A rush of wind, Lillian practically flew as she slid on the ground, gliding past a group of fiends and cultists. Her blade held low as she escaped their gazes, moving faster than the eye could see.

Her current goal was to make way for Feyrith to interrupt the magic circle, serving as a distraction as he did his thing. This was but one small contribution they could make during this battle, and more importantly, an opportunity to harvest a few good items from the cultists guarding the circle.

KIEEK. The sound of a blade screeching on the ground, a loud scratching as Lillian brought herself to a halt, eyes primed for combat. She scanned the battlefield, noticing the enemies closest to her. Just from a glance, she discovered that there were only three enemies close enough to pose any danger to her. A cultist and two fiends, both noticeably weaker than the ones she’s faced before. For the fiends, that is.

Still, she didn’t let her guard down, for while the enemies were weaker; she wasn’t much stronger herself. How did Len put it again? I’m underleveled?

“I’ll back you up.” Feyrith spoke from behind her, a greenish sphere is his palms. With a grin, Lillian made the first move and attacked the fiend nearest to her, sending mana through her arms to amplify her attacks.

Clang.

Her blade repelled across the back of the nearest fiend as it turned around to move toward her. Lillian leapt back, making distance between her and the fiend as a blade of wind flew toward it, hitting squarely in its maw.

“Kriek!” The fiend shrieked out in pain, its shrill voice

Surprisingly weak. Lillian thought as she moved to her left, barely dodging a swing from the other fiend near her. She ducked down and pivoted sideways, holding her sword as to inflict some damage as she moved.

A gentle, bare cut on the second fiend that attacked her, more than enough for bonus damage. Then another wind blade was launched, or rather multiple of them, as a barrage of magic flew toward Lillian. Frozen for but a second, she ducked down again, letting the magic fly above her head and hit the fiend.

Crash!

Feyrith’s wind blades nicked the skin of both opposing fiends, and Lillian swooped in to finish them off once and for all. Holding her sword in a way that its blade faced the ground, she rushed forward and stabbed into the heart of both fiends, eliminating them in quick succession. Two down.

She couldn’t stop moving, as the cultist and fiends further away from her began to move. In just a few moments, she would be surrounded by some rather unpleasant foes, so before then, they needed to get out of here.

“Done!” Feyrith shouted from afar, a black box now in the centre of the magic circle. “Let’s make our great escape, princess.”

“Death to the heretics of god!” A cultist yelled as he charged toward Lillian, a mace in hand.

Lillian ran the pommel of her sword to the chest of the charging cultist before jumping in the air.

“You mind taking care of that?” She asked.

Landing, she ducked down and swept the floor with her blade, before thrusting upwards to stab the cultist in the leg. As she did though, multiple spheres of purplish-fire were sent toward her, imminent to hit.

Boom!

Just before the spheres of fire were about to hit her, Lillian was knocked back by a powerful force, pushing her against the floor. Right above her, the spheres of fire passed by, a millimetre away from her face.

“Sorry about that!” Feyrith yelled from afar, as Lillian picked herself off the ground and kicked the fallen cultist in the gut. He was faced with a fiend who was barely being repelled by his spells.

Lillian ran toward him and raised her blade, mana rushing toward her legs. Once more, rush.

Afterimages trailing behind her, Lillian’s sword lopped through the neck of the fiend, letting it topple onto the ground. Her adrenaline at an all-time high; She grabbed Feyrith by the hands and picked him up, carrying him in her arms.

“Again?” Feyrith rolled his eyes.

“Hang on tight.” Lillian spoke with a grin, more mana entering her legs. With a kick to the ground, she dashed off, charging through the incoming crowd of enemies. She felt the stares of the room focus on her, but she couldn’t care less, a massive grin splayed across her face.

Thud!

Her body rammed several enemies, charging straight through them, some voluntarily getting out of her way.

“Don’t know if this is the right time or not, but I have some bad news.” Feyrith spoke. “The magic circle wasn’t what I thought it was.”

Lillian’s eyes turned grim, realising what Feyrith what leading to. “You couldn’t mean?”

“I saw a few inscriptions, and its purpose wasn’t to just amplify emotions.” He continued. “It was to collect them.”

“A summoning ritual…” Lillian muttered.

“Whoops, careful there.” Feyrith said, launching a blade of wind toward an incoming fiend.

Boom!

“As you were saying?” He then continued.

“Never mind, you already knew beforehand anyway.” Lillian pouted.

“A shame.” Feyrith chuckled. He then lowered his tone of voice, his face turning serious as he continued talking. “Yes… they’re trying to summon that.”

“Demiurge.” Lillian spoke.

