The scene from the past comes vividly back to the minds of Kanna and Deedee, a sweet memory before the terror they would face in that cursed dungeon, the final adventure of the Venture party, Gold Griffin.
It’s a quiet morning, after a cold night inside the dungeon. The campfire crackles softly as Gulihelmus, with his massive frame and gruff manners, prepares some food. The smoke rises lazily, filled with a sense of peace.
The two women are sitting a short distance away, enjoying a rare break from action.
“What are you making, big man?” Deedee asks as she stretches. It had been a sleepless night for her.
“Breakfast of champions, green hair,” he replies loudly, without taking his eyes off the fire.
"YAWN!" Deedee yawns wide, ungracefully, without even covering her mouth.
"I heard you last night," Kanna whispers with a mischievous smile. Her eyes sparkle with playful complicity.
Deedee chuckles, relaxed and carefree. "Oh, Kanna, you're so naughty. Were you listening to us while we were fucking?" she replies with a light laugh, almost smug but still keeping her teasing tone.
Kanna blushes but keeps her eyes fixed on her friend, trying to maintain a serious façade. "You should be the one embarrassed! Why am I the one feeling awkward right now?" she retorts, laughing softly as she scratches her cheek in embarrassment.
"You act all innocent, but I know you're dirtier than I am," Deedee teases with a wide, playful grin. Her aqua-green eyes gleam with mischief, fully aware that her friend doesn’t know how to handle explicit jokes.
Kanna grimaces, pretending to be annoyed, but the warmth of their friendship is clearly felt between them.
"Don't change the subject! Are you two together now?" Kanna asks, her voice dropping as her face grows more serious, though the blush on her cheeks betrays her.
Deedee softens for a moment, and for the first time, the tough, irreverent woman lets a rare tenderness show. "Yeah. He confessed his love for me," she admits, with a dreamy expression, far removed from her usual tough and practical demeanor.
"You’re perfect for each other," Kanna smiles, genuinely happy for her friend, though there's a hint of hidden envy in that happiness. She knows how well Deedee and Ivanhold complement each other.
"Shhh! I don't want Guli to hear us," Deedee whispers, lowering her voice and casting a furtive glance at the burly warrior stirring the food in the pot. Guli’s powerful arms move slowly, his eyes focused on preparing the meal.
"I think he's already aware," Kanna says mischievously, recalling how noisy Deedee and Ivanhold had been the previous night. Their tent, unlike Ivanhold’s discretion, hadn’t held up to Deedee’s fiery temperament.
Deedee shrugs with a carefree smile. "This fucking elven tomb wasn’t exactly the setting I imagined for a love confession, but I have to admit, it was nice," she says, glancing at the entrance of the ancient mausoleum a short distance away.
"After this job, you two will need a nice vacation," Kanna jokes, but there's a thread of truth in her words. She knows both Ivanhold and Deedee deserve some peace.
"Fuck yeah! That's a great idea," Deedee exclaims with a sly grin, raising her right arm in the air.
Kanna’s face turns serious for a moment. "Thanks for coming with me," she says, her voice softer.
Deedee shakes her head with a warm smile. "You don’t need to thank me, we’re a party, aren’t we? And besides, it’s part of your quest, right? What was it again? Demon stuff or necromancy? Or was it zombie elves?" Deedee speaks with her usual bluntness, but it’s clear she’s doing it to lighten the mood, as if trying to chase away the shadows that loom over this cursed place.
The cleric smiles, appreciating her friend’s attempt to lighten the mood, but the darkness of the tomb carries a weight that cannot be ignored. "They’re not elves, they’re dark elves. Necromantic rituals may have been performed in this mausoleum," she explains calmly, her voice becoming more serious and hushed, as if it were a whisper the wind could carry away.
"You're the expert on this shit..." Deedee replies, raising her hands in mock surrender, but she quickly notices the change in her friend’s expression. Deedee has always had a knack for reading people’s emotions.
Kanna Merfal’s face darkens, her eyes drop to the ground, her mind drifting dangerously toward darker thoughts. "I’ve found something truly terrifying..." she finally murmurs, feeling an unexpected coldness envelop her.
**************************************************************************************************************
*** PRESENT TIME ***
*** STRAUSS WAGNER'S POV ***
On the terrace from which I watch the game, I desperately try to remain calm.
Every move, every clash, every single action by the opponents seems to turn against me, a reflection of everything I fail to foresee.
