Chapter 10 — Reincarnation
Everything in the underground dungeon was trembling. There wasn’t even a single second when the mighty walls would not vibrate; bits of concrete were falling off everywhere. This location, an underground labyrinth in a cave north-west of Capital city, near the mountain pass leading to Skodilia, served both as a base and a stronghold. To whom? Well, five hundred men, women, humans, demons, and demi-humans alike tried to ward off a massive siege. They carried no uniforms, some even refused to carry armor, yet these people were well-trained and organized. They knew all too well how to make the most of an abandoned dwarven citadel. But... it still wasn’t enough. The massive forces of Jioral crushed one part of the walls after another. The shield-bearers marched forward, guarding the battle mages with their adamantite shields, impervious to spells. A dozen Cryleths, albeit small in number, managed to slay about a hundred foes already with no losses among their ranks. The aristocratic light infantry was just that good. And then, there was him. A large bald man in massive armor. He carried no helmet, but a small magic obelisk behind his nape warded off every arrow, while his blackened staff sent rock after rock, stone after stone, swiftly thinning the ranks of the defenders and walls alike.
In the very depths of the dwarven hold, "Martin Charian, the Spellbane of the Three Champions." These were the bizarre words of the man who oversaw it all. A mage in a purple coat had his face hidden behind an iron mask, but even with it, there was something unsettling about him that kept the caster away from even the most devoted of his allies for most of the time. Not now, though. He levitated in a lotus position, radiating a warm yellow glow. A continuous blessing around him looked like numerous tendrils of light which blinded his foes and guided his warriors, many of whom held this very hall, shooting at said foes through loopholes with enchanted crossbows, but it wasn’t enough. So much so, that…
"Tarson, please… Hurry up." The defenders were retreating through a black portal, opened by his only friend who has been with him throughout all these decades and centuries, a black crow with golden eyes. Much more powerful than he looked, the bird helped in evacuating both people and priceless artifacts. But despite the seemingly hopeless state of affairs, the masked man was filled with hope. After all, here he sat in a trap.
And then, the wall crumbled with a deafening rumble. Yet, it was not an army, but a single man, standing in a whirlwind of rocks.
"So you must be the legendary Tenth. I admit, I had my doubts, but I expected someone more... vibrant." Despite his seemingly careless attitude, the man was everything but. Just now, a nameless dog-eared man tried stabbing him in the neck, and the Champion, with a quick swing of his staff, crushed his skull, splattering his brain matter all over the place, before turning back to the… "Fight me, the Hero of Blessings!"
And so he did. The masked man descended to the earth and raised his hands. No words were said, as by just raising his hands he summoned a multitude of portals, from which an uncountable number of black beams emerged, pointed at his enemy.
"Heh" The battlemage stuck his staff into the floor and summoned a protective sphere, scribed with incomprehensible yet priceless defensive spell formulas. However, it was only a fluke. In a moment, when the tables with various maps and plans of the recent raids on miscellaneous temples all throughout the continent were blown into the air with the force of the spell, a bald caster rushed to the hero, sending multiple rocks towards his dark figure, while the latter only kept the barrage away from his last escaping men..
The floor started burning with black flames. The hero with the iron mask summoned a pool of dark snakes, raising his right hand and pointing to the ceiling. Vipers rushed at Martin, devouring everything he could throw at them. But even in his armor, the mage was as fast as a cannonball. And so he jumped at the Hero of Blessings, piercing his neck with his now slightly charred staff. The snakes were dispelled, and yet, no blood rushed from the seemingly defeated sorcerer.
"Too reckless" And then, the caped magician clenched his fist and barely visible spikes appeared up close, turning the head of his opponent into a crimson sieve. "Should have worn a helmet." This was the moment of triumph. The last defenders were vanishing through the summoned portal, with nobody else being able to cross the portal without exiting as a skinned, screaming cadaver. Soon, the Hero of Blessings remained alone. Now he was waiting. And it didn’t take long.
"He was one of my best warriors. If anything, Lorenzo, I can commend your unwavering spirit. " It was the mastermind behind the siege, a massive man clad in a full set of orichalcum armor, riding an enormous black stallion. "Although it failed you in our last meeting."
