"Oi oi, Peridot! Peridot, you can't die on me here!" Alpha screamed as she clawed her way through the debris where Peridot lay buried. Her eyes darted desperately between the rocks and Aghnis.

  "She died so easily?" Aghnis asked. "I almost thought she was strong with the way she defeated my puppets," he purred, grinning from ear to ear.

  "But looks like I was wrong." His expression twisted into a mock show of sadness.

  "Shut the fuck up!" Alpha retorted. She wailed and dug harder through the pile.

  "Now, now," Aghnis said as he reached her. He slowly drew his right arm backward while it began to transform into a thick green leech, razor-sharp teeth baring from its body. "Why don't you die along with her so I can have a double dinner!" He shouted and thrust the leech forward, its tongue slithering.

  "Diiieee!!" Aghnis cackled.

  "You know what? Fuck!" Alpha hissed. She rose to her feet and hurled the rock she was holding at the heap. She spun and jumped away, barely avoiding the leech attack. It collided with the glass window behind her, shattering it. The leech's body convulsed in a visceral pulp.

  "Hey." Aghnis turned a dark expression toward Alpha. "You don't wanna die anymore?" he asked, eyes burning.

  "Fucker! I never wanted to die in the first place," Alpha shot back, stomping her foot on the ground childishly. "I'm still too young to die, y'know," she added.

  She grabbed her cheeks with both palms as they flushed. "And even if I'm going to die, it has to be after I've enjoyed some erotic stuff," she beamed, eyes shining.

  "Whaaat?" Aghnis's voice stretched as his arm retracted and returned to normal.

  "Anyway, since Peridot won't wake up no matter how much I try, and you're craving human meat, why don't you eat her and let me go?" Alpha suggested with a sheepish grin. "She's got quite nice flesh if you ask me."

  "Eh?" Aghnis's gaze fell.

  "What?" Alpha demanded, crossing her arms. "I'm trying to survive too, y'know," she said to Aghnis, who just kept looking at her like she had single-handedly made him give up on humanity.

  "Jeez." Alpha shook her head and facepalmed. "Since your brain has suddenly stopped braining, guess I'll be taking my leave," she murmured. She turned away and headed into another hallway.

  Aghnis blinked as he watched her leave. "Wait!" He finally snapped back to clarity.

  "Huh?" Alpha stopped mid-tiptoe.

  Aghnis's arms twisted and transformed. "My food doesn't run!!" he shouted, brows furrowing.

  "Tch!" Alpha clicked her tongue and bolted without a second thought.

  "Heyy!!" Aghnis screamed and sent his leeches forward. They writhed and twisted after Alpha.

  Alpha panted heavily, her legs barely keeping stride. "How big is your appetite even? Peridot should be enough for you!" she wailed. She suddenly spotted light at the end of the hallway, spilling from a broader room.

  "I want your flesh as dessert!" Aghnis screamed and ran after her.

  ...

  At the tenth floor of the W.A.S. headquarters, the overhead lights flickered. Sand poured down from the ceiling onto the scathed tiles as residual electricity sparked in the cold air that reeked of copper, sweat, and blood.

  In the middle of the hall stood two figures: the Sorcerer-general and Glock Harbinger. Glock stood unscathed, clothes untattered, hair unburnt, skin slightly pale but free of any injury or scar. It was as if he had never fought at all.

  "What?" Sir Zoldrak's face drained of color. Shock filled his expression. 'How is he alive? An illusion? Or has my fatigue finally reached my head?' his thoughts spiraled.

  "Hahaha. I really am seeing things, ain't I?" he laughed amid the dread.

  "Ya sure?" Glock raised a brow.

  "Yeah... no... there's no way you're real!" Sir Zoldrak grumbled. "Glock... I killed you. No man is above death! You died! There's no way you survived fifty thousand volts of electricity!" Saliva sprayed from his mouth.

  "Hmm. Let's just say what you fought wasn't me, but a clone," Glock replied lightly.

  "A clone?" Sir Zoldrak repeated, raising a skeptical brow.

  "That's right," Glock nodded. "I asked Aghnis to create a perfect copy of me, and it worked too well," he smirked.

  "But sadly it's a one-time ritual," he frowned.

  "You coward! So you cheated from the beginning?!" Sir Zoldrak accused, jaw clenching as rage filled his tone. "I won this fight fair and square!"

  Glock's eyes narrowed. "Hahaha, I understand that feeling," he chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes. "But you should know this: the winner of a battle isn't determined by who's stronger, but by who's smarter."

  "So I was fighting a clone the whole time," Sir Zoldrak whispered, wincing from the throbbing pain in his body.

  "Don't feel too bad about it, man," Glock consoled, adopting a mock-concerned expression. "If you'd fought the real me, you would've still won." He gently tapped Sir Zoldrak's back.

  "If only you were a little smarter."

  Sir Zoldrak looked up at his face. "What are you insinuating?" he asked.

  Glock grinned and continued. "This is what I mean: all this time, you thought you had the upper hand because you assumed my regression time limit reduces with every use. So continuous attacks would exhaust it."

