"Are we there yet?"
If there was one thing Nathanaël had underestimated…
"I don't know. I've never been there."
…it was how long the trip to the capital would be.
Nathanaël and Azraüs had been walking for several days now, with no trace of the capital in sight.
They had crossed deserts as empty as they were lifeless. Mountains high enough to see a majestic landscape with clouds floating beneath other clouds. Pleasant rivers, and others furious and raging. And in all of that, Nathanaël still hadn't seen the slightest hint of a capital.
There weren't even warriors trying to ambush them. Every time they saw people, it was villagers or sentries. Nothing that really interested Azraüs.
They hadn't fought a single deadly battle, nor had they met any great warrior since the terrifying Zvrag. As if the path Azraüs had chosen was known by no one.
"You know, I'm really starting to doubt your sense of direction."
"Hey, don't make fun of me. It's true I'm not great at finding my way, but I know where I'm supposed to go."
The scenery shifted as they walked. Sometimes the plains were peaceful, with animals stopping at water points to drink. Other times, the water points were filled with blood, and warriors lay lifeless on the ground.
These were two very different faces of Nozras. At first glance, Nathanaël could easily say it was the most beautiful land in the world—where fauna and flora grew in harmony and birds flew under a sky painted with countless catastrophic colors.
But on the other hand, the earth had swallowed so much blood that one could wonder if the lava erupting from the volcanoes wasn't just the same indispensable red liquid trembling inside human bodies.
If these lunatics could even still be called human.
Nathanaël looked at a corpse left behind. The wind carried dust over it, while several spears were planted in its body.
He had not died well. And while the corpse's empty eyes stared at him, his own living eyes searched every detail, trying to understand the chain of actions that had led to such a tragic end.
"You can tell we're getting close to the capital."
Azraüs looked at the corpse too, without any visible emotion. For him, this should have become normal. No longer something morbid.
"The arena may be the place where everyone beats each other up all year, but very few of us can enter it. So the outside ends up looking more like an abandoned battlefield than anything else. They try to eliminate the competition before getting in. Dan did that too. Oh…"
Suddenly, Azraüs stopped in front of a corpse.
The fallen warrior held an axe in his right hand and had a light cloak around his waist. His face was pressed against the ground, lying on his stomach, a big hole in the middle of his back.
Nathanaël noticed Azraüs' sudden stop.
"What is it? You know him?"
Azraüs crouched and examined him closely. Then Nathanaël saw it: a flicker of sorrow in his eyes.
"He was a friend I met along the way. He was pretty good, but not good enough for the arena. He told me he would wait for me there with his group. His name was also Reno. Like my father. Reno Carman. Unfortunately, he didn't make it."
Nathanaël realized that the people of Nozras weren't just brutes. Dreams and hopes mixed with their desire to fight. And those who could dream inevitably felt emotions. A fallen comrade, even with adrenaline flooding the brain, couldn't be ignored so easily.
Nathanaël understood—no matter how insensitive or immoral they seemed, they still had a heart they could lose at any moment.
"Don't worry, Nathy. I'm not crying. I've seen enough death already. A warrior toughens up fast."
The sentence was heavier than Azraüs probably intended.
"I'm sorry."
Azraüs raised an eyebrow.
"Why? You're not the one who killed him. You've got nothing to do with it."
He stood up and looked at the sky.
"The stars don't interest us much in Nozras, but one day some dedicated sky-watchers noticed that a star sits right above the arena. We don't like maps, so we trust that star instead. They say it guides strong hearts to their destiny. It shines brighter than ever. That's a good sign."
Nathanaël looked up as well. And indeed, he could see it. Despite the brightness of day, the star shone as strongly as the moon. It was even frightening.
"You see it, Nathy? Its name is Sador. In honor of the one who discovered it. It shows the direction we must take, like a guide."
"Was Sador a warrior?"
"Yes. Of course. He reached the capital. Without much trouble, actually, because no one knew about this trick and everyone followed the routes marked on the Rodiac maps. So groups and clans often ran into each other and slaughtered one another. But Sador's goal was the star. Even in the capital, he tried to get as close to it as possible. He even avoided fights and focused only on that. He thought he'd gain a powerful ability by standing under it first. No one was more surprised than him when he discovered the star was right above the throne. He sat down, and died a minute later from an arrow to the head. They say the Gué Isou clan watched anyone who sat on the throne back then. Of course, this story doesn't really come from the capital, since most of his journey happened outside the arena, but the rest was told to me by my father. He said that the day I wanted to go to the capital, I should follow the star that guides warriors with strong hearts."