"It was before time went backwards. I presume, you know, who is our savior." The iron mask knew the crowned knight. But their acquaintance spanned beyond this world. "Otherwise, you’re chasing the wrong man, Margurth Rikil Jioral."
"Certainly. He is trapped under my palace. And once I've dealt with you, that foolish boy will be the first to ascend. Too ignorant to predict his own oblivion."
"So, the child of Panakea did this? Thank you, your majesty." — said the dark sorcerer, clearly sarcastically. But what he had to say later would be more than genuine. "I wish I could do more to help him."
"For wishing is all that’s left for you. COME, REEHAROZE!!!" As the monarch screamed, a gorgeous winged woman emerged from his shadow. Her skin was dark-purple, her hair gray, and her eyes were like bleak emeralds. She floated under the thirty-meter ceiling, masterfully tossing black fireballs at Lorenzo. The hero extended his arm and a bright spear of gold appeared in his hand. The blessed weapon easily warded off the magic, and even when the ruler raised his sword, summoning the thunder, the iron mask just redirected it to the ground. Then the help arrived. His friend, the black crow, turned into a grotesque humanoid figure with feathers and a beak to engage in an airborne fight with the woman, while his caped friend evaded the sword of a mounted monarch. He would unleash a slash after slash upon the hero, with some of them actually breaching his defense. Too proactive to let him cast, Margurth took all the initiative, while Lorenzo just dashed through the hall, barely managing to parry the tyrant.
But when the Hero of Blessings finally found a moment of leeway, he quickly touched the floor, and the whole place turned blue ,frozen in place, with the purple rubble flowing in the air.
"Now, Tarson." The man did not scream; he couldn’t even if he tried. Yet, the crow heard him just fine. He took frozen Reeharoze and put her near the black mage. And with this, the latter touched her forehead, pouring white light into her head. And then, she was allowed to speak freely in the frozen space.
"Has… Haa!.. What… is happening?" Her first emotion was fear. The soulless woman regained her heart, and the first who met her, was… "Lorenzo? But how, I saw you…" the man she knew. From another time.
"No time to waste, the Hero of Healing turned back time, and we need your help to put him down." The iron mask pointed at the temporarily immobilized king. "I am unable to halt the world for long. Good luck."
The woman nodded, ready to take her part in this murderous theatric performance once again. After all, she too did not see the end of the previous world. And when time resumed, she once again engaged in a fight with her old friends, driving them to the portal. And when they were gone…
"You spent my power on this, and you still failed." The king on his big black horse telekinetically called out the purple dust, now devoid of any energy. The monarch smiled, but the only thing Reeharoze could hear now was her daughter’s desperate cry for help. She went back to Margurth’s shadow, unaware of another deity, who had chosen Keyaru as her champion...
...
Keyaru spent his morning in a tidy room at one of Capital’s inns. His only criteria of choice for the room was a window that overlooked the burned window of the royal palace. If anything, the young man was glad of the work he’d done. The princess was "dead", killed by a rebellious captain, and the scene of crime burned just enough for no mage to recreate this sequence. The real Leonard enjoyed a torturer’s room, and the Hero of Healing proudly gazed upon his new green clothes and a saber, made from bulat steel. He was unable to loot the princess’ room, yet Walchida’s alchemy magic turned out to be quite useful, especially when he could turn mere iron into gold. Only one thing now bothered the lad.
"Damn it, I forgot to kill him!" Leonard was alive, and someday he could even talk. Although he couldn’t write or talk for now, it could all be cured with an elixir. "Now I should take care of Bullet and Blade. Their "love" should not remain unavenged." Oh yes, both psychopaths were driven by it. One craved Keyaru, another was tormented by unrequited love-sickness towards Flare, who preferred the company of the boy, even if he was nothing but a slave to her.
"And there’s her, the demon queen." Even now, her smile just wouldn’t leave the hero’s mind. He wanted to know what she wanted to protect. Even with the future erased, it risked being a failed cause. But even so, having that winged powerhouse as an ally would prove useful in the upcoming war with Jioral and his pet monsters.
"Well, am I not charming?" Of course, the boy was no more. It was a man who reflected in the mirror, someone Keyaru should’ve grown into if not for the malnutrition. Fitting face for an even more fitting body.
