The Last Laugh

The Colosseum was no longer a place of glory, the sky turning a flat, dead grey, draining the vibrant colors of the festival into a monochrome nightmare. The beautiful cherry blossoms that Principal Amon had conjured up with much effort withered instantly, turning into ash that rained down like black snow as a result of the grey that was spreading in all directions, polluting the atmosphere, signalling the oncoming disaster.

In the center of the arena, Ken’s massive vines writhed and lashed out, a fortress of green in a world of grey, batting away fireballs and sword strikes, shielding the huddled Sol Academy students and Dojo student's alike.

"Get behind me!" Ken shouted, his voice straining as he commanded the flora. "They don't like the grey air! It hurts them!"

Silver stood at the perimeter of the vines, his daggers drawn, half of his attention at the monster forming above the Queen’s corpse and the other at the blur of glass and rage tearing through the battlefield.

Musashi.

The 33rd Degree Mage was a hurricane of grief, unwilling to accept the Queen's demise as he moved faster than the eye could follow, cutting down fleeing commoners and confused students alike.

He wasn't distinguishing between friend or foe.

"WHERE IS SHE?!" Musashi screamed "LILITH! I WILL FLAY YOU ALIVE!" his voice cracked as he spotted Silver near the vines and vanished.

CRACK.

Silver crossed his daggers just in time to catch a strike that would have severed one of the gigantic redwoods clean in half, the impact driving Silver’s boots deep into the stone, his knees buckling under the weight. Musashi stood there, his glass haori reflecting a thousand distorted images of Silver’s strained face as he pushed back the weight of his sword.

"You," Musashi howled, tears of blood streaming from his eyes. "You stood in my way when I should have been next to her! YOU KILLED HER!"

"She was a tyrant, Musashi," Silver grunted, shoving the samurai back with a burst of Death Magic. 

"She was the SUN!" Musashi roared, slashing again and again, faster and faster each time, the speed of his strikes reaching a supersonic velocity "And you let the darkness in!"

While the titans clashed in the center, the horror was quieter in the shadows of the prep area where Noah had stumbled to, falling through cracks towards the crumbling hallways of the lower levels. The earthquake caused by Ken’s entrance had shattered the walls, exposing the tunnel to the grey sky above as dust coated his lungs, his head pounding, the static of the memory wipe glitching violently against the reality of the chaos.

He didn't know where he was going. He just knew he had to find... someone.

"Lost, little lamb?"

Noah froze, looking up to find a figure floating a few inches off the ground, blocking his path further.

Ophelia.

The 33rd Degree Saint drifted toward him, her white robes unstained by the dust, the blindfold embroidered with golden scripture covering her eyes, but Noah felt her gaze burning into his very soul and being. She held her hands clasped in prayer, her aura radiating a terrifying, suffocating holiness as she approached him with a menacing demeanour.

"The Queen has fallen," Ophelia murmured "The Shepherd calls for the flock to be culled. You... you are the Spare, are you not?"

"Move," Noah rasped, his hands trembling, trying his best to summon his molding magic, but the mana in the air felt sick as the attempt fizzled in his palms into nothingness.

"Your suffering is exquisite," Ophelia continued, drifting closer, placing her hand beneath his chin, tiliting it up "I watched the girl die, you know. Meline."

Noah’s breath hitched. "...What?"

"She was a sweet sacrifice," Ophelia whispered, tilting her head. "Pope Vincent needed pure blood to grease the wheels of the ritual. We chose her because she was loved. After all, love makes the blood... potent."

The static in Noah’s head shattered as the memory of the cellar, the blood, the shadow, everything in it's horrific totality rushed back in a torrent of agony.

"YOU!" Noah screamed, lunging without a second thought.

He didn't think. He didn't mold a weapon. He just charged, fueled by pure, unadulterated hate as he swung his fist at the Saint, screaming his dead lover's name.

Ophelia didn't even raise a hand, observing him like a mere fly bothering her.

"Kneel."

A shockwave of white light blasted Noah backward, slamming him into the stone wall, the impact cracking his ribs as he slid to the floor, gasping for air, blood bubbling from his lips.

