"Are you all right over there?" Todd asked, concern etching his brow.
"No, no, I'm fine. I'm just tired, that's all," Ryo replied, wearing a self-deprecating smile that failed to reach his eyes.
But Ryo couldn't shake the thoughts creeping back into his mind—those insidious thoughts he had tried to bury days ago. They never truly leave, do they? The futility of it all gnawed at him: Why even try? Why expend so much effort for others? Were they worth it? Would anything come of this relentless pursuit? He felt as though he were rooted in one place while the rest of the world moved on without him.
...
"I've returned safely, and I bring an ally with me," Sofia announced, stepping through the door. "She may not be the most thrilling person to work with, but we can make do."
Behind her stood a woman clad entirely in black—a quintessential goth aesthetic, complete with piercings in both ears and a black nose mask. Her long jacket billowed as she moved, complementing her black skirt and top.
"Hey, guys. You don't look like you're doing well," she said, her voice low and husky, almost a whisper. There was an air of slurred speech about her, suggesting she might have indulged a bit too much.
"Yuki, are you drunk?" Sofia shot her a glare.
"Slow your roll, dude! I'm totally fine. Definitely not drunk—hic!" Yuki's protest rang hollow, her balance surprisingly stable despite the hiccup that betrayed her.
"Okay… Um, Ms. Rodriguez, who is she?" Todd asked, voicing the question that hung in the air.
"She's a Gardener, of course. This is Yuki Kuriyama from the Darkness Isle. Do forgive her tipsy state; it's on my behalf," Sofia explained, a hint of disappointment in her tone. Ryo frowned, realizing he had never even heard mention of Yuki back at the Isle.
"I don't recall ever hearing of a Yuki Kuriyama at the Darkness Isle, even if I am only just becoming familiar with the term 'Gardener'," Ryo admitted, unsure what that implied.
"Well, that's because she's always wandering off to who knows where, doing who knows what. It became rather tedious for the staff to keep an eye on her, if I remember correctly. That's why she's left to her own devices—and apparently, her drinks," Sofia replied.
"I told you, I'm not tipsy, Sofia!" Yuki pouted, turning her attention away from the conversation.
"Also, I think I speak for everyone when I say we'd really like to know what exactly you Gardeners are," Akari said, skepticism lacing her tone.
"You haven't been briefed? I suppose they've kept most of you in the dark," Sofia said, clearing her throat. "Gardeners are the pinnacle of a specific scenario, individuals who stand far above the usual hierarchy of the Isles. There can only be one Gardener at a time for each Isle. They embody excellence in every way imaginable and are tasked with protecting the Isles and this city. I, myself, Sofia Rodriguez, am one such Gardener from the Sword Isle."
"I see," Akari said, her uncertainty evident. "You really think you can handle the Order of Thorns?"
"Absolutely!" Sofia replied, her confidence radiating. She gestured towards Roxane and Steve, who were currently engaged with Sir Briar, all without taking her eyes off the action. "You can see for yourself."
"Wow," Akari breathed, captivated as she watched them in action.
Roxane unleashed a swarm of fiery phoenixes—around twenty of them, far more than the single one Hitomi had managed. Sir Briar deftly dodged the attacks, manipulating the space around him as if it were clay. He defied gravity, leaping effortlessly through the air while Steve provided cover, expertly using his sniper rifle to target the man's blind spots. Given Briar's knack for deflecting bullets, Steve cleverly transformed his shots into smoke screens.
Roxane, riding atop a phoenix, stood confidently with her arms at her sides, her short wand poised in her hand. She chanted in Florakian, commanding the birds and enhancing their strength. The birds formed into a mythical flame sword, which she wielded with authority.
"Gerald, now!" she commanded.
Her phoenix soared high into the sky, and despite the height, she remained perfectly balanced as if anchored to its back. When they reached the peak of the clouds, Roxane held her breath for a moment. Then, with startling speed, the phoenix dove downward, producing a sound reminiscent of a missile as it rushed towards Sir Briar. Roxane clutched the sword tightly, ready to unleash its full power.
Briar attempted to distort the space before him, but the relentless flames forced him to retreat. He finally drew a weapon—a long, sinuous whip crafted from thorns. With astonishing skill, he countered Roxane's attacks, evading Steve's bullets with reflexes that almost seemed supernatural.
Noticing the shift in Briar's focus, Roxane pressed onward.
...
"Alright, there's been a change of plans. Most lilies have safely returned to their isles, but you still seem to be an anomaly. I'll escort you all to safety while my colleagues handle things here."
"I want to come too!" Yuki protested.
"No, Yuki. You must stay here," Roxane replied firmly.