"I must be stronger. So strong that nobody will be able to best me." — the healer said, looking at his blue brand, and then clenching his fist, imagining the whole world fitting into it, being in his grasp. The hardships of the royal dungeon made him strong, but not strong enough to take Margurth’s head. Maybe in a duel, but the king is just the kind of figure that would not fight alone. Good thing he left the city. And there was a promise to keep, but not now.
"Ugh…" The girl woke up, lost in oblivion. She looked around in all directions, clearly in disarray. Her poisonous emerald eyes became blue and wider in shape. The lips got puffier, and the face rounder. The changes were small, but even so, she looked like another person. "Where… am I?" — she fearfully asked. For this, the healer lunged forward and chained her… in a warm hug.
"Thanks gods, you are awake!" Of course, the confused girl pushed him away. What she felt was confusion and anxiety.
"Can’t you remember me?" His voice was as regretful as it could be.
"N-no. Who… What is even my name?"
"What happened to you? Hah, your name is Freia, my attendant. Can’t you recall anything? Not even our oath of eternal love?" All right, now the man just wanted to burst into laughter. He touched the girl’s neck and poured some of his magic into her. The lad did not make her any new memories; he just made his trophy susceptible to his lies.
"You… and me?" And it was working.
"Yes! You fell ill. Your sickness was really severe. Maybe this caused you to lose your memories. My sweet, poor Freia."
"I… am Freia." The girl nodded. It was nothing short of a success. The Hero of Magic was no more. Now her place was taken by an ill-willed girl who would do anything for a man who came to her in her time of oblivion.
"Maybe, if we made love, you would recall?" She nodded. "So, would you start as usual?"
"As… usual?"
"Yes. "Please, reward your sow with your manly rod." If Keyaru didn’t have a superhuman level of self-control, he would be rolling on the floor, lacking his belly off. But…
"I couldn't... have been saying that?"
"But… you did, Freia."
"Then… Please, re… reward your sow with your manly rod." She would blush and stumble, but the girl would repeat it all. The former princess grabbed the mighty hand of her new master and put it on the lower part of her belly.
"Great. You will get it." No more words were needed. The man jumped into the bed, kissed his spoils of war, and lost himself in a sea of passion. This time, his foreplay was kind, his touches — delicate. To his surprise, the hero felt no wrath toward this girl. With Flare dead, he tried to cherish Freia. And he succeeded.
"Try putting it in." He didn’t force it; he let the sorceress try it on her own, at her own pace. No more pain, no more hate. All Keyaru wanted was to please his new companion. At first, it was Freia who rode him, then he pushed her underneath, then she would turn around. So many poses came to life from the healer’s mind; so many ways to please the girl. But all of them shared one common thing — pleasure, unlike the last time. Time after time, they would reach their peak. It took them an hour to saturate their desire for intimacy. One sought her place in an alien world, another — deliverance from its animosity. But in the end, they would hold their hands, and in that moment, the young man remembered Kurt’s last words to him. Only to dismiss them immediately.
"I don’t think my memories returned, but I feel you. You’re precious to me. But… What is your name?"
"Keyaruga. Never forget it anymore."
"Keyaruga… I love your smell, and your warmth." And then she pressed against his wide chest. That's right, just as Flare died, Keyaru had to go. Even if it was but a single extra syllable, the new name radiated power. And power would be required if he was to become the most powerful healer on the planet.
The rest of the day passed by in preparation for the journey. Bags, torches, tents, provisions, basic cooking tools, and coats to resist wind and rain. Keyaru took a green cape with a single pauldron. Freia, on the other hand, received a full trench to hide her hair that remained pink in color. He would tell her about countries, classes, heroes, different cities and so on, and so on. But most importantly, Keyaruga told her about their mission. How they traveled to save this world. How he was Enritta’s prince, looking for his long-lost sister. The Hero of Healing was so impressed by Traman’s boldness that he remembered his own father being like that. Strong, stern, uncompromising.
Now the duo made their way to the city's gate, with Freia carrying twice as much as her greatly beloved master. With the sun up high, she would sweat , but it didn’t matter to the healer. What did, though, was Leonard’s nasty snout, painted on posters. The crown would reward anyone with eight hundred golden coins if they succeeded in apprehending the traitor. A small crowd gathered around, and Keyaruga just grinned, looking at the consequences of his actions.
