<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="text-decoration: underline">Barrens - Drop Off Point</span></span><br/><br/><br/><br/>Eight knights gathered around a temporary camp, six of them wearing masks of sullen expressions as they eyed their leader, Abel d'Arques the Lightbringer.  As instructed by the council trio, Abel had finally briefed them of their current mission details, and under his own behest, included information that was not supposed to be shared so casually.  He couldn't blame these knights—their reactions were exactly as expected—but he would not be able to live with himself had he chose to not let them know beforehand what they just walked into.  He owed that much to these brave souls who agreed to follow his lead in these desolate lands.<br/><br/>"I suppose you have some kind of plan?" one of them sarcastically asked.<br/><br/>Abel turned his attention to Ouen Hugue, the knight that wore pale blue armor.  He was one of the more prominent knights in the field of enchantment.  While this knight's strength lies more on supporting his comrades in the field with his magic, he also possesses great skill with the sword and can very well hold his own against a multitude of opponents.  Abel knew that this knight in particular was far too valuable an asset to this mission for him to choose to back out now.<br/><br/>"If I do, would any of you be willing to listen?" Abel trod carefully.<br/><br/>To portray his disbelief, frustration, and whatever else it was that bothered him, another knight kicked a random stone protruding from the ground, breaking it in the process.  Aldus Estevan, a fiery soul in the heat of battle.  He was far stronger than his large stature already implied and yet his defense was still an entirely different story; his presence alone was reassuring, especially at the front.<br/><br/>"Don't make me laugh!" Aldus glared at Abel, curling his hands into fists like he was ready to throw them at him. "A plan against the God of Sin?! With only seven knights and a scout?! Are you mad?!" he lashed out.<br/><br/>"Calm down Aldus, before you get another wrinkle." said another of the disgruntled knights.  "Throwing a fit now wouldn't change the fact that we were handpicked for this mission.  Perhaps our only mistake was not knowing the entirety of the operation before agreeing to it."<br/><br/>Sienna Prisma, hers was a calm and soothing voice, emotions well-tempered within her words as she spoke.  Beneath her mild demeanor and soft-spoken nature rests a cunning strategist, one rumored to have been the mentor of Palaugrim's Knight Commander Heinrich. Although well-versed with the recuperative arts, classifying her as an accomplished cleric would not do her any justice and only come off as an insult.  Her vast knowledge in the arcane arts spans farther than the healing branch alone, reaching even the tree of advanced offensive magics known to date.<br/><br/>"While I can't say I'm expecting something out of your plan, I at least would like to hear it." Sienna said, as mellow as ever.<br/><br/>"And do what?" yet another knight contradicted.<br/><br/>Nicolin Aylard. His eyes were trained on the sharp edge of his sword, inspecting it for any cracks of the sort.  When it came down to protecting the rear of a squad, Nicolin was indeed among those who excelled at the role.  He wore little to no armor at all, claiming that mobility is one of the best weapons a rear guard must have aside from dead-eye precision and masterful swordplay.  Together with his wife Sasha Aylard, these two were indeed a formidable force at the rear.<br/><br/>"It doesn't matter what kind of plan you have, we know it isn't going to work." Sasha picked up her husband's words.<br/><br/>Abel sighed roughly.  It was not everyday that people displayed such amount of distrust towards him, and it was not too long ago that his credibility had been put to the test.  Everyone had their fears and worries, they were entitled to voice out their opinion.  Regardless, they have chosen to accept the mission and all of them knew what was at stake.  Perhaps their only worry now was failure.<br/><br/>"And you Milluel?" the Lightbringer scratched his head. "Do you have anything to add?" he cued the last of the hesitant bunch to speak up.<br/><br/>Milluel Garit, a quiet knight with not that many achievements strapped to his name.  Out of all these knights, it was this particular one that worried Abel the most.  He had done his due diligence and researched Milluel, only to find out nothing of significant import.  His achievements were mediocre at best compared to any other knight in their motley crew, all the credit went with his previous squad leader and his contribution as detailed were like any other average knight would have done.  