End of Fortuna

The shade watched from a world beyond, cosmic wine in hand atop his throne, a smirk upon his face. “You are the one I’ve been waiting for. Show me your final hand… World Saviour.”

*-*-*

The knife blasted out his hand and clattered to the ground next to a broken spear. Mayumi remained unharmed. Elara hit the ground, weaponless, clawing at the ground.

Saxon shoved Mayumi aside, snatched his blade and swung for the weaponless intruder. But Mayumi reacted in time.

The cut across his chest oozed red and he could not hide the sting. “What is going on here?!” His vision covered Elara, scanning her broken body, her mangled arm. “She managed to throw so precisely in that condition? Impossible! This timing is… how is this happening?!”

As the rage built inside him, he noticed the lights from the deep woods. Arata had done well to keep hidden thus far, but his magic had betrayed him. Saxon’s smirk returned. “There, you did something, didn’t you?!”

He surged through the vines like a man possessed, faster than Mayumi could match. But as he reached the artist, not a flicker of fear took hold of him.

The lights warped his vision, enough for his attack to fall wayward - and dropping him to the floor.

“It won’t work.” Arata’s voice broke through and finally, the lights surrounding their encounter were fully recognised by Saxon.

Towering just below the tree’s dense canopy, intricately designed. Arata, Elara, Mayumi, even Saxon himself - they were all there, etched into the air in a deep sea green haze. Every action was mapped out perfectly - Mayumi’s shot to Saxon’s shoulder, his clever disarm of the archer, his wild swing at Mayumi that was deflected by Elara. It was all there, and more.

His eyes scanned every inch of every page. Every detail checked at least twice, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. “What… What is this?!” he screamed.

“This is fate, Saxon. Stories are written. I realised that only I can erase the pages, and redraw them in my design.”

The assassin lunged; Mayumi intercepted with the broken shaft. “Your final page is written.” Arata added, voice never rising.

Elara was watching from the distance, crawling towards the lights ahead - averting her eyes from the bleeding cup and Ferula’s corpse. “So this was your doing, Arata? I wouldn’t have made it here before the time ticked away… then the forest began to move past me, faster than I could understand. Then, here I was, throwing my spear before my mind had even caught up.” Time was slowly, but surely, falling away. The final minute was upon them, and the goblet lay dormant - for the final moments it awaited.

The archer fought the assassin, each knife swing cut nought but wind or tree. Mayumi had gone from being weighed down by exhaustion, to suddenly finding a second gear - moving as if she hadn’t been fighting for the past day. His last swipe was blocked by her kick, sending a shockwave down his arm but he kept control - now he saw the opening. “Cut shallow then swing around to her back, I’ll be able to cut her throat easily!” He imagined the very movements. Yet his body betrayed him. Instead of trying to cut shallow, his arms swung hard to try and pierce - but this was evaded, and then countered on.

He rose, wiping away the fresh blood dripping down his chin. “Everything is exactly like those pages! No matter if I try to adjust, my body dances to his tune and the panels become true.”

The next pages were his focus now. He would once again rampage forward, this time being blocked and kicked back to the same sorry state. But as he followed the script his muscles changed course slightly, aiming lower. “How about this?!”

Still, Mayumi blocked his forearm with her boot, lifting it up to the position in the pages. Then another idea formed, he let go of his blade - letting it fall to his other arm so that he could finally get the upper hand.

Instead, Mayumi countered quicker. Her hanging leg pushed down hard, and as it hit the ground she kicked off - spinning in the air and connecting with boot to chest.

He landed awkwardly, clutching his still bleeding chest and glaring at his opponent with malice.

Tick…

Tick…

…

End.

The goblet watched the fights, watched warrior kill warrior, and drank their blood greedily.

Now, it stood up on its own.

Arata was the first to notice, checking the time remaining as Mayumi continued rushing to Saxon. Panic washed over him like a wave, a torrent, unyielding. “We’re… out of time.”

The day had completed, and the clock struck midnight. No more time remaining.

The goblet raised slowly into the air, the blood still dyeing the grass followed it - circling around like a red miasma. Elara couldn't continue crawling, Saxon and Mayumi lost all focus on their face off.

This was the end. The red seeped out of the goblet again, turning to black as the cup disappeared - a void taking its place.

Zzzzt

“Remaining competitors.” The system called. “The Knife, the Spear, The Bow. Congratulations, you have survived the day. The portal is now open and will take you home. However, this portal will close in two minutes. Please make your way through at your earliest convenience.”

Time began to tick once more, slowly the portal began to fade into the night. Arata celebrated, they were all here, they could all escape.

“Saxon!” He called. “It’s over! We all survived, all we have to do is go home.”

Saxon bit his snarl. “No one goes anywhere! This isn’t some happy fairy tale, this is a battle royale. Only one can win, and I will not let any of you make it back!”

“Will you stop being a psycho?! What does it matter if we go through or not?!”

“There are winners and losers, that is universal.” His twitching eyes focused on Ferula’s corpse. “Their blood is our sacrifice. They are the losers in this world…” With great determination he managed to return to his feet.

Arata knew this moment, the final page he had drawn - It would only end with more blood spilled. “W-Wait-”

Saxon ignored his plea, flying through the greenery at incomparable speeds. Mayumi was late to react, Elara tried to claw her way forward, quicker this time but her consciousness began to fade.

Now the assassin reached Arata on the hillside, his dagger primed - his palm against the butt of it, pushing every bit of strength he had remaining into one last attack. “I will not be one of the losers!!!”

Somehow, Arata had managed to deflect the knife with his pen. Unfortunately, the blade continued - snaking past his guard… and digging into his abdomen.

Arata screamed as it dug in. Saxon had finally reached the one responsible for his torment, now it was his turn. He twisted the blade, watching the artist’s face in anguish, watching him squirm.

Mayumi ran just behind, but slipped just as she reached the base of the hill. “Arata!” She shrieked, it was too late.

“Finally.” Saxon laughed. “I told you, none of you would survive this.” He whispered into Arata’s ear.

…

“N-no…” the assassin removed his blade. Above him, the final page, a gruesome end etched into the sky, he was transfixed with it.

“This, is the end, Saxon…”

Suddenly, Saxon was falling. Arata had shoved him as hard as he could - his foot hit a stray vine on the ground, and he was free falling. The page above was all he could see.

The knife slipped from his hand, and spun just before the landing - as if fate had tipped its balance.

The panel revealed a broken Saxon, he became his own enemy, his own end. Arata averted his eyes, knowing what came next.

There was the pain of the landing, of course. It was only a small height, something he could easily walk off. But it was like he’d fallen in cold water, more pouring out his mouth. Then, his hands traced his chest… and the blade that betrayed him.

Saxon lay impaled upon his own knife. His eyes were wide but glossy, his mouth was wide but no words could escape - only the frosted gasp of life creeping free. “…aaaa…” he grunted, reaching up to the lights above, to the magic above - a mirror to him now. Soon, his eyes grew dark, his body froze - and the great assassin… faded away. “I…”

“I’m not ready…”