The Harvester

In an unknown place, detached from dimensions or worlds, a cascade of shimmering golden dust flowed from the sky, pooling into a forest of bronze leaves and saturating it like fog.

 

Amidst the landscape, a large obelisk stood stall, erected as if reaching for the auburn sky. And at its foot, leaning back against its form, a young azure-haired boy awoke with a gasp.

 

His eyes opened wide and he breathed in like a man who had been disallowed air for a long and excruciating time. He looked around at the picturesque scenery and let out a grunt before resting the back of his head on the obelisk.

 

“How many times does this make?” A regal and feminine voice echoed in the forest. The boy looked up and saw the dust congregate into the form of a majestic woman. Long blonde hair that reached past her feet, golden and green eyes coupled with long eyelashes, ears like an elf’s, a captivating maturity, and nothing more than her locks to cover her naked body.

 

Her skin was flawless, but it occasionally welcomed strange but oddly beautiful scales resembling flower petals, that covered her most intimate parts as well as the back of her hands, her shoulders, and her legs.

 

Tall that she was, it would be an erroneous way to describe her stature, as she was far more than that. She was giant, but still ridiculously elegant. Yet, her most striking feature was the two pairs of translucent and rainbow-colored wings on her back, gleaming from the light of the golden sun shining above.

 

“Are you genuinely asking, Titania?” The boy retorted sarcastically. “Or is this an attempt of yours to make small talk once again? As I told you many times, you need to think up better topics.”

 

She didn’t react to his words in any manner, calmly floating down toward him. She landed before him and he had to look up to see her face. Her mesmerizing eyes gazed at him until she eventually sat on her knees and extended her hands.

 

She gently grabbed him between her palms and brought him to her eye level. “And as I have told you many times, Hans, you must treat yourself better. You did not need to die today.”

 

“That would create more problems than it would solve,” the azure-haired child replied. “Better to die and let the wolf do the work.”

 

“What if that wolfwalker loses something precious to him when you could have prevented it?” The giant fairy whispered and his expression twitched. “You are not a monster, Hans. Not anymore.”

 

“…”

 

“Eight,” she said whilst he kept his silence, and he scowled at her. “This is the eighth time. When will you stop using death as a convenient escape?”

 

“In case you do not remember, you are the one who enabled it,” he scoffed coldly. “Why have you yet to free me of this curse you call a blessing? Being your ‘doll’ has run its entertaining value.”

 

“I never called it a blessing,” Titania answered with a slightly sharper tone and he groaned, turning his head to the side. She sighed and her expression softened, “All I desired was for you to find the peace you needed. I wanted you to live… and I will not let you perish until you achieve it.”

 

Hans grimaced as he saw her earnest face. “A fairy’s love is uselessly harsh,” he grumbled.

 

Titania blinked at him and she smiled a little, her cheeks gaining a lively shade of pink. “That it is, my lovely doll. Best you never forget it; I am their Queen. My love must be the harshest to bear.”

 

The boy snorted and closed his eyes, breathing out. He slowly stood up and fixed his glasses. “How much will have passed once I wake up?”

 

“About six minutes,” the fairy answered softly and he scrunched his eyebrows. “Don’t worry,” she added and he sent her a confused look. “The wolfwalker will not be bested. However, your help is required to save someone.”

 

Holding Hans with one hand, Titania tapped her lips with her finger and puffed a glimmering cloud of golden dust at him. It swathed his silhouette and she smiled, “Farewell, for now, My Doll.”

 

“…until next time, My Queen,” he replied and disappeared from what was yet to be known by all of Existence as the Fairy Realm.

 

* * *

 

Hans snapped his eyes open and before he knew it, he was standing where he had died. His head was no longer on the ground and he rubbed his neck to get rid of the numbness. On the other hand, he had to wince when he felt the heat assault his senses.

 

He looked around and saw a crimson werewolf swallowed by crimson flames clutch Roias’ skull and shove it into the ground, smashing an entire half of the room. Rakna growled and chained with a punch that momentarily caused the room to quake and the screens to blink off.

 

He then swiftly glided away and the Terminal Room was illuminated from above. A place where there was no sky or ceiling to speak of, a magic circle bearing the whirling crest of the nine-tailed werewolf manifested a starry firmament filled with crystal stars.

 

“[From Above Cometh, Natcattira Vīḻcci,]” the words of power were spoken and the deluge of star energy struck from above. Like a blossoming flower field, rosy crystals containing crimson flames of star energy erupted from the point of impact right on top of Roias.

 

Hans also jumped out of the way and landed beside Nyx and Astraea who were struggling to decide between gawking at Rakna or him. Cura was raising an eyebrow at him and King Gulon’s tongue briefly flicked in his direction before a weird laugh came out of the weapon.

