Chapter 220: Autarch's Key (4)

Before I start, I must impress upon you the setting that we were all in.

It was a big room which took up the entire top floor of the Spire.  Square windows lined the walls, and looking out of them, I was greeted with a vista of the island below.  Rocks lined the shores, resembling pebbles at this distance.  The sky was blue without a cloud in sight; and I thought I saw a long serpentine shaped monster flying through it; without a care in the world.

The floor had been loosely separated into camps.

In one corner of the room was Delas Ender, speaking feverishly to Arione –the mage shaking his head and snapping at the [Player’s Guild] member angrily.  Clover sat, her eyes pointed in my direction, not looking at me, per se, but more at L’teya.  I saw Delas shoot a few glances towards Freier but the Elven Priestess ignored him.

Then there was Skaris and Zenom, accompanied by Arrosh and Aurora.

Finally, me and my motley crew composing of Stole, L’teya, Freier, and the newly recruited Jared Akka Xalud.

And finally, Skaris reached me.

I wish I could say it didn’t hurt.  I wish I could say I didn’t see the glimmering hope and the veiled desolation that lay within. 

I wish I could say I kept my composure.

But Skaris, Kyrian, and I…

We were the first three, you know?

The first three to travel together.  Form something like a party.  Way back, when we were just prisoners of Samak.  When Kyrian was just a mage, running away from his superiors.  When Skaris and I were stealing Cores from the Samak Temple basement, freeing other slaves.  When we’d burst forth, defeating the Akka Xalud soldiers and running for our lives; trying our best to leave the burning city behind us.

We were the first.

The first to laugh.

To share a meal.

To get annoyed at each other.

Hunt monsters while on the way towards the Jayu States.

We spoke of stories over campfires.  Skaris telling us about his swamp-like village.  Me sharing about the monsters that were inhabitants of whatever area we were in.

And Kyrian, the studious mage… our quiet friend, who was content to listen and smile.

I closed my eyes, trying to imagine him saying something.

And I couldn’t.

It’s like that, they say.

When you lose someone, you really lose them.  No one really tells you what loss means.

No one tells you that loss is done and over with when they die.  No… Loss lingers.  Loss lasts as long as you remember them.

It means you begin to lose bits and pieces of them, one by one.  Bit by bit.  Their face, their voice, the parts of them which made them them. 

So when Skaris’ footsteps stopped before mine, I opened my eyes…

And he knew.

He knew.

The seven-foot tall lizard beastman, who’d never shown fear, never shown sadness –not truly, for even when his fellow slaves were killed, he soldiered on–, Skaris Deepeater the strongest man I know…

And the first member of this party I created, the one who’d spent the most time with Kyrian and I…

He hung his head.

And he said a single word.

“Oh.”

No one interrupted us.  Zenom came nearby, his face grim and full of things he wanted to say.  But I saw Jared take a step back, put a hand on the Holy Knight’s shoulder, and shake his head with a soft smile.

Stole stepped up next to me.

And I don’t know when, but Aurora was there too.

I’d finally found them.  My party.  Gathered together.  At last.

Without one.

The four of us stood there in silence.

The air was filled with the grief of people who’d lost the same part of themselves –a part of them they’d never get back.  For there are parts of us that could only be brought out through Kyrian, and we’d sent that part off with the young blonde Mage.

No one dared to say a thing.  Afraid, that if we broke that moment, it’d become all that much real.  Because to be one of the living, means to live in reality, and like I said…

New memories push out old ones.  Loss happens, just as we receive more from life.

No one wanted to lose anymore.

Even me.

I was the party leader.  I was supposed to cheer us up.

But I couldn’t…

I’d never felt anything like this before.

I’d never had a friend before.

And I’d never lost a friend either.

A part of me wished I’d never gotten to know him.

A part of me wished… that I’d just let him be.  Then maybe he’d be alive, somewhere else.  Maybe–

“Ssslaveborn?”

It was Skaris who broke the silence.

I finally mustered up the courage to look my comrade in the eye, expecting blame.

I’d never seen Skaris cry before.

Tears fell from the corner of his eyes, but the beastman smiled at me.

“Did he go well, Sssslaveborn?  As a warrior sssshould?”

I thought back to my last memories of Kyrian.

“Yes.”  I nodded, slowly, unaware that something hot and wet dripped down from my eyes too.  “He fought to the end.”

“And you were by his side, Mr. Lock?”  Aurora wasn’t crying.  But I knew better than to take the lack of tears for lack of grief.

“The whole time.”

Stole sniffed, starting to cry.

Aurora put her arm around the younger girl.  She said nothing, just holding the beastman girl who began to sob.

Skaris closed his eyes, stemming the flow of tears and tilted his head towards the ceiling.  

“Ssshhaaa… then he left in good company.”  Skaris’ smile grew wider, tears falling in and out of them.  “Shhaaa… Sshhhaaa….”