Ophelia drifted over him, looking down with pity, yet it didn't show in her expression.

"Violence is the language of the weak," she lectured. "Accept your fate, child. Your death will serve a greater purpose. You will be reunited with her in the void."

She raised her hand, forming a spear of pure light and aiming directly for Noah’s heart.

Noah looked at the spear unable to move or breathe.

I failed, he thought, closing his eyes. I’m sorry, Meline.

The spear thrust downward.

SNAP.

The sound wasn't the spear hitting flesh but rather the sound of fingers snapping, shattering the spear into a million harmless sparkles of gold dust.

Ophelia paused, her blindfolded head turning sharply to the left "Who dares to interrupt the Will of God?"

From the shadows of the broken hallway, a figure emerged, walking with a loose, disjointed gait, his arms swinging a little too freely at his sides, his grey hair matted with sweat, his shirt untucked and stained with the grime of the slums.

It was Ezekiel, but it wasn't the teacher. His posture was wrong, his head tilted at an unnatural angle, and then there was the smile, too wide, too sharp, too creepy, stretched across his contorted face.

"God?" Ezekiel giggled, the sound scraping against the stone walls "God has left the building, lady. Didn't you get the memo?"

"Instructor Sapphire," Ophelia intoned, turning her body toward him. "You are a servant of the Academy and the Academy serves the church. Stand down."

"Servant... Teacher... Father... Bastard..." Ezekiel listed the titles sighing in a theatrical fashion, taking a step forward as he looked at Noah, broken and bleeding on the floor.

He saw the boy who had wanted to be like him, symbolising the failure of his protection, something he had sworn to uphold.

As a result of the stress, something inside Ezekiel, a tension that had been held taut for thirty years, finally snapped. The cable had broken, the bridge had collapsed, his mind had fallen apart and he had given up.

"I tried," Ezekiel whispered to himself, his voice trembling as he batttled between crying and laughter, his voice breaking as his breathing laboured, his body panicking, fighting his own thoughts and losing "I really tried to be good, Jester. I wore the mask. I played the part."

They hurt him, Ezekiel  the voice in his head hissed, louder than it had ever been.

They broke your toy.

"They did," Ezekiel agreed, finally giving into the demon inside, his eyes widening until the whites were visible all around the iris. "They broke everything."

They broke you.

"They did," Ezekiel agreed yet again, looking directly at Ophelia as he descended into insanity.

"You hurt my student," Ezekiel said, his voice dropping to a flat, dead tone.

"I am cleansing the world, for our lord Malevolent" Ophelia replied, gathering her light magic. "And I will cleanse you too, mongrel."

She fired a volley of light arrows that moved at the speed of thought but Ezekiel didn't dodge.

"Sandman... bring them a Nightmare."

He opened his mouth as a cloud of gold dust erupted from his throat and it wasn't the gentle sleep dust he had used on the servants of Sapphire's Mansion. It was heavy and coarse, swirling around him like a tornado, catching the light arrows and grinding them into nothingness, causing Ophelia to float back with hesitation, sensing the shift in mana. "What is this? Who are you?! Identify yourself!"

Ezekiel walked through the dust cloud, the grey in his eyes gone, replaced by a pitch black darkness.

"You like sleep, don't you?" Ezekiel asked, tilting his head until his neck cracked, his tone whimsical. "You like blindfolds? You like the dark?"

He snapped his fingers again and the gold dust surged forward, bypassing Ophelia’s light shields as if they didn't exist but it didn't put her to sleep. It invaded her very vessel, rushed in through her nose, her mouth, her ears, through the small holes in her eyes, even through the tiny holes in her skin. The Gold dust overtook her entirely on the microscopic level.

Ophelia gagged, clawing at her throat.

"Sleep," Ezekiel cooed, walking past her to stand over Noah. "Sleep forever."

The 33rd degree Saint fell to her knees, choking on gold as her skin began to turn to stone, starting from her fingertips and making its way towards her core as she screamed, a muffled, horrifying sound, the petrification spreading upwards to her neck and mind.

"What... are... you?" she gasped as Ezekiel looked back at her, smiling as he placed a finger to his lips.