  "However..." His tone lowered. "It was just me luring you to keep attacking so you would exhaust your own strength!"

  Sir Zoldrak's breath caught, his hair matting against his face.

  "Think about it. Why would I reveal my weakness for no reason?" Glock went on. "It's a simple rule of chess: make your opponent feel like he's won, and you'll win." He stepped forward and faced Sir Zoldrak squarely, darkness filling his expression. "Zoldrak, I win!" he declared.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  "You cheated! That doesn't count as a win!" Sir Zoldrak snapped, eyes bulging.

  "No one cares about morality on the battlefield," Glock shrugged. "What matters is surviving." His gaze darkened. "And I'll do whatever it takes to survive and achieve my goals."

  Sir Zoldrak's face fell. 'I lost?' The thought gnawed at him.

  Glock straightened, his expression softening. "Now that we've got that settled, let's move on to the next topic: the Vesta key."

  "Heh... if you think defeating me grants you access to the key, then you're gravely mistaken," Sir Zoldrak scoffed.

  "Haha, that's not a problem," Glock replied lightly and crouched.

  "Huh?" Sir Zoldrak exhaled, staring at Glock's finger poking the left side of his chest—the place that held his heart.

  "Your tenzen core is the key, isn't it?" Glock muttered, blinking slyly.

  Silence settled. The air turned cold and choking.

  Sir Zoldrak's teeth chattered. "How?" He swallowed hard. "How do you know that?" Thick air rushed from his lungs.

  "Haha, your reaction totally confirms it," Glock laughed. Then he stood and began pacing in circles. "According to history, the Vesta key is a relic that's been passed down through the Ackerman and Welles generations. And if you look at it, Eldrid has had nine Sorcerer-generals, out of which four were from the Welles family, three from the Ackerman, G.H. Thorne, and finally you."

  He glanced at Sir Zoldrak and continued. "The key had always been in the possession of the royal families. Meaning that no non-royal Sorcerer-general who ruled before you held it. According to the law promulgated by Reginald Welles and Heinrich Ackerman."

  "What blasphemy?!" Sir Zoldrak rasped. "How dare you call the first and second Sorcerer-generals by their names?!"

  "What does it matter when they're dead already?" Glock shrugged.

  "Tsk," Sir Zoldrak hissed.

  "Ahem!" Glock cleared his throat. "Now to the major question: how did I know you—Zoldrak—possessed the Vesta key?" He looked into Sir Zoldrak's eyes.

  "It became pretty obvious when I gave it a lot of thought," he said. "During the regime of the last Sorcerer-general, G.H. Thorne, the key bearer was an Ackerman by the name Gin—or simply Van Ackerman's elder brother—and the only one who could use the key was a Welles named Aurelia. However, an unexplainable assassination event led to Aurelia's death, and her core was stolen. A few weeks later, Gin Ackerman was also murdered, and the key went missing. After that, the Vesta barrier was breached, leading to the first Blackthorn Invasion twelve years ago."

  Glock exhaled and took a seat on the floor in front of the Sorcerer-general. "You know what makes me sad?" he asked, brushing his hair aside.

  "The fact that Eldrians have been living in lies all this time. The history you pass on to the next generation contrasts with the true history that really happened. Everyone believes Gin Ackerman and Aurelia Welles died protecting Eldrid, when their deaths were the actual cause of everything."

  "It's much more complex than you know, Harbinger!" Sir Zoldrak barked. "You should know that humans don't want to know the truth. We're delusional beings who want to believe in hope no matter what—"

  "Aheut! Ugh!" He burst into a series of coughs as blood splattered from his mouth. "'Gin and Aurelia's deaths caused the invasion.' Do you think Eldrians will be happy to hear that?!" Sir Zoldrak roared, rage burning in his pupils. "So of course we had to tell them what they wanted to hear!"

  "Well, that's by the way. After all, it isn't any of my problem," Glock replied, waving dismissively. "Apparently, the only true part of the story is that you and G.H. Thorne stopped the breach." He inhaled deeply.

  "After that, Eldrid returned to a peaceful life, but something had been left uncared for."

  "Who was going to hold the key?" His voice reechoed through the stillness. "It should've been a Welles, but Anastasia Welles was incompatible, since she possessed a divine blessing: the inverted crown. Alpha Welles was too young to take on the burden of the world. Van Ackerman volunteered, but he was also incompatible, as he possessed the blessing of four-dimensional perception, and even since birth, he had always been the pillar that kept Eldrid from falling into oblivion."

  "So who was left?"

  "You. Zelazny Zoldrak!" Glock pointed a finger at Sir Zoldrak's forehead. "Fortunately, you were compatible. So it was easy to disobey the law the first two Sorcerer-generals created!"

  "Now, lemme ask..." Glock grinned darkly. "I'm right, ain't I?"

  Sir Zoldrak opened his mouth to speak, but he suddenly burst into another series of heavy coughs as blood spurted out.

  "Looks like age has finally caught up with you, Zoldrak," Glock purred, concern thick in his tone. "All this time, you were carrying a burden that wasn't yours."

  Glock stood up, stretching his hand. "Why don't I lift the burden from you? And I'll give you rest," he suggested.

