Chapter 11: To the Sunken Temple of Nirva(Bonus Scene(Part 3))
Treading through the endless abyss, one where light cease to exist. Even so, even if it is but a somber morrow, perhaps it is the effort that makes way for such endless possibilities. Even if one must eternally part, it certainly does not mean forever. This is something the maiden has come to understand over the many years. Though, even more so than that, knowing that it is entirely possible to close the gap, and ending this pointless cycle.
Selfish it may be, but it does not hurt to feel such now and then. Cyra standing at the gate within the graveyard. The cold breeze hitting against her, and the air sickeningly thickening by the moment.
“The malevolence here...I understand now, the more I push forward, the stronger it becomes...” she faintly smiles.
The maiden looking ahead, the third trial it is, and one in which she knows will bring valuable answers. What answers one may ask? None can say for certain. The devil walking onward, feeling some enlightenment. The pathway which seems to endlessly extend, feeling the darkness latching onto her. It does not seem to bother her. Perhaps it is a form of acceptance, after all, there is little point in resisting such influence, merely embracing it will bring better results.
Cyra soon standing at the intersection. The maiden looking over to the massive gateway, remembering the influence grabbing at her. Cyra holding her hand over her chest, certainly there has been an influential force that saved her. For now, she will have to avoid that gateway, until more answers surfaces.
Cyra slowly shaking her head from left to right, the maiden walking down the pathway to her right. From afar, the devil resting her eyes upon the shining tombstone. Looking ahead, squinting her eyes a bit. A shadowy figure standing at the stairway. The maiden taking caution, ceasing her movements. Cyra looking at the figure thickening with malevolence. The figure walking towards her, and the maiden slowly motioning her hand backward, taking hold of the hilt of Lævateinn.
“What is this thing...?” she wonders.
The shadowy figure slowly becoming more visible by the second. The maidens eyes widening in shock, the devil taking a step. Revealing out of the shadows is an exact duplicate of herself. Alarming this is indeed.
“What kind of madness is this...?” a chill running down her spine.
The doppelgänger raising their right index finger high into the air, the maiden looking above. Words burning in azure flames coming into view.
One who wants, one who wishes, there can never be more than one. Jealousy, hatred, let these be known, one who envies, a sin never forgiven nor forgotten...
Cyra looking towards the doppelgänger, watching as they extend their hand. A duplicate of Lævateinn taking form out of the shadows. The clone taking hold of the weapon in their right hand. The doppelgänger standing to their side, directing the blade right at the maiden. Cyra feeling the crushing pressure of the imposter.
In every sense of the word, her own energy striking down at her. The maiden closely looking on, soon realizing that the doppelgänger is pointing behind her. The devil turning, seeing another shadowy figure.
“The trial of envy...a doppelgänger, does that mean...?” Cyra closely looking on.
The shadowy figure slowly taking form. Revealing themselves in pure white armor is the supreme god, or in other words, another doppelgänger. The maiden glancing back to the clone. Unease is within the eyes of the halfbreed.
“I see now, because I have always been envious of others, you plan to try and steal what little I do have,” she turns towards the clone.
The maidens eyes are now much more serious. Her glare brimming with such confidence. Malevolence brightly burning from the devil, crushing down on the area around her.
“There are a lot of things I will let slide, but my desires are mine alone,” she stands to her side, directing her blade at the imposter.
The maiden extending her blade afar, the illusion of Valor slowly disappearing into the darkness. Her desires are hers alone. What little she does have will remain her own. These smaller points shaping her path forward.
“An illusion he may be, but even if he is an illusion, my old friend will never willingly turn his blade on me. Try another tactic,” her eyes are daring upon the imposter.
The clone revealing a revolver in their offhand, directing it at the maiden. Cyra cautiously looking on. The imposter rapidly discharging the weapon, the maiden immediately dashing forward. Moving around the negative energy, Cyra making her way towards her enemy. Lævateinn clearly in view, reflecting the doppelgänger.
The imposter dashing towards the maiden, their blades clashing against the other with great intensity. The release of the energy shredding the surrounding area. In every sense of the word, this is her own strength in physical form.
The maiden slightly pulling away, the clone forcing onward. Their blades clashing repeatedly as they circle the other. There is no room for errors. Hidden potential long locked away, there is no telling of what this imposter may be holding that she is unaware of.