Zack hesitated for a moment before approaching the chair prepared for him. His fingers lightly brushed the hilt of the Black Moon, ready to unsheathe it at the first sign of betrayal.
To his surprise, the Violet King rose from the throne of melted crowns with a fluid, graceful movement. There was no threat in his posture, no tension in his shoulders. He moved with the natural elegance of someone completely at ease in his own skin.
"Please, sit," the King said, his melodious voice echoing through the empty hall. "It must have been a long journey to get here."
Zack remained standing, his eyes never leaving the King's as he approached the table between them. With delicate gestures, the monarch lifted a crystal bottle containing a dark red liquid and poured two glasses.
"Wine from the Mountain Country," he explained, offering one of the glasses to Zack. "Special vintage. They say the grapes grow on slopes so steep that the harvesters have to be tied to avoid falling to their deaths."
When Zack made no move to accept the drink, the King smiled softly and placed the glass on the table. Then, he began to serve food from golden platters – delicately sliced meats, exotic fruits, still-steaming breads.
"How have you been, old friend?" the King asked, as if they were resuming a conversation recently interrupted. "Have the years been kind to you?"
Zack felt his jaw clench. This was not what he expected. Where was the fight, the confrontation? Where were the accusations, the threats? Why was the Violet King – the man who was apparently behind the massacre in the Lower Quarter, who had some connection to Skull – treating him like an old friend at a casual dinner?
"What is this?" Zack finally spoke, his voice hoarse with tension. "What kind of game are you playing?"
The King seemed genuinely hurt. "Game? There is no game. Just two old acquaintances sharing a meal." He made a sweeping gesture towards the food and drink. "Please, help yourself."
"It's poisoned," Zack said flatly.
A sad smile touched the King's lips. Without a word, he picked up the glass he had offered Zack and took a long sip. Then, he generously served himself food and ate with evident pleasure.
"See?" he said after swallowing. "No poison. Just good food and good wine."
Zack remained motionless, his distrust only increasing with this demonstration. Finally, unable to bear this charade any longer, he made a move towards the Black Moon.
"Ah," the King sighed, placing his fork delicately on the plate. "Does everything have to be resolved with violence?" His violet eyes met Zack's, laden with something that seemed almost... sadness. "I just wanted a day of peace."
Zack's hand stopped halfway to the sword. "Peace?" he repeated, incredulously. "After what you did in the Lower Quarter? After Milos and his ritual? After all those deaths?"
"Things are more complicated than they seem," the King replied, taking another sip of wine. "They always have been."
"Then explain," Zack demanded, his voice filled with suppressed anger. "Explain why I'm here being treated as an honored guest instead of an enemy. Explain all this... theater."
The King observed Zack for a long moment, his violet eyes unfathomable. Around them, the atmosphere of the hall seemed to subtly change – shadows lengthened like fingers trying to reach them, the light from the chandeliers flickered as if blown by a non-existent wind, and occasionally strange sounds echoed through the distant corridors – whispers, muffled laughter, what might be a very distant scream.
"You really don't remember, do you?" the King finally asked, his voice softer. "Anything?"
Before Zack could answer, a different question formed on his lips, one that had been bothering him since he entered the noble district.
"Why is it so silent out there? Where are all the people?"
The King stopped pouring wine, becoming completely still. The silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive like a shroud. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, almost casual.
"I killed them. All of them."
Zack felt his blood run cold. "What?"
"The nobles, the servants, the guards," the King continued, as if discussing the weather. "All the inhabitants of the noble district. It wasn't violent, if that comforts you. It was a simple ritual. They simply... ceased to exist."
"Why?" The question exploded from Zack, filled with fury and horror. "Why would you do that to your own people?"
The Violet King looked at Zack with an enigmatic expression – a sad smile that didn't reach his shining eyes.
"It was just another kingdom's turn to fall," he replied simply.
