https://youtu.be/YMy1Het7VmA

It was two hours before midnight, and as Seiryu got ready to rest for the night, the outskirts of the city remained as active as ever. The scene was a small hut made from nothing but wood, and it was dark inside due to the lack of windows, so little light made it from the night through the partially-open door.

Which was perfect. Dark, neglected, empty, and in the city's dark, lonesome underbelly. Well, it was perfect for one of the men who had entered this shed, who stood with his back to the wall. A pale-skinned youth with tied-up purple hair and eyes the colour of ivy. Leaning against the wall while dressed in a royal purple cloak over a black sweater, with a belt around his waist holding a strange purple pouch and a short dagger. His arms crossed, with a deeply unimpressed look souring his otherwise fair features.

The other was a middle-aged man, standing in the centre of the room, in a stiffly upright posture as though he were wrapped up in an invisible rope. He had a bald head and wore a curled moustache that, combined with his clothing, made it clear that he was a noble of some sort, but his dishevelled state made him look like he'd been roughed up. He looked upon the younger male with clear disdain, gritting his teeth as though he were ashamed.

"So. Ready to talk?" the purple-haired youth said, with a distinct tone of 'get on with it already' present in his voice. The man shook his head quickly, clearly not ready to acknowledge this man as his inferior.

"Y-You scoundrel!" he exclaimed. "Just because you caught me off-guard, you think you're better than me?"

"This isn't about superiority. I did what I had to." the cloaked man frowned. "Now you're here. You're gonna give me answers or take them to the grave."

"I have nothing to tell you, you...riff-raff!" the man yelled. "Is it money you want? Power? Well, you can't have it!"

"Are all you rich people this shallow? Or are you just playing dumb?" the younger man sighed, shaking his head. "You're with the witch, aren't you?"

The man's brow shot up, but he quickly restrained his physical responses, clenching his teeth and shaking his head. "Witch? I know of no such thing!" he exclaimed flamboyantly. "What would an esteemed man such as myself even be doing with a witch?"

"Simple. Following the world's heartbeat, she sought out the Empty Light, and right away, she and her lackeys made a beeline to Seiryu because she knew it would show up here." was the explanation. "That's where you came in. You're a high member of Eastern society, aren't you?"

"W-Well, obviously! But I don't see where I come into this!"

"That's where you come into this. You're a plant." the man dug into his pouch. "You'd kept an eye out on all the places it was likely to spawn. And once you found it, you were gonna tell her. And you were gonna do it with this."

Pulling his hand out of his pouch, he revealed a curled toupee in his hand, the same shade of black as the bound man's moustache. The man gasped at that, but quickly changed from a surprised face to an incredulous one. "You think a bundle of hair is the linchpin to this scenario you've cooked up?"

"Your bundle of hair. We're lucky I took this before you could find anything." was the response, before the purple-haired man shook his head, sighing. "Or maybe not. Someone awakened to that Light. We can only hope it was someone else entirely."

Then, he began waving the wig around, pointing at it. "But that's not important. This is." he said. "I've been watching you, and it only took that and a few Grey magic scans for me to connect the dots. That's no ordinary wig. If you were to put this on, you'd be able to connect your mind with hers as long as you're both in the city."

The noble stared during the whole explanation, looking like he was, say, a White Tiger encountering a samurai salamander on duty. "...you're bluffing."

"Is that your only lifeline? I suppose that makes sense, since I took the other one." the commoner replied, opening his pouch and stuffing the wig inside it - it might come in handy later. "If I'm being honest, though, you're done for, and you know it. So why not do something good with your life for once and come clean? I'll personally make sure she doesn't hurt you."

The noble growled, clenching his teeth as he tried to physically break free from his binds, but it was no use. Bowing his head, he gave him an angry glare. "Fine! Everything you say is spot-on! But what can you do about it? She will change the world for the better! Who even are you?"