Ryo didn't object, nor did the others. In fact, he yearned to distance himself from the chaos unfolding around them. He couldn't shake the feeling that if he hadn't slipped away from the group earlier, perhaps things wouldn't have spiraled out of control like this. He dismissed the thought, trying to focus on the present.
Something strange was happening. The faces of the people around him blurred, transforming into balloon-headed figures. He wondered why this was occurring; it was a psychological self-defense mechanism that had protected him back on Earth. In this world, though, it was rare to see it manifest..
As Ryo blinked again, the world around him snapped back to normal, leaving everyone around him looking puzzled.
"You seem really out of it, Ryo. I know what you went through was terrible, but you need to pull yourself together," Tadashi urged.
"What? No, that's not it. Forget about it," Ryo dismissed the concern, brushing it off. Tadashi wasn't convinced, though.
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, but I'll give you some space for now," Tadashi replied before sprinting ahead.
The group navigated through alleys, trying to escape the city. Suddenly, they all came to a halt, almost in unison, except for Ryo, whose steps were still slowing down.
"Huh? Guys, why did you stop moving—"
His question fell incomplete, enveloped in heavy silence, broken only by the steady footsteps of an approaching figure. A chilling fear settled over them, anchoring them in place, even affecting Sofia.
A man stepped into view, his face and tattoo on the right cheek instantly recognizable. His hair flowed in white and black strands, split down the middle.
"We meet again, Ryo." He pulled out a small handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Hot afternoon, don't you think? Anyway, I'm sorry about our last encounter. I may have judged you too hastily. If she saw something in you, then you must be the real deal." His tone turned serious. "We just need to recruit you."
"Don't tell me that's why you orchestrated all of this?" Ryo asked, biting his lips and fearing it was his fault.
"No, of course not. These people aided the Formless One—you may know him as the Grand Narrator. As long as they supported him, they deserved to be purged completely from existence." A palpable malice lingered in his words.
Sofia and the others felt immobilized, as though a great force held them captive, their faces displaying sheer surprise.
"So much bloodshed. What could possibly drive you to hate someone you've never even seen to this extent?" Ryo's rage was evident; the thought of being manipulated by an unknown entity infuriated him. This man had gone too far.
"Firstly, I'd prefer you didn't make any assumptions about me. Secondly, the amount of bloodshed in this town means nothing to me. Please, spare me your whining; we both know you don't truly care."
Ryo's anger flared. "Bastard, what do you mean I don't care?" He grasped a fraction of what the man was saying but refused to relent. The others remained frozen, unable to speak. Sofia sensed the man's incredible danger; if only she could find a way to break free.
The man's face had turned expressionless. "Self-denial, Ryo. Don't bother with that when talking to me. Perhaps what you really need is a change of perspective."
In an instant, a hand seized Ryo from behind, yanking him toward a portal, and the man stepped through.
Just then, Sofia regained her ability to move. She rushed forward, trying to bridge the gap and enter the portal with tremendous speed, but it closed before she could even make contact.
---
"Your gaze—it's different. Unlike most, you're not afraid of corruption, are you? The thought of withering away doesn't faze you, does it?" The man adopted a colder, more analytical expression.
"Where are we? What did you do?" Ryo's confusion was evident in his voice. He couldn't discern their surroundings; it was quiet and dark, yet a peculiar spotlight illuminated them. He scanned the shadows for any sign of life, but the darkness obscured everything.
"You want to know why I despise the formless one so much?" The man began to circle Ryo, showcasing a disturbing confidence.
"Listen closely: I believe we can reach a shared understanding. She told me that you and I are alike in certain ways, and I can see it now." A faint grin played across the man's lips as he continued to pace around Ryo.
"At first, I thought you were nothing special. But looking into your eyes now? I understand what she meant. You're exactly like me."
"Bullshit," Ryo shot back. "Don't feed me that camaraderie nonsense. Someone like you couldn't possibly understand me." A stranger emerging from nowhere to claim a connection with him seemed utterly absurd, and Ryo wasn't about to entertain the idea.
"Stagnation, Ryo. We both despise it, don't we?" The man's words halted Ryo in his tracks. "Boredom, effort, result, progress, failures—repeating, repeating. The pointlessness of existing in a world that endorses such struggle." He kept speaking, his voice gaining intensity.
