"So, little bird..." Clark teased, twirling his dagger between his fingers. "...we'll see which of us is the most beautiful angel then."

With another flap of her wings, Angela shot a barrage of feathers at Clark, which flew like arrows descending from above. The redhead started running and dodging the projectiles while using his weapon to defend against others.

The general watched calmly as her opponent moved. The dense snow significantly slowed him down, and he didn't seem to have any long-range weapons, so as long as she kept her distance, she'd be fine. Narf had said that he could read other people's hearts, but Angela wasn't sure if it worked at this distance. Even if it did, if that was all he had, there wouldn't be much to worry about in combat.

Angela continued to rain feathers down on the man, or rather, she continued to rain blades down on him. Her enemy was better than she had expected; even with an inflated ego, he managed to defend himself well against her attacks, hiding behind rocks.

"Are you trying to fight or flee?" Angela commented, observing everything from the rock she was on. The wind seemed to have intensified, and the blizzard had strengthened a bit more. "I warn you that if you run, you'll have a better chance of staying alive. If you find a time rift, you could go to another time. You need to get close to hit me, and if you keep hiding, you'll die of hypothermia."

"I thought we were fighting. When I want advice on what to do, I'll ask. Until then, keep your filthy mouth shut." The angel sighed, feeling somewhat relieved not to have to worry about the ethics of this man. He was obviously malevolent.

"Then death it will be." Angela spread her wings and took to the air. As if the strong breeze meant nothing to her, the general had decades and centuries of experience in the air. No matter the weather, she knew how to adjust her wings and feathers to fly properly.

With another flap of her wings, another burst of blades was ejected from it. This time, they were launched upward into the strong wind that danced through the gaps in the mountain rocks. The blades were hard but still light as feathers, and the wind carried them toward Clark. He probably wouldn't even see the attack coming, as the white feathers would blend with the snowflakes in the blizzard and drift toward him with the wind.

Angela only heard the man's pained curse as red drops appeared in the air. If she continued attacking this way, she wouldn't be in any danger; she could just finish it off without having to touch anyone.

"That was very clever, little bird..." The redhead said, coming out from behind the rock he had been hiding in it. His dagger was still in hand, and some feathers were embedded in him. "...I see you're not just a pretty face. But, I'm sorry to say, the same can be said about me."

The enemy raised his arm, holding his dagger by the blade with his index finger and thumb. He threw his weapon with force and skill at the winged lady. The general saw the weapon coming straight at her, moved in the air, and used her own wing to deflect it. The dagger was sent flying away as Angela continued to face Clark, not at all impressed. What exactly had he planned with that futile move? He still wore his cynical and mocking smile.

There was something there, but Angela didn't know what it was until she felt something pierce her torso. One of her own feathers had pierced her, probably thrown by Clark while he was out of the angel's sight; she hadn't seen it coming due to the blizzard. Angela wished she could say she didn't believe he had thrown the blade correctly with the help of the wind, but she did. He had experience fighting with small blades too; it wouldn't be a stretch for him.

However, he was still a foolish ignoramus... the wound on the angel's torso was deep, probably hitting her stomach. It was extremely painful, and the sharp blade had really torn through her body. The pain she felt...

...was so intense that Clark fell to the ground, screaming and spitting more blood.

He was obviously questioning "how?" all confused. He probably thought, "When did she attack him? With what did she attack him? There was no blade on his body, but there was a wound on his torso."

"Confused? I don't blame you; everyone makes the same face after facing the consequences." Angela began to explain as the blade slowly expelled itself from her body while her wound healed until she was perfect again. Even her dress, which had been pierced, was mended and the bloodstains disappeared. "We Flarmen are so beautiful that the universe itself refuses to let us die. We are immortal beings. However, there is a catch with me specifically; everything you do to me will return to you. That's karma. But as I said, you are ugly, so the universe won't care if you die."

"Okay, I admit I didn't expect this. How, exactly, am I supposed to kill an immortal witch?" The cold worsened the conditions; the wound seemed to burn more with the icy wind, and his whole body was more sensitive.

