"How much do you want this time?"

Unsure of what to say, the Champion instead focused on the job they had to complete tonight. He hoped it would loosen tensions. It was money after all. Him being generous would surely be enough to make amends to what happened earlier.

"Not now," Radean remarked, looking at him in frustration. "You made my sister cry. I don't think I can forgive you for that."

At his words, Nightstrider removed her head from his chest and wiped her eyes clear of any tears.

"Let me do the talking, okay?" she asked softly, which was sufficient enough for her brother to nod and fall silent.

Nightstrider poised herself into sitting on her knees, her hands resting upon her thighs. She gazed at the Champion very differently than how she had moments ago. Frustration and rage had turned into a calm and collected state.

"One last job, that's it," she decided. "No more afterward."

The Champion was unsure of how many more times he needed to feed the portal, how many more traitors had to be disposed of, but he respected her choice. Time was running out, anyway. The war effort would turn all focus away from normal habits. It would be a completely new era.

"How much for this one?" he inquired, prepared to give her however much she wanted. His idea of money was still limited, though he knew it was running out. He didn't even know he was spending any.

"Two hundred," she responded, and pursed her lips. "Just to compensate for all that you've done in the past few days, how much you truly devastated me. That will suffice into making some amount of amends I wouldn't normally permit."

"Done."

Nightstrider exhaled a long relieved sigh, then pushed her mask up to hide her nose and mouth; however, before she could stand up and leave, the Champion had something to say:

"I know you didn't do it."

The words made Nightstrider stop as she exchanged glances with Radean. She eventually muttered and proceeded to step onto the floor from the side of the table.

"Your words don't really matter now. I know what I did. Lies and rumors are very annoying sometimes, but there isn't much I can do about them, can I?"

Radean followed her sister onto the floor as the two prepared to leave, putting her in a casual embrace that she didn't seem all that bothered by.

"I speak the truth that I believe you," the Champion added, like it were a last desperate feat.

"Okay, good for you," Nightstrider remarked carelessly, though her voice showed some signs of happiness, as Radean opened the door for them to exit. "How are we going to move the target here alive? It seems so impossible—"

Her voice faded at the door slamming to cut it off. The Champion was very eager to know about the target and who it was, but it was too late. He knew Jewel had all the information, yet that trickster never spoke the truth. It was practically second nature for him to lie.

"I'm hurt!" Jewel exclaimed. He appeared in the chair directly across the table, which he had turned around for him to place his arms over its back. He dipped his head down so only his yellow eyes were apparent. "You know, I don't always lie. I only speak what I think should be spoken. What the actual truth is."

"So, you know you're a backstabbing liar, but you don't care," the Champion analyzed, snorting.

"Hm, that's one way to put it, I guess," Jewel admitted, as he boredly tapped the table in front of him. "Though, it's quite harsh to label me as backstabbing. I don't backstab people. I just speak the truth. What is best for them to know. Maybe I can be a little..." his eyes fished around for a word lingering in the air, "extreme, but that's just passion. I only want the best for you!"

"Like killing Shimmer would make me so incredibly happy," the Champion muttered. Tired of Jewel's ploys and his inability to ignore them, despite knowing what was bound to happen, he stood up and headed to leave. He didn't know what awaited him outside the room. Maybe a mob had gathered. Maybe the mercenaries were waiting for him to get revenge for what he had done earlier.

Maybe he just needed to go out the door and see for himself. There was no point worrying when he could just endure every possibility. There wasn't much of a risk involved, except shaming and harmless stuff of that nature.

"You shouldn't be so rash around people, brother," Jewel said, just as the Champion passed by him to reach for the door. It stopped him right in his tracks, for the subject was indeed something he had no idea of how to go about it. "Honesty is never the play. It's really the worst play. Instead of that useless, desperate begging, you should instead appease them. Lie. It's so easy—"

"I will not be a liar like yourself," the Champion interrupted him, taking no time to tug the door open and step outside. Embracing for an ambush, he was relieved into finding nobody but himself in the hallway. The mercenaries had already left. There was no mob out to dethrone him. Nobody was out to kill him. At least anybody with the courage to do so.

All the Champion could hope for was that the decisions he had made earlier would pay off. That the kingdom would flip around and return to its old, flourishing ways; however, was it ever so good and mighty? Was Might ever a good kingdom to live in? He had his doubts. He knew the Realm wasn't perfect, but he did know it was a huge step forward.

Might was never good. It was always held back by something or somebody. But no more. It would rise on this day and become the best place to live for the young and old. Warriors and workers. They would all come to the Realm and never have a dull moment. Never fear. Never have the urge to kill or harm another, for everything would be provided. Food, housing, clothes, and whatever else they would wish for.

Of course, any that would break the laws would be executed without hesitation. It was the only way to enforce the kingdom and keep about a just rule.

On his return trip, the Champion noticed the cleaning effort had been completed with great success at that. Not a speck of blood was anywhere. The broken window had been patched up to some degree, though wind still breezed in. Somehow, it maintained a cold aura only found in dark nights. Exactly what he had felt during the culling of traitors. 

Servants and guards traveled back and forth in the corridor. They didn't seem to pay much heed to the Champion, which was a load better than what they did earlier: avoid looking at him and whisper amongst themselves. They were plotting and voicing their grudges against him; however, that hateful presence had been reduced. Word must've spread that reforms were coming.