 

“I apologize, admittedly, dying might have been presumptuous of me,” the writer declared, but his tone twisted his supposed apology into something resembling sarcasm.

 

“You…” Astraea stared at him in shock. “What are—”

 

“Hans.” She was interrupted by the chilling sound of the werewolf’s voice. He floated above them with his three pairs of wings wide open, the demonic appendages glowing stronger than ever. His voice was oddly restrained, but everyone unanimously agreed it was the scariest they had heard.

 

The azure-haired boy who had been called stared back and Rakna glanced at him with eyes that were startlingly alternating between red, blue, and purple.

 

“You better save her,” the shape-shifter uttered before he invoked two magic circles in each one of his hands. But these were special, for they were of the opposite hue.

 

At the same time, Roias rose up from the spell’s aftermath and chuckled. “Truly, your potential is nothing short of bottomless,” he said and Pandora’s Curse began to fill the air, which eventually converted into stagnant water.

 

The magic used by Téra was not one powered by the soul and its mana, but by the curse itself and a bastardized spiritual energy, an affront to the mana that existed in nature. An antithesis. As such, whether the World was present or not, or whether Magic Circuits were inexistent, a Téras would never stop spreading its omen of ruin.

 

“And you…” Rakna eventually muttered with a cold tone, betraying no emotion, and lifted his arms shrouded in his two opposite elements. Curiously, his fur’s color was dimming slowly and his eyes were starting to find a balance. “…are a nuisance.”

 

The werewolf clasped his hands and the magic circles immediately turned black. Then, a storm of black crystal flakes and purple flames erupted. With a booming sound, it swallowed the entirety of the room’s upper layers, blasting Roias upward in the same instance.

 

The Téras narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists. He commanded the water he had conjured to push out everything around him, but despite that, he let out a grunt in surprise when a few of the black crystals pierced through his defenses and left cuts on his back.

 

‘How sharp… and resistant to my Arch-Nemesis,’ he thought and caught a red flash in the corner of his eyes. ‘Well, damn—'

 

“[Neverwinter Nova,]” he had only had the time to hear this before a spinning disc of star energy appeared in his view, slashing through the storm and whistling in its wake. The Téras shuddered and crossed his arms, channeling his Internal Art right before it detonated.

 

The dark storm contained the explosion within its center and from outside, Nyx’s group only saw the crimson light bounce off each and every black shard, before a wave of heat passed by.

 

“…the culmination stage of a Volcanic Star; the Neverwinter Star,” Hans commented as he scurried off in the direction of the damaged Terminal console. “Explain to me what happened,” he ordered the others.

 

Nyx gazed at him oddly but complied nonetheless, “Ceresta… Rakna’s personal AI was performing the loading until Roias terminated it. Along with her…”

 

Hans clicked his tongue as he began to type on the keyboard. “He cursed the very concept of what a program is. He likely has erased her core, how am I supposed to save…” He abruptly paused and let a small amount of amazement creep through his expression.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

He tuned out Nyx and dumbfoundedly stared at what his Cursive Insight was telling him of the ‘story’ that is ‘Ceresta Alexa’. ‘This… is possible?’ He thought in disbelief and he was awoken from his trance by a new explosion coming from inside the storm, but this time turquoise instead of red.

 

As if it had reached its breaking point, the murky storm scattered because of it and Roias could be seen crashing into the wall with streams of water following after him. In the brief time that he had been trapped inside that spell, he had already taken more damage than the entirety of the battle.

 

His orange blood was spilling freely from his wounds and being healed by Pandora’s Curse much slower. “Well, well…” The Téras grabbed the wall and pushed himself out with a wary look. “What is happening to you?” He uttered, sounding more confused than riled up.

 

Following his statement, Rakna emerged as well and his companions below were presented with an alien sight. The formerly brilliant fur of the werewolf was now almost wholly darkened, along with his Luquila wings; now fully black and silver. Even Sonata’s blade had been obscured in the same manner.

 

The werewolf exhaled quietly and his fur promptly completed its transformation; darker than the night with shining dots of purple like a starry sky. His eyes glowed purple with both red and blue accents as he raised his Guandao and pointed it at the Téras.

 

Black crystal spikes with purple flames raging inside started sprouting all around Roias, crackling oddly as they released both heat and frost, ominously approaching their target.

 

Rakna’s eyes gleamed and he spoke up in response to the Téras. Two voices echoed together, one that belonged to the werewolf himself and another that gave off a feeling of deep wisdom.

 

““The Greatest Star of All.””