  "Nonsense!" Sir Zoldrak growled, slapping his hand away. "I don't need your help—ugh! Ugh!" He coughed mid-sentence.

  "How sad..." Glock said quietly. "Hmm." He hummed in thought, then faced Sir Zoldrak again. "Then I guess I'll have to take it forcefully," he said coldly.

  "Hehe, you're planning on killing me?" Sir Zoldrak chuckled. "I guess you didn't know this: the Vesta key's retrieval depends on the life force of its bearer. Meaning if I die, the key will be sealed forever."

  "I see..." Glock mumbled, rubbing his chin. "Then may I ask why you're not dead yet?" He flicked his gaze to him.

  "Huh?" Sir Zoldrak blinked.

  "You said your death seals the key forever. That means if you die, no one has to bother about the barrier being breached again."

  Sir Zoldrak paled in realization.

  "Hahahaha!" Glock burst into chaotic laughter. The overhead lights flickered violently. "Damn, man. You're quite stupid, aren't you?" he mocked.

  "Anyway, I'm not going to kill you or risk losing the key," he said, wiping tears from his eyelashes. "I'm just gonna bind your soul, using the same power Aurelia Welles possessed... hahaha!"

  Another hush crept in.

  "Hm?" Sir Zoldrak locked eyes with Glock's dead stare that seemed to grow larger with every second.

  "Ha... hahaha," he burst into shaky laughter. "You're so funny, Harbinger," he said.

  "Kukuku... you think so?" Glock chuckled. He leaned closer and whispered into Sir Zoldrak's ear. "I was the one behind the invasion twelve years ago." He dropped the revelation quietly.

  Sir Zoldrak raised his eyes and stared at Glock for a long while. His mouth opened to speak. "You're joking—"

  "I'm not," Glock cut in.

  Sir Zoldrak shook his head. "I know you're."

  "I'm not," Glock answered. "Quite hard to believe if you ask me," he muttered. "However..." He raised his hand and dug his fingers into his forehead as blood sprayed out.

  "Hah," Sir Zoldrak gasped and recoiled.

  Glock's lips twisted. His fingers went deeper into his forehead and hit something. "Ah, there it is," he muttered. He began to drag his hand down, tearing his facial skin in a gory spray of crimson onto the ground at Sir Zoldrak's feet.

  His face fell away as he tore the entire skin off and tossed it aside. Sir Zoldrak stared at the mask as tremors raced through his bones.

  Then slowly, Glock raised his true face. Sir Zoldrak swallowed.

  "Here you go," Glock said and turned to him, blood soaking his collar.

  Sir Zoldrak's eyes slowly widened, threatening to bulge. "G-G-Glock..." He stammered, rose, and began to back away, gaze never leaving the face.

  The air grew taut with tension. The choking silence was punctuated only by the creaking of a distant ceiling fan.

  Glock raised his hand toward Sir Zoldrak, and the recollection hit him.

  'Zoldrak... you shouldn't slack off,' the man had said. But now, in stark contrast to earlier, Sir Zoldrak could see his face clearly.

  The man was Sir G.H. Thorne—the same person standing before him.

  "Been a while, Zoldrak," Thorne said, voice like gravel, blood-soaked face glistening under the flickering lights.

  "No... no... this is an illusion!" Sir Zoldrak whispered as he fell to his knees. "You're not him... Glock... there's no way you're him!"

  Glock stepped forward, his footsteps echoing.

  "Don't come close!" Sir Zoldrak shouted. "You're not him... you're not him... you're not him... you're not—"

  Glock reached him, lunged, and grabbed Sir Zoldrak's face in one hand. He spun and smashed his head into the wall, cratering it in a crimson splatter.

  "Shut it," he rasped.

  Sir Zoldrak gasped for breath, blood pouring from every orifice on his face.

  "In truth, I'm not the G.H. Thorne you knew. The G.H. Thorne everyone knew was an act. This is the real him!"

  "Glock Harbinger Thorne."

  Sir Zoldrak's mouth opened in horror. "S-sir Thorne... protected us... there's no way you're saying the truth... please... tell me you're lying," he pleaded.

  "I wish I could," Glock replied. "Everything was simply a fa?ade. My plan failed twelve years ago, but I was still able to achieve something: Aurelia and Gin's cores. Now, I'm back to finish everything I started."

  He raised his second hand and placed a finger on Sir Zoldrak's forehead. "Thank you for keeping the key safe, Zoldrak. You really didn't slack off until the end."

  The Welles' crest mark appeared on the back of Glock's hand.

  'That power...' Sir Zoldrak thought, staring at the mark. 'You stole Aurelia's powers...'

  "Soul bind," Glock chanted. A black light unleashed from his fingers and entered Sir Zoldrak's head.

  "Aurelia Welles possessed the power to seal any soulful entity just by touch."

  Sir Zoldrak's pupils whitened, his skin paled, and he stopped moving. Glock caught his body as it fell, then turned and walked away with steady clicks.

  "The Welles are known for their sealing prowess, the Ackermans for their particle manipulation prowess, and I'm the first human to possess both."