It would be a new era. What better way to start it than with a swift military triumph against the behemoths in the land? There was nothing more grand and thrilling than that.

Before entering his throne room to fall victim to the waiting game, he cast his gaze over his shoulder at the window nearby. The sun was setting. Red streaks in the sky appeared. Shadows began to override the once-illuminated rooftops of boring huts. It was an arrival of a new master as per usual. By dawn, the era would have begun.

"Beautiful sight, isn't it?"

The Champion slowly cast his gaze upon the new voice beside him: an armored guard. He couldn't see the face nor anything else, but pity arose in him because these were the same people he had just killed not so long ago.

"What have you come here for?" the Champion asked, irresistibly suspecting the man for a hidden agenda. All humans had one. Especially toward somebody of a higher rank. It was always for power.

"Don't you ever wish the sun would stay within sight?" the guard inquired, his gaze still peeled onto the falling orb of light. "That we won't fall victim to hungry shadows, in whence we are slain and never seen again? Forgotten, merely?"

Frustrated, the Champion knew the man's agenda right there and then. He knew it was about him.

"It is out of our reach what happens to such a great entity," he replied, then set his focus back onto the sun, which was minutes away from disappearing behind rooftops already obscured in deep shadows. "We must accept it. Embrace it. There's nothing that can be done."

"No, I think there is," the guard remarked. "The darkness doesn't have to settle in. Not at all. It can be pushed back. Why else would we have our lanterns and light? The sun sticks with us even in the darkest nights full of the echoes of unknown creatures and utter silence as a continuous beat."

"Hmph."

It was all the Champion could say to such a thing. He had his gaze directed right into the side of the man's helmet. He wanted to know a few things. Rather, he needed to know.

"What is your—"

"Let this night be without a misstep," the soldier interjected, then spun around to leave. "It will be quite an important one, anyway."

Not once, not a single damn time, did the man look at his king. No, it was complete disrespect. It was within the Champion's rights to strip him of any titles he had and force him to reveal his motives. Why was he there? Every man had a reason to do things, either small or big. Ambition drove each and every one of their actions. No small act was made without even a little desire to accompany it.

As the Champion turned around to open the doors in a muttering state, he instead found nothing. He was cornered. Darkness had him surrounded everywhere. Lost and confused, he turned to the only thing he had:

"Jewel!"

He waited for an appearance, or the annoying voice, but nothing came up. Impatiently, he continued.

"What tricks are you pulling now?"

Scanning his environment wildly, he finally located something. Down the corridor, he could spot a red knight. The shape and form made it apparent who it was. The dead never left, it seemed. They always stayed for their own personal reasons. It was just a waste of time.

"I have no reason to listen to you or even acknowledge you," he told the ghost, who only crossed her arms.

"Killing isn't always the solution, you know," the ghost declared, her voice making it sound as if it were obvious. "You can't just make everything go away. War is not going to fix anything at all."

"What would you know?" The Champion took a step forward, only to find himself further away from the ghost. His confusion was inferior to his anger, which propelled him into thrusting his finger forward. "You're dead! You know nothing of such matters. You were clueless when you died, and you still are."

"Hmm," the ghost murmured distractedly, then yawned. She looked around and heaved her shoulders. Her armor seemed alive on its own, like there was nobody inside of it. "I wish Anorex was here. He just left me... I thought we had something going." She sighed. "Guess not. Guess I'm alone for all eternity—"

"You are accomplishing nothing by staying," the Champion stated, cool and poised. He had let his anger subside. He wished not for souls to suffer, no matter if he despised them. A good afterlife was all he wanted to spare them of their sorrowful misery. "Leave this place behind. Solitude will do you little into fixing your troubles."

The ghost was quite amused at his statement, laughing even. She pressed a gauntlet against her helmet, shaking her head.

"Oh, Champ, you think you know everything," she laughed even more, borderline a pure maniac, "but you're just a cub." The Champion grew enraged at the hypocrisy, though he remained silent. "It's not easy to leave. I can't just do it. Of course not. How can I leave with you still standing before me?"

Her laughter rose in intensity for it to echo in the undefined hallway. It was in all directions, surrounding and trapping him.

"Then you will be here for a very long time, I'm afraid," the Champion decided, bringing his right gauntlet up and clenching it for the void mist around him to be sucked in. "You made a grave mistake coming to me, Promidate, and it cost you your life. Such mistakes are easily avoidable and everybody should know about them."

Promidate's laughter died off as she stifled one last chuckle. Her gauntlet fell of her helmet to reveal blood splattered over it. Her chest had a gaping hole in it that pulsed like a heart. Blood dripped down her gauntlets in thirsty revenge.

"It's jarring to think that somebody as yourself can believe such a farfetched idea as that," she commented, as her form began to disappear with the void mist. "How can you even say such things out loud? It's you that's making all of the mistakes, not me or anybody else."

The Champion fell against the throne room's doors that he frantically pushed open. His heart racing and mind flaring in pain, he stumbled inside to be greeted with more darkness than usual. It was as if the light outside had been stolen and decimated. What little left was in the form of the one lantern in the room. When the Champion did so little as near it, it began to flicker and eventually fade altogether.

Just like that, he was left in the darkness. All alone. All abandoned.