"The princess is dead. That’s so dreadful, my lord." — the magician said, without even realizing it was her own death he caused. By the way, since Keyaruga was supposed to be a prince, he asked Freia to address as “Lord”. Not only to boost his ego but for anonymity as well.
"Heh, let’s go." With nothing to do here anymore, the duo were ready to leave the accursed Capital. But then…
"I hope Lady Norn will get back soon. Someone has to console His Majesty." It was the voice of some random woman, but it didn’t matter. A single mention of a cruel girl made them flinch. He remembered her as a tyrant, a cruel and calculating soul, who easily saw through his fake acting in the first world. And he promised her something, but until the revenge was completed, Keyaruga could do nothing but avoid that genius. Freia, on the other hand, got restless for a reason she had no memory of. It was a reflex from her previous life. Either way, the Hero of Healing made his way forward, towards the unknown.
"Wait for me!" And Freia had to catch up with him.
And while the heroes of Healing and Magic left the heart of Jioral behind, two dark figures watched them from a rampant tower.
"We tried, Lorenzo, but in the end, we both failed. I failed. And now, I can’t even save my Flare. That living blaze is too strong, and she's still there." — the emissary of darkness said with black tears running down her cheeks. Her purple flesh was slowly regenerating, and it would take a day for her to dare show herself before her master. She hated Keyaru. She saw what he did, but the smoldering entity just wouldn’t let her get close.
"Fear not, my friend. I shall get you your life back. Like she did." The masked man pointed at Freia. He closely watched the heroes with a pair of golden eyes. "Would you believe me if I said he loves her despite everything? No? Well, at the very least, he will not harm her. Not anymore. This I can promise." He gave the winged matrona a great deal of food for thought, yet none of it could calm her down.
"Do you have a plan?"
"I had one for three centuries. We need a pawn. Before we find one, you shall have to abide at Margurth's side." Clearly, it wasn’t the happiest notion for the woman. Yet...
"I agree."
"Good. The world shall burn in pitch blackness. But the fire shall incinerate the tyranny of the gods, and then we'll finally both get our happy endings."
Chapter 10 — Reincarnation
Everything in the underground dungeon was trembling. There wasn’t even a single second when the mighty walls would not vibrate; bits of concrete were falling off everywhere. This location, an underground labyrinth in a cave north-west of Capital city, near the mountain pass leading to Skodilia, served both as a base and a stronghold. To whom? Well, five hundred men, women, humans, demons, and demi-humans alike tried to ward off a massive siege. They carried no uniforms, some even refused to carry armor, yet these people were well-trained and organized. They knew all too well how to make the most of an abandoned dwarven citadel. But... it still wasn’t enough. The massive forces of Jioral crushed one part of the walls after another. The shield-bearers marched forward, guarding the battle mages with their adamantite shields, impervious to spells. A dozen Cryleths, albeit small in number, managed to slay about a hundred foes already with no losses among their ranks. The aristocratic light infantry was just that good. And then, there was him. A large bald man in massive armor. He carried no helmet, but a small magic obelisk behind his nape warded off every arrow, while his blackened staff sent rock after rock, stone after stone, swiftly thinning the ranks of the defenders and walls alike.
In the very depths of the dwarven hold, "Martin Charian, the Spellbane of the Three Champions." These were the bizarre words of the man who oversaw it all. A mage in a purple coat had his face hidden behind an iron mask, but even with it, there was something unsettling about him that kept the caster away from even the most devoted of his allies for most of the time. Not now, though. He levitated in a lotus position, radiating a warm yellow glow. A continuous blessing around him looked like numerous tendrils of light which blinded his foes and guided his warriors, many of whom held this very hall, shooting at said foes through loopholes with enchanted crossbows, but it wasn’t enough. So much so, that…
"Tarson, please… Hurry up." The defenders were retreating through a black portal, opened by his only friend who has been with him throughout all these decades and centuries, a black crow with golden eyes. Much more powerful than he looked, the bird helped in evacuating both people and priceless artifacts. But despite the seemingly hopeless state of affairs, the masked man was filled with hope. After all, here he sat in a trap.
And then, the wall crumbled with a deafening rumble. Yet, it was not an army, but a single man, standing in a whirlwind of rocks.