I gulp down some elven wine, hoping the alcohol will steady my nerves and help me maintain my usual composure.
However, I can’t deny what I feel growing inside me: anxiety.
An anxiety that grips my throat as I see Queen Azherie Loree’nahil’s face light up in a satisfied smile.
Her long white hair sways with a supernatural grace, a sinuous movement that almost hypnotizes.
Her presence feels like a looming shadow, always there, always ready to remind me just how much she surpasses me in this game.
I can't believe what I'm witnessing. I angrily clench my fists.
In these Demonic Games of Death, every enemy brings a surprise I could never have anticipated. And with every blow I take, I realize more and more how disadvantaged I am. The scale and power of my enemies are on a level I never thought I'd have to face. At least, not this soon.
The truth is bitter: I bet everything on this challenge, and now I find myself playing in a game where every step brings me closer to defeat.
The floating sphere-screens project images of the battle unfolding around us. I can't take my eyes off those two: Kanna and Deedee, utterly shaken by the identity of that mage. Ivanhold.
Another person they know? Another connection to the past of my women? It’s all so absurd.
I try to establish telepathic contact with Kanna.
But she doesn’t respond immediately, as if paralyzed in a state of shock—a reaction I understand, but one I can’t afford right now. Her mind is enveloped in panic, a panic I can almost feel even from here.
I focus, I insist, gritting my teeth.
{KANNA!}
Finally, after numerous attempts, her voice reaches me.
It’s faint, as if coming from a distant place. She’s weak, trembling.
{I'm sorry, Strauss.}
I don't have time for apologies.
{Kanna, who is Ivanhold?} I ask, though my instinct already whispers the answer to me.
I’ve learned to recognize the signs of the past resurfacing in this game, a game seemingly rigged to put me and my Servants at a disadvantage. But I want confirmation.
{He was the companion who was part of the party with me, Guli, and Deedee,} Kanna replies. I can feel the sadness permeating her voice, a burden she herself struggles to carry. Her pain wounds me more than I would have expected.
{Is there more I need to know?} I ask, trying to maintain control, but a part of me is already bracing for the worst. I feel a rage growing inside me that I can no longer hold back.
{He was Deedee’s fiancé, her first and only love,} she finally murmurs, knowing that this will not sit well with me.
*SBAM*
My fist moves instinctively, slamming violently into the armrest of my chair. A burst of anger I can no longer contain.
The rage rises to my temples, and it’s not just from the blow that’s been dealt to me. It’s the ever-clearer feeling that I control none of this. Every step seems to lead me into a well-orchestrated trap. But who is the puppet master? Who is pulling these invisible strings?
I turn toward Queen Azherie, whose smug expression feels like a thorn in my side. She sits there, perfectly at ease, as if everything is going exactly as she had planned.
"Is this really not your doing? Three of your Servants know mine? What are the chances that’s just a coincidence?" My voice, laced with irritation, plants the seed of suspicion. The words come out sharp, aiming to pierce the mask of perfection she wears so skillfully.
Azherie smiles, but there’s something enigmatic in her eyes. "I knew nothing of this, Strauss Wagner," she replies calmly.
But I don’t believe her—I can’t believe her.
"I find that hard to believe," I retort bitterly. "What are you hiding from me, Queen?"
"Not everything in this game follows the rules you know, Strauss Wagner. I don’t need to orchestrate what has already been set in motion."
Her gaze rests on me as if I were a child unable to grasp the vastness of the world.
"I’ve already told you: this has happened before, and it will happen again," she continues, as cryptic as ever. Her words, as always, are an enigma—a puzzle with no clear solution.
I’m tired of her half-answers, tired of her superiority. "I'm tired of vague responses," I exclaim, giving voice to my thoughts, but before I can say more, Azherie rises from her chair.
Her presence suddenly becomes more imposing, almost suffocating.
Her silver veil chain, adorned with sparkling gems, sways gently as she moves, reflecting the light from the floating orbs.
The veil acts like a mask, hiding part of her face, but her eyes—those mesmerizing, ever-shifting eyes—are locked on me. Her hair ripples slightly, and a silver amulet decorated with intricate designs hangs around her neck. At the center of the pendant sits a large, shimmering black gem, pulsing with magical energy.
Its presence draws my gaze, because it seems almost... alive. The gem throbs, as if it has a consciousness of its own.
"This game, this battle... you think it’s about you, your plans, your ambitions. But you are not the center of this reality. You never were." Her words cut like a sharp blade, piercing straight into my pride.
