Grandfather!

Althea’s will came to the fore, and Thalia let her. She sped down immediately on the Errant Sword and landed several steps behind the man.

"Grandfa—"

Her words cut off abruptly and her eyes widened as she took in her grandfather... or what remained of him, at least.

A few paces ahead of her, a blackened, headless body, stiff at the joints from his skin that had been burned to charcoal, and shaky from the lack of any real muscles to drive his movements, stood on his feet.

How such a body was able to move without a head and the necessary functional body parts to spur basic movement was a miracle... a miracle that from the looks of it, was forged from the iron will of the soul that had inhabited the body.

Althea’s eyes watered, and she staggered forward, whispering her grandfather’s name over and over in disbelief and agony. Looking at what was left of him now sent a terrible shock rippling through her.

She fought back her tears and moved to stop him. It was enough. She had arrived, and he could rest well now...

But the moment she drew close enough to lay her hand on the headless blackened body, she stopped mid-motion, her mouth hanging wide open as surprise cut through her pain.

The Seneschal Sword Dance...

Every day, at the exact same time for the last thousand years without fail, members of the Seneschal family went through the entire sword motions of the Seneschal Sword Dance. Whether at the main base or at the branch family, it was the same.

The motions Althea saw before her right now were barely passable, stiff and slow, but it was undeniably and unquestionably the Seneschal Sword Dance.

The blond man on the pedestal a fair distance away from Althea spoke, his voice filled with interest:

"These are the kinds of things that fascinate me," he chuckled. "Even at his moment of death, despite losing his head, his body, honed to perform a particular set of movements at the exact same time throughout the entire duration of his life, remembered and kicked into action on its own!"

His voice was disbelieving.

"Althea! Your grandfather is the definition of a man of iron will! The body refuses to die. The will prevents the soul from escaping. Altogether creating this unique phenomenon that has humored me while I waited for you!" He sat up and spread his hands, his head looking to the skies in delight.

He continued to ramble on about the impossibility of such an occurrence, but Althea was no longer listening. Instead, with watery yet hard eyes that refused to let tears fall, she raised up the Errant Sword and took over the sword dance, continuing the motions her grandfather had persevered through with his will.

Her eyes were closed the entire time she danced the sword dance. She entered into a unique state, the Errant Sword moving in motion with her. Her rage, her pain, her loss. Everything was poured into that sword dance...

And finally when it came to a close, she held the sword between her two hands in a calm stance and parted her eyes open. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

"Even in death, you had the last laugh," she muttered, though it was unknown who exactly was speaking: Althea? Or Thalia?

"Body and soul may die, but will lives on... Your will has lived on. Rest well, grandfather... the Seneschal Sword Dance did not die with you."

Immediately as those words were spoken, the stiff, rigid movements of her grandfather’s blackened body slowly eased to a stop, before his body tilted over and fell to the ground with a final thud.

Althea didn’t bat an eye, not even bothering to look down at the body. All traces of remorse or pain or loss were gone. In its place was a still calm; not a dead kind of calm or a calm of rage. This was an uncanny, real calm. There were no fluctuations in her eyes as they turned to look at the figure on the pedestal.

The blond man’s expression had gone flat, and his ramblings had stopped entirely at some earlier point during Althea’s dance. He stared into her eyes, and a frown of something like jealousy flickered in them before he finally spoke.

"Hmm... Full assimilation?" He muttered, then shook his head. "No... This must be the fabled ’Apotheosis assimilation.’ You have fit into every groove of your vessel, and she has fit fully into yours also. A perfect symbiosis..."

The jealousy in his eyes persisted, as his tone turned vicious. "You know, Althea. I have learned a lot about you before coming here. Your history, your desires, your psyche, your goals... But one particular thing struck me as puzzling..."

He paused, and Althea was willing to let him continue to ramble.

"Your funny adamance on not letting your ego take over your vessel’s," he said. "I thought you to be a hypocrite. One that needed a thorough lecture... but now... now I can see you for what you are!" A dark grin colored his face.

"This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You’ve become the first Transcendent to reach Apotheosis with a vessel! This whole time, it was a grand plot to make her lower her guard and—"

"You can stop now," Althea’s calm voice cut him off mid-sentence. "No matter what delusions you cook up, it cannot break our bond." She looked at him with eyes that were still as water, without hate or urging. She was simply calling out his attempt to sow discord between her and her vessel. That it hadn’t worked at all.

"Tch. No matter," the blond-haired man stood from his seat and stretched. "I just have to incapacitate you and take your soul and it’ll all be mine anyway," he chuckled, then paused.

"Hmm? Who’s this?" he looked towards the West, from where a massive form approached. "A red dragon?"

"My my! We also have the ’Undying Flame’ of Aethelos here with us!" His eyes suddenly lit up in delight. "So you have come to die?"

The Undying Flame drew near on her mighty red dragon, each beat of its wings sending heavy gusts of wind that were dangerous to stand close to.

She arrived at the scene of the destruction and took everything in, her eyes placid and calm as she did. Her eyes lingered on Althea, recognition passing behind them, before she then turned to face the blond-haired man.

"I take it you’re the cause of this destruction?" she asked, though she knew the answer already. "What makes you think I have come to die? Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?"

The blond man let out a hearty, amused laughter that echoed across the empty black expanse. "I have heard of your dashing beauty and cold, unfazed calm. And I must say, seeing you now, I am not disappointed," he chuckled, then his expression switched up entirely.

"But make no mistake. All that repute is only relevant among Arcanists. To beings like me, you are nothing but a slightly interesting mortal at best," he looked at her with a derisive, dark grin on his face, expecting her response. From his expression, one could tell he reveled in word exchanges like these before a battle.

But to his surprise, the one who responded first was Althea: