A Red Star

Soaring through the skies at a speed comparable to that of a military plane, Vanily and I fly over Hachioji. She leads the way, and I follow close behind.

The sight before my eyes transcends anything so simple as words, but sadly, my lack of poetic sense leaves me with only one way to describe it: glorious.

I’ve traveled by plane and even glided on a hang glider before, but this is different. I’m flying like a bird, moving freely through the air. I can touch the clouds, turn upside down and pretend I’m walking on the stars, cross paths with flocks of migrating birds... I’m living one of humanity’s oldest fantasies, the kind illustrated in the tale of Icarus.

“We’re almost there, my lord,” Vanily informs me. “Prepare yourself, we’ll be landing soon. Do you need to stop again?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Throughout the flight, there are moments when moving so fast makes me dizzy, so every now and then I have to ask Vanily to stop for a bit so I can recover. Each time, my breath cuts off abruptly, and I start coughing, almost throwing up. Thankfully, I always manage to hold it back—though the mental image of some poor, unsuspecting pedestrian suddenly being hit in the head by vomit falling from the sky makes me laugh.

“Hey, Vanily, I think you should give me a weapon. You know, just in case we’re attacked again. You said earlier you weakened yourself quite a bit when you healed, so I thought—"

“My lord,” she interrupts, “perhaps I can no longer use magic or enhance my body, but I am still very strong. It is my duty to protect you, not the other way around.”

“But—”

“I know, my lord. We are companions, and you’re right—now that you’ve awakened your Arcagen, you’re more capable than I am at protecting yourself… as much as it pains me to admit it. But…”

“What? You think I can’t handle a weapon? I’ll remind you—I just decapitated a Corrupted.” It’s true. Now that I think about it… I killed someone.

He’s a monster, and he tries to kill both Vanily and me. He deserves his fate. Still, what unsettles me is how little I care about having killed him. In fact, I’m disturbingly calm about it. Strange.

“That’s not it,” Vanily says softly. “I’m just wondering when it will appear.”

“When what will appear?”

“The Warhammer,” she reveals.

“Oh, right. That thing. I’m supposed to be the hero of it, right? It’s supposed to be a powerful weapon or something?”

“The most powerful of all. Created by the Yoppingunhler, the Architect of the Intermediate Gods.”

“And isn’t my father supposed to have it?”

“The Warhammer was abandoned by him not long ago. Its place is with whoever is the Hero at the moment—at least, that’s what the ancient scriptures say.”

“But I don’t have it with me, so I guess that’s a problem.”

“I’m not sure. Magical weapons serve the will of those who wield them, yet they also possess a will of their own. Perhaps it believes you’re not ready to have it… or perhaps your will isn’t aligned with it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s only a theory, but… you seem to be quite a skeptic. Maybe, even though you know the truth, you’re unable to fully accept it,” Vanily says, her tone slightly uncertain, as if afraid of offending me.

“Well, can you blame me for being skeptical? All this—this entire situation—is too incredible to be real, and yet it is. Magic, the supernatural, the fantastical—things that should only exist in fiction, things that shouldn’t be possible. It’s terrifying. It makes me question everything. My mind clings to rationality, but reality keeps breaking through. Do you understand?”

Vanily turns to face me, meeting my eyes with a gentle smile that somehow comforts me.

“I’m certain that very soon you’ll be able to open your mind to the impossible. But until that happens…”

Vanily presses her palms together, manifesting a dagger.

“Hey, I meant a weapon you already had on hand! You shouldn’t waste what little Arcagen you have left on that.”

“Relax,” she says, twirling the blade playfully between her fingers. “Summoning a weapon from my inventory barely consumes any Arcagen. Now then…”

“Wait—what are you doing?!”

“Think fast!”

“What?!”

She throws the sharp blade straight at me. There’s no way I’m catching that thing, so I step back—watching as the weapon plummets into the clouds below.

“Are you insane?!” I yell. “How was I supposed to catch a knife?!”

“With… your hand?”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Not at all! You seemed to have good reflexes earlier.”

“When I had the Arcagen, idiot!” I sigh.

“Honestly, I’m a weakling. You might as well know that now.”

“How modest of you, my lord.”

“I’m being serious, Vanily. Without the Arcagen, I’m completely useless in a fight. Before tonight, I’ve never been in a real fight with anyone—not even playfighting with friends. I never had a reason to. I guess I was lucky that way… living a peaceful life. At least until tonight.”

“My lord, do not misunderstand. The Arcagen is not something apart from you—it’s part of your being. You are the one who makes it powerful.”

“You know, for someone who just met me, you act like you already know everything about me. I don’t know where you got this idea that I’m supposed to be some kind of… hero. I mean, I don’t dislike the idea of being one. After all, I’ve always aspired to glory.”

“Glory?”

