Rise and Fall

Whatever magic had been used to seal the stone was nullified completely, and the full might of the captive earth spirit had been unleashed upon Anjima. A creature of legend, ancient enough to take the form of a dragon, who were among the mightiest creatures under Heaven--the very sight of its rancorous visage would be enough to shock even the mightiest warriors into inaction.

The grasses and shrubbery of that bamboo forest were already corrupted when Barion, Fusala and the mysterious man emerged from the cavern. A sight similar to what had occurred within the emperor's own garden, with leaves turning black and sickly veins of darkness splitting the soil beneath their feet.

"I think I understand now." The man commented, "This spirit somehow communicated with the emperor and convinced him to announce an embargo of all trade. With the city locked down and its citizens unable to leave, the rituals which would have normally kept the spirit sealed weren't performed. All it needed was a week to gather its power and escape."

"But how did the spirit speak to the emperor to begin with?" Barion asked.

"That's the one detail I can't quite figure out. Earth spirits are powerful, but they can't communicate telepathically over such a long distance, especially not while under the effects of a sealing ritual."

"If I may interject-" The voice of Fusala resounded within Barion's head, "I would presume that an unknown third party has allied itself with the spirit, possibly one with ties to the emperor."

"It wasn't you, was it?" Barion asked, raising an eyebrow towards his unnamed comrade.

"What would destroying Shukora grant me, exactly?" He replied, "I've come to enjoy the city for what it is, I'll have you know. My livelihood is just as threatened as everyone else's."

"I suggest that the two of you air your suspicions after the threat has been subjugated." Fusala interrupted, "The city is not equipped to repel a dragon attack."

"Your curse-fiend is correct." The man agreed, "We have better things to do than argue."

"Let's be on our way, then." Barion muttered.

Hearing a grand roar in the distance, the two men nodded to one-another and began sprinting down the bamboo-flanked footpath. The form of a dragon was not one easily misinterpreted, and through gaps in the foliage, Barion was able to spot a serpentine shadow dancing in the sky above the city, a torrent of flames escaping from its all-consuming maw.

The situation at Shukora's gates had predictably deteriorated. The guardsmen had been recalled to defend the palace, but none of the weary traders who had made camp for themselves were no longer interested in entering the city. On the contrary, most of them had quickly piled their belongings together and raced off upon their carriages, leaving only those who carried their goods on their backs gazing towards the skyward monstrosity.

"Barion, this may not be the ideal time to ask-" The man's voice was laboured with rapid breaths as the two of them crossed the perimeter into Shukora, "-But would you consider allowing me to deal with this problem?"

"Sure."

"...Just like that?"

"If you think you can do it, then go ahead."

"I sense that you aren't confident in my abilities."

"Well, it has been a little while, hasn't it?"

Hearing that, the man smirked, "...That's certainly true."

Hovering high above the city, there was little any guardsman could hope to accomplish against such a threat. Though they brandished their weapons and barked orders at one-another, the fact was clear that so long as the dragon flew, there would be no chance of prevailing.

In barely any time at all, both Barion and the mysterious man had once again reached the royal gardens, where the majority of the city's guard had arrived to protect the emperor. Though a few of them regarded the duo with confused glances, their attention remained firmly affixed to the dragon, who continued to hover above the palace pagoda.

"Please excuse me, Barion." The man pardoned himself.

In the next instant, he had disappeared from view. Or, it would be more correct to say that his movements were too fast for the naked eye to follow. Even Barion, who had reflexes befitting of a hero, could only spot the afterimages he appeared to leave in the air. Rising like that, as if sprinting along the wind itself, it soon became impossible to distinguish his form at around the moment of his meeting with the dragon's altitude.

And then, again, too fast for the eye to follow, the dragon's claws lashed at the empty sky, and there was an impact like an explosion from Barion's side, followed by a gust of air that made his eyes water. A crater of sorts, like one left by a meteorite, had skidded across almost the entire length of the gardens. A few seconds later, the man emerged from that dugout with an exasperated sigh.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that." He said calmly, patting the dirt from his robe, "Despite having only just broken its seal, the spirit seems just as powerful as the legend warns."

"You don't look much worse for wear." Barion commented.

"It caught me off-guard, is all." He replied, "It really has been quite a while, but I think I'm all warmed up now."

From the perspective of the onlooking guards, it appeared that a man had just been struck down from the Heavens by a dragon, only to stand up and share a polite conversation as if nothing had happened. Before they could blink or react, the man was gone from their sight again, leaving behind only the bemused glance of his comrade who watched the spectacle with folded arms.

It could not be said with any certainty what occurred next. Like the soil below it, the skies became all-of-a-sudden engulfed by a terrifying blanket of darkness, casting a nightly air upon the gardens. The pure-white form of the dragon could still be seen clearly as lightning arced from its God-touched claws and embers flew from its mouth.

One. Two. Three. Surges of red lights shining out from the blackened sky, which quickly grew innumerable in their frequency, appearing to surround the dragon in a veritable storm of crimson energy. Recoiling in pain from a series of invisible blows, the expression upon the dragon's face was as surprised as its divine features allowed, body curling inwards as it was forced to adopt a pitiful defensive position.

When at last the mysterious attack had ceased, there was a moment of complete silence where even the wind dared not to blow. Then, as bright as the sun's rays, there was a final explosion of crimson, and the dragon was sent spiralling southwards through the empty sky.

