[Obliterate].

With that simple thought, the prison crumbled to dust as soon as it came into existence.

And with it, Theora felt awful. That woman had dedicated her life to this, in service of a System putting her up to an impossible task. And that’s very much the look she had on her face. One of pure terror. Of failure. Of fear. Eyebrows raised in muted, contained desperation, her hand softly shaking as it held the head of her cane.

Theora did not know what to do. Whatever these people had planned, it was probably all over now. Would they still try? Would they make a desperate attempt? Did they have some contingencies left?

Both the old woman as well as the person in glasses had likely expended a lot of their mana with what they’d tried to do, assuming they were spellcaster classes. Maybe those other three still had things to try out. Though somehow, it seemed unlikely.

But the one, ultimate question running through Theora’s head was — what had even been the point? Sure, the System wasn’t infallible, but had it truly thought that this might work? Had it really put these poor people on this nonsense task, thinking it could possibly succeed?

Maybe it had. The System was in one way all-knowing, but it also seemed to have limited attention. Perhaps it had simply given the quest, and then forgotten about it. Maybe these people were nothing but pawns. Or, perhaps arrows to be fired, in the hopes that one day, one of them might stay stuck in Theora’s heart.

“Please go home,” she said. “I do not wish to fight.”

There was only silence. The man with the glasses made a clumsy step back, the jellyfish girl simply sat down on the ground, her tentacle hair waving around her as she stared at the grass. The smaller woman tightened her grip on her hammer, and the man clothed in dark seemed to make ready for something.

What would it be? Some of them still hadn’t shown their cards. Perhaps one of them had some instant teleportation ability, would snap next to Dema, and speak the scroll. Or, maybe they had the ability to use doppelgangers and were secretly sneaking up on her.

Still, Theora would feel it.

And while she wasn’t able to teleport, she could still [Obliterate] the distance between her and Dema. Of course, there was no telling what the world would look like after she did that. Maybe all the matter between the two of them would simply vanish. Maybe it would connect without transition, as if whatever was there had never existed. Maybe the world would stay broken that way, and the two would never be able to separate again.

This was all Theora’s fault. She was the reason why Dema was in this situation in the first place. So, she would do it. To defend Dema, she would rip reality apart and stitch it together anew.

She really didn’t want to, though. It would be better if these people gave up.

Finally, the old woman sighed. It was a pitiful sigh, one of involuntary resignation, and while she probably attempted to retain control over her emotions, her voice still broke.

“I suppose you are the destroyer of fates,” she muttered. 

What could Theora possibly say to that? To her?

Spend your whole life preparing something impossible, and reap the reward of failure. She couldn’t even be angry. All she felt was pity. Of course, there had never been a way. If Theora decided Dema was going to survive this day, then there was nothing in the world that could change it.

“Fine, then,” the old woman regathered her voice, looking at her companions one by one. “We really tried. We gave our best to end this cleanly. But we failed.” She took a deep breath, and lost the shaking of her fist. Calming down, her body discarded all the tension and fear. “So, let’s kill her instead.”

And with that, the fight began.

Theora swallowed. This was not going to end well, was it?

It was then that the dark clothed man unleashed what he’d prepared. In the blink of an eye, he tried to move past her and up the hill. Maybe even less than a blink of an eye, it was an unnatural speed, distorting his body and pulling the air apart.

But Theora caught him. Caught him with her hand by his upper arm, and then she used his momentum to turn around and hurl him back where he came from.

Fine. If they wanted a fight, so be it. But she couldn’t possibly use her Skill on them. She’d have to do this by hand. She pulled her magical coat over her head and threw it to the ground, now standing there in her undergarments — a white linen shirt as well as short linen pants, bound together at her hip by a thin band. Then, she tossed away her shoes, and stood there, barefoot, the wind pushing through her hair as she made for a fighting stance.

Oh, how long had it been since she’d tried that?

The small person was right, she’d been a [Berserker] once. She had no more Skills relating to it, but her strength stat was still… Well, technically it wasn’t a number, but that somehow meant it was larger than anything else. And maybe she still had some muscle memory from back then.

The hill behind her and Dema were her line in the sand; she’d [Obliterate] anything that got past it, but things aimed at herself, she’d just let through. It wasn’t like nothing could harm her. She could still feel pain, and take damage. But, just like when she’d climbed out of the Cube of Solitude, she could force her body to stay intact, by power of will. That way, maybe she could break their will to fight.

The very next moment, as the black robed man still flew through the air, the man with glasses cast another spell. He had his hand stretched out, sweating profusely, but still determined enough to kill her. 

[Assume], he spoke.

And with that, a hundred spikes made of light started poking out from the ground around Theora, all aiming at her, like large needles awaiting her very next step.

[Assume]… Together with the threatening display of those spikes, maybe it was a divination type spell? They’d activate once Theora would fulfil his assumption, and fly through her? Interesting. It meant he wanted to prevent her from doing something.

At the same time, the small woman came soaring in from the sky. Somehow, she’d made a gigantic leap, with her hammer casting Theora into shadow from above, winding up for a massive hit.

That was terrifying. Theora needed to avoid it at all costs.

And so, she attempted to make a step towards where the woman would land, and that’s when the assumption hit. All the little spikes started to dash out through her, emerging as long spears of light piercing her entire body and staying stuck, holding her in place, attached to the ground.

This was a decent combination. These people were good at fighting together. Theora started wiggling one of her impaled arms — a spear running through the elbow and another through her bloodied hand, and she tried to get it free by pushing it out through the pointy end.

She didn’t have enough time. That hammer was close to crashing down on the ground.

She needed to prevent that. It would be way too loud. It would mess up Dema’s precious sleep.

