“Labýrinthos, the maze that isolates.” Red lines floated above the ground. A series of random refractions followed, sketching out a maze of flames. With Prodotis at its center, the burning geometric pattern expanded outward. Dill, Sid, Rei, Blusterer, as well as the mercenaries and Reincarnators fighting farther away, were either burned by the walls of flame or cut off from each other by their sudden appearance.
The extent of Prodotis’s Skill was so wide that his opponents despaired. In no time at all, the maze of flames spread across the entire face of Krios. There was a limit imposed on the scale of any Skill, measured by the volume of blood flowing through its user’s veins; but by linking his consciousness with the Titan holding up the castle, Prodotis had overcome that limit by force. If Prodotis gave it an order telepathically, the giant would activate its Skill. The giant had a volume of blood several hundred times greater than a normal human.
“I have stopped at nothing to transcend my humanity and to claim the secrets of the gods. Long ago I took the blood of the Titans, and now I will take the blood of the Reincarnators. Behold. This is Prodotis.” The opponents Prodotis spoke to, despite being separated by the walls of flame, nevertheless stared at the hero in the center with exactly the same gaze. “Those insolent eyes with which you look upon me... Very good. Those are the same eyes with which I glared at the gods. Now prove to me, Prodotis, just who you truly are.”
From three separate branches of the labyrinth, Dill, Sid, and finally Blusterer all rushed at Prodotis. Although no one could see her, this timing was most likely coordinated by Rei’s Skill.
There was no reason for Prodotis to engage each of these opponents at once. The flames making up the labyrinth shifted, throwing up walls in front of his challengers. Slipping through the walls of flames, the hero stood in front of Dill alone.
“I have perceived that solidarity is the strength of this age’s people. Therefore, I will sever that connection.” Prodotis walked toward Dill. At Dill’s back was a dead end. “There is no race in existence that can best a hero in single combat. Henceforth, I will kill you one by one until not a single man remains.” He swept his spear of solid flames vertically and horizontally—a simple attack, devoid of artifice. However, for that very reason, it left no opening and carried immense force. Dill, who possessed no special blood, had already lost in the contest of strength and was easily cornered against the wall. The chain mail cloak at his back began to heat up, roasted by the flames.
Still, Dill would not stop glaring at the hero.
“I like your eyes, Dill Steel-Link. Do you have some plan to break out of this predicament?”
“No.”
“I should think not. These flames are not as simple as they appear. They form a barrier that can inhibit a Reincarnator’s Skill. No one will come to your aid. With the next blow, whether I strike your spear or your shield, I intend to cut you down with it. What do you think of that? Do you not fear death? Do you not wish to live forever?”
Dill grinned. “‘Now then, immortal gods—I have finally come to understand. The life of one who must die is greater than the life of an immortal. Although bound and tormented, my body broken and death nearly come for me, I do not consider this a loss. The secret of life truly lies in these moments just before it leaves you.’”
“What words are these?”
“Lines from a play—the heroic play Prodotis. We Tereans were brought up learning your words.”
The hero opened his eyes wide. “O son. I do not wish to kill you.”
“What an honor. But the son will always surpass the father.” Dill readied his spear, and Prodotis, begrudgingly, readied his own.
Pop. Pop, pop, pop. Dill and Prodotis stayed staring at each other without moving, but from the sound and a sense of unease that crept over them, they knew something strange had occurred. The rain above the Tower Capital, which never ceased falling as the battle raged, had abruptly stopped. In its place, snow—black snow—was falling. And the snow was blinking.
Each falling particle had a crack around the middle, out of which peered a crimson eye. The black feathers bunched together in midair, blanketing the sky above them, and from that carpet came the rain of blinking feathers.
“It looks like my children have grown impatient and come to greet me.” The burning labyrinth was losing its ferocity, almost as if it writhed in pain. As the feathers falling from the sky rushed into the flames, they dissolved into an ominous black liquid which ate away at the flames rather than fuelling them. This black water and the flames of Prodotis’s Skill had entirely incompatible natures.
A wind blew, snuffing out the flames near Dill and Prodotis. They heard the beating of wings, and they saw the blinking of countless red eyes.
Nue alighted and stood beside Dill. From the other side, Sid stepped over what little remained of the flames, accompanied by Rei.
Dill started to speak with the sonorous tones of an actor. “Behold, O hero. The Silver Age you built has followed through to this age, and now you try to open a new one. You have already achieved such great works. Are you still so unsatisfied that you wish to live forever?”
Prodotis gasped. This feeling, this foreboding...it was the air of a new age dawning. What a nostalgic feeling, he thought. Even measured by the time Prodotis had lived, it was long ago—more than thirty years—and in terms of time that had passed in the world, it had been centuries. At that time, Prodotis was still young and still a mortal man, fated to die.