“Sorry to interrupt, but in front of you.” Feyrith interrupted her, a giant, statue-sized beast in front of them.

“I know.” Lillian replied. “You might want to jump.”

A frown on his face, Feyrith leaned his body forward and held out his palm. Light emerged from it and enveloped his legs as Lillian prepared herself to duck below the giant.

Boom!

The two split up, Feyrith jumping to the side, and Lillian lunging below the giant, going right in-between its legs.

“Groah!” A roar from the beast, so loud and powerful that Lillian felt herself instinctively backing up. Its disfigured face and sharp teeth, ink black pupils and pointy horns were nothing to laugh at, making the giant’s size the least of Lillian’s concerns. She then noticed what she was doing and grounded her feet, the giant slowly turning around to face her.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Lillian’s heart thumped like raining thunder, her gaze meeting the giant’s. Her entire body was covered in goosebumps, fear striking her from every direction. Danger. Was all her mind screamed, telling her to run away from the threat in front of her.

In an act of courage, or maybe foolishness, she stood her ground in front of the towering beast, and instead of fear, her face showed an expression of pure bliss. This was why she played Tower of Pandora. The feeling of being faced in front of unsurmountable odds, and using all her might, wit, and fortune to make it through.

Her hands tightly grabbed on the hilt of her blade, she charged forward, the blade raised in the air. David versus Goliath. Odds were that Lillian would lose, but she was more than happy to take those chances.

“Feyrith. Hold the horde off while I fight this guy.”

“That’s…” Feyrith spoke while breathing out. “As you wish, your highness.” Filled with unwillingness, he opened his palms and began casting, Lillian’s attention returning to the giant. So, she leapt into the air, bring her blade down in a powerful strike.

Clang!

Her blade bounced off the giant’s body as she was sent back by the impact. Getting right back up, she charged forward once more, this time without her sword, but just a bag in hand.

Attrition. Lillian could not win by overpowering the giant, even with the greatest weapons in the kingdom. That just wasn’t how it worked. What she could do, though, was not fight at all, using her weakness to her advantage. After all, the bigger they were, the harder they fell.

She leapt left, her foot pressing onto the ground for a moment before meeting the air again, as the giant continued letting down its fists. A jump to the sky, and a hard crash on the ground. Every step she took was torture, but she was close to what she was trying to achieve.

Its attacks were growing slower for sure, and Feyrith’s occasional wind blade helped in balancing its aggro.

Crash!

“Argh.” Lillian grimaced. It was sudden, though not unlikely, as the worst possible thing happened. She was sent crashing into the ground with a swing of the giant’s arm, at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Shit. She cursed, trying to feel out her body. Pain enveloped her, rocks thrown against her bone. There were definitely a few broken bones here and there, but nothing a healing salve couldn’t fix. Though that could only happen if she got herself out of this predicament.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Interrupting her thoughts was a sudden loud march slowly entering the main hall, every step reverberating the room. Please don’t be more cultists.

Groaning, she turned her body over, not minding the giant behind her. Out in the distance was a legion of knights, hundreds if not thousands of phantasmal beings in beautiful suits of armour, wielding various weapons. Swords, spears, bow, axes, and more.

Leading them was a lone figured dressed in a blue robe, the one and only Sylvia Aridelle.

The room’s eyes were turned toward them, as knights, cultists, and even monsters stopped what they were doing to take in the sight. Sylvia raised her hand into the air and snapped her fingers.

““KRIEK!”” The army of phantom knights yelled out, as they began charging forward into the battlefield, targeting nearby cultists and monsters.

Lillian spotted a platoon of 50 or so knights march toward her direction, as arrows were fired above her, hitting the giant. After fighting the phantom druid earlier in the day, Lillian wouldn’t have thought she would have been glad to see any more, but reality was surprising in that way.

The front lines of the knight platoon raised their weapons and charged toward the giant, targeting each of its limbs and head.

Elegant. For knights in bulky armour, the phantoms were well coordinated and swift, the last one especially. Purple trailed behind each of their thrusts and swings as they throughly slayed the giant.

If that’s wasn’t all a flash lined the sky, as a familiar figure appeared in the hall, a look of rage in her eyes. For a moment, Adelaide stared at Lillian and Feyrith, and in that moment, Lillian felt that she was about to die.

Adelaide swung her twin spears wildly, wiping out hordes of fiends and monsters. Now, this was the Adelaide Lillian was familiar with. In seconds, due to the contributions of both Sylvia and Adelaide, the cult’s forces were thinned out, leaving only a few cultists left amid battle.