"She didn't tell you about me, huh? You must not have been very valuable to her." the younger man said coldly. "I just want to know one thing. What's her backup plan if she doesn't get the Light?"

"Hmph! She has her ways, don't you see? I was the greatest one of her entourage, true, but she has several others working under her!"

"And who are they?"

"Ha! I've already said too much! Know your place, peon!"

The commoner crossed his arms, stewing on this for a little while as he wondered who else might be working for that witch. Before he could do anything, he heard a soft-sounding voice floating through the air. "Lazare~! I return!"

https://youtu.be/NPMmUMhcDZo

Hearing that, he looked up towards the open door, watching as a woman skipped through. Her skin was even paler than his - almost gray, in fact - to the extent of making her look almost undead. Her crimson eyes, which reflected no light, only bolstered this image. She wore a black cowl over her entire body, exposing the black boots she wore on her feet. The cowl was hooded, and she wore it up, but one could see wavy silver locks poking out of it.

Lazare, the purple-haired man, stood up straight as the woman hopped up behind the noble, gazing at him with a sweet little smile, while she held behind her back a long scythe with a large, black blade. "Cyra. How goes the investigation?"

"Salutations to you too, Lazare." Cyra hummed. "I come bearing results. Would you like to hear them?"

"And who is this, now?" the noble yelled. Lazare stayed silent at that, while Cyra took a deep bow.

"My name is Cyra Fluonia, my good sir."

"If you're done, I'd like to hear those results." Lazare said, before pointing at the noble. "But before that, kill this man. He's useless."

"Ooh, with pleasure!" Cyra beamed, twirling her scythe and slowly stepping towards the noble with a gleam in her eyes. Once the noble realised what was going on, Lazare watched as his eyes grew wide and his pupils narrow.

"W-Wait, don't kill me! I'll give you all the money you could ever-"

Before he finished that sentence, his head was severed from his neck and hit the floor with a rather unsatisfying thud. Cyra swished the blood off her blade as she stepped back, thirstily staring at the blood gushing from his neck. Lazare, for his part, placed his hand on his hip, making a beckoning gesture with his other hand. "Now, your answers?"

"Oh, of course!" Cyra nodded quickly, snapping out of it and giving him an innocent smile. "I've spotted someone I believe to be affiliated with the witch! You ought to look out for her, too - I believe I saw her punching one of those abominations' heads clean off!"

"A powerful warrior, huh?" Lazare raised an eyebrow almost sceptically.

"A powerful cleric, to be precise! There was something distinctly divine about her spellcasting." Cyra corrected, sounding rather proud of her observation. "Unless she would happen to have an appearance-changing spell that I did not see, you'll have to look out for a woman with the most lusciously dark blonde locks and the richest eyes you'll ever see."

"...'rich' isn't much of a descriptor."

Cyra giggled. "You see, her eye colour is gold! Get it?"

"Blonde hair, golden eyes. Got it." Lazare nodded, snapping his fingers as the noble's headless body suddenly began to fall, Cyra dashing forth to grab it before it fell to the ground. "Then you'd better rest well, Cyra. Did you see where she went?"

"Oh, yes! The last I checked, she did not exit the city. She should be in an inn, in fact." she explained, looking up at Lazare and trying her hardest to ignore the scent of blood. "Will we be heading out in the morning?"

"We will." Lazare nodded quickly. "Finish your meal. Then you can take me to that inn."

Cyra nodded quickly, staring into the man's open neck and opening her mouth, revealing a sharp pair of fangs that were promptly sunk into the corpse. She drained all the blood that remained, and the body, once warm, slowly went completely cold and devoid of colour. She put it down with a sigh, looking up at Lazare with a small pout. "Are you absolutely certain that I couldn't have any of yours tonight? This man tastes of pure greed, with no depth whatsoever."

"...what does greed taste like?"

"Metal, mostly, with a hint of oil."

Lazare nodded at that, finding that interesting, for lack of a better term. "I'll make up for it tomorrow." he deadpanned, shaking his head. "I need to be in top condition. There's a chance this will end...violently."