"I'm the punchline."

Ophelia turned completely to stone, her face frozen in a mask of eternal terror as Ezekiel kicked the statue over, shattering it into rubble.

Noah looked up, his vision blurry as he called out "Teach?"

Ezekiel looked down, the warmth gone from his face, and there was no recognition in his eyes, replaced by a chaotic, swirling madness.

He didn't offer a hand. He didn't use healing magic. He just laughed.

It started as a chuckle, deep in his chest, and rose into a high, shrieking cackle that echoed through the ruins of the Colosseum as he threw his head back, laughing at the grey sky, laughing at the dead Queen, laughing at the absurdity of it all, laughing until there was no breath left in his lungs, holding to pull in a large amount of air hysterically before breaking out into a madman's laughter yet again!

"Wake up, Noah!" Ezekiel shouted, spinning in a circle, his arms spread wide as gold dust rained down around him like confetti. "School's out! The rules are gone! It’s all a joke! A big, bloody joke!"

He turned and walked away, heading toward the center of the arena, toward the Serpent and the chaos.

"Teach! Wait!" Noah cried out, reaching a hand toward him, coughing a bit of blood from his injuries.

Ezekiel didn't look back. The Protector was dead.

Meanwhile, inside the green dome Ken had created, the air was thick with panic as the Sol Academy students huddled together, terrified by the sounds of Musashi and Silver clashing outside.

"We need to move," Kami whispered, clutching his bleeding arm as he looked at his classmates, lost in a panic. "Guys, snap out of it. We have to be ready."

"Ready for what?" Runa asked softly.

She was standing behind them, the tremor in her voice gone, her posture straight, regal, and cold, unlike the doe eyed teenager they had come to know and love.

"For the sacrifice," Runa answered herself.

Before Kami could react, Runa flicked her wrist, gravity crushing him into the dirt, knocking the wind out of him. 

"Runa?" Rain gasped "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning up the mess," Runa sighed as she looked at her classmates "Malevolent is hungry. And you all reek of fear and despair, the perfect appetizers before the main course."

She chuckled as she raised her hand, a sphere of crushing gravity forming in her palm, aimed directly at Summer's head.

"NO!"

Kami moved, without thought or strategy throwing himself in front of her just as Runa unleashed the spell.

CRUNCH.

The sound was wet and awful as the gravity sphere hit Kami’s chest, collapsing his ribs and shattering his sternum as he was thrown backward, crashing into Rain, blood spraying over the poor girl's face.

"Kami!" she screamed, the shock breaking her part as she grabbed her friend, her hands slipping on the blood. "Kami, no, no, no..."

Kami looked up, his eyes unfocused as he tried to smile "I... I held out... right?" his head lolled to the side as the light in his honey-colored eyes faded.

Kami Kanzaki, was gone.

"How touching," Runa sneered, walking toward them "But pointless."

BOOM.

Suddenly, a wall of of the vine-dome exploded.

Ezekiel stood there, trembling as he looked down at Kami’s body in Rain's arms.

"I was too late," Ezekiel whispered, his voice sounding like grinding glass, his face a visage of pure insanity, plastered with a mechanical, unnatural smile. 

He turned slowly, his neck cracking, to face Runa, the "Jester" persona fully taking hold as he tilted his head, his black eyes locking onto the ancient entity disguised as a girl.

"Well, well," Ezekiel crooned, his voice dropping into a sing-song melody

Runa took a step back, genuine fear flickering in her eyes for the first time. "You..."

Ezekiel grinned. It was a wide, impossible grin that stretched his face as he bowed theatrically, ignoring the blood on his shirt.

"Hello, old friend," the Jester whispered. "Did you miss me?"

"Stay back!" Runa hissed, gathering gravity magic. "I am not your servant anymore! I serve God!"

"You serve nothing but your own rot," Ezekiel spat, the playfulness vanishing instantly. "You killed my student. You broke my toy. You ruined the set!"

He walked toward her, gold dust swirling around him like a cloak.

"Class is dismissed, Runa," Ezekiel whispered "And you failed the final exam."