"You won't. It's impossible for you to kill me. However, I must say that you are a group of idiots. I don't know how you are still standing, but you shouldn't have picked a fight you can't win. There is an overwhelming difference in power between the weaker and stronger among us. Leo, Rhoj, and Elaine may have been defeated, but compared to some of us, they were miserably weak."

"Ahaha..." Clark laughed mockingly. Even injured, he still didn't lower his head or show any sign of concern. Angela was completely unnerved; the malice of that man was palpable. "At least we killed a few, right?"

"Listen, foolish man, all twenty virtues are interconnected. You can't live in a world where only one is missing. The only reason humans haven't disappeared completely is that they have something beyond the twenty virtues, but they still didn't have consciousness; they were basically in a coma, with reflexes and spasms, but they didn't actually feel anything. When you restored nature, they kind of regained consciousness, or part of it, and started to feel their own suffering. After you restored justice, they are now forever bound to suffer physically and mentally, as they will be reflecting on their own crimes without the necessary knowledge, sadness, regret, or creativity to repent. They only feel guilt. By restoring the animals, probably some are being devoured right now by beasts that don't care about their diseases. Living in a world with only a few virtues is not living."

"And what does that have to do with me?"

"Pardon?"

"You misunderstood me. I'm not fighting to save humanity or any crap like that. I'm just furious with you, a bunch of assholes, who came out of nowhere and completely messed up my life. I want to kill as many of you as I can, not because the world needs it, but because I want to kill you. Especially you; you've caused me a lot of damage."

"So you still believe you can defeat me?"

"Maybe. I'll try; you've already destroyed all the admiration I had."

"You really love this..."

"Of course, only an idiot wouldn't love being loved. Humans live for love. A being who has neither admiration nor love from anyone is useless and shouldn't even exist in the first place. Our value lies in how much people value us..."

"Have you ever been touched against your will? Have you suffered hundreds of advances even when you said no? Have you ever been stabbed out of envy? At any point in your life, has your beauty ever caused you to suffer at the hands of others?"

"No. That has never happened to me."

"Either you're not as beautiful as you think you are, or..." Thoughtful, Angela descended from the sky to the ground, a few meters in front of Clark. Far enough for him not to touch her, but close enough to do what she wanted. "... you have an emotional control power, right? That's how your emotion powers work in battle. At this distance, do you think you're able to use it? I'd like to see what my heart says to you."

"You're afraid of me. It's as clear as day. In fact, you don't feel comfortable around anyone. You tried, you tried for a long time, but you can't trust. You only see the worst in people, and that slowly drives you insane. It's funny; for an immortal being, you have an enormous fear of feeling pain and getting hurt."

Every word was true. The worst part was that Angela didn't know why; she felt she couldn't blame any trauma. She had been more negative than Ana Larissa since childhood. What other explanation could there be than that it was Joy itself that decided to mess with her mind? Because of it, the angel had been born an unhappy being, incapable of laughing, incapable of trusting, incapable of loving, and incapable of living.

She should disappear. If she couldn't smile genuinely, then her existence was something useless, an empty and meaningless life, full of anger, fear, anxiety, and disgust. These feelings began to intensify in Angela; she started to wish to disappear.

The feelings grew so strong that the only need she felt was to grab another blade and stab herself with it. And so it happen...

... Clark grabbed one of the feathers and drove it into his own throat.

Probably, while the blood flowed from the wound, he wondered "why?" all confused. That foolish man still hadn't understood who he was fighting, and there was no chance of victory for him against that woman.

"I repeat: You cannot defeat me. If you poison me, you will be poisoned. If you paralyze me, you will remain paralyzed. If you try to induce me to suicide, you will end up trying to kill yourself." Angela walked slowly toward the man, who was now on his knees trying to stop his blood from falling. "Just as if you try to see my heart, you will reveal yours to me. As I thought, behind all this pretense, there's a terrified coward, a coward much worse than I am. You control people to be how you want them to be; what a spoiled child you are. You say a person only has value if admired by others, so you are the most selfish person I've ever met. Only you should be admired, and you admire no one. Only you should have value... what an insignificant thought.  But it's time to finish this spectacle."

