The man leaped down from the throne, that stupid grin still plastered on his face… No, he's probably just another one of his victims.
I gripped the hilt tighter, intending to thrust it through him automatically the moment he stepped into the invisible circle at my feet.
"Kukuku, am I no longer allowed to visit my old friend?" he said, staying just out of reach of my sword.
"We're not friends anymore," I said, drawing the hilt of my sword slightly. "I'll ask you again: what are you looking for here?"
"You offend me by thinking I've come for any specific reason…" His words gradually became distorted until they turned into shrill sounds that made my hair stand on end. "But yes, you're right. I've come for something."
His mask began to crack, unable to contain his inhuman smile.
"Your life," he whispered in my ear.
Wham!
I drew my sword in the blink of an eye, making a circular slash that sliced through his neck as if it were butter.
I didn't stop my attack and followed it up with an upward slash aimed at his true body.
His left leg flew off in a bloody arc toward the walls.
Underground Shadow—the loss of one of his limbs didn't seem to affect him in the slightest as he sank his hands into the floor of the room.
I felt as if I were walking on deep quicksand that was clinging to my legs.
I clenched my teeth, watching as Julián's limbs regenerated at an alarming rate, crawling toward me with that damned mocking smile on his face.
"You wretched insolent wretch!" I plunged my sword into the black earth that kept getting in my way. Blizzard!
Crack!
Everything was covered in white: the furniture, the curtains; even sound was trapped within the confines of space-time.
I walked slowly, shattering the ice crystals that came into contact with the metal of my sword, as I exhaled a cloud of icy wind while gazing at the frozen statue on the floor.
Crack!
I stomped hard on his hand, shattering it and causing it to melt into the cold furniture in the room.
I could sense a familiar presence behind the door, kicking with such intensity that fragments of the doorway kept scattering across the floor.
I turned toward the man, raising my sword—this time not with the intention of splitting him in two, but to eliminate any residual trace he might leave behind after his departure.
"I'll make sure you never laugh again," I declared as I brought my sword down, striking his head before the sound even had time to materialize.
BOOM!
"Your efforts are futile," I remarked calmly as I increased the magical pressure on my sword.
The man was in a pitiful state; he had strained his muscles to the limit to partially free himself from the ice.
The metal was slowly cutting into the skin of his palm, searing his flesh as it gave off a pungent smell of burnt meat.
But the smile still lingered on his face, even though his flesh and blood had been torn away to such an extent that his veins were visible across his entire upper body.
His face had an almost cadaverous appearance, with some of his teeth falling into a pool of blood that evaporated before it touched the ground.
And his ribs… That was the part that made my hair stand on end: his ribs were stripped of all traces of skin, revealing how all his organs had melted away due to the high temperatures, while what remained of his heart continued to beat until his very last breath.
I withdrew my sword wearily, gazing at the pile of ashes on the floor. Much of the floor had crumbled during the earlier collision, ruining nearly all the documents I was carrying with me at the time.
Ah, right, Adelaide.
I turned toward the frozen doorway, the adrenaline fading with every breath; I could feel the weight of the years taking its toll with every step I took.
That was my gravest mistake...
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
***
I've been pounding on the door ever since I noticed the temperature dropping in the hallways, while a myriad of possibilities swirled through my mind.
I'd thrown punches, kicked, and even slashed with my sword until my arms went numb, but nothing could close the distance between me and the room.
"Father, I beg you, open the door!" I shouted, pounding on the door with eyes bloodshot from my own helplessness.
I… I… Father, please don't die.
At that moment, I no longer cared about the blood dripping from my knuckles; I was determined to break down that door even if it was the last thing I ever did.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
At some point, my skin had turned pale from overusing my unique ability. Several splinters had lodged themselves in my hands, transmitting the cold seeping from the hinges deep into my bones.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"What's going on?" asked a voice behind me.
"Marc… help me move this door—our father might be in danger!" I pleaded, my eyes blurred with tears.
I felt a warm hand rest gently on my shoulder.
"Leave it to me. You know perfectly well that your ability isn't suited for this kind of thing, so don't use it," he said calmly, as a man dressed in dark clothing made his way toward the door of the great hall.
BOOOM!
With a single powerful punch, the door collapsed, scattering tiny shards of ice throughout the hallways.
I rushed into the hall, taking in the eerie atmosphere: the wind seeping through the curtains, the cracked floor, a huge crater in the center… but none of that mattered at that moment.
My eyes locked onto the familiar figure sitting on the throne, his gaze fixed on the far end of the room.
"Thank goodness," I murmured to myself, before running toward him, feeling a great weight lift off my shoulders.