From the city's imperial district, one was given an especially generous view--generous enough to clearly see the mountain ranges which spanned the opposing side of the region's great valley. Within that valley was a mountain larger than any other, with a snow-capped peak that had claimed the lives of many trailblazers in the past. In that moment, Barion, Fusala and the guardsmen of Shukora bore witness to that mountain's final moments. Colliding with such force as to enshroud the peak in an explosion of dust, the death throes of that dragon were audible to all who remained inside of the city, and as the dust settled, its limp form could be seen cradling what remained of the mountaintop, wrapping around its broken peak like a gigantic rope.

It was an unbelievable spectacle. Indeed, many of the guardsmen who themselves had witnessed the sight even with their own eyes would still claim not to have fully understood what exactly occurred that day--only that something, somehow, had overpowered one of the strongest creatures to ever walk the continent.

When Barion's comrade reappeared suddenly at his side, nobody bar himself was lucid enough to react.

"Nice job." He gave the man a thumbs-up, "Destroying that mountain peak wasn't a great idea, though. Chances are you just killed a lot of innocent animals and disrupted the local ecosystem with landslides and rockfalls which will probably last for decades."

"I'll keep that in mind for the next time I fight a dragon." He replied, "Even so, as a Demon, it will only be a matter of time before its strength returns. I wager that won't happen for another century or so, however."

Turning his head, the man's face became a tad more serious, "-Without the Sword of Light, Demons are destined to rise from their ashes time and time again. It is the way of darkness to be all-encompassing, vanquished only by the touch of the Gods themselves."

"Why do you think I can't use it anymore?" Barion asked, flexing his hand.

"Who's to say?" The man replied whimsically, "But, I think it's reasonable to assume that your status as a 'hero' has been revoked as of today. Perhaps you should try getting into contact with someone about it?"

"Sure, I'll just head to a church, pray, and wait for the Goddess of Light to descend upon all of us lowly plebs. Do you think the one who moves the sun gets a day or two off?"

"Perhaps you're no longer worthy?"

"Whether I am or not doesn't interest me. My days as a hero ended a long time ago."

"I suppose the same is true of myself, somewhat..." He muttered, "It feels a little strange to still be a part of the world when your glory days are over. This is what it must feel like to grow old."

"Aren't you going to take credit for killing the dragon?"

"Please, Barion." He pleaded, "I'm just a spring roll vendor these days."

"Hm. Right." Barion smirked, "And I'm just a trader."

"How are the others doing? Or, have you all separated for good?"

"Dorma's doing fine. Shilahi is… well, I don't know where she is, actually."

"I doubt either of them would be half as tolerant with me as you are." The man remarked, "But, even if they won't believe it themselves--I've truly come to love this world, Barion."

"You don't have to give me this speech again."

"I'm well aware. Just making sure you remember."

An air of silence developed between the two of them. With their task having come to an end, there wasn't much to say or do that hadn't already been said or done a hundred times before. Most certainly, a rift of sorts still separated them at a base ideological level, but the fact remained that they had each found a sort of peace in their own way.

"...This isn't the last of them, Barion." He warned, gazing long into the distance where the dragon's corpse slept, "Be certain of that."

"I know." Reaching into his bag of holding and retrieving the Demon-Detecting Stone, Barion was displeased to see that it retained its ghastly-red hue and was still warm to the touch, "...The Steppe. That's where we're headed next."

"To that old wasteland? How nice."

"You don't feel like tagging along?"

"What a generous offer. However, it's as I said-" He began, "No matter the effort you put in, the world is becoming more dangerous than ever. I wasn't so sure about it when we attended the cherry blossom viewing, but now…"

Ejecting himself from the conversation, that mysterious man cast one final gaze in Barion's direction.

"-The next time we meet, it will be as enemies. I'm sure of it."

And with that, he meandered slowly towards the entrance to the imperial district, leaving Barion and Fusala to contemplate his cryptic final words. As he left, a resounding cascade of colours exploded overhead as the cherry blossoms returned to their natural colour and the darkening soil began to clear. Within moments, it was as if a dragon had never appeared at all--not counting the massive corpse that had been wrapped around a mountain in the distance, of course.

"Barion, I would like to say that I agree with your interpretation of the stone's directions." Fusala spoke up, "It seems that our next destination is the Henklomeon Steppe."

"It'll take us weeks to travel that far in the wagon." He replied, "Best get to it."

"Barion, are you feeling well?"

"Well now, this is a surprise. It's not like you to ask a question like that."

"It appears that your comrade's parting words have left you in an aggravated mental state." She observed, "Having witnessed his strength first-hand, I am reluctant to believe that he could be anyone else but-"

"Hold on, now. It's bad luck to say that name out loud." Barion placed a finger against his lips, "And it doesn't matter who he is. No matter what he says, I'm convinced that he wasn't making a threat. Just giving us a cryptic warning. It's just how he is."

"I see." While unconvinced, Fusala decided to drop the subject for now, "The absence of the hero's Sword of Light is also a point of worry. We should act upon your joking suggestion of visiting a church in the near future."

"Won't find any of those in Anjima." He muttered, "But, sure, I don't have a problem with that."

"And, Barion…" She concluded, "Are you certain it is quite alright to let that man walk freely?"

It was quite possibly the most difficult question Barion had ever been asked despite its simplicity. But even so, he couldn't help but smile as the most natural answer came to him on a whim. Following his footsteps towards the middle city, there didn't appear to be a single shred of doubt in his voice.

"It's hard to believe, I know." He smiled, "But, the King of Demons isn't quite the man he used to be."