“Yes. The satisfaction and honor of making a difference in the world.”

“Well, I’m certain you’ll find it in my world.”

“Maybe… but—Vanily.”

“What is it, my lord?”

“Let’s stop for a moment, please.”

“Wait—look,” Vanily points ahead. A gray cloud crosses our path, forcing us to ascend to avoid it. While maneuvering around it, I allow myself a moment to admire the grim beauty of the massive formation—flashes of lightning erupting inside like bursts of camera flashes. But something catches my eye: a dark shape hidden within the cloud.

Whatever it is, it has enormous wings. Maybe a hawk, though I’ve always heard hawks are intelligent. I can’t imagine one flying into a place so dangerous. In any case, the thing hovers in place, flapping its wings without moving… until, between lightning flashes, it suddenly appears higher up. Gradually, the flying entity begins shifting positions during the brief moments of darkness between flashes, each time appearing a little higher. The movement is suspicious enough to raise my guard, so I turn to warn Vanily—but when I do, she’s gone.

“Vanily?!” I stop midair, scanning frantically. “Where are you?!”

“My lord!”

I hear her voice, but can’t see her. “My lord!” she calls again. “Help me!” I trace the sound to within the cloud. “Vanily! I’m coming for you!” I shout. “No, my lord!” she cries out. “Leave me! You can’t defeat them!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Don’t listen to her, my lord! Please—help me!”

Suddenly, another voice speaks over hers. It sounds identical to Vanily’s—but it comes from a different part of the cloud.

“That’s not me—it’s a Corrupted!”

“A Corrupted?!”

“Please, save me!”

I have no idea what’s going on. Why haven’t they attacked me? Maybe Vanily has been too focused on protecting me to notice an ambush, and now they’re trying to lure me in with a trick.

I’ve only met Vanily hours ago, but I’m sure of one thing: she’d never beg me to save her. She’s made it clear she’s willing to die to protect me. That alone tells me who the impostor is. But before I can act, I’m caught off guard by a silhouette emerging from below.

A glint of silver—iron—flashes from beneath the cloud. Instinctively, I gain altitude to create distance, thinking it’s a sword. It isn’t. It’s a hairy limb tipped with a massive stinger.

I barely dodge in time, leaning left to avoid it piercing my chest, though it manages to graze my side.

A grotesque laugh echoes from the cloud, accompanied by a strange, screeching sound. “The Undir was right—you’ve got quick reflexes, Warhammer Hero!”

The silhouette emerges from the cloud, revealing itself before me. It looks like a woman with gray skin, standing at least two meters tall, with long, voluminous silver hair. Her entire body is covered in black feathers, and she has three pairs of wings on her back—two for flight, and the third draped under her arms like a dark dress. She has no eyes or nose, only a massive mouth that covers nearly her entire face, lined with jagged black stakes that serve as her teeth. Her pointed hair resembles the spines of a hedgehog. But by far, the most threatening part of her body is her tail—the one that bears the enormous stinger she attacked me with earlier.

Her voice is deep and rasping, reminiscent of a male opera singer.

“So you’ve been stalking us for a while,” I say, feigning arrogance as a defense mechanism. I need to make her talk, to buy myself time to think. After all, I’m defenseless before a Corrupted. “Who are you? Or rather… what are you?”

“My master named us Sparkia,” she says, her words harsh and guttural, accompanied by the scraping sound of her teeth grinding together. “But people have called me many names. Some cry out, ‘Please, mercy! Don’t rip off my face!’ Others say, ‘Kill me, I beg you—end my suffering!’ I wonder… what new name will you give me?”

“Master? Who’s your master?”

She doesn’t answer—only smiles, a twisted grin stretching across her monstrous face. Not good. She must’ve seen through my attempt to stall her. She’s been watching Vanily and me for some time. She knows I’m unarmed, that even though I possess Arcagen, I can’t control it.

“I’m curious,” I say. “Why did he order you to kill me?”

No response.

“I’d like to know why he’s so afraid of me.” “Don’t you dare speak that way about the Master!”

There it is—her weak point.

“The Master would never fear a pathetic tadpole like you!”

“Oh yeah? Then why didn’t he come face me himself?"

“I owe you no explanation. You know nothing of my Master or the paradise he will create—a world free of shackles! Sadly, you’ll never see it with your own eyes, for you’ll die here!” She bursts into laughter that sounds like the shrieks of a raven. “Your very existence stands in the way of my Master’s plan! And I’ll have the honor of erasing you!”

Paradise? What is she talking about? How could my mere existence threaten her master?

“Enough of your boring questions,” she hisses. “Start running, crying, and begging. Or better yet… fight me. I love it when they resist.”

The Sparkia spreads her wings and leans forward, revealing her skeletal arms, each hand tipped with long, crooked claws. Her intent is obvious.

