Ashera stared at the screen, her eyebrows furrowed.
There wasn't much information, but now I see the connection.
These races were exterminated at a time when Zrahel wasn't yet The Fool, but already overwhelmingly powerful, I suppose. The second intergalactic war, huh?
She clicked on the first race: Aetherian.
[Request failed]
[General Level required]
"Shii... I need to be at least a General to access this information. I guess it's the same for the others."
[Nihil selected - Request failed!]
[GodSlayer Trinity - Request failed!]
[Warden Level required!]
"Ah yeah... This information must be top secret."
She sighed and stood up, but as she opened the door, she came face to face with a familiar figure.
"Hmm? Commander Asad?" a calm voice remarked.
"You?" Her eyes widened. What are you doing here?
Without waiting for an answer, she lunged at him, determined to subdue him. She didn't know his intentions, but his mere presence in this ultra-secure location was a threat.
Zrahel dodged her first punch with a fluid lateral movement, his eyes slightly narrowed in confusion.
"Wait, I'm not—"
She didn't listen. A left hook, then a series of spinning kicks, each powerful enough to shatter armor. But Zrahel didn't retaliate. He blocked, deflected, and moved with maddening precision, as if anticipating every move.
"You won't escape me this time!" She roared, feinting before attempting a chokehold.
"I didn't escape the first time."
He caught her wrist, threw her off balance with a slight pressure, then spun her around gently.
"Ashera, I'm not here to fight."
She ignored his words and redoubled her aggression, now using the environment: a rebound off the wall to accelerate, a heel strike aimed at his temple. He blocked again, but this time, he counterattacked—almost. His palm grazed her sternum, without force, but sending a neon wave that made her stumble backward.
"Are you mocking me?!"
He was about to respond when her gaze caught a presence behind him. A familiar figure, standing still near the holographic archives.
" …Agathe?"
Her muscles froze. Why was her teammate here? And why was she watching the scene without intervening?
Zrahel took advantage of her hesitation to step back, raising his hands in a truce gesture.
'Actually, your friend just brought me here. And you were here as she requested.'
"So you two really know each other." Agathe declared, stepping forward with a slight mischievous smile.
Ashera calmed down, straightening her uniform.
"Yeah, you could say that..."
"The reunion was a bit eventful ~"
Agathe's figure blurred and appeared beside her friend, placing an arm around her shoulders.
"Come on, tell me. How do you feel after all this? I've heard a lot of nonsense in the news."
"Ah, you know, Agathe, the same old crap. They have nothing better to do. I'll just ignore them. But how did you two end up together?"
"I landed on a planet. And then she started following me and attacked me." Zrahel joined the conversation.
"Huh?"
"It's more like you killed a lieutenant." She retorted.
"Ah! There was that too." Zrahel confirmed the murder as if the loss of life wasn't even worth mentioning.
Ashera felt a headache coming on. A moment of inattention and this madman could destroy this complex? And she still had no solution other than helping him recover his memories.
'In the end, I don't think it's a good idea.'
That's when Agathe grabbed her commander's arm.
"Hey Ashera. You know you can tell me anything."
"Yeah, what is it?"
"Are you two, like, a couple?"
"Huh? What? Gross, I'd rather die! We don't have that kind of relationship."
"Really? He seems extremely powerful and handsome. Even if he's a bit autistic around the edges. Ahaha"
"No!" Ashera was categorical and cold in her response.
"I searched during the trip on the terminal. And his name appears nowhere. I see that only you know him? So where does he come from?"
A heavy silence fell. Ashera met Zrahel's gaze—those eyes that, for once, seemed to seek an answer from her.
"I…" she began, before a shrill beep sounded.
Agathe's bracelet displayed a message from her father. Not to forget, Nadir's funeral.
"Uh, yeah. Agathe, it's a long story. But let's just say he saved me when I used the Pulsar. Unfortunately, he lost his memory. And even I don't know his origins."
"I see, I see... So we should help him create an identity. It'll be easier in the future."
"I agree. Take care of it, please. I need to get ready for the funeral."
She turned around.
"Hey Ashera, I'll come with you."
"No, thanks! I doubt the dead want to see you."
"Hm? I see he was important to you, so logically I should comfort you. I'll take the opportunity to offer my condolences to the family."
Ashera remained silent. Sometimes she felt like this bastard was deliberately twisting the knife where it hurt the most.
"..."
"What do you say?"
"I'd rather die!"
"Ah, you want to die? I can arrange that."
"Ahahah." Agathe laughed, walking away.
"I'm leaving you two lovebirds, don't kill each other.~"
***
This once-thriving planet was now a cosmic corpse.
Charred skyscrapers pierced a sky glowing with atomic dust. The streets, once teeming with life, were now canyons of melted glass and twisted metal, dotted with figures frozen in their final flight—some reduced to vaporized shadows on the walls. The air still vibrated with residual heat, heavy with the acrid smell of burnt flesh and ozone.
In the midst of this apocalypse, Alvah Saghir laughed uproariously.
"Damn, I've created another masterpiece! Too bad I forgot my camera."
He clicked his tongue, disappointed. His violet eyes reflected distant fires. His black hair was disheveled, a silver piercing in his eyebrow , his ears and lips deep circles like chronic insomnia badges. His ripped jeans and leather jacket studded with chains were stained with ash, his bare feet casually resting on the charred skull of a child. 5'11" of elegant gauntness, an appearance of a rocker masking a simple truth:
Alvah was a monster.
The only Major Arcana living without a mask, out of pure narcissism. He saw himself as an artist, played the teenager seeking attention, but his favorite game remained genocide. Worse than The Fool? Perhaps. Where his master killed for a reason only he knew, The Star did it for pleasure.
He hummed a nonexistent song when a portal tore the air beside him. A woman emerged, her mask engraved with five swords over her left eye. She bowed, her voice trembling:
"I apologize for the impertinence, The Star. I am the Fifth Sword of the Emperor's Minor Arcana."
Alvah sat down, pulling a lollipop from nowhere. "I can see that... So, what does The Emperor want?"
"A message: The Fool has disappeared."
"And? It's not the first time my master—"
"This time, it's different. After confronting the Commander..."
Alvah's face changed.
The lollipop fell. His pupils dilated, drowning the violet in brutal night. The Fifth Sword didn't have time to scream.
Her body imploded, flesh and organs reduced to scarlet dust that swirled before crashing to the ground. Only her skeleton remained standing for a second, then collapsed into a pile of clean bones, as if devoured by voracious ants.
Alvah shook his head, looking at his lost lollipop in the rubble. "I even wasted this lollipop..."
Then he stood up, bare feet crushing the ashes of the dead.
"Ashera..." he murmured, his voice suddenly soft. "I hope you know where The Fool is."