“Miss… Seraphina, was it?” Marcelle calls out just as I’m prepared to head down the final hall. “Please, if I may borrow a moment of your time.”
I turn to her and nod. “Is something the matter?”
“I– If I don’t get the opportunity to thank you again, I want to make sure that I say thank you right now. It would be a regret I carried with me for the rest of my life.”
I smile. “You don’t need to worry about that, Marcelle. I’m stronger than I look.”
“I’m sure you are. But neither are any of us invincible.”
She doesn’t say anything more, but the sullen look says everything. To have survived that long through such pain means she must be much smaller than the meager spark of will and muted flow of [Ether] through her suggests. I don’t know if she was defeated on the field of battle in some sort of ambush, or disappeared in the middle of the night, or sold out by someone looking to curry favor with the guards and soon-to-be dead Mayor, or maybe worst of all, drugged with some poison or other substance. However it was, she was overpowered. And it’s a reminder that I can’t be complacent, either.
I pull out a [Large Ether Canister] and draw the contents into myself. Good for just a bit over nine hundred points. Nowhere close to my maximum, even after my growing regeneration is taken into effect. One more regular [Ether Canister] for good measure to get me to a total of a hair under two thousand total. That… should be enough.
Just as I’m about to leave— for real this time— I’m stopped by the sound of Marcelle’s stomach growling. She looks at each of us, blushing furiously by the time she gets to Chloe.
I’m about to pull some food out of my [Inventory], but Chloe beats me to the punch, summoning half of a turkey and mayo sandwich and a bottle of water.
“We’ll need you to eat and drink slowly at first,” Chloe says. “Just a couple sips for right now. Your stomach isn’t used to having food in it right now, and if you try to put too much in too soon, it’ll all come back up the way it came.”
“Something you learned while volunteering shifts at the hospital?”
Chloe doesn’t answer telepathically, but the slight smile and the waves of pride and contentment I feel through our bond answer on her behalf.
“I’ll be seeing you all again soon,” I say, opening the door leading to the final hallway.
“You damn well better,” Kristil says.
“It may be a bit improper of me to say something so crude,” Cara says. “But kick his ass!”
Chloe just smiles. “I love you, and I believe in you.”
“And I, you.”
She taps my cheek, refreshing my [Saintess’s Cloister]. I still have over an hour of time left on [Saintess’s Blessing], so asking her to dip into her reserves and invite further [Ether] Strain is wholly unnecessary. After sharing a glance with each of the others, I move onward.
The door closes behind me, leaving just Filia and me to walk down the nearly pitch-black pathway. I’m astonished once again by just how much having access to the System improves my visual perception compared to a baseline human. Despite there being only the equivalent of a small candlelight’s worth of luminous intensity streaming in through cracks in the door behind me, I can still see shapes, if not colors, as easily as I can in full daylight.
“Are you ready for this?” Filia asks.
“Do you have any idea what we’re going to be facing? I must admit, I don’t know much about how a broken fragment of will is going to manifest itself.”
“I– I cannot say I’ve experienced such a thing before myself. I can only assume the battle will take place in the realm of your mind, rather than here in physical reality… Or, what passes for physical reality within the Tower. Though I must caution you: if you die in this mental world, your psyche could end up shattered and broken beyond Chloe’s ability to heal you.”
“I understand. And as I said, I will succeed.”
“Be aware that it is unlikely at best that I will be able to assist you, despite our bond. Chloe may, considering the strength of the bond you two share. But I would not rely on it.”
“Understood.”
I enter the room. There’s a figure sitting on a dark throne. The face is covered in shadow, the body gaunt, the nobleman’s clothing torn to shreds, effects shattered. The body clearly belongs to the Lord Mayor, although it’s bizarre. It’s as though his presence is not confined to his body. A grotesque body… it might’ve been human once, but as twisted and warped as the faint flow of [Ether] is within it… I don’t think he’s human anymore.
Truly a disgusting series of experiments that led him to becoming one with the crystal, abandoning his humanity to this ghoulish vestige. Maybe that’s why I’ve been sent here. As a warning of what might happen if I go too far with my experimentation and lose my morality to my research.