I try to dodge, but before I can move a muscle, she rams into me, forcing me upward. My ribs crack under the sheer force of the blow.

Then, with savage strength, she hurls me downward and dives after me. I twist aside at the last second, narrowly avoiding another crushing impact.

My taunt hasn’t worked. Though enraged, she isn’t reckless. She isn’t like the other Corrupted. Fighting isn’t an option right now—I have to escape and find Vanily. I plunge into the gray cloud, the Sparkia following close behind. Fortunately, my Arcontis is faster, and I manage to lose her.

Inside the cloud, I’m greeted by the sting of countless ice crystals slashing at my skin. I curl into a fetal position and squint against the freezing mist.

I move carefully, keeping my distance from the Sparkia that hovers just a few meters behind me, chasing with her gaping jaws and lashing tail.

Each flash of lightning makes my heart skip a beat.

“Vanily!” I shout. “Vanily, where are you?!” No answer. Panic begins to creep in—until I spot a familiar shape ahead. The closer I get, the clearer it becomes.

“My lord! You came to save me! I’m so happy!”

It’s Vanily—pinned down by another Sparkia.

Though my first instinct is to rush in and free her, something feels off. What she says doesn’t sound like her at all. Still, I don’t have time to hesitate—I have to act.

Once again, I feel my body react to my resolve. My Arcagen flares awake, though this time I’m not at full strength—a serious problem, given there are now two enemies. Taking the Sparkia by surprise with my sudden burst of power, I shoot forward like a rocket, thrusting my leg out. My kick strikes her open maw with all my weight behind it, shattering her jaw and sending several sharp teeth flying. The creature goes limp, and Vanily slips free, letting her captor’s body fall into the mist below.

Back to back, I turn to check if Vanily is safe—and she is, or so I think. She’s laughing as she flies toward me, wings flaring and tail whipping behind her. Another Sparkia joins her. Just as I fear, the one I freed isn’t Vanily at all. She’s reverted to her true form.

“Thank you for saving me, my lord!” she cackles, still using Vanily’s voice. “Now die!” I’m in serious trouble. I’ve lost the element of surprise, and both of them have seen my Arcagen—they’ll be ready for it. Meanwhile, I’m alone.

All I can do is flee—and find the real Vanily. Luckily, her voice soon reaches my ears.

“Let me go, you damned Corrupted!” “Vanily! Where are you?!”

“My lord!” she cries, her tone trembling between joy and fear. “No! Leave me!” “As if I’d do that, idiot!”

I rush toward the sound and find a familiar sight: Vanily restrained by a Sparkia. But this time it’s different. She isn’t being held by the arms—she’s strangely motionless, her body wrapped in the creature’s tail, the stinger swaying near her face in a mockingly playful way.

I launch myself into combat immediately, but the Sparkia stops me with a threat. “Move, and she dies,” it says, pressing its stinger against Vanily’s neck. “A single dose of my venom merely paralyzes the body, as you can see—but two are fatal.”

So that’s why she can’t move.

“My lord… please…”

“I’m not leaving you, so stop—”

“No! Behind you!”

Vanily’s warning makes me turn just in time to dodge the stabbing strike of two more Sparkia coming from behind.

I climb upward, then fall back, circling around them just as they lunge forward together. Now I’m behind them—perfect position for a counterattack. I can probably take down one, maybe even both, with a single lethal strike. But I have no weapon. My only choice is close combat, something I have zero experience with. I can only trust that my Arcagen will give me the strength to finish this in one blow.

I bend backward, pulling both legs in for a powerful kick—then realice too late how exposed that leaves me. The Sparkia drop out of my line of attack, easily avoiding it. In that instant, I understand: I’ve never truly escaped their watch. They’ve been letting me move freely, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

With a violent flap of their wings, they propel themselves backward, then upward—my back laid bare before them. I feel the sharp sting as one of their barbs pierces deep into my skin, reaching a nerve. The burning venom floods my veins in seconds. My muscles tense, my fingertips go numb. By the time the stinger pulls out, I can no longer feel my hands or feet. Soon, I won’t feel anything at all. The other stinger strikes my Arcontis, tearing it apart—the wings vanish. I’m falling. Gravity pulls me straight toward their waiting claws. They pierce my torso, and I feel their talons sink into my flesh, tearing through my insides. I watch in horror as their blood-covered tips protrude from my abdomen.

“Let’s devour him alive,” one says. “We’ll start with his fingers. How about that?” “No,” hisses the other. “I want to watch him turn into jelly when he hits the ground… then we’ll eat what’s left. Do you like that idea?”

“I love it!”

And so, the Sparkia decide my fate. They turn me over, face-down toward the void. The weight of my own body makes me slip free from their claws, and I begin to fall—to what seems a certain death.

