Guess who's back yet again? I know it's been a while since I've brought any updates to Medieval Cohesion, but my old computer kicked the bucket and it's been a hassle to transfer all my chapters to my new laptop. Furthermore, this turned out to be the longest chapter I've written to date and with good reason. Please pay attention to the little petite "A" displayed next to the title. You see it? Yes, your eyes are not deceiving you. This is one of the very rare chapters featuring Archimedes Kastellos, the "Heartless hero" veiled in mystery. I've been anticipating this juicy chapter for months, so please sit back and enjoy this melancholic peek into Archimedes' private endeavors. Once you've read this chapter to the end, I will leave it up to YOU to answer the question, is Archimedes a hero or a villain? This chapter is bound to rise quite a debate, I imagine.

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Chapter 66 – Suppression of Passion

St. Marianna's Cathedral - I never thought that the destiny I pursued would lead me back to this repugnant place, especially now that I was the unfortunate carrier of a dark curse which would guarantee a permanent banishment from these sacred soils. Had I returned like this four years ago, those bothersome warrior monks would surely have welcomed me with a volley of bolts from the fortified turrets that this cathedral used to have, and I would never have made it to the front gate. It was a mixed experience to revisit this place, since a part of me rejoiced by the sight of it being leveled to the ground, while another less insensitive part left me thinking that it was a shame to see such a marvelous construction be reduced to rubble. Regrettably, I found it challenging to sympathize with the religious fanatics who defended this place and was slain, when the combined forces of demons and undead recognized the cathedral as a vulnerable icon of light. The warrior monks only had themselves to depend on, when the dark forces surrounded the holy cathedral and kept them under siege for around eighteen hours, until the tenacious zealots were finally crushed by the overwhelming number of enemies. It was tragic, I suppose. The monks basically lost the battle once the dark forces managed to ram through the front gate, since their light gears of protection were highly incapable of withstanding blows from such formidable foes in melee. I was not here to witness the fall of St. Marianna's Cathedral myself, even though a conscientious feeling has left me regretting that I wasn't, so everything I know has been picked up from the gossip passed around after the war. Before I claimed this tome as my own, I was just a mediocre sorcerer with access to the standard elements of magic, but I think that my participation in this battle might still have been sufficient to make a difference. Perhaps I could even have prevented the demise of "her"... She, whose voice still haunts the ruins.

Even before I brought this despicable curse upon myself, everyone in this cathedral downright resented me. They didn't have the courage to tell me directly, but scowling looks followed me every time I walked through these corridors of whitewashed stone. My presence was tolerated, but that never fooled me into thinking that I was welcome. Rumors were spread with gossip and it didn't take long before the superstitious fanatics reached a mutual agreement about me being a bringer of dark omens. Some even raised theories about me being an agent of death, having infiltrated their sacred sanctuary to spy on their activities. Most people might wonder, why did I even bother to visit this place at all? The answer is quite simple - because of "her" - the young and celestial priestess who devoted her life to the teachings of Shévolyn. Her kindness could only be described as enchanting, and everyone respected her tremendously. They loved her so much that she could pretty much get away with everything. After no more than about five months, she had almost turned the cathedral into an orphanage because she kept inviting homeless children inside and raising them like her own. The other monks, zealots and priestesses were not thrilled about these children invading their cathedral, because they were noisy and lacked discipline, but they let them stay since they didn't want to reject the goodhearted nature of the young priestess beaming with ambitions. It just required a bit adaptation.

Her kindness and compassion was even directed towards me, and she drew my attention as the first woman in years who dared to smile back when I past her by on the streets of Kamadrone. It was only a few miles away from the cathedral, and she was often sent out to this town by foot to handle errands such as purchasing various supplies. Her eyes sparkling like two flawless spessartite garnets left me mesmerized, and it was quite safe to say that she cast a spell on me the first times our eyes met. I never imagined that a mere woman would be able to distract me from my journey, and even have me stalled in this area for a few months just to be with her. Perhaps this connection I sensed between us had something to do with her being the only other ring-tailed lemur I had ever met. It was my understanding that my race of primates had almost gone extinct, so of course, I was curious. If anyone had asked, I would’ve denied it right off the bat, but the truth is that there was also emotions involved in this experience. I suppose this is what the common folks would’ve called “fallen in love”. All that sentimental hogwash has never really been my department, and I honestly used to consider it a waste of precious time that could’ve been spent on gaining more knowledge and power. Nevertheless, this celestial woman intrigued me so much that I asked the locals of Kamadrone about her, which is how I learned about her life as a priestess in St. Marianna’s Cathedral. I decided to take a break from my journey and follow her, hoping to find out more about this ravishing female. This choice turned out to be the catalyst that shaped a unique and spectacular relationship; a warm, passionate and unforgettable experience that made me feel like I was ten years younger again.

