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Arena is replaced by stage. Through translucent cloth, I see the outside world is right where it was, dimmer and muted, all still watching the play.
Shadows darken and writhe, even more alive than before. Snapping ribbons and tendrils take out chunks, each attack taxing more than flesh.
“Shadow Theatre: Casting Call.”
Rigid rods of black painlessly pierce through my hands and feet. My body moves into the incoming attacks.
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I fight against the outside influence. Tempering pushed to the maximum merely saps my stamina, the rods unbreakable. A thunderous pulse of electricity saps even more, only abating the assault for but a single breath.
A needle forms next to a stranger’s hand. I direct it to a location bright in my new vision. My magic is no longer my own. Deep crimson seeps from a hole in my chest.
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Shells are reduced to scattered chunks and sprayed blood. The rods of shadow always connected. Deep crimson seeping from each one’s chest. Lightning crackles and pops, trying and failing to repel the ever-advancing darkness.
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‘A new light for a better world’. Tugged this way and that, Dr. Adams’ words repeat in my mind.
What would I have thought if I had heard them then? Would it have changed anything? Would it have shown me the vanity of my existence? No. But I now know the truth.
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Four rods pull in opposing directions, locking me in space. Shadows dig and burrow into my being.
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I am not the light. I never was. The image illuminates, bringing the light to me.
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Searing light drives back the darkness. A blink puts me somewhere else, free of constriction and control.
Xyll and the other one are exposed. The spotlight now on them, both react at the same time. The fleshy one’s left calf ripples as it cramps, and so does the non-fleshy one’s. Shadows rally a touch slower. Two brilliant white streaks connect all three of us. Deep crimson paints their chests in place of blood.
I blink behind Xyll and draw a stroke with my sword. A deep crimson wound opens on the other one. Both coalesce into shadows flickering across the ethereal stage.
“Shadow Theatre: You Are Never Alone.” “Shadow Theatre: You Are Never Alone.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
A hand sprouts out of my chest as another shadow joins the performance. My own.
Aquamarine glow flashes over the translucent cloth, the shadowy ground.
In a new shell, I split my shadow in two. Square grid holds it together, exactly how it’s supposed to be. Two deep crimson darts meet each other. And so do numerous more, a barrage of fragments raining down both of us. The shattered metal shudders and springs to action. We are both shredded to pieces. I relocate to a new shell. My shadow reforms.
An enemy Knight tackles me. Two more ignore their brethren and shoot through. I am leaking deep crimson from wounds all over.
More shadows join in. Xyll and the other one are directing constricting ribbons and piercing spikes. My third opponent grips his sword and slashes. Blade meets blade.
Shells fall one after the other, flesh hidden by streaming red.
Constricting ribbons are torn with ease. Piercing spikes break against my body. Blade meets blade. And loses. All three realize at the same time. Deep crimson bestows me with strength.
My shadow encases himself in an aquamarine sphere of protection. The other two coalesce into the shadows once again. My shadow starts crackling with lightning, fueling the potential with his own essence, dispersing into quickly consumed wisps.
As I put a crack in his defenses, he discharges a pulse of disruption. Deep crimson abates together with shadows.
But while they slowly creep back, I quickly intone, “Elisa the Archmage.”
Mana freezes in place, now under my ultimate command. Shadows retract as if scalded.
Creation in my left hand. Destruction in my right. Light brightly shines. Darkness drinks in its counterpart greedily.
Shadows swirl into a protective cocoon.
I bring my hands together. Two opposites mix. The world hiccups.
Xyll’s spells are gone, only rags of shadow cling to the uninjured form of the Demon King. The other one is barely recognizable, missing most of his body.
A new sun joins the old. The two stars shine down on a speechless audience.
My magic gathers into a single focused ray. Two moons lethargically move from opposing sides. Mana is gone. The moons gradually obscure the real sun. And as its light wanes, so do my spells. The superimposed Elisa flickers away. The other one weakly drops into his caster’s shadow.
Under the umbral domain of an unnatural eclipse, we start walking toward each other. Each step requiring more effort than anything we’ve done until now.
We meet. Xyll’s right fist smashes into my face, quaking my very core, my very mind. A left whips my head back. I don’t even lift my arms up to defend.
His knuckles are slick with bright red blood, hitting again and again. Each strike harder and harder. His face twisting in more and more pain.
Xyll knees me in the stomach. When he brings the foot down, he avoids putting weight on it. A punch produces cracking sounds. Another more.
While my mind is overwhelmed by pain, threatening to tear apart, held together by nothing but willpower, I turn inward. The image is the sharpest it has ever been. It’s me, Lucius the Adventurer. Everyone else is by my side, ready to face anything that might come our way. Then I realize something. There’s only one Lucius. I’m not looking at an arranged scene from afar. I am right there with them. The image slowly fades away, now truly a part of me.
Xyll strikes me again. His fist hits an immovable wall. He strikes again. And again. And again. But nothing he throws my way can hurt me, because he was also next to me.
Between heaving breaths, his attacks come slower and slower. The effort needed for the next is incomparable to the previous.
He tries to lift a shaking, fractured arm. It falls limp halfway through the movement, muscles snapping. He looks at my bloodied and shattered face, seeing the unbreakable resolve underneath.
“I sur—”
I interrupt his wheezing words, “I surrender.” My own are heard by all.
Seconds tick away as my proclamation is processed and as the light of day returns. Elisa breaks the silence first. Tears wet the clapping elf’s smiling face.
Soon, another person joins. And another. And another. Thunderous applause fill the air. She is not the only one crying.
I crash to the sand. The spot next to me is patted a few times. Xyll trudges over, places his still functioning hand on my shoulder, and arduously lowers himself down to sit. The other one climbs out of his shadow, tiredly resting against his caster.
“That was fun,” I chipperly say. The two start to wearily laugh at the same time. “Your domain spell was nice. Is it new?”
“Yeah. Specially made,” Xyll says. He turns to look into my eyes. “You were always going to surrender.”
“I was.”
“Told you.”
“You did,” Xyll replies.
“Being Demon King sounds exhausting, anyway. I much prefer being an adventurer.”
“We delegate most of our duties. All we really do is delve dungeons and look intimidating in meetings.”
Xyll sighs but smiles. “Don’t tell him that.”
“Same.”
“See. We should all just be friends.”
Xyll adds, “And with trust gained, lurk in the shadows, in case Lucius slips up.” The other one shakes his head at his grinning caster.
Two booklets appear in my hand. I pass them off. Both regard the colorful cover, depicting me and Mi’Min holding hands, drawn by the artist herself. The title reads, ‘Hi, I’m Lucius. Would you like to learn more about me?’.
“You probably know a lot of what’s in it, but for anything missing, it is succinctly written.”
The other one starts excitedly reading through.
“What was the second thing?” Xyll asks. “What did you want to prove?”
“That I could forgive myself.”
“Did you?”
My gaze lifts up to meet hers. “Yes.”