Cyra nodded, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and daintily wiping her mouth with it before giving him a smile. "That's the best kind of ending." she said. "Now, come. I'll lead the way."

Lazare, without question, walked towards her as she led him out of the hut, letting her guide him to the inn in question under the cover of the night.

.........

https://youtu.be/7_3ITHSAcro

A pearly white hall, polished to a shine in a building you are not quite familiar with. Not that that was important. With its sheer length, it was quite clear that this was a hall, not a mere room, with a wide, arch-shaped double door on one end - the entrance - and a large throne on the other end. The door seemed fairly traditional-looking, with two black, ring-shaped doorknobs on it, and it was made from a shining white metal, though on both sides, there was a grand painting of a tiger's face, outlined in black, with piercing blue eyes.

Following the length of the room, one could see numerous pillars of chalk, increasing the grand atmosphere of the room. They reached the ceiling, seeming to meld into it perfectly even though the entire structure arched in its shape. Between them, one could see numerous stained-glass windows with similarly tiger-themed portraits patterned onto them, and there stood smaller podiums with metallic tiger statues standing on them in various poses.

As for the throne itself, its size only made its majesty more apparent, as did the mighty pedestal it laid upon. Crafted from the same white metal as the statues, it had ornate patterns all over it, naturally with a tiger's head at the head of the backrest. There were cushioned pads at the seat and backrest, coloured white, to make it easier to sit. I'm sure at this point, I don't even need to explain what its legs looked like.

As the Rook slowly stepped through the hall, he arrived in front of the door, pushing it open with relative ease considering its weight. He looked up as he walked through the throne room, past each pillar and each painting before he made it in front of the throne, with an imperious figure bathed in an almost heavenly light sitting on it. He was clad in a full suit of white armour, with the odd black accent here and there, and around his shoulders laid a flowing white cape, trimmed with the fur of an actual white tiger and fastened by a silver brooch featuring the emblazoned head of one.

He sat up straight, the very image of dignity, and the Rook knelt down, his head looking to the pristine floor. "Well met, my King."

"Good evening, Rook." the King spoke in the low, soft and detached voice of a man who had achieved enlightenment. "I trust you have an update to give me."

"Of course." the Rook nodded dispassionately. "I have come to inform you that the patrol in Seiryu was a success. There was an unexpected undead threat, so says the Knight, but all three lieutenants came out alive."

"I see."

"The Golden and Silver Generals report that nothing is out of the ordinary in the north. There still exist demons, and they still intend to slay every last one." the Rook continued.

"Good for them." the King smiled. "And what have you detected?"

"Rebel activity in the east has died down." the Rook noted. "I suspect that we will not have to worry about them for the time being."

"You know that I'm not looking for 'died down'. I want every impurity in this land vanquished with extreme prejudice." the King clenched his fist, a furious glare tainting his svelte features. "What of the Poacher? Have you learned their whereabouts?"

"Not for lack of trying on our part, but he continually eludes us." the Rook shook his head as convincingly disappointedly as he could. "I will remain ever vigilant."

"See to it that you do." the King narrowed his golden eyes, his hand slowly lifting to his own long white curls. The Rook watched him closely, maintaining his kneeling stance as he spoke up.

"You may be aware of this already, but...the battle has already begun." he began. "The Torchbearer and Beginning seem to have been christened already."

"...I don't care." the King raised an eyebrow at the mention of that word 'Torchbearer'. "The Torch and the Light mean nothing to me. Only purity matters."

The Rook nodded silently, considering these words. At the very least, he figured he'd have enough freedom to act - things could get very messy if he felt the need to micromanage. He gazed up at his leader, his fox mask doing as great a job at concealing his emotions as ever. "That is all for my report."

"Then you may leave." the King replied, and the Rook stood up without any further words, walking out of the room with a lot on his mind. How would the Knight's future interactions with the Poacher turn out for both of them? And with said Poacher bearing the Torch - best to leave that unsaid - what would happen next?