The magic of our newly sown relationship eventually faded away a few months later, once I snapped out of the obscuring jumble of romantic emotions and returned to my former sinister self. My obsession about gaining power once again flared up inside me, and I suddenly became supremely aware about how this little fling had left me sidetracked on my quest. I still had a legendary tome to claim, so that I could delve into the dark library of death magic and fulfill my desired destiny of becoming the strongest and most dreaded wizard to ever roam the earth! But what about the young priestess? I hadn’t told her about my quest at all, and frankly, I didn’t expect her to understand why I needed to do this - So I decided to just pack my things and leave Kamadrone without saying a word. That is why I wasn’t here when the cathedral was leveled to the ground by demonic forces, and she... It felt like the right thing to do at the moment, but I can see now how my poorly arranged priorities might’ve contributed to the tragic amount of casualties in a way. I was young, naive and desirous of power back then, but ever since I acquired this tome and had my mortality taken away from me, it feels like I've grown considerably and undergone a lot of personal changes. I'm not the same selfish and arrogant man that I used to be. Otherwise, I wouldn't know what madness would've lead me back to these accursed ruins.

The tunnels underneath the ruins were dark and infested with series of cobwebs. No one had been there for ages. There was no light source, but it didn't matter - I brought my own. My left hand was raised and engulfed with a weak flame, lighting up the area around me without draining too much of my energy. According to the tales I eavesdropped to, my ring-tailed priestess told the other women to take the children and hide in these secret tunnels until the chaos on the surface had subsided. They thought that the priestess herself would come along, but the trapdoor was closed and sealed right after they went through. She insisted on staying behind to support the monks and zealots with her protective magic, improving their chances of making it through those hideous battles alive; but she wasn't nearly powerful enough to make any difference. Her intentions were pure, but the only thing she accomplished was getting herself killed along with everyone else, wasting her life for nothing. The cathedral was utterly destroyed, but the tunnels down here were still quite intact. It is evident that the demons and undead never discovered these hidden tunnels, and everyone who hid down here are probably still alive to this date. If only she had followed the others down here, she might've still been alive today, and I would've had a whole lot less reason to be burdened by such guilt. Foolish woman! She should've known better. Reckless heroism is a straight road to oblivion. The only reason why I'd even dare to risk my neck by protecting the weak, is because I no longer have anything left to lose. I've been robbed of my mortality, it's growing harder to get in touch with anything that resembles emotions, and I can't even remember the flavor of the food I used to cherish. I am arguably already dead, so what more can they possibly take away from me?

I just reached the point where they stopped building. From here on, there are no more tiles on the floor or bricks on the walls - just plain rock, dirt and traces of clay like any other subterranean tunnel. This was as far as they got before the war broke out, so the underground shelters were still incomplete when they were forced to use it. When I listened closely, I could still hear a faint disembodied voice coming from deep within these tunnels. It was her - I just knew it was. There's no way that I could forget the voice of the one and only woman, who was able to make me snap out of the obsession for power and open my eyes to the more exquisite things in life, even if the sensation was temporary and brief. The casual pace of my footsteps eventually lead me to the end of this underground tunnel where I could swiftly sense a drastic rise in moisture. I had just entered the large and open cavern that marked the end of the tunnel, a wide grotto with only the one and same exit. This was where people were hiding when the battle was going on in the cathedral above, and if the dark entities had discovered these hidden tunnels, then they would've been trapped with nowhere to flee. The soothing sound of water directed my attention to the far back of the cavern, where water gushed through the rocky walls and merged with the inside pool, before being led back out to nearby rivers through underground watercourses. Yes, back when the monks seized these tunnels and claimed them as part of their property, they discovered this marvelous spring and dubbed it “Marianna's Charity”. This spring enabled people to stay hidden in these tunnels for longer periods of time without suffering or even perishing from thirst.