"Do you think fate is a straight line?" Azherie’s voice is calm, almost hypnotic, as she watches the battle unfolding on the floating screen in front of us. "No, it’s much more like a continuous circle, a serpent devouring its own tail. We dark elves call it Orthe’qhuar. Some souls are too connected, too intertwined. They are destined to meet again, to clash, in an endless cycle."
For a moment, her gaze shifts to the black servant still standing guard over the square of the great temple, motionless.
I feel the weight of her words, as if they’re trying to dig into me, but I can’t allow myself to give in to that kind of thinking.
I refuse to accept the idea that my fate is already written, decided by someone else, by forces beyond my control.
"That’s not an answer," I retort, my voice harsher than I intended. "I don’t want to be a puppet of the gods or of fate." The very thought makes my blood boil. I’ve always believed that I am the master of my own destiny, the one weaving the threads of my life. The idea of being manipulated by someone else is unbearable. I am the one who makes my choices.
I am the one who chose this path, with all its consequences.
Azherie laughs, a soft laugh but full of an unsettling wisdom that sends chills down my spine.
"Nonsense," she says, shaking her head. "You’re a puppet, Strauss, just like I am. We are pawns in this eternal war, driven by our demonic masters. But I understand how you feel. Those are feelings I’ve experienced for hundreds of years."
Her voice shifts slightly, becoming deeper, more personal. "I don’t want to be trapped in this cycle, just as you don’t. And that’s why I do what I do. My actions have always been aimed at opposing this endless circle."
Her response hits me harder than I’d like to admit.
We’re not so different, she and I. Yet, I’m aware that I can’t get clear answers from her, as if she enjoys toying with me.
My attention shifts back to the screen, where the Lich and the zombie mage stand as a grave threat to my women. A thought crosses my mind: could Fierro Sansanti or Jakobus Aufreiber have also been reanimated? Are all of Azherie’s Servants tied to death? Could the Black Knight be one of them too? The thought unsettles me.
"Is it possible to create Master-Servant contracts with the undead?" I ask abruptly, the question slipping out before I can fully consider the implications.
Azherie smiles.
A smile that holds ancient truths, secrets only she possesses. "Oh, it’s possible, indeed. If you know how, it’s even easier," she says, her voice velvety, smooth, each word delivered with a cold calm. "The bond is weaker than one with a living being, but it’s the soul that matters, Strauss Wagner. As long as even a fragment remains, the contract is feasible. Though... it is less enduring."
With an instinctive gesture, the dark elf touches the black gem hanging from her neck.
The contact makes it shine even brighter.
I reflect on her words, letting them sink into my mind.
If I had known beforehand that I would face people from my Servants’ past, would I have acted differently? Maybe I should have prepared them, warned them. But it’s too late to dwell on it now.
I’ve made another mistake.
I reconnect telepathically with Kanna.
{Kanna, Deedee has reached your location.}
After a moment of silence, I hear her voice in my mind, more hesitant than usual.
{Oh...} Her hesitation tells me everything. She too is aware of how difficult this situation will be.
The meeting between Deedee and Ivanhold will be problematic.
{Also, the queen has the upper hand, as Sylthrenn has placed the Bicrista and Gallo gems in the spider statue of our enemies. We must at least match that number. Whatever it takes.} My tone is cold, determined. There’s no room for mistakes anymore.
{I understand, Strauss.} Her reply is brief, but I can’t help but sense her anxiety.
I need to pull myself together and be the leader my Servants need.
Even though everything seems lost, it’s not over until it’s over. I can still win.
I must win.
{I need your support in this difficult moment. Deedee must not do anything foolish.}
{It will be hard,} Kanna replies, and I can feel her concern. {They were really close...}
I don’t care—Deedee will do as I say, whether she likes it or not.
{One more thing... It may be too late to warn you, but this isn’t the first encounter with someone familiar from the past. Rero and Bicrista have also faced it... There could be other surprises.} My attempt to prepare them for what they’re facing sounds hollow even in my own mind. I should have warned them sooner.
And now... it’s another missed opportunity.
My gaze returns to Azherie, who continues to watch the scene with her enigmatic smile. I feel the weight of her experience crushing me, as if time has granted her a perspective I can’t fully comprehend.
The queen simply stares at me, as if she has already seen the outcome of this game, and I’m just a player who doesn’t yet understand the magnitude of his defeat.
I will not allow this to happen.
I am sure I will soon have my chance to take control of this game.
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