I was about to say something when, suddenly, a hand blocked my path.
"Marc! This is no time for jokes—I need to talk to my father!" I shouted, shoving his hand aside so I could get closer to the figure sitting a few meters away from me.
"He's dead," Marc said, pulling his hand away from my face.
Those words hit me like a thunderclap, repeating over and over and over again in my mind.
"D-dead? Hahaha, Marc loves to joke around. Yeah, this is a joke, right, father?"
"You're such a joker, Marc. Father is one of the most powerful people in the kingdom; there's no way anyone could defeat him. The room must be freezing because we ruined his rugs. Hahaha…" I grabbed my father by the shoulder to get his attention and prove to my little brother that he was wrong.
What happened next froze my heart; my father collapsed lifelessly to the floor at the touch of my hand.
"F-father, stop joking around. Enough of these stupid games—I don't find this funny at all!" I shouted, shaking his arm to get some kind of reaction from him.
"I told you, he has no vital signs," Marc declared, closing the windows in the room.
"No, no, no, he's alive… He's definitely alive!" I shook my father frantically, feeling a part of my soul crumble as I ignored the tears blurring my vision. "Father, Father, please, answer me… Tell him you can still move!"
My screams filled the room, drawing the attention of the castle staff as I clung tightly to my father, whose face wore a blank expression.
***
The actors' melodious aria filled the air with an endless torrent of shrill notes that harmonized with the splatters of blood on the walls.
All around me, hundreds—or perhaps thousands—of actresses dazzled on stage with their splendid dances that pierced the hearts of the audience.
I don't care how the cast of actors came to reach such a size under Seraphine's command, but if they've been enchanted by my magnificent choreography, I wouldn't mind shedding a little light on them.
I began to walk on the wind, observing the corpses with a hint of anticipation behind my anti-magic mask, as I struck the next note.
A few incompetent extras tried to ruin the show, but Seraphine and the others easily defeated them.
"May the light of destiny descend upon us as we enjoy the sweet symphony of death"—I paused briefly to raise my hand toward the dark sky—"and may judgment loom over us to illuminate the climax of the scene."
Boom!
A dull sound echoed slowly through the planet's atmosphere, catching the attention of the paladins who were still standing.
Some even dropped their swords as they watched my beautiful finale.
Yes, that's exactly what I wanted. The clock has started ticking; may the best actor take it all, and may the loser be buried beneath the eternal fire.
"Damn it, let me go!" shouted one of the guards in a futile struggle against one of the actresses surrounding the area.
"Psychopath, you damned lunatic! Do you think the Church will stand idly by when it finds out about this?" roared another, before the light in his eyes went out in the flash of the gleaming swords.
"Hate and love go hand in hand. Today they will hate me like a demon; tomorrow they will praise me like a god. To be forgiven? I don't need to beg for others' mercy to assert myself," I said, spreading my arms wide as my actresses formed a splendid formation behind me. "At the Opera of Chaos, we don't need others' approval. Raise your swords: the show must go on!
Sparks rained down everywhere amid the desperation to avoid being swallowed up by the meteorite that would claim the lives of the losers.
And I, of course, was not about to miss the finale unfolding before me.
I adjusted the tie on my suit as the wind swept my hair back after my fall from the heights, moving to the beat of the epic music playing in the background.
"Reflective Gem!" I said in time with the music, channeling Earth and Light from the cloud of dust left by my fall.
Several rocks shot up into the sky, completely enveloping the battlefield in a spectacle of light and surrounding the stage with an intricate web of lasers that pierced the armor as if it were paper.
"Cough, cough! Help me!" pleaded one of the paladins, with a beam of light lodged in his abdomen.
Unfortunately for him, help never came, as the clerics found themselves in an even more dire situation, trying to stop my performance from ending.
Idiots.
"Dispel," I commanded, propelling myself backward as I felt the friction exerted by the burning meteorite just a few meters away.
The actresses scattered into a blur of images, flowing like a slender blade of grass in the middle of the ocean.
"Remember this well," I told the extras who were desperately struggling against the prison of light that enveloped them. "We are the Opera of Chaos; no matter where you are, wherever there is a bad scene, the Phantom of the Opera will impose his judgment; don't forget it."
I left those words behind as I walked in the opposite direction with my hands in my pockets.
The smell of blood was swept away by the powerful explosion caused by the meteorite, which mercilessly pounded me with shock waves that ruffled my hair.
Let's keep going; this is scene number eight tonight. I think I'll title it "The Octopus of a Thousand Swords"; not bad.
I quickened my pace, followed by my talented actresses. The night is still young to go to rest and perfect for shining in the script of destiny.