The disembodied voice echoed inside this large and open grotto, singing the melancholic tunes of a song that revived many memories. It was the “Hymn of Shévolyn”, and I remembered it so clearly because she sung it as a lullyby for the children every night, to bless their souls and open their minds at an early stage for the ways of light. Her voice bouncing as an echo made it impossible to track her whereabouts, but I knew she was here. That's when I saw her. Right there, kneeling by the spring, still wearing the same white celestial robes with gilded trims around the sleeves and hood. It required a perceptive eye to spot her, because I could see the water of the spring gushing out of the wall right through her ethereal form. Yes, this was indeed the apparition of the woman I once loved, but she was no more than a shadow of her former self. She shouldn't even be here. I approached her slowly with a few reluctant steps, but found myself just staring at her without uttering a word. What was I supposed to say? I left without informing her about my departure and wasn't there when she needed me the most, so she didn't exactly have any reasons to be pleased about this reunion. My hesitation was triggered by an eerie realization. I had been enthralled by her voice echoing inside my head for days and placed it as my main priority to track down her lost spirit, but now that I had finally found her, I was absolutely clueless. Now what? It felt like I had just snapped out of some sort of hypnosis and just regained my senses. Or maybe... Maybe my fear of confrontation had pulled me back into the dark mind that once determined my default line of thinking, successfully convincing me that none of these sins I've comitted against this poor woman mattered as long as I never got to see her again. A question dwelled in my mind; is this really who I am – who I want to be? Her name grazed my memory and I spoke it out softly.

Archimedes: ...Christella.

She stopped singing and a nerve-racking silence occurred. There was no turning back now. I had made my presence known. She raised her head and just gazed into the water pouring out of the rocky wall, still kneeling and facing away from me. Her response first came tedious moments later.

Christella: There's a voice I haven't heard in a long, long time.

The fallen priestess with her white celestial robes slowly rose into a standing position and then turned around to face me – that's when a truly terrifying sight met my eye. Both her orange eyes that used to shine like marvelous topazes were gone and there was nothing but empty voids to see in her sockets. Patches of fur, skin and even flesh also seemed to be missing from her face, leaving behind a grotesque display of a skull fracture she must've suffered before her death, possibly from the blow of a blunt weapon like a mace or warhammer. Her cracked lacrimal bone was completely exposed. This was an undeniable proof that neither the undead nor the infernal menaces knew the art of mercy. They would brutally slaughter anyone in sight – men, women, elders and children. No one would be spared. I attempted to keep eye contact with her, but it was challenging to not show how repulsed I was by her ghastly appearance. I could've prevented this. It never had to be this way. What a gruesome way for a woman to have her life forfeit, and I couldn't bear to have been partly responsible for this tragic occurrence. She raised her hands and pushed her hood back, releasing her long hair that used to be brightly blond but now had adopted a shade of platin grey, complete with few bangs of hair hanging down to cross her forehead. Her spiritual presence in this grotto was clearly what affected the noticable drop in temperature, as her manifestation in the mortal realm must be actively draining all the energy in the area. What really vexed me about this discovery was, why was her spirit still present in the material realm? Shouldn't she have been acknowledged for her sacrifice in the name of good and have her soul escorted to a greater place by the socalled deity of light? Why was she still HERE!? I was fuming with anger in my own subtle way, showing it with nothing but a mere squint of my eyes. Then she asked me a question.

Christella: Archimedes. Have you seen the children? I can't find them...
Archimedes: They are no longer here. They left these caves long ago, alive and well. The secret hideout was never discovered.
Christella: Praise be to Shévolyn. I'd wish I could see them. They must've grown so well by now.
Archimedes: Quite possibly, yes, but tell me – why are you still here?
Christella: Doesn't it please you to see me again?
Archimedes: I... don't know.
Christella: Your heart was never easy for me to pry open, but I don't recall you being this cold and insensitive.
Archimedes: It's been a long time since I had a functioning heart, and I am not just refering to the emotional aspect. This is no time to fool around, Christella. You are dodging my question.
Christella: Must I reminische such horrid memories...?
Archimedes: I'd wish fate hadn't left it in my hands to clarify this, but you don't belong here anymore. You've been stuck in this void long enough. It's time for your spirit to move on and rest in peace.
Christella: They breached through our defenses and overwhelmed us with their might and numbers. I tried to help but there was little that could be done. My magic only postphoned the inevitable. Everyone was killed right before my eyes, people I had known ever since I served as a humble acolyte. Those images are burned into the back of my mind. Something hit my head really hard. I think one of those feroucious demons swung a mace at me, and before I knew it, I was on the floor with severe head trauma. My robes were drenched in blood and not just my own.
Archimedes: I know, but...
Christella: There was a lich among them – one of the malicious agents of Zervas. After the battle was over, he walked over the corpses and found me dying on the floor. My eyes begged for mercy, but he could sense that I shared an emotional relation with you. He used his dark magic to ensnare my soul in this realm and prevent me from dying in peace.
Archimedes: Just because you knew me?
Christella: You are in posession of a sinister artifact that does not belong to you. They want it back. They told me that my chains could only be broken if I retrieve this item and return it to them.
Archimedes: A sinister artifact – you mean this...?

