The hallway grew dimmer by the second, almost completely bathed in darkness. The Champion shifted his gaze to his right toward the windows but found nothing. He hoped a light would be within sight. There was none—only the dark outlines of houses obscured his sight from what could possibly be a moon in the night sky. Yet, through it all, slivers of moonlight managed to triumph and splatter upon the floor. Every time the Champion walked through them, temporary relief surged through him. But it was always short-lived.

His gauntlets remained limp at his sides, still soaked in blood that rained down to mark his path. He never looked at them. Or behind him—he would only look ahead. Everything behind him could be forgotten. It would be fine in the end. He just needed to go forward—

"That's a very stupid mindset, brother!" Jewel called out from the shadows. The Champion came to a halt as he located two yellow eyes levitating before him. He could make out no body or anything resembling one. It was like he was one with the darkness.

"I... I..." the Champion sputtered for an excuse. The only thing he managed to do was force the bloody imagery back into his mind he had just created. Worry stretched his heart across, about to make it explode—he still couldn't push Shimmer out of his mind. Promidate did well to remind him of her. He hated how it was that way.

"But do not worry," Jewel declared, narrowing his eyes with a newfound smile underneath. "I will always be watching your back. Every mistake you make." His eyes and smile disappeared from sight, leaving the Champion bewildered. Until the voice continued right in his ear. "Will be fixed. Nobody will know of them. Nobody will care. You will be sitting on your throne as if nothing had ever happened in the first place!"

The Champion spun around to look for Jewel, but found nothing except for his laughing that rang throughout the corridor. He was alone with only thoughts of Shimmer to accompany him.

"Not dead... wasn't her," he muttered, then looked at his gauntlets. With them right in front of his visor, he could see their shaky and soaked form. Moonlight seemed to make the blood gleam and sparkle. He hated it.

Uneasy about the past, both recent and far, he proceeded down the hallway and rushed into the throne room, finding comfort at last. His back pressed against the shut doors, he stared ahead at the floor bathed in splatters of moonlight. The throne itself was only half-illuminated as the rest was covered in obsolete darkness.

He had sat on that throne not too long ago. It was very similar to the time now; his gauntlets were drenched in blood, yet he couldn't take his mind off the killing. When he killed Jarunx, it wasn't that hard to forget about it. Surely it was because Promidate resembled Shimmer. That was the only explanation he could deduce.

"I wouldn't mind such a place as this," Jewel remarked, startling the Champion, who searched for the voice. He managed to find him by the throne, his back turned. There was barely enough moonlight to display his form: a figure made of amorphous, black particles held in by an indistinct outline. At times, it wavered; others, it remained intact. But the particles always leaked to the floor, a waterfall in itself.

"You speak about my mistakes," the Champion said, and thrust a bloody finger ahead. "What can you possibly do about them? You're dead. You can't do anything. You're just in... in..." He tried to continue, but only stammered. It was hard to grasp the idea of Jewel being fake and not flesh.

"I can do many things," Jewel claimed, turning around to show his hungry eyes and wicked smile. "One of those happens to be..." He thrust his right hand forward and snapped his fingers. A whole downpour of particles erupted soon after. "Well, it's hard to phrase it... so shall I say..." He grimaced, lowering his voice. "A bit of cleaning up after my artistic brother?"

"Artistic?" the Champion repeated, anger and confusion surging through him. He found it an insult, but couldn't help but take it the other way. Was he creative? Was his art worthy for an audience? No... it was gruesome murder. Nobody should see that. Not even himself... at least for humans.

"You see, brother, you have a way of dealing with problems," Jewel continued, his smile vanished to leave behind only his narrowed eyes. "And, quite seriously, I think it's the best way to go about it. A permanent solution. No room for flaws. No chance for the problem to continue." He shook his clenched fist in a bout of thrill. "It's gone then and there! What better way is there—"

"I could talk with them... and listen..." the Champion mumbled, knowing he didn't like that option. He enjoyed dealing with conflicts—and potential conflicts—his way. One person severely disagreed with that logic: Shimmer. He would change for her, he really would, but it was so very hard to change. At least he tried.

"Now, now," Jewel remarked, appearing beside the Champion in a blink of the eye, an arm wrapped around his brother's neck. "You know that's not true. It's pointless to fill your mind with doubts and hesitations, conflicts and what-ifs because you know one thing." Jewel leaned in, his voice but a whisper. "Yourself."

The Champion was not satisfied at all with the answer. Instead, he felt more uneasy. He didn't know anything about himself.

"You only make me fret more," he decided, and headed for the throne. "Leave me be and never come back—"

Jewel's hold around him was far too strong to simply shake off. He couldn't move even an inch further; it felt as if there were shackles trapping his legs to the floor.

"You think I lie," Jewel declared, thrusting the palm of his free hand in front of the Champion's gaze. "But all you need to do is look. That's it: look for the stars. Look for the truth. Look at my palm and you shall see it all!"