"So you must be the legendary Tenth. I admit, I had my doubts, but I expected someone more... vibrant." Despite his seemingly careless attitude, the man was everything but. Just now, a nameless dog-eared man tried stabbing him in the neck, and the Champion, with a quick swing of his staff, crushed his skull, splattering his brain matter all over the place, before turning back to the… "Fight me, the Hero of Blessings!"
And so he did. The masked man descended to the earth and raised his hands. No words were said, as by just raising his hands he summoned a multitude of portals, from which an uncountable number of black beams emerged, pointed at his enemy.
"Heh" The battlemage stuck his staff into the floor and summoned a protective sphere, scribed with incomprehensible yet priceless defensive spell formulas. However, it was only a fluke. In a moment, when the tables with various maps and plans of the recent raids on miscellaneous temples all throughout the continent were blown into the air with the force of the spell, a bald caster rushed to the hero, sending multiple rocks towards his dark figure, while the latter only kept the barrage away from his last escaping men..
The floor started burning with black flames. The hero with the iron mask summoned a pool of dark snakes, raising his right hand and pointing to the ceiling. Vipers rushed at Martin, devouring everything he could throw at them. But even in his armor, the mage was as fast as a cannonball. And so he jumped at the Hero of Blessings, piercing his neck with his now slightly charred staff. The snakes were dispelled, and yet, no blood rushed from the seemingly defeated sorcerer.
"Too reckless" And then, the caped magician clenched his fist and barely visible spikes appeared up close, turning the head of his opponent into a crimson sieve. "Should have worn a helmet." This was the moment of triumph. The last defenders were vanishing through the summoned portal, with nobody else being able to cross the portal without exiting as a skinned, screaming cadaver. Soon, the Hero of Blessings remained alone. Now he was waiting. And it didn’t take long.
"He was one of my best warriors. If anything, Lorenzo, I can commend your unwavering spirit. " It was the mastermind behind the siege, a massive man clad in a full set of orichalcum armor, riding an enormous black stallion. "Although it failed you in our last meeting."
"It was before time went backwards. I presume, you know, who is our savior." The iron mask knew the crowned knight. But their acquaintance spanned beyond this world. "Otherwise, you’re chasing the wrong man, Margurth Rikil Jioral."
"Certainly. He is trapped under my palace. And once I've dealt with you, that foolish boy will be the first to ascend. Too ignorant to predict his own oblivion."
"So, the child of Panakea did this? Thank you, your majesty." — said the dark sorcerer, clearly sarcastically. But what he had to say later would be more than genuine. "I wish I could do more to help him."
"For wishing is all that’s left for you. COME, REEHAROZE!!!" As the monarch screamed, a gorgeous winged woman emerged from his shadow. Her skin was dark-purple, her hair gray, and her eyes were like bleak emeralds. She floated under the thirty-meter ceiling, masterfully tossing black fireballs at Lorenzo. The hero extended his arm and a bright spear of gold appeared in his hand. The blessed weapon easily warded off the magic, and even when the ruler raised his sword, summoning the thunder, the iron mask just redirected it to the ground. Then the help arrived. His friend, the black crow, turned into a grotesque humanoid figure with feathers and a beak to engage in an airborne fight with the woman, while his caped friend evaded the sword of a mounted monarch. He would unleash a slash after slash upon the hero, with some of them actually breaching his defense. Too proactive to let him cast, Margurth took all the initiative, while Lorenzo just dashed through the hall, barely managing to parry the tyrant.
But when the Hero of Blessings finally found a moment of leeway, he quickly touched the floor, and the whole place turned blue ,frozen in place, with the purple rubble flowing in the air.
"Now, Tarson." The man did not scream; he couldn’t even if he tried. Yet, the crow heard him just fine. He took frozen Reeharoze and put her near the black mage. And with this, the latter touched her forehead, pouring white light into her head. And then, she was allowed to speak freely in the frozen space.
"Has… Haa!.. What… is happening?" Her first emotion was fear. The soulless woman regained her heart, and the first who met her, was… "Lorenzo? But how, I saw you…" the man she knew. From another time.
"No time to waste, the Hero of Healing turned back time, and we need your help to put him down." The iron mask pointed at the temporarily immobilized king. "I am unable to halt the world for long. Good luck."