Ignoring the remaining rods sticking through her, Theora made two steps forward. As she did, the rods of light broke apart at ground level and let her roam free, still stuck through her in a complex arrangement.

She stretched her uninjured hand up at the sky, holding it out as if warding off a nuisance sunbeam. Theora stopped the weapon with her palm. A soft and deep gong echoed through the valley. 

Still too loud.

[Obliterate].

The Hammer turned into sand. Meanwhile, the woman lost her balance and was about to crash to the ground, but Theora reached for her, carefully gripping the clothing above her chest, and flung her back to where the Lyph was still just getting up.

This was like fighting children.

The healer was opening his mouth to cast another Skill, and Theora was surprised he had any mana left. Still, she was done watching him do things, so she stepped over to him in three paces as if flying, and gently laid a few of her fingers on his lips to advise him to stop.

As such, he remained for a fraction of a second, and decided not to speak the name of his spell. With a nudge to his shoulder, she suggested to him to join the others. Not enough force to actually make him move — only to make the message clear. Go back where you came from.

And he decided to obey.

Only a few seconds had passed, but during this time, the old woman had started to cast new spells. Again, Theora was surprised she had energy left after using a Legendary Skill; even more so when she saw what was happening: That person was casting a Skill on the shed, having engulfed it in a gigantic bubble.

Theora ventured past the healer, and landed in front of the [Sealer]. Just as she arrived, she raised her cane and spoke, [Magmagloom].

In her stride, Theora was engulfed in a floating ball of lava absorbing her whole. Lava… that was really warm. Unfortunately, there was no time to cherish this seal.

Within a flicker of a moment, Theora’s face emerged from it, like peeking out from water. Calm and with an empty gaze, the molten rock sizzling at the edges of her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as her arms rose out from the molten rock, some of it sticking and dripping off her skin. She picked up the cane from the [Sealer]’s hands in a smooth motion. “This seems to be a weapon.”

[Obliterate].

The cane turned into water, splashing down onto the ground as the woman issued a soft whimper. At that moment, the magma became affected by gravity, and sloshed down as well. Parts of it still stuck to Theora’s body as they slowly turned cold and solid. She heard the bubble around the shed pop.

Was that it?

Looking around, the party seemed spent. The old woman stood shaken, the healer was shivering, the woman without her hammer stared in shock, and the black-robed person kept running his fingers over his legs as if they had failed him.

The only one who had not moved was the jellyfish girl, who still sat on the ground, stoically.

“Take a moment to recuperate,” Theora suggested. “I apologise for the damage to your equipment. I will check up on Dema, then find a sturdy and slender piece of dried wood. In the meantime, prepare to leave.”

With that, she turned around and walked back to her magical coat. Her body still seared with steaming, gleaming rock and parts of glowing rods still stuck through her shoulders and torso, she threw her garment back over herself. Then, she proceeded back up the hill in light steps, the frills whirling behind her, like a betta fish fresh after a fight.

She really, really hoped this hadn’t disturbed Dema’s sleep.

If it had, she could see herself become angry.

 

It had, in fact, disturbed Dema’s sleep. Not to the point of waking her up, but she squirmed around in her bedding, as if having a bad dream. Theora laid her hand on Dema’s forehead, and the girl instantly calmed. 

“I’m sorry,” Theora whispered. “Everything’s alright. I’m sorry I was gone.”

Dema just let out a soft and drawn-out ‘guh’ sound, but didn’t open her eyes.

Theora had surveyed the surroundings a lot over the past few days, so while she lulled Dema back into deep slumber, she tried to recall where she had seen a suitable piece of wood. Eventually, she remembered, made sure one last time that Dema was alright, and then left the shed again to go fetch it.

 

When she finally returned to the hero party, she found the healer crouched down, crying. The small woman was kneeling over the piece of sand that had once been her hammer, and she grazed her fingers through the heap as if it were the ashes of a family member. Theora had understood it to be an incredible magical item, maybe of the kind that only that specific person could handle. She felt a certain emptiness within her stomach at the sight.

People were so fragile.

And of course, in that assessment, she included herself. She had done all this because she didn’t want Dema to die. Maybe she could have won without making such petty statements as destroying these people’s belongings. Again, Theora had thrown a fit.

And she could hardly blame these five for their actions. After all, Theora stood here, defending the Ancient Evil, of all people. She herself knew the amount of damage and destruction evil beings caused in the world all too well, and could sympathise with them for attempting to get rid of another one of that kind.

But, was Dema really one of that kind?

Of course, Theora could have asked inside the [Realm] of Truth, but it didn’t really matter to her either way. Knowing wouldn’t solve her conundrum; she’d still have to kill Dema, and neither knowing she did something evil in the past, nor knowing she was completely innocent, would change the fact that it made her feel awful.

But maybe it would have mattered to these people?

If Theora had asked Dema and found the truth, could she have convinced them not to fight?

It was unlikely, but there may have been a chance.

Finally, she stepped back in front of the old woman, and handed her the replacement cane. A dried piece of oakwood, progressing into a knob towards the upper ending, and seemingly sturdy enough to walk on.

The woman had taken this maybe the best of all of them. The Lyph stood behind her, staring at Theora in apprehension, as if ready to launch forward once she made a wrong move. It wasn’t like he could have done anything. But the old woman, she just stood there, glaring, the wind pushing her dress to a side, her hair fluttering in the air just like Theora’s.

She accepted the short branch. “You are the worst creature I have ever seen,” she spat.

“You are probably right about that,” Theora replied. “I have nothing to offer you in hospitality. I do believe our confrontation is over and that you will not lay a hand on Dema, but I would still prefer if you left as soon as you were able to. Goodbye.”

With that, she turned around to leave.