It was as if those words were a key turning in a forgotten lock within Zack's mind. A sharp pain shot through his head, making him stagger. The familiar hum returned, rapidly growing until it became deafening. The Black Moon vibrated violently in its sheath, as if eager to be unleashed.
The King observed Zack's reaction with clinical interest. Then, slowly, his posture changed. He straightened up, growing a few centimeters, his shoulders subtly widening. His violet eyes began to glow with their own, supernatural light, like beacons in the darkness.
When he spoke again, his voice had a different quality – deeper, more resonant, as if multiple voices were speaking in unison.
"I am the apostle, mad, hungry!"
The pain in Zack's head intensified, almost bringing him to his knees. Fragmented visions exploded in his mind – the Polyhedron Country in flames, buildings collapsing, people running and screaming in the streets.
"I am the light, darkness or solution!"
More fragments – the golden-eyed woman screaming his name, tears streaming down her perfect face, reaching out to him across a growing abyss.
"I am freedom, the nail in the coffin!"
Nanashi, his face contorted in agony, falling into a bottomless pit of absolute darkness, his tattoos glowing like fire before being swallowed by the darkness.
"But I am not the Void..."
The pain reached an unbearable peak. Zack felt his consciousness slipping away, as if something else was taking control of his body. He fought desperately to maintain control, but it was like trying to hold water with his hands – the harder he squeezed, the more it slipped through his fingers.
For an instant, everything went black.
When his consciousness partially returned, Zack found himself standing, the Black Moon unsheathed in his hand. The black blade pierced the Violet King's chest, going completely through him and embedding itself in the throne of melted crowns behind him.
Horror and confusion flooded Zack. He didn't remember moving, unsheathing the sword, or attacking. It was as if his body had acted on its own, controlled by some external force.
"NO!" he cried, his voice breaking. "What did I... why did I..."
The Violet King, instead of showing pain or anger, seemed almost relieved. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but his lips were curved in a soft smile. With gentle movements, he raised a trembling hand and caressed Zack's face with surprising tenderness.
"It's alright," he whispered, his voice weak but clear.
Tears streamed from the King's violet eyes, which slowly began to lose their supernatural glow. His expression was one of profound sadness, but also of a strange peace, like someone who finally finds rest after a long journey.
"My friend," he said, each word clearly an effort, "Skull is coming. The Void... it has arrived." His fingers traced the outline of Zack's face with affection. "My friend, smile, for we have seen each other."
Zack felt a sharp pain in his chest that had nothing to do with physical injuries, and an overwhelming sadness he couldn't explain. Something deep and ancient within him recognized the King as someone important, someone dear, despite his conscious mind not fully understanding.
The Black Moon continued to tremble violently, even embedded in the King's body, as if it were hungry for more, unsatisfied with just one life.
The King's eyes began to lose focus, the light in them dimming like a candle about to go out. His lips moved one last time, forming words Zack couldn't hear. Then, with a soft sigh, the Violet King became still.
Zack remained paralyzed, his hand still on the hilt of the Black Moon, unable to fully process what had happened. The throne room, the castle, the King's body – everything began to dissolve like ink in water. Zack felt his own body growing heavy, his consciousness floating away, as if being pulled by an invisible current.
---
Water. Cold, viscous, completely enveloping him.
Zack "woke up" floating in a lake of black, oil-like waters. Above him, a strange night sky stretched infinitely, where constellations glowed red instead of white, forming patterns no astronomer had ever cataloged.
The air was heavy with a strong, nauseating smell of burnt flesh. Around the lake, Zack could vaguely distinguish the outlines of gigantic trees, strange rock formations, and in the distance, lights that could be from a city – or something posing as one.
He tried to move his arms to swim, but found he couldn't. His body was completely paralyzed, as if his muscles had forgotten how to respond to his brain's commands. Slowly, inexorably, he began to sink into the black waters.