Still, the councilors wouldn't have handpicked him if there was not any good reason behind it.  Someone from high up knew what this knight was truly capable of, after all, there weren't that many knights who share the same name for this to be a case of mistaken identity. Whichever the case though, Abel could only hope that the council was not wrong about him.<br/><br/>"I'll... listen to your plan." he said, almost as quiet as his nature. "We're already here anyway, not much we can do about it."<br/><br/>"Good." Abel turned to face the rest of his knights. "Then listen up and listen well. Our target is not the God of Sin." he paused, taking a good hard look at the knights under his command.<br/><br/>"It's Eve."<br/><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="text-decoration: underline">Gless - Caletta, Grand Cathedral</span></span><br/><br/><br/>If there was anything Guilford hated the most, it was uncertainty.  Not being able to predict the most likely outcome of a choice made was something that greatly bothered him.  Here he was in his squad quarters with solitude as his only companion, staring at the lone sheet of paper laid out before him with scrutiny, the gaze held for as long as it took for his barely touched cup of coffee to lose the entirety of its warmth and aroma.  The Rite of Ascension—the third and final phase, detailed in full as deciphered by Councilor Margarette, just resting atop his desk staring back at him, mocking any and all choice he was mostly in consideration of.  On one end this could be the answer to all their woes, the true salvation that could lead those that remained to their freedom from Sin... or it could be his and Lethe's death—the catalyst to humanity's downfall, their doom.  Either way, all of that stands at speculation... until proven otherwise of course.<br/><br/>The Seraph gently exhaled, sounding more exhausted than he actually was, jaded purple hues finally left the text he'd been staring at for the longest time.  Mind now adrift, memoirs of his past resurfaced against his will, flashes of scenes from a dreadful decade ago came in slow waves—like the time he first witnessed the God of Sin in all of his sinful splendor.  He was but a rookie then, no more than a clueless, reckless and over-eager teen full of youth, trying to honor the memory of a lost friend that got strapped inside an armor and given a real sword for a toy.  However, that youth-filled and over-eager teen trembled at the first sight of their true nemesis—his first taste of real fear.  Right now he was hardened, cultivated by the myriad of trials and tribulations he had experienced; it taught him how to tame the beast but back then?<br/><br/>He should have known better.<br/><br/>Even with all their remaining Knight Commanders leading the charge: Abel the Lightbringer, Caldwell the Divine Flash, Borgeus the Steel Bulwark, Chevalier Damien Linser, Seiryu the Azure Dragon, Ferus Ensis Sigfried, Radiante Luz Monique... along with a great many distinguished and highly talented squads and knights, he still trembled.  The way his skin crawled with the immense taint surrounding the air—there was<span style="font-style: italic">nothing</span>like it.  Right then and there for a great many of the knights, death was a guarantee.  Even so, that did not stop them from charging forth, even as Guilford recalled himself standing still through the forward rush of the knights in their determined cry for victory.  His blade felt heavy, his feet like they were strapped to the ground.  How hard have they fought to get this far? How many lives were actually lost for their cause? Back then he absolutely had no idea—all he knew was the fear, fear that was near tangible as it gripped him, very much like the way it embraced him now. If it had not been for that blur of white that slipped past him, the one that held a selfless gaze, pure and undaunted... he never would have moved.<br/><br/>Guilford drew his gaze down to his right hand and noticed the mild quivering, stopped by quickly clenching it tight.  A decade now and yet it seemed as if no matter how long time passed, there simply was no forgetting the battle that took place on that fateful day.  Memories of it stayed vivid in his mind, clear as crystal from the first swing of his sword, to every drop of blood spilled, down to the last knights that remained standing in the end.  He knew how tragic that victory was and yet he hesitates, given that an answer was right in front of him, he still found himself second-guessing his resolve. Pathetic!  All he had to do was take the lightforsaken paper and just get it over and done with! What was stopping him?!