Either way, he'd have to keep watching. He was the Rook - the piece that remained in plain sight to protect allies in danger. Watching was in the job description.

.........

It was an hour past midnight, and Ashbel decided to turn in early that night. Having found a relatively intact inn, the trio booked two rooms - one for Viera, and one for him and Sly. So here he was, in his bed, not noticing Sly slip out as he went to sleep. Unused to clocking out at this time, it took a little while, but he had to - after all, there was someone he wished to meet.

https://youtu.be/3tfCfrsDlOE

As he closed his eyes, remaining still and wrapped up in his blankets, he felt the familiar, gentle pull on his eyelids and slowly opened them, finding he had been transported to the same black limbo that he'd been sent to that previous night. His vision surrounded with embers, he saw the black blaze floating right in front of him, and he smiled slightly, finding its presence and warmth comforting.

"Welcome back, Torchbearer of Resolve."

"We meet again, Torch." Ashbel smiled, welcoming the multiple voices that spoke as one.

"You arrive in one piece. We have sensed that the Light has been claimed. Have you encountered the Beginning, yet?"

"I have." Ashbel nodded slowly, bowing his head as he looked back on the fight. "We clashed, but...I didn't kill him."

"Oh?" the familiar voice of Kiran spoke up, and Ashbel watched the entire firebrand go up in flames, forming a bonfire that was even larger than he was as the elderly swordsman clad in tattered rags walked out, looking his most recent successor in the eye. "Did something happen? Did he get away, perhaps?"

"Ah, Kiran." Just the man he wanted to see. Ashbel faced him, smiling even more now. "I dunno if I could've done more to stop him then and there, but...it wasn't easy to make the decision to kill him. He got away, but I kinda just...let it happen."

"Now, isn't that curious?" Kiran placed a hand on his chin. "Let me guess...was it a friend of yours? I did think that Sylvester fellow was rather suspect."

"You're...actually right." Ashbel nodded, taking in his statement bit by bit before rapidly shaking his head. "Oh, it's not Sly, though."

"Haha, I jest, I jest." Kiran raised his hands, beaming playfully. "You can't be too happy about this turn of events. I would know, because back in my day, the Torchbearer and Beginning had once been friends, too."

"Oh! ...really?"

"Of course! You can ask Viera if you desire, and she'll tell you that I'm correct." Kiran closed his eyes, sighing softly. "I don't know if our friendship ever meant anything to Ahaan...but to me, he was simply the greatest companion I'd ever had. A prodigy of magic, with a connection to the world's ley lines that nobody could ever hope to match, even in the present day. Perhaps I ought to have seen the warning signs. Such power must be used in moderation."

"Ahaan...that's the Light's version of you, right?"

"Precisely. He formed it right before I came to kill him, and...well, with his connection to the world being what it was, he could affect it on a grand scale." Kiran explained, smiling sadly in reminiscence.

"Hey, if you could match that power, then surely things couldn't have been that bad, right?" Ashbel raised an eyebrow.

"But that was the thing. I couldn't. Not on my own." Kiran scowled. "My allies were capable of taking on Ahaan's, but I simply couldn't compare to the man himself. I had to think a little...outside the box."

"What'd you do?" Ashbel tilted his head, genuinely curious. Kiran, at this, chuckled as if fondly recalling a memory.

"You've seen how Acolytes draw power from the gods, haven't you? Of course you have! You've been with Viera this entire time!" he declared. "They rely not on the ley lines, but on a power from far beyond. In order to defeat Ahaan, I became one, pledging myself to the divine in pursuit of power."

"Could I do that?"

"It's unlikely. Demons and the divine tend to intersect...poorly. And either way, I wouldn't recommend doing it the way I did." Kiran chuckled. "See, Acolytes can only pledge themselves to one god, granting them a more specialised pool of magic. Viera has pledged herself to Suzaku, whose domain is elegance, energy, joy and heat."