The general moved with great speed, and her wing sliced off Clark's arm, which he had been trying to use to stop the bleeding. Now his arm was losing liters of blood while his throat was also bleeding. The general had warned: if he fled, he would have a better chance of surviving because she was leagues ahead of him. Triumphant, Angela spread her wings and took off, flying away.

"Are you already leaving? But we haven't reached the fun part yet," he... spoke? But his throat was cut. He was still speaking? But his powers were about emotions; it didn't make sense, he shouldn't be able to move. "You know, my power isn't heart-reading or emotional control... no, my power has always been a connection." The man's severed arm began to regrow, and the wound on his throat showed no signs of ever being there. "I create a bridge between our existences, where we share the same heart... however, normally it's just a link with the other person, but your karma power put me on the board as well. You're right, I don't stand a chance against you..." said the man as a pair of wings appeared on his back. "... But now, try facing yourself, and we'll see if it's a different story."

"Still foolish..." The woman's wings moved lightly, releasing two feathers gently. The feathers began to grow until they became swords, the bone as the hilt and the plumage as the blade. Clark flapped his wings, launching several blades toward the general. Like a hawk, Angela dodged each one and darted toward her opponent, making a vertical cut across the man's torso. "... Didn't you understand? I've been fighting myself since I was born."

Even with the wound on his body, the man just smiled.

"I know, I saw. But answer me: How are you faring in this fight?" The cut wasn't very deep; it didn't hit vital organs and was more of a superficial wound, but it still burned so much...

...that Angela had to retreat a little in pain. Had the wound come back to her? Did he copy that too?

The angel began to think about what that meant in the battle, and the chances were not good. Neither of the wounds, hers nor Clark's, were healing. The reason? It was because both were trapped in an infinite cycle. When the general cut the man, his karma returned the attack to her, and when she was attacked, her karma returned his attack. They wouldn't heal because they were infinitely returning the wound to each other, preventing it from healing.

"You know what this means, don't you, fool?"

"That probably by the end of this fight we'll both die? Yes, I know. Hey, but the universe won't let you die, so stop making that ugly face." Clark also picked up two feathers, but he didn't make them larger; they remained dagger-sized as he charged at Angela. He attacked with everything without fear of the consequences, while the general only defended and dodged, not trying to attack. She didn't want to die; it had been a cruel twist of fate, the worst opponent possible had appeared before her. Now it wasn't that Clark couldn't defeat her; she had no chance of surviving a fight against him. Now it was her, whose only option was to flee.

But could she escape? She was starting to feel insecure and afraid; he moved well even in the snow, using his wings and daggers in physical combat as well as she used her weapons. During the long and torturous minutes she was moving against him, she felt foolish. She should never have gotten close; why had she done that? Fear grew and tore at her flesh; she couldn't see herself surviving this, her anxiety increased to a supernatural level, and she couldn't think straight as her emotions were in complete turmoil.

Clark managed to make some cuts on her, all of which returned to him, and so both always kept the same wounds. Time passed, the wounds grew, and Angela grew more desperate. Until the man suddenly stopped attacking and moved back a little.

At the moment he did, Angela's wounds healed, and after a few seconds, his did too. Something that left the general even more frightened.

"What are you doing?" With the softest tone he could manage, Clark answered:

"I just deactivated the powers for a second and then reactivated them. I mean, I don't want to die fighting someone as worthless as you."

"Worthless?"

"No one loves you; you've scared away all the people who should be by your side. You're a nobody; it doesn't matter how many people admire you if you don't accept their admiration. You're right, I make people love me, so someone like you who receives so much love for free and denies it, I can't help but hate you more."

"Love? You know what I..."

"I saw your heart. Stop making excuses, you coward. You even pushed away the people who wanted the best for you. You might be the most beautiful person in the world, but if you don't know the value of your own beauty, then you're worse than trash. You're the one who destroys your own joy; it's not any virtue or human, it's your own paranoia."