They’d surely won, right? Lillian thought so, but when she looked into her mother's eyes and the grim expression on her face, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

“Thief, thief, thief.” Feyrith spoke hurriedly, grabbing Lillian’s attention with a desperate expression.

“Calm down, what is it?” Lillian answered coolly.

“No time to relax.” He spoke in a hushed tone. “I wrong, very, very wrong.”

“What?” She reflectively muttered.

“During battle, did you notice how weak our enemies were?” He asked.

“Yeah, I guess. They did seem a little too easy to defeat.” She replied.

“Damn it!” Feyrith cursed, his face scrunching. “The magic circle in the centre was a distraction.”

“This entire main hall was a distraction.”

“For who?”

“For idiots like us.” “Everyone not in the main hall would assume that it would be there were the conflict was.”

“That’s why they placed the magic circle there, to draw people’s attention to it.”

“So, they placed all the filler enemies in this room, and put their main magic circle somewhere else.” Lillian spoke

“Not magic circle. Magic circles.” Feyrith corrected. “The magic circle is so large because it’s part of an array, otherwise they could have easily fit that kind of design in something a quarter the current one’s size.”

“Damn it, why didn’t I notice sooner?!” Feyrith cursed.

It was as he said this that the air in the room changed, the survivors of battle not even given a moment to celebrate their victory. Heaviness fell and more thumping occurred, but this time, Lillian knew it wasn’t a good sign.

The walls to the palace came crumbling, revealing the moonlit night. From the distance an army marched forward. Cultists came in droves, their hooded figures accompanied by eerie weapons. Behind them were a dozen or so monsters and fiends, all of them more threatening than the ones in the main hall.

They came in droves, thousands of monsters coming at a time. Twin-bladed fiends, and the same giants that Lillian faced earlier but in larger quantity. In the centre of the horde was a lone raven-haired figure, carrying a dark wooden staffed, coiled around a golden orb. Lillian knew the identity of this man and had to hold back her nausea.

One of the 4 great leaders of the Cult of Demiurge, Yéros the Tempered.

This was one of things Lillian recognised from the game, Yéros also responsible for the 2nd collapse of Silverveil in-game.

Almost immediately, she felt a powerful killing intent come from her mother, as Sylvia’s knights regrouped, reforming their legion to combat

“Greetings Silverveil Heretics.” Yéros spoke with a grin, a hand placed on his chest. “We are glad you have gathered here on this magnificent day to witness the rebirth of the one above all, and to contribute to our efforts.”

The hall growled at Yéros’ words, enmity striking him. Lillian didn’t feel any of that hate, only a churning in her stomach as the ground rumbled below her.

“Do you feel that?” She asked Feyrith.

“Yeah.” He replied. “We’re too late.”

The whole hall began to shake, worse than the appearance of either of the two armies. A miasmic, evil, disgusting smog filled the air, suffocating and dense. Then Yérsos spread his arms and began to speak.

“Be honoured to be saved by the kindness of the one above all.” Yéros declared, his eyes manic and red, a toothy smile on his face. “Bow before our might scum, as you heretics will soon be purified.”

A form gathered in the centre of the room, right above the magic circle Feyrith destroyed. It was too intangible to have a form, but its very presence was suffocating.

Lillian felt all her energy being drained, suddenly languid and tired. The world then crumbled even further, explosions ringing out left and right, chunks of wall sent flying.

During these few moments, Lillian didn’t know what to do. She suddenly felt powerless, unable to do anything. It would have been so easy for her to collapse to the ground and give up right that second, letting fate take care of the rest. What would it matter if I died?

“Lillian!” Feyrith yelled to her, snapping her out of her dazed state. “Give me your bag!”

“What?!” Lillian replied. She didn’t know what he was thinking in a situation like this.

“Hurry up!” Feyrith said back, his voice growing louder. Given no other choice, Lillian trusted her gut and let go of her sword, letting it clatter to the floor. Servant’s voice was the only thing that kept her sane in those few moments, giving her enough energy to throw her pouch toward him.

The pouch gently glided through the air, innocent like a dove. It was one of the few things in the world that remained carefree amidst destruction. It slowly descended before falling straight into Feyrith's arms.

Lillian then watched as Feyrith dug into her bag, rummaging through it like a madman, until he finally got what he wanted. He pulled his hand out and in it a vial filled with an inert green liquid.

He held the vial tightly in his palm, before suddenly crushing it.

Crack.

The vial shattered, shards falling onto the floor and digging into Feyrith’s hand. Blood dripped and green mist flew into the air, until finally, silence. There was not a muffled yell or bloody scream left in the world, completely quiet at the scene in front of Lillian. In that moment, the world came to a stop.