I slowly and cautiously reached for the tome strapped to my side, grabbed it and presented it for her to see. The tome vibrated lightly in my hands as if it attempted to resist. It was a subtle warning. I knew something wasn't right, but I made sure to keep a safe distance between us. Christella nodded feverishly and her face beamed up with disturbing covetousness.

Christella: Y-yes... It must be! By the light of Shévolyn, the time has finally come. My freedom awaits. Give it to me, Archimedes. Hand me the tome, and I shall no longer hold a grudge for you abandoning me.
Archimedes: Christella...
Christella: What are you waiting for? Hand it over! This is your one and only chance to redeem yourself. You owe me this. You OWE me!
Archimedes: ...Forgive me, but I can't do this. It's not that simple. The curse I bear has linked my already demolished soul to this tome, and if anything ever separates me from it, my body will gradually shrivel up and die. This accursed thing is the only reason why I still exist. The truth is, nothing entices me more than the thought of cleansing myself of this curse, so that I can finally surrender my soul to the clutches of death and put an end to this nightmare – but I'm not ready to part with this tome and embrace my ultimate demise just yet. I'll need it to carry out my last endeavor of gaining revenge and vanguishing the lich emperor once and for all. Once my vengeance is fullfilled, I can finally seize to exist...
Christella: Your ambitions are touching, but I'm afraid that your misery is of little concern to me. I haven't remained here to suffer for years just to let you leave with my token of freedom in your grasp. In case of resistance, they gave me permission to claim it by force...
Archimedes: What? Surely, you wouldn't...
??? : Archimedes, watch out!
Archimedes: Who's there!?

The gloomy grotto was suddenly lit up for a brief moment and I barely managed to teleport out of the way, as I was apparently standing on the course of a spiritual blast heading directly for Christella. I reappeared only a few feet away where all I could do was watch with my jaw dropped, as the blast struck the ghostly apparition of the fallen priestess and send her recoling to the back of the cave. Her back crashed into the rocky wall and she fell lifelessly to the ground. I instantly turned towards the entrance where I found Sinqularis standing with a peculiar staff in hand that I hadn't seen before, which bejeweled tip was still glistening with energy after having released the massive attack. Zephyr and the obnoxious rabbit were standing right behind him with their own weapons equipped for combat. I could've sworn that I told those violent knuckleheads to leave this place, and more importantly, stay the hell out of my personal endeavors. This does not concern them! The meddlesome interrupters were just about to step inside, but then a magical barrier appeared to block the entrance, and I swear on what traces there were left of my honor that it wasn't created by me. A strange crackling noise caused me to turn around and direct my attention towards the fallen priestess, who was slowly rising from the spot where she was struck down, but not quite like she was before. She was undergoing a dreadful transformation and revealing her true form as an undead wraith, her celestial robes torn to shreds as if they aged instantly with every second counting as a year, and her claws growing menacingly long. She raised her sight and send me a hostile stare with an ominously unholy glow appearing in her empty eye sockets. My dear Christella, what have those monsters done to you...?

Christella: Keep your comrades out of this. This is between you and me. Hand over the artifact or face the consequences...
Archimedes: Do not challenge me, Christella! You have no idea how powerful I've grown since we last met. Pull yourself together, woman, my magic is not meant to be unleashed on you.
Christella: Power... you little pathetic man. I think its about time that someone open your eyes to the truth about your socalled “powers”. Go ahead – If you cherish that book so much, let me see you defend it.
Archimedes: Hmph. I guess you leave me no other choice.

