigald Town. But I also see..." He gasped and fell to the ground, deactivating his vision.
"T-There's a Saint. Saint Jocasta. They've stationed her there. They knew we were crossing the Alps."
The Living Saints of Creno were more than just holy warriors. They were blessed—immune to corruption, illness, and sin. Magic barely touched them. Their strength, speed, and durability were enhanced beyond normal limits. Their holy magic, granted directly by the Pope, was unmatched.
Even Liras, in peak condition, doubted he could slay one. With Alastor and Kios combined? Maybe.
"No. Impossible," Alastor said quickly. "We can't defeat a Saint. We have to sneak past her."
Ars laughed quietly. "Sneak past a Saint? We're lucky she hasn't sensed us yet. If we move any closer…"
"A distraction, then," Kios said, pointing to a cliff. "If we blow that up, the debris falls toward Brigald Town."
Ars paled. "N-no. There'll be civilian casualties."
The town lay downhill. Destroying the tall, gray limestone cliff would send tons of rock sliding toward it. Jocasta stood atop a clocktower, perhaps already watching.
"It won't hurt her," Alastor said darkly. "But it depends whether she has morals. She'll have to save the civilians. And with unrest already brewing in the city, if word spreads that a Saint let innocents die... well, the people won't be happy."
Ars was visibly opposed. Kios and Alastor liked the plan. Liras was torn.
Then, after a moment's silence, Liras spoke.
"How do we blow it up?"
What?
Ars couldn't believe his king would agree. They were here to save the people. Wasn't this the exact opposite?
He knew, deep down, that sacrificing a few could save many. But this... this was too cruel.
Alastor produced a small vial filled with coarse white powder. It wasn't like Kios's dark tonic.
"This is Elicin. Harmless, usually. But refined by an alchemist, it becomes deadly. We'll coat your spearhead with it. You throw it into the cliff. The explosion will be powerful, to say the least."
Liras hesitated, then took his bronze spear. Alastor carefully poured the powder on its tip.
Liras had lost his left hand, but his right remained. Being right-handed, he could still throw with force.
His eyes burned with determination as he twisted his torso and hurled the spear. A shockwave erupted. Moments later, the cliff exploded.
Massive debris rained down. The remaining cliff collapsed entirely, tumbling toward Brigald Town.
Down below, the townspeople looked up in horror, abandoning whatever they'd been doing.
Atop the clocktower stood a woman in dazzling white armor, casually leaning on her longsword. Her black hair was cropped short. Her deep blue eyes sparkled with curiosity.
She watched the falling debris and smiled.
"An explosion? I wonder... is Liras behind this?"