The woman nodded, ready to take her part in this murderous theatric performance once again. After all, she too did not see the end of the previous world. And when time resumed, she once again engaged in a fight with her old friends, driving them to the portal. And when they were gone…
"You spent my power on this, and you still failed." The king on his big black horse telekinetically called out the purple dust, now devoid of any energy. The monarch smiled, but the only thing Reeharoze could hear now was her daughter’s desperate cry for help. She went back to Margurth’s shadow, unaware of another deity, who had chosen Keyaru as her champion...
...
Keyaru spent his morning in a tidy room at one of Capital’s inns. His only criteria of choice for the room was a window that overlooked the burned window of the royal palace. If anything, the young man was glad of the work he’d done. The princess was "dead", killed by a rebellious captain, and the scene of crime burned just enough for no mage to recreate this sequence. The real Leonard enjoyed a torturer’s room, and the Hero of Healing proudly gazed upon his new green clothes and a saber, made from bulat steel. He was unable to loot the princess’ room, yet Walchida’s alchemy magic turned out to be quite useful, especially when he could turn mere iron into gold. Only one thing now bothered the lad.
"Damn it, I forgot to kill him!" Leonard was alive, and someday he could even talk. Although he couldn’t write or talk for now, it could all be cured with an elixir. "Now I should take care of Bullet and Blade. Their "love" should not remain unavenged." Oh yes, both psychopaths were driven by it. One craved Keyaru, another was tormented by unrequited love-sickness towards Flare, who preferred the company of the boy, even if he was nothing but a slave to her.
"And there’s her, the demon queen." Even now, her smile just wouldn’t leave the hero’s mind. He wanted to know what she wanted to protect. Even with the future erased, it risked being a failed cause. But even so, having that winged powerhouse as an ally would prove useful in the upcoming war with Jioral and his pet monsters.
"Well, am I not charming?" Of course, the boy was no more. It was a man who reflected in the mirror, someone Keyaru should’ve grown into if not for the malnutrition. Fitting face for an even more fitting body.
"I must be stronger. So strong that nobody will be able to best me." — the healer said, looking at his blue brand, and then clenching his fist, imagining the whole world fitting into it, being in his grasp. The hardships of the royal dungeon made him strong, but not strong enough to take Margurth’s head. Maybe in a duel, but the king is just the kind of figure that would not fight alone. Good thing he left the city. And there was a promise to keep, but not now.
"Ugh…" The girl woke up, lost in oblivion. She looked around in all directions, clearly in disarray. Her poisonous emerald eyes became blue and wider in shape. The lips got puffier, and the face rounder. The changes were small, but even so, she looked like another person. "Where… am I?" — she fearfully asked. For this, the healer lunged forward and chained her… in a warm hug.
"Thanks gods, you are awake!" Of course, the confused girl pushed him away. What she felt was confusion and anxiety.
"Can’t you remember me?" His voice was as regretful as it could be.
"N-no. Who… What is even my name?"
"What happened to you? Hah, your name is Freia, my attendant. Can’t you recall anything? Not even our oath of eternal love?" All right, now the man just wanted to burst into laughter. He touched the girl’s neck and poured some of his magic into her. The lad did not make her any new memories; he just made his trophy susceptible to his lies.
"You… and me?" And it was working.
"Yes! You fell ill. Your sickness was really severe. Maybe this caused you to lose your memories. My sweet, poor Freia."
"I… am Freia." The girl nodded. It was nothing short of a success. The Hero of Magic was no more. Now her place was taken by an ill-willed girl who would do anything for a man who came to her in her time of oblivion.
"Maybe, if we made love, you would recall?" She nodded. "So, would you start as usual?"
"As… usual?"
"Yes. "Please, reward your sow with your manly rod." If Keyaru didn’t have a superhuman level of self-control, he would be rolling on the floor, lacking his belly off. But…
"I couldn't... have been saying that?"
"But… you did, Freia."
"Then… Please, re… reward your sow with your manly rod." She would blush and stumble, but the girl would repeat it all. The former princess grabbed the mighty hand of her new master and put it on the lower part of her belly.