"Do you think being born is a miracle? I want you to really think about it. Two confused individuals, uncertain and driven by instinct, decide to indulge themselves and bring life into this world. Society will tell you there's a reason or a sense of destiny behind birth, but that's a lie. Children aren't born from anything as noble as destiny, sacrifice, or reason. They are the product of two people gratifying themselves, forcing life into existence purely out of instinct. But no one ever considers that child—the life that never asked to be born and has no agreement with those who brought it into this world…"
They made the decision to bring him into this wretched world, condemning the child to a fate of inevitable suffering, whether they realized it or not. Before that death would come, the child would endure unimaginable pain, for unlike suffering, something as fickle as happiness is unstable and uncertain. The child could grow up pretending to love their parents, convincing themselves of that fact, but in the depths of their mind, they would harbor the knowledge that the hardships they faced would have been avoided had their parents not been selfish enough to bring them into this life. If they secretly came to despise the world or their parents, society would label them as ungrateful. No one ever considers that they did not choose to be here; someone else made that decision, fully aware of the world's harsh realities. Birth is treated as a miracle, and those who challenge this notion are deemed selfish, failing to acknowledge that they are merely sentencing unborn souls to the very suffering and loneliness they hope to escape by bringing a child into the world.
They place the child in a desert, whether intentionally or not, hoping to shield them from a myriad of unknown dangers. They profess their love and desire for freedom, yet they have simply locked their child in a cage we call life—only for the child to experience pain, heal, suffer again, curse their existence, and ultimately, when their time comes, perpetuate the cycle by bringing another life into the world to resolve their own issues. I cannot think of a more selfish act.
Bringing a child into existence is, without a doubt, the gravest tragedy one could impose. Essentially, you are cursing something while claiming to love it unconditionally—a vile contradiction, yet one that society accepts as normal.
After his long monologue, the man observed Ryo's reaction.
Ryo lay on the ground, and subconsciously, he likely agreed with the man's ideology; he could not muster a counterargument.
"Even so, what are you getting at? What does this have to do with the Grand Narrator?"
"Come on, I thought you'd be smarter than that; perhaps I overestimated you," the man's expression shifted to one of disappointment.
"Formless One, I can accept humanity's instinctual desire to bring life into the world to save themselves. It's akin to how people react differently to deaths caused by natural disasters compared to those resulting from murder. In that sense, I can tolerate human reproductive instincts, but not a God who brings life into existence without purpose."
"It's unnatural," Ryo said, his voice tinged with painful realization. Soon enough, he began to loathe the existence of the Grand Narrator.
"Bingo! I knew you'd understand," the man smiled, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.
"I cannot stand that being. I cannot stand this world. I cannot stand people who support it."
"That's why I will bring an end to its foolish plot and existence, by any means available to me. I am the leader of the Order of Thorns, Mortis Blakrose."
Mortis's cold, gray eyes bore into Ryo's soul, chilling him to the core.
"The leader? What do you want with me? I'm nothing special," Ryo muttered, his voice laced with skepticism.
"Quite the contrary. She saw something in you that I did not, and I'd like to trust her judgment," Mortis replied, resting his hands thoughtfully on his chin.
"Her again? Who is she?" Ryo asked, frustration edging his voice.
"I believe she has already made contact, has she not?" Mortis answered, an inscrutable expression on his face.
Ryo instinctively knew whom Mortis was referencing, yet he struggled to accept it. He hoped, with every ounce of his being, that it wouldn't be her.
This is why I keep people at arm's length. You can't trust them, even as you fear their betrayal, he thought bitterly, a mocking grimace twisting his features.
"Join us, Ryo. Help me put an end to the formless one's grand design," Mortis said, extending his hands toward Ryo, his gaze fixed with a mixture of hope and scrutiny.
"Haha... you know something?" Ryo replied, laughing dismissively. "I'll admit we share some similar ideas, but don't mistake that for a connection. Unlike you, who is eager to confront some greater will to achieve your goals, I'm just a coward. I'd rather do nothing at all. I'm the type who has resigned himself to fate, blending into the featureless background of existence—like a lily content to bloom in a cage."
"And what's more, it's been painfully clear to me that I don't know much about myself—certainly less than I once believed. So don't dare stand there, pretending you understand me. That's nothing but arrogance." Ryo's self-deprecating façade melted into a cold, stoic anger, his blank stare piercing Mortis with intensity.
"I see. Change of plans, then. I will not be recruiting you today, and we will take our leave. But mark my words, you will seek us out soon enough. Find us in the Inverted Mountains across the coast of Elyria. I trust you won't disclose this information." Mortis's tone suggested he was dismissing Ryo's protests entirely, convinced that Ryo would come around.
"Didn't you hear a word I just said? There's no way I'm going to join you people! Why would you even think—"
Before he could finish, Mortis interjected, "Because, Ryo, you detest stagnation, boredom, and above all, lies. You'll come to understand sooner than you think."
With that, a cold smile crept across Mortis's face. He snapped his fingers, and just like that, he vanished, leaving Ryo in stunned silence.
"Ryo!" Akari called out, her voice breaking through the murky haze of his thoughts, followed by the others, their concern palpable.