Of course I had no desire of making her a target for my devastating spells, but her disrespectful mockery had provoked me enough to awaken an urge to prove my omnipotence. She struck a sore nerve, I suppose. My eyes began beaming with energy and I used the power of my mind to levitate the tome from my grasp, leaving it floating slowly around my body while I prepared to unleash my rage. Christella's undead form was hovering slightly above the ground like you'd expect from a wraith, and since her reluctance left her vulnerable, I decided to initiate a preemptive attack. With my hands engulfed by intense flames, I used my magic to teleport swiftly to random locations inside the grotto, avoiding to stay in one place more than a split second at the time. She'd regret disgracing me with such insolence. Teleportation drained my energy at a fairly slow rate and it served the purpose of confusing my prey, making it impossible to predict from which direction I would strike. Within the flash of swift motion, I brought an end to the series of teleportations and slammed my burning fist into the ground, igniting a trail of fire leading under the hovering shape of Christella. Then it exploded into a rising cyclone of fire that lasted for about eight seconds, and I could hear the wraith wailing somewhere in the chaos of flames. The cyclone incinerated the corrupted spirit of Christella, and even after the duration of the spell ran out, her ethereal body was still left lit in fire. However, I raised my sight only to discover that the flames had caused little to no damage at all. It was completely ineffective, but to make matters worse, it seemed like she was absorbing the energy I had woven the spell with. I knew from many years of experience that fire seldom worked very well against undead because they lack organic tissue, but ghostly figures were usually more susceptive to fire than the skeletal grunts we're used to see in the legions of Zervas. Truthfully spoken, I had fought and vanguished a fair deal of ghosts during my travels, but this was my first encounter with a high tiered wraith. Had I been challenged by an adversary too complex for me to bring down? Preposterous. I'm a much more vile menace than her.

Christella: How stimulating. Are you trying to force me into heat?
Archimedes: What? Oh, woman! That is just disgusting and indecent.

She laughed hysterically at my reaction and then the flames on her body suddenly died out, indicating that she had absorbed all the energy of my spell. Her behavior left me convinced that she had been corrupted in more ways than one, but I was struggling to push that repulsion out of my mind. It is basic knowledge to all spellcasters that if an enemy seems to be resistant to one element, then he or she is most likely weak to the element of the opposite nature, so I confidently kept faith in my ability to silence this mad woman deviating from her grave. The flames engulfing my hands turned from firey red to pale blue, indicating that I had switched to my devastating spells of ice. Then I threw my arms out to each side and swung them in a horizontal arch, having my clenched knuckles clash together right in front of me, releasing a flurry of snowflakes from the cold flames engulfing my hands and a powerful orb of frost heading directly for Christella at high speed! It was a simple and direct attack. I stood back and anticipated an effective impact, but to my dismay, I failed to predict the following event. Christella released a deafening cry of disdain and struck the orb of frost with a sweep of her arm at the very right time, reflecting the spell right back on myself. It happened so fast that I didn't have a chance to dodge it. The orb struck me hard and left me encased by solid ice vaguely shaped after my anatomy. I was completely immobilized and restricted by a severe decrease in temperature fit to snuff out the life of any mortal man. For a brief moment, I was quite grateful for the fact that I had been standing without a functional nervesystem since I contracted the curse, because I've heard that freezing to death is a painful way to go. I couldn't move my body but my mind was still active as ever, so I quietly focused on switching back to the element of fire, letting the warmth from the flames engulfing my hands melt the ice from inside the block. Once the ice was sufficiently hollowed out from within, I attempted to move my frozen body and smashed my way through the surface with my fist. Shards of ice was scattered all over the ground and slowly began to melt. I didn't feel the slightest pain, but the frost did manage to slow me down. It was necessary for me to thaw a little before attempting any more attacks.

Christella: You are wasting your time and energy, Archimedes. Your spells are completely useless against me, and frankly, they are starting to bore me. I suggest you hand over that book before you get seriously hurt.
Archimedes: For goodness sake, please try to understand! I need... the powers of this tome to destroy Zervas and bring peace to... this world. Stop this madness and let me go! My ambition... is to tame the darkness and exploit its potential to serve the purpose of light.
Christella: Listen to yourself, trying to deceive me with your filthy lies. Is this some sort of jest? “Archimedes Kastellos, the great hero of yore” so you want to leave your little footprint in history, do you? Don't make me laugh! You're a narcissistic villain and nothing more. Perhaps it is time for you to finally acknowledge your true form.

True form... My mind wandered and my eyes peered over Christella's ethereal figure hovering a short distance away from me. Something eerie caught my attention. A faint and barely noticable crimson light was radiating from her torso, seemingly emitted from a small oval-shaped object located where her heart used to be. It made me curious but I shrugged it off as a useless observation for the time being. The frost had severely limited my freedom of movement, and now it seemed like Christella had finally decided to unleash her first attack. I was like a sitting duck and couldn't do anything to evade it. With a striking similarity to a stalking predator, the ethereal apparition swooped in and slashed me across the chest with her claws before returning to the spot from which she came. The force of her undead might was so strong that it knocked me a short distance back with the soles of my boots skidding across the rocky ground. I lowered my sight to make the surprising discovery that her attack had not torn my mantle to shreds, but I could've sworn that I sensed her vicious claws on the other side of the fabric, ripping the flesh off my ribcage – a sensation that was apparently supposed to be taken somewhat more literal than I imagined. Lumps of flesh left my body and plummeted to the ground around me, quickly dissolving into nothing. Every piece of fur fell off and formed a nest of black and white around me. My orange eyeballs rotted away in the sockets of my now exposed skull. I looked at my hands. The tight leather gloves I wore revealed the markings of the skeletal hands they covered. For the first time since this horrific curse was contracted, my undead form had manifested itself during day. How did she do that? Her attack must somehow have disrupted the seal keeping the darkness trapped within me, transforming me into a lich without the need of moonlight.

