Chapter 11 - Summit of the Lords (III)

"Nymph?! What are you doing here?" Kass's disappointment morphed into a bright smile.

"Kass?"

Carrying a white vase holding a small, thin willow branch, Nymph visibly relaxed. She put on a shy expression, swaying her shoulders with a face she'd never used before. An ephemeral performance, 180-degrees from her actual personality.

Coupled with this 'shy-girl' look, she wore a perfectly matching white gown, strips of transparent satin flowing from her arms and back. For a split second, Kass thought he met an angel.

"Of course, I'm here for the Summit event. I missed it last year." Nymph held the bottom of her thin willow vase with both hands, cradling it.

"Oh, right!" Kass would usually talk with a monotonous voice, but it somewhat seemed to soften in Nympho's presence. "I'm glad you're here now."

Nymph smiled. "I'm glad you're here too."

"Should we…" Clearing his throat, Kass gestured towards the boundless expanse of white clouds. "Head back to the main location?"

"You mean the golden castle?" With a giggle, Nymph rested her hand on Kass's forearm. "Let's go."

—

Two men lay in an ambiguous position on the cliffside. The flame-haired Lord sprawled out on the body of a smaller white-haired Lord with his entire body weight, looking heavy and forceful. The white-haired Lord struggled, choking out a breath, his hands trying to push the bigger man away.

"You're heavy." Phos's words didn't match his actions, panic clear in his body yet none in his eyes. "Get off."

"Ah, it's the dead Lord! Nice to see you again." Pyre lifted himself to all fours, trapping Phos in his arms.

"You can see me? You aren't blind?" Phos panted, collapsing onto the rocky ground.

"Who said I was blind?" Tilting his head, Pyre stared quizzically at Phos.

"Uhh."

Nymph had described Pyre as blind! But Phos couldn't expose Nymph's hatred for the Lord of Fire, so he settled for the next best thing.

"You're always wearing a blindfold, and you have white irises." He scratched his cheek, looking away.

Out of nowhere, Pyre grabbed Phos's chin, bringing it up. Their eyes met.

Phos could have sworn that he saw a hint of contempt. But it dissipated in a flash.

"Little dead Lord, we talked face-to-face last time. How come you didn't look properly then?" Pyre's grip was like metal, hard and unmovable. "You can check all you want now. I can see, hmm?"

His eyes slid over Phos, staring intently.

Now Phos felt like the stupid one. How come he didn't notice last time....

Oh. Because he was chained to a wall and brutally tortured to the brink of death.

Phos glowered at Pyre. He'd brushed over that episode, but it still lingered in the back of his mind. He wanted revenge, and a lot of it. Just as he brought his hand up, intending to give Pyre a good beating, the Fire Lord began to talk again.

"But, Little Light Lord, you need to be more careful. You're dead, after all. Yet…"

Phos twitched at his new status of 'deceased.' He was so evidently alive—

Pyre opened his palm, and a surge of fire erupted in his hand. Phos quickly scooted out from beneath Pyre. Did he intend to have a fight-to-the-death, right on a cliff in the Anima Mundi??

"Look at this." From the flames, a shred of a newspaper appeared.

Unfolding itself, it revealed a headline:

'So It's True that All Light Bulbs Contain Metal—A Deeper Look Into the Starstruck Relationship of the Lords of Metal and Light!'

"You should keep a lower profile if you're dead. This will attract too much attention."

Phos turned pale. This is what Ornis came up with? Of course he'd be put in the spotlight—not in a good way.

But why did Pyre care so much?

"What does it matter to you whether I'm dead or alive?" Probing, Phos sat up and stared Pyre down.

Pyre rose, kneeling over Phos's legs. This question appeared to have triggered something in the Fire Lord, and Phos could see the faintest trace of veins on his forehead.

But Phos wasn't worried—from what he knew, Pyre was just a musclehead who failed in killing him the first time. Yawning, acting nonchalant, Phos pinched the newspaper headline from Pyre's palm-flame and burned it with a smaller flame from his own fingers.

He glanced up at Pyre with a proud expression. He could also create fires. On a much smaller scale, but a fire nonetheless.

Pyre stiffened and extinguished his palm-flame with a flick of his wrist.

"If you are alive, then you must die." Pyre brought his hand to his lips, covering the lower half of his face. He seemed to be contemplating, a rare sight to Phos.

"You're not making any sense." Phos's eyes narrowed. "I'm so clearly animate before you, yet you insist on labeling me as a deceased."

"You don't need to ask any questions." Pyre stood, brushing specks of light off of his body. "Just stay low. Or I'll come after you again."

Was the Lord of Fire delusional? No wonder Nymph disliked the man so much. Phos didn't know what Pyre was thinking. 'Lay low?' Ornis had already spread his name far and wide, across the 5 main lands of Anima Mundi and likely beyond. As Phos brought himself up next to Pyre, he looked up, and froze.

What in the Anima Mundi had Pyre grown up with to get so tall??

A bit jealous that his rival was an entire head-and-one-fourth taller than himself, Phos gritted his teeth, gripping his scarf tightly.

Conversely, Pyre glanced down at the sulking Phos before turning his head away. A cold gleam flashed in his eyes. But in a heartbeat, the strange intent disappeared, replaced by a complacent gaze carrying the knowledge of two brain cells.

"Right, why are you here?" Pyre smiled, his dazzling features blinding Phos.

"You ask this now?" Phos averted his eyes. "The Summit of the Lords. Don't tell me you don't know what that is. I'll call the police on you."

Pyre simply chuckled.

"Of course I do. I'll accompany my dear dead victim to the event location."