“Plus, she was the most dull-witted girl this world has ever seen, and indeed may ever see.”
“Harsh,” said Zald.
“But true. For you see, while we were in the womb, I stole her gifts for myself.”
At that moment, the witch seemed truly saddened.
“Within me lies the potential that was meant for the two of us. That is my crime, and it is only natural that I should be reviled and feared for it.”
The woman’s self-deprecating words tore at the walls of her heart. But the one she longed to speak to most was no longer there. Instead, only the hallowed walls of the church heard her confession.
After a long silence, Alfia opened her eyes.
“That woman was everything left over after making me,” she said. “All that remained…was kindness.”
That was her sister’s one redeeming trait.
“It was curious, but people loved her even though she could do nothing. Even Hera did everything she could to prolong her life. She was an ordinary girl in every sense…save that whatever kindness she received she would always repay.”
Alfia’s words sounded like the melodies sung by spirits in heaven. Erebus couldn’t bring himself to speak and interrupt them. At this moment, the witch sounded kinder and gentler than ever before.
“Metelia,” she said, “was the purest, kindest soul I’ve ever known… That is why I loved her.”
The smile that accompanied those words was the most beautiful thing Erebus had seen. “I see,” he said with a smile of his own, then he turned to Zald.
“And what of the father?” he asked him.
“Nothing to say,” the man replied, suddenly looking sour. “At least nothing that brings me pride. A mere supporter who ran at the first sign of trouble, and who joined our god in peeking in on the women’s baths…”
Zald was despondent, mortified he had to follow up Alfia’s moving and personal tale with reports of degenerate behavior.
“…But I suppose you’re right. Perhaps I should have seen the child, too. I suppose…if he is that idiot’s son, then in the end, he is family.”
Zald broke into a smile as he recalled the mischievous grin of his junior, the source of so many headaches back in the day.
Erebus gave the pair a fond look, then opened his mouth to speak.
“Ah, I haven’t asked you the most important thing yet,” he said. “Zald, Alfia. What do you hope to gain from this battle?”
The heroes answered immediately, as though their answer were written in stone.
““A future,”” they both replied.
“For our descendants to devour us and surpass the Black Dragon.”
That was the warrior’s dream. From a loser’s heart, a winner would be born and lead the world into a new Age of Heroes.
“For this world to know hope, and for my sister’s child to not have to fight.”
That was the witch’s wish. Lasting peace that would give birth to a world for a memento to live on in happiness.
“And what if…?” the god went on, picking at the fickle strands of destiny. “What if that child comes to this land, guided by the blood of his parents? What if he is called to battle, and the fate of the world hangs in the balance?”
With a smile on his lips, Erebus asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Do you really have to ask, Erebus?”
“Yes. The answer to that is obvious…”
Alfia and Zald spoke as one.
““We wish there to be strong heroes to protect him.””
It was only one possible future. Perhaps, at some point, a single white rabbit would pass through the gates of Orario, where countless setbacks and difficulties awaited.
“May he be baptized in the fires of fellow heroes and strive ever higher.”
Perhaps he would be shattered and built back up by those around him. By a warlord, a hero, or elven royalty. By warriors, a chariot, or a sword princess, or a gale wind.
Perhaps the young heroes in whom Zald and Alfia placed their trust would become a test for that child to pass.
“May he succeed in his trials and become a hero himself.”
Perhaps he would inherit their dreams and carry them upon his own back.
And perhaps, though he never knew their faces, Zald’s and Alfia’s wish would become his own. Just as justice endured and went on. A tale of heroes.
“If he turns out anything like his father, his quick feet should come to the aid of many an adventurer.”
“And if he turns out anything like his mother, his kind deeds should dry the eyes of many a friend.”
Sharing thoughts of the boy’s parents, Zald and Alfia placed their faith in the bonds of blood and trust. Nobody believed more in that child’s future than they.
That was love. Whatever anybody else said, it was their love.
“I see…”
After lending a serious ear to their words, Erebus grinned.
“Love is a terrible thing. For you to wish hardship on a boy you barely know…I’m starting to feel sorry for him.”
“We are the children of Zeus and Hera,” said Alfia. “We are capable of much worse.”
“Yes,” Zald agreed. “The boy should count himself lucky our familias are no more.”
The two of them wore defiant grins, showing no shame at all for their cruel words.
“Oh, dear. Whatever am I going to do with you two?”
Erebus shrugged and gave a wry smile that nonetheless bared the emotions laying at the bottom of his divine heart.
“Erebus,” said Alfia. “Do not test us any further. We have no regrets and will carry out our duties to the bitter end.”
“Many will perish at our hands, but if a future can be built upon our deeds, then it will all be worth it.”
The smiles were gone from their faces now. All that remained was to shoulder the weight of their sin, without eagerness or regret, and uphold their oath to the world.
“There is no other way,” said Zald. “This is the ultimate test. I will give what little of my life remains to see it through.”
If Orario could not reach their future, if the city of heroes succumbed to the might of the conquerors, then Erebus, Zald, and Alfia were fully prepared to topple Babel and send the world back to ancient times. It was the only way humankind could carry on.
They knew and accepted the price they would have to pay to assume the mantle of evil. But at the same time, they believed it would not come to that.
“Yes,” said Alfia. “Let us bring despair and forge a keystone of hope. We have lived long lives. This will be our final duty.”
They knew that the city contained unrealized potential. Something that could strike down the cannibalistic fiends they would become.
And in a corner of that very city, in an abandoned church, the warrior and the witch gave their vows.
“We leave all that we are to the heroes who come after us,” said Alfia.
Erebus closed his eyes. Of his own regrets, he spoke only to himself, only now indulging in the rightful confidence of divinity.
Ah, how bright they shine.
These are the heroes who should be sung about in unending tales.
And yet here I am, dragging their names through the mud.
Look how bright they shine in spite of that.
If they’re going to be so gung-ho about it, then I should be the same.
Sorry, Vito. I know you’re not going to like this.
You won’t understand my love. You’ll curse my lies and never learn to love this world.
But I have a dream. A dream I must accomplish.
I know you think that word’s silly now, but I hope it one day inspires you to love something.
I will join these two and search for justice. For heroes.
Because I believe that Orario, and the whole world, will reach its dreams one day.
I love you, Vito.
I love all my children.
I love this world, so small yet so, so vast.
“…Very well. Then, in my name, I declare…”
When he opened his eyes, no longer was there a god who loved the world. Only pure evil. A being of chaos, who sought nothing more than to spread his word and harry the agents of order.
“From this day forth, we work together. We are necessary. We are absolute. And we will go down in history as symbols of sin itself!”
The warrior narrowed his eyes and nodded.
The witch closed her eyes and smiled.
“Even so, I alone will sing of the great deeds you are about to perform!”
The god signed an unbreakable covenant with the world’s mighty heroes.
He wrote a footnote of history that would never be read by mortal eyes.
He turned, pushed open the church doors, and bathed in the light of the outside world. There, he looked back at his two accomplices.
“Let’s go,” he said. “To give birth to a new generation of heroes.”