Every time he spoke, the power increased Angela's anguish, every feeling intensifying, against herself. Ten, no, a hundred, no, a thousand times stronger than before, a massive hatred directed right at her.

"I know it's you doing this," the angel said. "But haven't you learned? If you make me want to kill myself, you'll also try to kill yourself."

"I'm not making you hate yourself; have you forgotten, foolish woman? Your power puts my existence in play too; it's your own power that's stealing my hatred for you and putting it into your heart. I don't need to lift another finger; you're destroying yourself."

She didn't know what to do; she didn't understand how, being as malicious as she was, she had let her guard down and got close to him? He used their fight to sow more and more depressive and intrusive thoughts in the woman's heart, then allowed her to mix the hatred both felt for her and self-plumbing everything into herself. A dance of paranoid depressive feelings swirled around her mind.

For such is the heart of living beings: if you isolate yourself and only feed bitterness and distrust in your heart, there will come a moment when that bitterness turns against you, a moment when demons and humans used those dark feelings, and a time will come when you yourself will bring about your own death.

"Want to know why you let your guard down with me? Because deep down you found me beautiful and relaxed, trusted, you just didn't realize because your own paranoia masked every chance you had to win against me."

And thus, the tragic end arrived. The moment when Angela went mad from the words of a false angel living on Earth, an impure and deceitful angel who took advantage of feelings that were not well cared for. And in her madness, she attacked herself, thanks to her own power, her wound did not heal, and she died. Her body shone in yellow, and the virtue of joy returned to Earth.

The yellow light radiated and spread across all times and spaces, entering hearts and bringing to their minds what made them happiest. For Clark, it was all the times someone had sincerely praised him. His pride strengthened, and his thirst for more grew.

For James, it showed him his brother, his niece, his friend. The life he had managed to restore before everything ended. He smiled, with a hint of sadness, but a happy smile.

For Emily, it merely reminded her of herself, and the girl was happy to be herself. She smiled.

For Lysa, the joy reminded her of all the times she had managed to help others, all the times she was told she was a mature, intelligent girl. She smiled, and her desire to continue being useful increased.

Stuart remembered his wife, her sincerity and tenderness. But he did not smile, as the grief-stricken heart blinded him to the virtue.

Pedro remembered his childhood, and nothing else. There was nothing else that made him happy, and he was saddened to realize how distant his joy was in the past.

John... it is almost irrelevant whether he remembered anything or not. After all, he wouldn't smile, he wouldn't care.

Helena remembered her parents, alive, by her side, but immediately remembered her parents, dead, at her feet. The joyful memory makes us smile, but if it is a joy that has passed and you are not at peace with the change, the joy turns to sadness, which takes refuge in hatred or depression.

We can only be joyful when we are at peace with the past and the present, without living in fear of the future.

Lalá felt nothing. The child had not a single happy memory. But she saw the moment when the yellow virtue appeared on one of the chairs.

"So this is it, Verônica... you finally saw with your own eyes that I have never felt joy before. Even when you tried to make me happy with your jokes, I did not laugh because my life has been broken since that day."

Thanks to Angela's power, Clark had been immune to the cold for a while, but now that she was gone and there was nothing for him to link to, the cold started to take effect once more.

"If I'm not mistaken, she mentioned something about a time rift somewhere... I need to find it soon." Clark continued walking through the dense snowstorm, looking for an escape from the terrible time, until after minutes of walking, he found something resembling a portal in the air, like a bug in real life. A glitch in the texture of reality.

Before the young man could approach, the portal began to emit a glow. Clark stepped back, startled by the strange behavior of the rift. When a person was ejected from it and fell to their knees in front of Clark.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch..."

"Pedro? What are you doing here?" The priest stood up, holding his head as if he had a bump.

"Oh, hey Clark........... AH CLARK!" As soon as he realized who his company was, Pedro jumped to create distance between them while striking a stereotypical karate pose. "Don't come near, you... fool."