I walk up to the disheveled man, struggling to keep the remnants of last night’s dinner in my stomach. Closer, closer, every step hitched, looking for traps all around me, some sign of movement or whatever is going to happen. The suspense, more than anything, is driving me up a wall. Don’t make me wait, you damned contemptible son of a–”
My mental tantrum is cut off by the sound of another voice entering my mind. It’s not Chloe’s soft, loving tones, nor Filia’s stern yet knowledgeable, matter-of-fact words. It’s the voice of a man, gruff, angry, and vengeful, pure wrath funneled directly into my psyche.
“You… You ruined everything, you bitch!” it screams.
“Yeah. I did ruin your little fun, didn’t I,” I sass back. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“And that is the difference. Choosing not to use that power.”
“You’re a damned hypocrite, Seraphina.” Peter’s voice scoffs.
I can feel him attempting to worm his way into my mind, trying to break my concentration with this battle of words, hoping to win some advantage in the final battle about to commence. The sights and sounds of the outside world fade away, leaving behind only a mindscape in the shape of an endless void of black. I stand within the emptiness, about ten paces from the madman who caused all of this.
He’s back in his original body— his human body. No, not quite. His visage is that of a human at first glance, but the spectral glow surrounding him is proof that I’m looking merely at some fragment of his lingering will.
His eyes are full of anger and hatred. If looks could kill, I’d be a dead woman. Instead, I merely stare back with eyes full of resolve, determination to finally end the Nightmare of Synthir once and for all.
I draw Filia, though, as expected, no voice from within reaches me here. He conjures a swordstaff of his own, identical to Filia in shape and size, but inverted in color. The two of us take fighting stances, mine more defensive, slightly backward, his more aggressive, ready to either pierce or strike at a moment’s notice. For moments, we stand in silence, still, neither of us moving even an inch beyond flickers of our eyes and the tiniest of breaths.
And then Peter charges at me with full force. His speed eclipses my own, forcing me to step backward to dodge the spear thrust. I draw my wings, flying out of the way of the second slash that follows, then block the third, beginning a fearsome bladelock as the two of us stare at one another.
“Everything you think you’re fighting for is a fabrication,” the specter hisses, the form of Peter subtly changing as we clash. “In the end, the only truth of this world is that power governs. The strong do as they will; the weak suffer as they must.”
“No! This can be changed!”
“I see into your mind. All your thoughts, all your feelings. You can’t hide anything from me. You know everything I say is the truth.”
“A part of me does. I will admit: we can’t rely on the same systems of governance we used before. They never worked before, and they sure as hells aren’t going to work now that we have people that can level half a city with a flick of their wrist and a bit of mental effort.”
“You know the truth. The only true order that’s possible is the order brought about at the tip of your spear. Accept your rightful place, and rule as you were meant to.”
“Not a chance in any hell,” I say. “You think I want the responsibility of ruling? That’ll take away all the cuddle with Chloe time. Let someone who actually wants the job do that. Just let me stab the monsters and keep the politics out of my hair.”
“You know it’s inevitable. You are a political force, no matter how much you try to deny it. No matter how much you hate it, no matter how much you bury your head in the sand, no matter how many times you throw the crown off your head and onto the floor, you will be in a position of leadership in the coming weeks and months. It’s time you started taking responsibility for your actions. Because sooner or later, those chickens are going to come home to roost.”
“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to do so the way you did. The idea of depriving other people of their agency, locking their power away, ruling as a despot, secret police and disappearances, torture of people who wanted nothing more than to fight for a different future. It’s wrong. It’s anathema, and I won’t stand for it! I will find a better way.”
“Hmph.” The face of the spectral presence in my mind, previously Peter’s, now settles into my own, its body mirroring mine right down to the ruffles in my hair and the wrinkles in my undershirt. He, now she, looks at me, her expression softening slightly.
“If you think you can do better, then prove me wrong. Not with promises or convictions, but with action. You’ve made mistakes before. Now it’s time to do better.”
“It’s time to do better.” Those are the last words that I utter before my ghostly duplicate subsumes into me and consciousness fades from my mind.
[You have defeated Peter Relain IV, Lord Mayor of Synthir (Crystallographist / Dreamweaver, Level 64). You have gained a boosted 562,500 Experience.]