Archimedes: This... is not me. This is NOT ME!

Yes. I finally snapped. Her accusations caused my hidden identity crisis to flare up and the confusion was quickly converted into blind rage. Christella had begun chanting and energies of magic circled around her undead form. She was about to conjure a spell, possibly a harmful one to connect with her next attack. My entire body was quivering with anger. I was not just going to stand there and take her punishments like a helpless wimp. There was still time to stop her and attack first. No one gets away with humiliating Archimedes Kastellos, not even her! She did a fatal mistake of forcing me into my undead form, because now I had access to the forbidden library of black magic, the most lethal spells in existance. I reached my arms out and gathered my hands with open palms, putting my entire being into unleashing the most repugnant power spawned from the realm of death, a morbidly gruesome attack capable of utter eradication. An immense beam was releashed from my palms and expanded to overwhelming proportions, black like the feathers of ravens, so odiously diabolic that I found it titled “The Reaper's Tongue” in the Tome of Demise. It tremendously saps the energy of the caster, and yet, it was in rare cases used by desperate liches seeking to overpower and brutally murder their unsuspecting targets. This was supposed to guarantee the victory I sought, but my dear Christella, she tricked me with her devious spell of deception. What I had misinterpreted as an offensive spell purposed to smite me was, to my terrifying misfortune, a protective spell generating an enchanted barrier capable of reflecting hostile magic. It didn't even cross my mind that she would still have access to the defensive library of magic she was taught in life as a priestess. I couldn't imagine such pure spells of light being used by an abominable wraith.

The large beam of black malice clashed with the magical barrier protecting Christella and was reflected right back towards me. I dropped the arms down and sighed, realizing that this could potentially be the mistake that would end my meaningless existance for good. So be it. I honestly didn't want to see this happen but my undead form did not offer the luxury of eyelids to shut the horror out. The beam struck me with the force of a mighty hurricane and the cloth of my mantle fluttered behind me. Stuck in the core of the destructive spell, I had raised and crossed my arms as a futile attempt to protect my head, watching how the curse was struggling to replace the cells of my undead body that was destroyed. My clothes seemed to be trapped in a cycle of becoming ripped to shreds, then woven back together with every single thread by the curse. Yes, even the garments I wore was affected by the self-inflicted damnation resting on my shoulders. It was one of the few aspects of this curse that I had learned to appreciate, since it saved me the trouble and expenses of having my clothes replaced every time I sustained heavy damage in combat, which was far more often than I wanted to admit. An expanding hole appeared in the left side of my skull as the process of eradication was overpowering the regenerative features of the curse. Another hole having appeared on my mantle revealed that some of my ribs were already pulverized. Once the destructive beam of death finally subsided, I colapsed onto my knees and could fight no more. The curse very slowly attempted to restore the damages on the pitiful remains of my body and clothes, closing the holes cell by cell. Even the missing ribs were growing back, and whichever other bone that was exterminated. It eventually dawned on me just how close I was to be pushing up daisies this time. The tome suddenly stopped floating and landed right in front of me.

Archimedes: How... am I supposed to... fight someone who has mastered the art... of retribution? Everything I have learned, all the magic I have studied, all the power I have gained... Is absolutely useless!
??? : You are truly a pitiful wretch, but perhaps there is still a grain of hope left for you.
Archimedes: Who's there?

How eerie. It sounded almost like my own voice but I didn't say that. I turned my head and looked around the cave to confirm that I was alone in the area with the apparition of Christella. There was no one else, and the three knuckleheads were still struggling to find a way around the magical barrier she summoned to block them out. Then my sight lowered to discover a small puddle of water close to my knees, presumably having appeared because of the spring or moist dripping from above. I could see the hideous reflection of my skeletal face. No, wait – this reflection seemed to have a mind of its own. It would seem like I had officially gone insane. I had no clue if it was real, some sort of magic trickery or me having begun hallucinating. The reflection spoke to me again.