The Champion shakily glanced at Jewel's palm, all attempts to appear bold and confident for naught. He lost all his posture and form. What lay before him was not merely a palm. It wasn't something he could just shake off and forget about. No, he was captivated on the spot. It was a dream—rather a nightmare unfolded.

An eye opened that covered the entirety of Jewel's palm. Its yellow pupil had thousands, millions of tiny dark lines bouncing and dancing about. The purple iris darted all around until abruptly halting, its gaze dead set on the Champion. As the stare lingered and continued, its size increased and fiercely demanded things he couldn't possibly give.

"Enough," the Champion requested, almost a plea, forcing his gaze elsewhere. When he could still feel the gaze attacking him, he returned his own. "Enough, I said!"

In response, the eye narrowed itself until fading away completely into darkness. The Champion could tell its disappointment without even needing words to express it for him.

"You can't be somebody you're not meant to be," Jewel muttered, his hand sliding back to his side. His hold was quite weak now, like he was exhausted. "Once you embrace it, it'll be easier for all of us—"

"Tell me what you did to the corpses in that room," the Champion demanded breathlessly. Panting, he gazed at the throne ahead. It was his. He would soon sit on it. He would soon be the true king, for being named it did little to appease his hunger. Soon, the Realm would emerge victorious. The whole land would fall under his reign, under its name. It was only a matter of time.

"They're gone," Jewel replied. "Easy as that. Poof!" He laughed briefly until falling dead silent. "I have something to tell you, brother, something dire and urgent. It'll be the next and most important step in seizing this land as yours."

"Hmph," the Champion snorted. He was still unable to accept such a vague answer. Was Jewel really able to perform such feats? He could only believe so. If Shimmer was scared of him, then the Champion was as well. He had to accept even the most fantasied and nonsensical things that Jewel claimed to have done. Of course, he could always check for himself—

"Listen and listen closely, for this will be the only time you will hear of such matters," Jewel announced strictly, as he guided the Champion across the room, toward the door. The dreadful door. The door that the Champion couldn't help but reel back at, yet he couldn't stop. He was trapped and forced to move once again.

"Behind this door lies the solution to the grandest problem you face: support. An army. Something that will turn the tide—"

"I don't need an army," the Champion argued, feeling belittled. He could take on the world all by himself. Nothing could stand against him. Nothing at all.

"Brother, I want you to know how hard it was to even contact these..." Jewel rapidly cursed under his breath in a foreign language, performing gestures to relieve himself. "These demons. It took a load of convincing, promising, and of course a share of the loot."

"Share?" The Champion shook his head. "Never. It's all mine. Nobody will take anything from my grasp. I deserve it."

Jewel chuckled as the two halted a few inches away from the door. The Champion could sense something odd behind it. He knew the king was no longer there. A fireplace. A long table—it was no longer a study to calm oneself at. Rather, it was something else entirely. Something he already dreaded at the pulsating presence within.

"There's a thing you know very well," Jewel responded, then leaned his head toward the Champion for particles to drip upon his shoulder. They were cold, so cold that they bypassed his armor and made him shudder. He wished to repel the void, but he may just have to embrace it as his own.

"Betrayal," Jewel whispered, like he was afraid of the entity behind the door hearing him. "From this day forth, all enemies shall be eliminated. Traitors. They will all die. Anybody that would dare to threaten your reign and title." He hovered his hand over the Champion's neck, as if it were a blade. "Dead. Problem solved. It's no simpler than that."

"I..." The Champion racked both his brain and heart for an excuse. He didn't know why he now dreaded killing. One look at his still-soaked gauntlets that gleamed in the moonlight gave him a reasonable enough answer: "I can't."

"I know, brother," Jewel said, with a chuckle. "After seeing you kill those two idiots, I became anxious. I lost faith in your ability to execute and enforce. I truly did." He wagged a finger. "So, I took precautionary steps. I decided to have you do things as a proper king. Care to guess how that is?"

The Champion gulped. He had no clue. He just knew kings sat on their throne all day, made decisions, and had other people do their work for them. It was customary for them to ride to battle and lead their soldiers to victory, but recent kings did nothing of that sort. They were cowards by blood.

"You'll have others to do your dirty work," Jewel declared amusedly. "You won't have to get your gauntlets bloody ever again. Those that dare oppose you will be slain." He leaned closer, his voice once again a persuasive whisper. "And you won't even have to be there to see it through."

"Who...?" the Champion asked, doubtful at the plan. He wouldn't trust anybody. He was the only one he could fully rely upon for completing a task. A duty, rather. Everyone else was very unreliable and set for failure.

"Well, they're two—" Knocking pierced the air, startling the Champion into looking behind him at the doors. Jewel did the same, an immense smile stretching across every corner of his face.

"Speaking of which, here they are now."