Frantic thoughts raced through his mind as he sank – confusion about where he was, what had happened to the King, whether this was death or just another nightmare. The black water entered his mouth, his lungs, and he couldn't even cough to expel it.
It was then that he heard – the sound of someone swimming vigorously, splashing the water forcefully, rapidly approaching where he was sinking. Young, strong hands grabbed him, pulling him to the surface just as he was about to lose consciousness.
"Master! Master!" a familiar voice cried, but strangely higher-pitched than he remembered.
Zack was dragged to the shore, coughing and expelling the black water from his lungs. When he finally managed to focus his vision, he was met with a face he knew intimately, but which was... wrong.
It was Orpheus. But not the Orpheus he knew – this one was much younger, almost a boy, no more than 15 years old. His face didn't yet have the scars and lines of worry Zack knew so well. His eyes still shone with an innocence that had long been lost.
"Master!! I'm here!" exclaimed the young Orpheus, his voice filled with concern and devotion.
Zack remained completely still, his eyes wide in absolute shock. In his mind, only three words echoed like a desperate mantra: "My God!!!"
The young Orpheus quickly took a towel from his bag and began to dry Zack, talking rapidly about how worried he was when he saw him in the lake.
"You just disappeared from the camp," he said, vigorously rubbing Zack's arms with the towel. "I looked everywhere! What were you doing in the Lake of Shadows? Everyone knows it's dangerous to swim here, the waters have strange properties."
Zack remained in absolute silence, still trying to process where he was and what was happening. His gaze swept the surroundings, absorbing details that confirmed his fears.
Colossal 50-meter trees rose around them, their exposed red roots snaking through the soil like giant veins. The dense foliage in shades of orange and red created a canopy that partially blocked the strange sky. The earth beneath his feet was black and fertile, almost greasy to the touch. Large black stones were scattered across the landscape, some with ancient inscriptions in languages few mortals could read.
And in the background, beyond the alien forest, the outlines of a gigantic city could be seen, its lights shining like fallen stars. A dense, palpable energy permeated everything, altering the very environment – the climate, the soil, even the few strange animals that moved in the shadows.
There was no doubt. He was in the Red Continent – the most dangerous and feared place in the entire world.
Noticing Zack's disturbed mental state, Orpheus tried to lighten the mood, changing the subject to something that clearly excited him.
"Master, I practiced that technique you taught me," he said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "The rapid displacement with double rotation. I managed to execute it perfectly yesterday! Remember you promised that when I mastered this technique and turned 15, I could participate in my first hunt?" His smile widened, revealing perfectly aligned teeth that had not yet been broken and mended countless times. "And today is the day, Master! I'm finally 15!"
Zack looked at the young man before him, trying to reconcile this version of Orpheus with the dark, tormented man he knew. This boy had not yet gone through the horrors that would shape his character, did not yet carry the weight of the countless lives he would take, did not yet know the true nature of the world and the Void.
Slowly, Zack began to understand where he was – not in a dream or hallucination, but somehow transported not only in space, but in time. To a period when Orpheus was still his apprentice, before the events that separated them, before... everything.
An internal conflict formed in Zack – should he reveal to Orpheus who he really was and what he knew of the future? Or should he pretend to be the Zack of this time, so as not to disturb events that had already occurred? And more importantly: what did his presence here mean? Was it a chance to change the past, or just another layer of torture elaborated by the Void?
Before he could fully decide, Orpheus extended his hand, offering to help Zack up.
"Come on, Master," he said, his young face lit with anticipation. "The hunt awaits us, and you promised it would be special."
Zack accepted the outstretched hand, getting up with an effort that seemed both physical and mental. As he did so, he noticed something disturbing – his hand automatically went to his waist, where the Black Moon should be. But in its place, there was only an empty space. The sword had disappeared.
His eyes rose to the horizon, where the lights of the distant city flickered like watchful eyes. A dark question formed in his mind, more disturbing than all the others:
What exactly were they about to "hunt" in the Red Continent?