??? : Pull yourself together. You don't want to be remembered as the wizard who was slain by the hand of a frail woman with attitude issues, do you? Of course you don't! We've already confirmed that she is either immune to magic or knows how to use it against us, so stop pounding your head against that same wall and reconsider your technique.
Archimedes: Magic is my primary weapon. It's what I got. If magic doesn't work, how the hell am I supposed to fight?
??? : Sometimes, I wonder how you manage to dress yourself every morning. There is more than one way to skin a cat. Think darker, Archimedes, and don't let your absurd sense of morale prevent you from emerging as the victor in this ordeal. Dignity has no value to a dead man. Choose the way of the devious and do something... unexpected.
Archimedes: Something unexpected...
Christella: What're you mumbling about over there? I hope you realize that talking to oneself is the first sign of lunacy. Don't tell me that you've already run out of ideas and stand dumbfounded. I was expecting more.
Archimedes: No, Christella, it is enough. You have proven your point.
Christella: Hmm... What are you saying?
Archimedes: It is meaningless to continue this hopeless dispute. You win. Take the tome and do with it as you please. I don't care anymore.
Christella: Y-yes, at last! This is the moment I've waited for so long. Hand it over, now. My freedom is literally only a stone's throw away. Give it to me, give it!
Archimedes: Bah, the book is right there on the ground. Fetch it yourself.

She was so excited about claiming the tome that my insolence didn't trigger any unpleasant consequences. The tattered remains of her celestial robes suddenly returned to their former glory as she transformed back to the ghostly shape she presented when I arrived, once again concealing her hideous shape as a wraith. She gleefully walked towards the tome lying on the ground, leaning forward with her arms stretched out, ready to pick it up and claim it – but I was not as weakened as I wanted her to believe. I had one more trick that only a daredevil would consider, but I needed her just a little closer for me to pull it off. She hadn't even noticed that I had discreetly pulled the glove off my left skeletal hand. My plan was based on a theory, and if it turned out to be a failure, then she'd send me six feet under with guarantee. It was all or nothing. Once she was within my reach, I rose swiftly from the ground and plunged my hand aggressively into her chest, closing my bony fingers tight around the crimson radiating object ressembling her heart. She released a high-pitched shriek of agony. Oh, how I rejoiced by the sound of her vulnerability. There was nothing she could do but stand still and surrender herself to my mercy. A confident grin revealed itself on my skeletal face as our unholy beady eyes met for the first time at close range. I knew that I had found her weakness, and she knew I was cold enough to exploit it. My arm quivered as I struggled with the dilemma of contemplating how this encounter should end. It would be so easy in this position to crush this delicate little heart between my fingers, and a sinister part of me kept coaxing me to do it. The same dark voice I heard from my reflection before made a dreadful return, echoing inside my hollow skull again and again. Pressure was building up. My hand inside her quivered too. Crush... or don't crush? Crush! Or don't? There was a hidden battle going on inside me that I couldn't understand at the time.

Christella: You wily son of a devil... I should've known that I'd bring myself in danger by approaching your rotten carcass. Very well then. I suppose it's only fitting that my heart is destroyed by the same man who broke it the first time. Go ahead... indulge yourself by finishing me off.
??? : Yes! Splendidly done, Archimedes. The taste of victory can be bittersweet, but don't let it dampen your bloodlust. Now kill her – destroy her once and for all. Make her pay for underestimating your supremecy.
Archimedes: Eh, I don't know...
??? : You're not supposed to “know” anything, just do as I say. Don't even think about playing innocent with me, we both know you've done it before. What happened to everyone else who questioned your superiority? They're dead – killed in cold blood. Don't you dare defy me, we both know exactly what you are.
Archimedes: What am I...?
??? : You're a shifty scoundrel, Archimedes. A traitor. A murderer...
Archimedes: NO!

My sudden outburst seemed to startle both Christella and myself. A phase of silence occurred. I lowered my sight submissively and loosened my grip around her heart a little, holding it in a more tender fashion and caressing it with a light stroke of my bony thumb. After having recovered from the shock, Christella spoke with a soft voice.

Christella: ...No?
Archimedes: No. To say it as it is, I've done a lot of dishonorable things in my past that blemishes my name with shame – but breaking your heart, leaving your side and not being here when you needed my protection – that is by far the sin I regret the most. No, Christella, I refuse to be the mangy cur who broke the heart of a ravishing lady twice. Even if that means my quest and whole existance will come to a screeching halt.
Christella: Archimedes... I see the darkness swelling inside you has not yet devoured your sense of humility and compassion. It's revitalizing to see that there are still traces left of the lemur I once loved – but you know I can't let you leave with the book. If Zervas discovers that I failed to claim it, a fate worse than death awaits me. There's only one way.
Archimedes: Yeah, I know. That's why I'll just...