"Great. You will get it." No more words were needed. The man jumped into the bed, kissed his spoils of war, and lost himself in a sea of passion. This time, his foreplay was kind, his touches — delicate. To his surprise, the hero felt no wrath toward this girl. With Flare dead, he tried to cherish Freia. And he succeeded.
"Try putting it in." He didn’t force it; he let the sorceress try it on her own, at her own pace. No more pain, no more hate. All Keyaru wanted was to please his new companion. At first, it was Freia who rode him, then he pushed her underneath, then she would turn around. So many poses came to life from the healer’s mind; so many ways to please the girl. But all of them shared one common thing — pleasure, unlike the last time. Time after time, they would reach their peak. It took them an hour to saturate their desire for intimacy. One sought her place in an alien world, another — deliverance from its animosity. But in the end, they would hold their hands, and in that moment, the young man remembered Kurt’s last words to him. Only to dismiss them immediately.
"I don’t think my memories returned, but I feel you. You’re precious to me. But… What is your name?"
"Keyaruga. Never forget it anymore."
"Keyaruga… I love your smell, and your warmth." And then she pressed against his wide chest. That's right, just as Flare died, Keyaru had to go. Even if it was but a single extra syllable, the new name radiated power. And power would be required if he was to become the most powerful healer on the planet.
The rest of the day passed by in preparation for the journey. Bags, torches, tents, provisions, basic cooking tools, and coats to resist wind and rain. Keyaru took a green cape with a single pauldron. Freia, on the other hand, received a full trench to hide her hair that remained pink in color. He would tell her about countries, classes, heroes, different cities and so on, and so on. But most importantly, Keyaruga told her about their mission. How they traveled to save this world. How he was Enritta’s prince, looking for his long-lost sister. The Hero of Healing was so impressed by Traman’s boldness that he remembered his own father being like that. Strong, stern, uncompromising.
Now the duo made their way to the city's gate, with Freia carrying twice as much as her greatly beloved master. With the sun up high, she would sweat , but it didn’t matter to the healer. What did, though, was Leonard’s nasty snout, painted on posters. The crown would reward anyone with eight hundred golden coins if they succeeded in apprehending the traitor. A small crowd gathered around, and Keyaruga just grinned, looking at the consequences of his actions.
"The princess is dead. That’s so dreadful, my lord." — the magician said, without even realizing it was her own death he caused. By the way, since Keyaruga was supposed to be a prince, he asked Freia to address as “Lord”. Not only to boost his ego but for anonymity as well.
"Heh, let’s go." With nothing to do here anymore, the duo were ready to leave the accursed Capital. But then…
"I hope Lady Norn will get back soon. Someone has to console His Majesty." It was the voice of some random woman, but it didn’t matter. A single mention of a cruel girl made them flinch. He remembered her as a tyrant, a cruel and calculating soul, who easily saw through his fake acting in the first world. And he promised her something, but until the revenge was completed, Keyaruga could do nothing but avoid that genius. Freia, on the other hand, got restless for a reason she had no memory of. It was a reflex from her previous life. Either way, the Hero of Healing made his way forward, towards the unknown.
"Wait for me!" And Freia had to catch up with him.
And while the heroes of Healing and Magic left the heart of Jioral behind, two dark figures watched them from a rampant tower.
"We tried, Lorenzo, but in the end, we both failed. I failed. And now, I can’t even save my Flare. That living blaze is too strong, and she's still there." — the emissary of darkness said with black tears running down her cheeks. Her purple flesh was slowly regenerating, and it would take a day for her to dare show herself before her master. She hated Keyaru. She saw what he did, but the smoldering entity just wouldn’t let her get close.
"Fear not, my friend. I shall get you your life back. Like she did." The masked man pointed at Freia. He closely watched the heroes with a pair of golden eyes. "Would you believe me if I said he loves her despite everything? No? Well, at the very least, he will not harm her. Not anymore. This I can promise." He gave the winged matrona a great deal of food for thought, yet none of it could calm her down.
"Do you have a plan?"
"I had one for three centuries. We need a pawn. Before we find one, you shall have to abide at Margurth's side." Clearly, it wasn’t the happiest notion for the woman. Yet...
"I agree."
"Good. The world shall burn in pitch blackness. But the fire shall incinerate the tyranny of the gods, and then we'll finally both get our happy endings."