Nathanaël's face twisted.
So that's why we had to jump off a cliff, fight a herd of enraged bison, climb a waterfall, swim across half a sea, reach the top of a volcano, and fight some kind of giant griffin I've never even seen in history books. Damn, the Nozras lore must be insane. I wonder who would win between them and Zvennes. Good thing they don't participate in the war.
Then Azraüs lowered his head again.
"Alright, let's keep going. If Reno is here, it means we're close to the capital. The star will show us our destiny, Nathy. I can't wait."
Azraüs stepped on a corpse and looked toward the horizon with a wide smile illuminated by the sun. The wind blew against his cape, making him look almost as excited as a kid.
Nathanaël still couldn't believe the complete lack of respect for the dead. But well, he knew Azraüs was a Norde… which explained everything.
**
Chris was now returning to his base where he would finally be able to rest. His soldiers followed him with dignity after what he had accomplished for the Empire. Now being the man who had conquered the Empire of Garid in the North and unified it, the tributes to his name were pouring down like rain. Yet Chris had come from far away, he didn't have such a special story. All he wanted was to surpass Marc because he was tired of him being above him. His jealousy had made him a strong man and by following the group over and over, he ended up becoming the leader of a faction then the commander of a division. It was a great honor, but he wasn't that proud of it.
He looked straight ahead, after having condemned his own nation. He had not the slightest remorse. He no longer really had an objective, no longer really had a passion. His world had become too foreign to him. Everything had fallen apart because of jealousy.
The blue sky reigned in his vision. The sun sometimes burned on his armor. He was aware of his new life and his new world but it didn't really affect him anymore. He hadn't even become a survivor, he was just there. However, there was one thing he wanted to accomplish...
It was to apologize to Marc.
"Even if, given the state of things, I doubt he'd be willing to forgive me for now. Huh? ..."
Suddenly, a man silently appeared in his field of vision...and he was truly strange. He wore very thin white linen clothes that blended with his skin, which was also very white. White like snow. And his eyes seemed to contain a universe. He was thin but muscular, and he stood there, staring at Chris.
Seeing him, one of Chris's men raised his voice.
"State your identity. We don't—"
But Chris interrupted him.
"Wait, Matthew."
Chris placed his hand on his soldier's chest because he knew very well what stood before him...
"You really came all the way here? After all, the Zvenne Empire was the first to declare your existence. We thought you were doing cosplay."
Chris wanted to avoid creating panic but deep down, he was nervous. Very nervous...
The soldiers then recognized the dead cosplayer found on a large plaza who had been mentioned on the radio.
"So that's him. I thought he was dead."
"We cleared up that case, didn't we? Could it be that he isn't a cosplayer?"
"What is he even doing here in the first place?"
They all asked themselves questions but only Chris possessed part of the answers and he knew the situation was serious...
There must be a portal around here. But it's still strange that they appear in the middle of a city without any difficulty. Nathanaël had suggested that only powerful beings from over there could maintain themselves in this world, but the cosplayer was a test run it seems. They managed to get through. This is bad. If we have to deal with them on top of the riders, we're not going to make it.
"Commander, what do we do?"
"Don't move until I give you the order. I'll take care of it."
Chris calmly approached the being from the other world. His steps tried to find secure ground among the debris. He moved calmly, and the distance between them shrank while the being didn't move an inch. He stood there like a statue, watching Chris advance, making him even more nervous and chilling the atmosphere.
"All right. I'll be able to eliminate him without… huh? ..."
And suddenly, the being opened its mouth wide. The stars and galaxies inside that body appeared. It was a spectacle too strange to be called beautiful, but Chris suddenly saw it as a terrible tragedy.
He stepped back and remembered what Marc had told him.
"These bastards are weak in the beginning and harden as the fight goes on. They have no special powers but they know how to use the forbidden word."
"What word?"
"The word we all heard at the end of our vision."
"But it has no effect."
"On the contrary, it seems more like an incantation that only works on me. Even though they never tried it on ordinary civilians. They open their mouth wide and start screaming with a horrible voice that makes me resonate and tremble."
"Wow, you're fragile actually."
"Chris, if you're ever in the presence of normal people, make sure they don't hear it. I found out that this word is used to kill."
"What?! And why does it only work on you?!"
"I have no idea. But don't play with death. Whether it's yours or someone else's."
Chris turned pale and shouted…
"Cover your ears!!!"
"Huh??"
But it was already too late.
Chris, panicking, turned toward his soldiers.
If what Marc said was true...
"Don't play with death…"
"Aregis!!"
"Whether it's yours or someone else's."
"No..."