It felt like the area suddenly froze in time and the worst experience of my entire existance was carried out in a bizarre state of slow motion. The only thing I could hear was the chilling sound of a distant heartbeat. Was it hers...? She stepped back away from me and I didn't realize this quick enough to release her heart from my grasp. The poor woman cried out in agony as the heart was ripped out of her chest, and even though it was not organic, it felt like all the blood vessels attached to it was snapped right off. The removal of her heart was concluded with a brief but blinding flash. She grew weak and fell. A chivalrous instinct that I didn't even know I had made me drop down on my right knee and catch her between my arms. I just held her close and gazed into the weakening glow ressembling her eyes. Her powers were fading quickly and she wasn't strong enough to keep me trapped in my undead form. As I was kneeling down and holding her, my flesh and fur slowly grew back. Sparkly orange eyes once again filled out the sockets of my skull and a new layer of fur with black and white stripes sprouted from my exposed tailbone.

Archimedes: ...Why?
Christella: Don't be daft, Archimedes, you already know. I knew you wouldn't make the choice, so I did it for you. Whatever you are plotting against Zervas, it had better be good. Don't let me perish in vain, you hear? Take my heart with you... keep it with you at all times, and you'll be able to manipulate the element that has eluded you so far.
Archimedes: You mean, the elusive element of air?
Christella: Precisely. It should prove useful on your journey and open doors for you that were previously shut. Go now, and I shall hope that the winds of change will one day bring you back to my side. Your vengeance... our vengeance... shall be twofold.
Archimedes: Christella, forgive me...

She didn't reply, not a word. I assumed that she had already grown too weak to talk. Instead, she just smiled softly to me while keeping eye contact. This turned out to be quite an emotional deja vu for me, because that was the very same way she smiled to me when we first met in Kamadrone. She raised her arm slowly and stroked my fluffy cheek with her delicate little hand. Her striped tail intertwined with my own and curled affectionately around it... then her body suddenly turned to ash and slipped right through my fingers, before being scattered to every corner of the grotto. She was gone. Watching her seize to exist like that left me stunned and motionless for a brief moment, not even moving the arms that held her. I eventually stood back up and released a mournful sigh. Frustration swelled up inside me. I wanted to cry, but even at this point where sorrow had bottled up inside me to the extend where I could burst, the curse wouldn't let me shed a single tear. The frustration eventually converted into anger, but once I clenched my fist, I suddenly remembered that I was still holding the object extracted from Christella's chest. I opened my hand and found a small gemstone resting in my palm, a marvelous ruby by the size and shape of an egg. A faint glow was emitted from the core of the ruby as if Christella's soul dwelled inside it. Perhaps it actually did. I tucked it away and hid it in a pocket inside my mantel.

Since her soul no longer haunted this underground grotto, the magical barrier sealing the only way out had dissipated. Sinqularis, Zephyr and Paul knew the battle was over and had lowered their weapons. I could sense they approached me cautiously from behind and stopped at a safe distance, possibly contemplating how to confront me. They were speechless. Fine by me. I was for obvious reasons not feeling very sociable at the moment. The only thing I wanted was to get out of that horrible place as fast as possible. After having picked up my tome and put my glove back on, I suddenly turned around and walked right past them, avoiding eye contact and pretending they weren't there. They stepped aside and offered me space. However, before I left the grotto, I stopped and asked them a question without turning around to face them.

Archimedes: You saw it all. Didn't you?
Sinqularis: ...
Zephyr: …
Paul: …
Archimedes: Just leave me alone.

Of course they saw it. Never mind, I didn't really care. I resumed walking, went back into the tunnels and left the cathedral on my own. They don't know me. No one does. I don't want anyone to know me. Christella was finally dead for good, annihilated by my own hands. That was really starting to slip into my consciousness. I had killed the spiritual remains of Christella, the celestial and compassionate priestess loved by everyone, and the only woman I ever had feelings for. It was Zervas' fault. No matter who he thought he was, there was no excuse for making puppets out of innocent people's souls like that. I had nothing but contempt for that ancient bag of bones, and I swore that I'd one day force him to suffer from the extensive retribution deserved for his many misdeeds. If there were any traces of justice left in this dark world, then a likely fate shall awaiten me by the end of this journey...