<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: silver">“Death always happens. Does that mean you’ll run away?”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: silver">“Until this mortal body falls apart.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: silver">“To die for the sake of something we love, is that really so bad a thing?”</span></span><br/><br/>That was it. The answer was simple, Guilford did not want to die. He could not afford to—neither one of them could—at least, not just yet.  Power or death, the choice was incredibly simple yet the cost was agonizingly too steep for any one of them to take the risk now.  Just how high were the standards set by whoever made this ritual for one to be considered worthy of the power?  Nobody knows.  Guilford painstakingly shook his thoughts away as he reached for the paper that held the deciphered ritual, folding it a few times before sliding it grudgingly into his pocket.  He was still unable to arrive with a decision, and probably she too give or take.  He then began to wonder how his female counterpart was faring, what sorts of thoughts could Lethe be having now about all this?  How long would it take for them to mull over this not-so-little conundrum they found themselves in?<br/><br/>He was about to mumble a short prayer when he suddenly recalled something...<br/><br/>It did not take Guilford long to scoff—it was a meaningless act.  What good would prayer do?  It had not been that long since he learned of the Divine Light and how it was never going to give him any answer; it was all made clear in the Hidden Truth that the Divine Light had long stayed its hand on the matter of humanity and whatever their plight was.  Sure they still had access to its power, but other than that it remains known to a select few that the people were now on their own, left to drive their own wheel of fate to wherever they so desire.  Given everything that happened, it was clear that the Divine Light intended to keep it that way, like it derived a certain sadistic pleasure in watching its creations suffer.<br/><br/>How lamentable.<br/><br/>Guilford sighed heavily, it had just occurred to him that Lethe was oblivious to the Hidden Truth.  How was she supposed to go about this if she knew? Should he tell her? Should he even be the one to tell her?  Knowing what she said about her belief and faith in the light back at Jenault, would she even think it to be true?  A plethora of questions once again flooded his already weary mind, this time of a different matter.  She deserved to know, of that he was certain.  However, the question remained: Was she ready to learn of it?  Another sigh escaped his lips, one of unrestrained frustration this time around.  The Hidden Truth, the only other element aside from the God of Sin who held enough power to seal humanity's fate one way or another.  If Guilford learned of any lessons over the course of his entire knight career, one of them was to never underestimate the people and things who hold a magnitude of power.  If handled so casually, the Hidden Truth may very well be the last nail needed to seal humanity's coffin.  Who knew what kind of devastating effect it would have to the people should it ever see the light of day? Guilford understood that just as soon as he read its contents when Abel revealed it to him, and it took him time before he decided to be another one of the secret's keepers.<br/><br/>Of his own choice, of his own volition.  Guilford was still here fighting because he chose to, even after receiving a blow that shattered the foundations of humanity's beliefs, the purpose of his very being, he decided to keep moving forward.  Even after learning of the fact that everything happening to them now was because the Divine Light allowed it to, that after everything they fought and died for—everything they strove to be was all a lie, he stayed.  Why?  It was simple really, if he couldn't believe in the Divine Light, he should believe in humanity's capacity to be good.  Humanity may have been lied to and then forsaken, but they have been shown the path, all that's left for them now was to pick up their feet and walk it on their own.<br/><br/><span style="color: #0080FF">"Lethe..."</span>Guilford softly murmured her name.<br/><br/>She had to know, she deserved to make a choice just as he did—eyes opened to the truth and unbound from the great lie.  The next thing the Seraph knew was that he had a small sheet of paper in front of him, feather pen dipped in ink and all, ready to write a message about it until he found himself frozen.<br/><br/>Was it the right time? Was she ready to learn of it? He should tread cautiously, for this may very well be one of the greatest decisions he has yet to make.