Pieces of my entrails slip from the wounds in my abdomen, and a stream of blood from my back paints the sky red behind me as I plunge.

Within seconds, I burst through the cloud’s underside.

“My lord!”

I hear Vanily’s desperate voice—and the cruel laughter of the Sparkia above. I can still move, but not for long. Even so, having any feeling left in my nerves doesn’t help me now.

I have to escape. I can’t die here. But I have no idea what to do.

“What do I do?! What do I do?!” I shout into the roaring wind. “I refuse to end like this! I’m so close to seeing Father again!” I lament, my voice cracking in despair. “If only I’d caught that knife! Wait… that’s it!”

An idea strikes me like lightning. Vanily summons her weapons by pressing her palms together. I have Arcagen, which means I should be able to use magic. She said the Warhammer should be with the Hero—and if I am the Hero, then it should answer to my will.

I bring my palms together, like in prayer, and focus my mind on a single thought—a single desire. A plea.

“Come save me! Come save me! Come save me, please, Warhammer!” I beg, getting closer and closer to the ground—but nothing happens. “I need your help!” Still nothing. “I’m the Hero! I need you to fulfill my duty! Manifest, Warhammer!” I roar.

But the legendary weapon does not appear. It’s too late. My muscles turn to stone; my senses fade. I can’t even feel the wind rushing past my skin anymore.

I hit the rooftop of a building. Hard. I try to break the fall with my legs—a mistake. They fold like paper. My shoulders dislocate and hang uselessly. My spine snaps in two. Most of my bones are dust. Blood streams from every hole in my face, especially my mouth, choking me.

Lying flat on my back, staring at the sky, drowning in my own blood—what a way to die. I don’t even understand how I’m still alive, still conscious. Maybe my Arcagen has somehow strengthened my body.

The only “bright” side I can see in this nightmare is that the venom, in a twisted way, works as anesthesia. Without it, the pain would be unbearable. Not that it makes my shattered body any less horrifying to look at.

I gaze at the night sky above me. The waning moon glows faintly, soon swallowed by the dark cloud from which I’ve fallen, drifting slowly across the heavens.

“Vanily…”

She’s still up there. Still in danger. And there’s nothing I can do. No matter how much I want to.

“Glory awaits those with the will to claim it.”

Why am I thinking of my father’s words now? No… it doesn’t even feel like I’m thinking them. It feels like someone else has planted the thought inside my head. But who?

“The Arcagen is not something apart from you. It is part of your being—and you are the one who makes it powerful.”

Now I remember what Vanily told me earlier. No, that’s not it either. None of this feels like memory—it’s as if I’m hearing those words directly in my mind. What is this? Something—or someone—is trying to speak to me. But who? And what are they trying to tell me?

“Magical weapons serve the will of those who wield them…”

Will. That word begins to echo through my mind, endlessly, pounding in my skull. “…but they also possess a will of their own. Perhaps it believes you’re not yet ready to wield it. Or perhaps your will is not aligned with it.”

My will isn’t aligned with the Warhammer?

“This weak man—with a will even weaker than his body—is said to threaten Alminor’s ascension?”

That voice… it’s the Corrupted’s. He spoke of will, too.

Will…? Could there be a connection between will, Arcagen, magic, and the Warhammer?

“Believe in the impossible.”

Vanily… is that what you were trying to tell me?

If I believe the impossible can be done—no… if I will the impossible to happen—then can I claim the power to make it real? Is that what this means? Is that how my power works? Now I understand. I’ve always had the will to achieve great things, but I’ve always limited myself—too afraid to take risks, too aware of the boundaries and injustices of the world. That’s why I’ve always played  it safe. That’s why I tolerated the abuse at work. That’s why I refused to change my miserable status quo. Because I feared failure. I feared disappointment.

How foolish I’ve been. I thought I had the will to reach glory, but I’ll never achieve it while living under the suffocating rules of this world. I have to break through my fear and my doubt—to make the impossible real. I order my body to move. It refuses. But it doesn’t matter. I know it will move. I’m poisoned, broken, bleeding… but I make it move.

I feel my Arcagen awaken again. Heat surges into my dislocated arm, and though it shouldn’t be possible, it begins to move.

I reach toward the heavens, laughing hysterically. I understand now.

“Come to me already… your Hero commands you—Warhammer!”

A spark of light appears in the sky, blazing so brightly it paints the clouds crimson. It looks like a star—but it isn’t. It’s descending.

The red star streaks down toward me, its light growing until it swallows the world. I have to shut my eyes. Then, suddenly, I feel something solid and cylindrical in my hand. The moment I grip it, a surge of energy bursts through my entire body.

And then, a voice—one I haven’t heard in ten years—whispers softly into my ear:

“I knew you’d make it, Gugu.”