In the end, it wasn’t me who changed the party’s perspective of loss.

It was Skaris.

Just like how it wasn’t I who saved Kyrian in the end –it was the opposite.

Yeah… Kyrian had protected me.

And now…

Stole.

Aurora.

Skaris.

I wasn’t about to dirty my best friend’s memory by letting his sacrifice be in vain.

I had people to protect.  People that Kyrian would want me to protect.

People that counted on me.

And people that I could trust.

People that I’d give my life for.

I wiped my tears off, feeling the harsh surface of the leather scrape across my eyelids.

“We can continue mourning later.”  I muttered and immediately, the air shifted from grief to…

Anger.

Fire, burning and scorching hot, acidic furnace that melted from the pit of my stomach and let everything from below the chest a hollow pit that refused to be filled–

My eyes were starting straight at Delas Ender and his party.

“We’re going to make sure Kyrian isn’t lonely walking to the afterlife himself.”  I snarled.

Skaris’ head turned slowly, still facing up but only his eyes tracking towards them.  He licked his lips and the temperature around us actually jumped up a few degrees in a noticeable manner –he was releasing bits of mana.  “I will burn them, Ssslaveborn.  I will burn all of them.”

It wasn’t just him.

Stole.

Aurora.

We were ready.

“Slaveborn, is now a good time to talk?”  Zenom finally spoke.

I looked at the faces around us.  Zenom, Jared, Arrosh, L’teya and Freier.

A group that I never thought I’d see standing side by side like this, even in my wildest imaginations.

“First, my condolences.  I didn’t know him well, but he was a good man.”  Zenom said.

Arrosh came up behind me, wordlessly putting a hand on my shoulder.  I took refuge in it.

“If you are ok, I’d like to start going over what we know about the room.  Is that alright?”

I nodded.

Zenom cleared his throat, launching into an explanation.  “Skaris, Arrosh, Aurora, and I arrived here yesterday.  After we entered, we realized that any attempt to use our Cores or Skills or Magic at all ended uselessly.  A few hours later, Arione and Clover Weinport arrived.  That’s when those letters appeared.”  He pointed to the arcane script floating in the center of the room.

｢ Welcome to the Top Floor of the Autarch’s Spire ｣

｢ You are the 3rd [Candidate of the Six Heroes] in Attendance ｣

｢ The Autarch’s Goal is Simple ｣

｢ Build your army.  Conquer. ｣

｢ Only one may receive the Key ｣

｢ Candidate of the Grand Magus: Arione Popindale ｣

｢ Candidate of the Sword Saint: Lock Slaveborn ｣

｢ Candidate of the Autarch: Jared Akka Xalud ｣

“Except back then, it did not have your name on it.”  Zenom explained, “It was only when War Prince Jared arrived that his name appeared.  Henceforth, we can surmise that this room is set up to react to one of the [Candidates of the Six Heroes] in some way.”

How much did Zenom know about the [Candidate of the Six Heroes] and its related quests?  As far as I knew, the Church shouldn’t have too much dealings with [Nearnigh the Sword Saint].  The same went for the other religious institutions of MSS.  The gods dealt directly with the church, but the [Six Heroes] weren’t part of it.  If lore was to be believed, that was on purpose; the heroes were there to balance out the Church if it became too powerful.

For now, I tucked the questions I had for Zenom for later.  There would be a better time.  Right now, we needed to focus on the goal right in front of us.

“Today, only a few hours ago, Delas and his party arrived.  Then you.  And the last name that appeared… yours.”

Zenom looked squarely at me.  “I’m sure you have questions for me, the same way that I have them for you.  But for now, I suggest we continue our alliance.  For the sake of getting the key.”

“Or–”  Jared cut in, “We could abandon the Holy Knight.  After all, it looks like without the [Six Hero Candidates], no one can do anything.”

“...Sir Jared, I–”

“You’re next to useless here, dear Zenom.”  Jared’s voice was quiet, he never raised it at all.  But there was an edge to it, a stillness that reminded me of the same tension when someone had a razor at their throats.  “I hardly think you have any sway over Slaveborn here.”

“And that goes for all of you.”  Jared smiled at everyone in the circle, meeting their eyes one by one.  “I’d say… the only ones who might actually be useful here… you,”  he pointed to Skaris, “the whelp,” then Stole, and finally he tipped his head slightly towards Arrosh, “And of course, we can’t forget about you, Elder.”

“The rest of you can join the [Players], or the Mage.  Or just sit here and twiddle your thumbs.  Shall we, Slaveborn?”

“Wait, Sir Jared,”  Zenom frowned, cutting in, “We don’t know what will happen next.  We should use all the tools we have at our disposal.”

“And my most immense experience tells me most of the tools here are useless.”  Jared said flatly, “Slaveborn, the Lizard, the bitch, and the Orc.  Those four and I should suffice.”

We'd barely begun, and already everything was going to shit.