"Fool? Seriously?"

"Swear words are ugly, man, never use one."

"Oh, don't worry, I don't swear. From your reaction, I assume Helena told you?"

"YES SHE DID! And you talk with such a... face..."—Pedro had to stop his sentence to cough. His exhaustion reached its limit, and the cold intensified his fever and made his injuries more sensitive.

"Are those battle marks? Did you manage to defeat one of them too?"

"Yes, Leo. And you?"

"I just faced one too; I have no idea what her name was."

"But you're intact..."

"What can I do?" the man asked while adjusting his hair, all self-assured. "This fight was a given from the start."

"WOW! I got a beating from mine and won by luck."

"That's not something to brag about." Pedro was like a child; he was still within Clark's power range. The young man was still irritated with the redhead, but his admiration was sincere, and there was no discomfort in admiring him. The emotions of that man's heart were genuine and pure, and one did not interfere with the other.

"Anyway, Clark, never do that again. I know how important it is to feel loved; I've sought that for years, but an illusion is not a truth, no matter how much you cry for it. The best love is the one that is genuine."

"I don't want a sermon from a societal outcast." Annoyed, Clark prepared to enter the portal. Pedro didn't want to be left alone or let him be alone, so he followed him with shaky legs. He thought they would end up back in the desert they were in, but that's not what happened. That time rift took them to another place...

John

John was walking down the road of a small medieval village, not thinking of anything in particular at the moment, nor feeling anything in particular. There was no need, he was no prophet to foresee a future without signs, so he would just keep walking until something happened.

But a lost aroma emerge in the air, and an interesting noise, the aroma itself was something John didn't recognize, but the noise resembled a rattle, yet it didn't sound like an object or scales hitting each other. No, as good as the representation was, the noise was vocal, and the asp was almost palpable.

Turning the corner of a street, John spotted a man seated at a table, dressed in clothes befitting a higher royalty and a long cloak. He had two prominent fangs in his mouth, giving the impression of a vampire, with eyes sharp like a serpent, and indeed, now and then, a snake's tongue appeared and retracted into his mouth. On his head, a cobra was wrapped. In front of him were two cups and a teapot, with only one of the cups filled.

"Good affffffternoon, good ssssssssir. From what I ssssssssssssee, you're really immune to the virtuesssssssss. Truly amazsssssing." What an annoying tick, his voice invaded John's skull and disturbed his mind, that was the rattle noise, each S was so strident and loud. But the archer was curious about the man before him, so he also sat down on the other side of the table. Kesna picked up the teapot to serve his new guest when John raised his hand in protest.

"I won't have anything, thank you very much."

"Affffffraid of being poisssssssssoned? Orassss but I am drinking from the sssssssssame ssssssourcccce."

"Well, there's no real guarantee of that, and even if you proved it now by drinking from my cup, who guarantees that you're not immune to your own poison? Or that you won't inject the poison the moment you touch the cup to your lips?"

"Sssssso, it'sssss already clear that I fight usssssssing poisssssson?"

"I have no guarantee that you do, so I won't put my hand in the fire, but I wouldn't place that much trust in a man who walks with a cobra on his head. Moreover..." The archer took one of the arrows from his quiver and, using only his hand, threw it to a spot on the ground, hitting the head of a snake that was approaching. "You've been trying to distract me since the moment I arrived. You move with elegance and calm, but you deliberately make noises in your speech to distract my mind and annoy me. You're a viper, preparing to strike your venom at what threatens you."

"What an accusssssssation without..."

"Please stop the act. You pretend to be ignorant, innocent, weak, manipulable, simple, and plain. But we both know you are very shrewd."

"Hm... finally someone with half a brain. Those fools really underestimated me, can you believe that? So, now I believe you're going to try to kill me?"

"Actually, not yet. I'd like to ask you a favor."

"A favor from an enemy?"

"It's something that aligns with your interests."

"Hm... interesting, and what would that favor be?" John smiled, placed the bow on the table, leaned in, and with a triumphant face, asked:

"I would like you to attack me to kill, please."