"She seems more...brutal to me."

"There's elegance in brutality. I'd argue she has it down to an art form." Kiran raised a finger, shaking his head. "But I digress. I'm telling you that that's the rule. But I've always been the type of man to look at the rules and ask 'but what if I just...didn't?'"

He stepped closer to Ashbel, smiling brightly. "I initially pledged myself to Koryu of the centre, and from there, I took the benevolence of Seiryu, the propriety of Suzaku, the wisdom of Genbu and the justice of Byakko." he explained. "And with all of their power as one, with none of them any the wiser, I formed this power - the Torch. With it, Ahaan was defeated. And it was only then that my deception was discovered."

"The gods didn't like that, huh?" Ashbel raised an eyebrow. "Then what?"

"What you see today is my punishment. For as long as the Empty Light lived, I, too, would remain. It became my duty to emerge this power regularly and guide all who may inherit it." he said, before shrugging. "Not that I mind, of course. I've always considered failing to prevent Ahaan's fall into evil to be my greatest failure. This is the least I could do."

"But what if you just...didn't?"

"That's the thing. I couldn't possibly abandon this task, for the same reason that you can't - I am a slave to my own heart." Kiran grinned. "I love this world, Ashbel. I love everything in it - all the people and their differing perspectives, the plants, the wind and the land that make it up. As long as Ahaan threatens it, I would oppose even him."

"Ah..." Ashbel sighed. This Ahaan figure seemed rather different to Luc, he thought. "I guess we're more similar than I thought."

Kiran nodded at this. "If you must do battle with your friend, then I won't tell you not to hesitate. I, myself, was wrought with doubts in my day." he said. "But as long as you remember what's at stake, I have no doubt that you'll save this world we both love so much."

Ashbel smiled, feeling somewhat reassured by his words. At least he wasn't alone here. Kiran, observing his successor's relief, gave a warm smile in return. "Besides, this friend of yours isn't the only threat the world as you know it faces." he pointed out. "Many others would seek to tear down the current framework. As the Torchbearer, you are encouraged to go after them. It keeps your blade sharp."

"Well, thank the Torch for that." Ashbel sighed happily. At least his quest to destroy the White Tigers wouldn't have to go on hold - he was certain they wouldn't stop looking for him, after all. "I...have another question, though."

"Feel free to ask."

"I've tapped into some of the Torch's power, and...I feel like it could come in handy if I could use more." he said. "So...how do I do that?"

"...why do you want more power?" Kiran raised an eyebrow. "You're plenty strong."

"More power means I can protect more people."

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely."

Ashbel glanced away slightly, frowning a bit as he considered those words. "I-I know that..." he murmured. "I know my place in all this. I'm not the most fitting for this role, but I want to show that I'm worthy. I vow on this Torch that I'll never use this power for evil."

"...you're even more different from Davante than I thought." Kiran muttered, seeming pensive before giving Ashbel a smile. "You pass the test."

"Oh?" Ashbel murmured, before clearing his throat and smiling. "I mean, uh, that's fantastic!"

"I can imagine, so." Kiran sighed, nodding. "To unlock more of the Torch's power, you need to grow stronger. More aligned with the Torchbearer's ideals. Fight evil. Be the sword that punishes, and be the shield that protects. Be the phoenix, who never fails to rise from the ashes. But above all, never lose sight of yourself, Torchbearer of Resolve."

"...got it." Ashbel nodded, absorbing all of this and crossing his arms. "I think I'm satisfied this time."

"Then our time here is up." Kiran smiled happily, turning his back to Ashbel and beginning to walk into the flames. "Once again, I wish you the best of luck, ember!"

"Later, Kiran." Ashbel waved at him, watching as the entirety of his vision went up in crimson flames. Without warning, he returned to his slumber, but with an emboldened resolve. Though his eyes were closed, his vision had never been clearer.