On the subway tracks, Marceline walked with her head lowered, eyes closed.
Inside her mind, a battle was unfolding.
A battle to understand.
|Marceline POV|
Lies.
"I'll fix that bike for us. Take my VIP card, or you'll be late for the party."
Lies.
"This is for your own good, okay? I swear we'll see each other again."
Lies.
"Bass? You don't have the talent for that. I bet your mother and your friend… what was his name again? Simon? They'd rather see you ruling the Nightosphere."
All my life… everything I've ever heard... was a lie.
Was that what it meant to be an adult?
To lie all the time?
At some point, I got used to it.
Looking into their eyes—or even just by the sound of their voice—I could tell when someone was lying.
And that only made me drift further and further away.
Was it resentment?
Or maybe…
Fear?
I never really knew.
After I fought with my father, I just wanted to disappear.
I wanted to live without getting attached to anything.
I didn't want to feel the pain of another lie.
…
Then…
Why?
"When I met him, he was already in a rather precarious state. I'm sorry."
Why was he… different?
"I… don't really have a reason for traveling."
Why was he so honest?
Honestly… it annoyed me.
I didn't know why.
"So… would I be a bother if I helped you?"
Normally, I would've pushed someone like that away.
"I don't need your help!"
That's what I would've said.
But… there was something about him.
Even if it irritated me…
It still drew me in.
"Marcy."
That… was strange.
Why did he call me that?
Why—
"I trust you."
…
POP.
I was pulled from my thoughts by the sound echoing through the tunnels.
I had already been hearing the sounds of the fight—and feeling the tremors of destruction—for a while.
But that sound was different.
When I opened my eyes, a greenish light briefly blinded me.
Throughout the tunnel, dozens of tendrils stretched out, connecting to one another, forming a web.
Every few seconds, they seemed to pulse—the sound of fluid flowing through them with each beat.
They gave off a glow like lava lamps, illuminating the entire length of the tunnel.
"How beautiful."
They had no scent, and radiated a pleasant warmth.
When I stepped closer and tried to touch one of them—feeling its stickiness—its color darkened, and it turned cold.
Ah.
"Is that you? Kris?"
…
Heh.
Of course… he can't answer like that.
I guess that means…
It's my turn in the plan.
|3rd POV|
Analyzing the tendrils, the Fool understood.
I can't move freely here.
But before he could escape the trap, he spotted something in the distance.
At the entrance of the tunnel, she stepped forward, slowly emerging into the light.
Her eyes never leaving the vampire.
With each step, the tendrils darkened and parted for her, before reconnecting and glowing once more.
The madman grinned.
"I've already taken you down twice… what's one more?"
Her expression hardened as she exhaled.
"You're so annoying."
He let out a mocking laugh.
"Don't cry about it."
At that, both of them stomped forward.
Marceline raised her axe over her shoulder, while the vampire spread his stance—knees bent, arms opening.
Their eyes—reflecting the greenish light—locked onto each other.
…
In a sudden charge, shattering the ground beneath them, they launched at one another.
Forced to avoid the tendrils, the Fool's speed was drastically reduced—just enough for the girl to keep up with him.
Extending his claws, the vampire lashed out in an upward strike.
With her axe already raised, Marceline met it with a deflecting strike.
The force of the blow sent the vampire sliding back, laughing.
His laughter cut short when he felt his back burning.
He had been caught by one of the tendrils.
Taking advantage of that, the half-demon swung a horizontal strike toward his neck.
Raising his arm, he blocked it—the axe stopping midway through its path.
Before she could put more force into tearing his arm off, she took a two-legged kick to the chest, sending her flying.
The vampire forced himself free, ripping away chunks of flesh and skin in the process.
Marceline was about to crash into a wall, but her momentum was caught by the tendrils, slowing her with an elastic web.
After they gently set her down on the ground, she gave them a brief glance.
"Thanks."
Turning her attention back to the vampire, she saw him walking toward her with a laugh.
The wound on his arm was already closing as his grin stretched from ear to ear.
"That guy's annoying as hell, no matter what form he takes. But you…"
He smirked at her.
"You're way too weak. All you know how to do is swing that axe."
"Yeah?" she asked calmly.
"Then why does it seem to be working on you, huh?"
He just laughed at her, raising his arm.
"You sure? Doesn't look like it."
"Come on, girl. You've got no talent for this—just quit."
Frowning, she clenched her teeth.
"Fuck you."
And charged straight at him.
The vampire answered with a laugh, lunging at her.
Amid the tendrils, the two collided with an impact that echoed through the tunnel.
Both were dragged by the force of the clash, but ignored it, pressing into a relentless exchange.
Blow after blow, they struck at each other.
Sparks flew in every direction, each impact releasing a faint shockwave.
An opening.
In the brief moment the vampire lost his balance, she seized it, striking upward.
He tried to meet it head-on with a punch, only to have his arm split clean in half.
Shifting her grip on the axe, she followed with a horizontal cut.
With his other hand, the vampire caught the blade, gripping it from above as his severed arm rapidly regenerated.
Not giving her time to react, he drove a sharp jab into her nose.
The impact shattered her nose, leaving her briefly dazed.
As she tried to pull back to recover, he grabbed her by the nape and smashed his head into her face.
Her already broken nose was obliterated by the blow.
The pain knocked her out for a moment.
Then the vampire followed up with a hook to her jaw.
She was sent flying.
The tendrils caught her momentum once more.
This time, however, she lost consciousness—left suspended within them.
"Hm? Is that it already?"
The vampire began to laugh.
He turned his gaze to the tendrils, then started tearing through them.
One by one—even as they burned and ate through his flesh.
Marcy. You need to get up.
She remained unconscious.
…
I know you can do it.
…
Get up.
No response…
…
|Marceline POV|
"Pay close attention, Marceline."
I was sitting at a small table, wearing the same bored expression as always.
Standing in front of me, my father wrote on a chalkboard.
On the chalkboard, he was drawing a demon with one hand raised, just beneath a few words in German—a flame rising from its palm.
"Mana is something all demons are born with in abundance."
He paused briefly, turning to look at me.
"That abundance makes the use of our flames natural. Regardless of clan."
"However—"
Turning back to the board, he drew me.
"You, as a half-demon, are an exception."
Then he faced me again.
"Your ability to sense mana is lower than ours. Because of that, you'll have to rely on incantations."
I just rolled my eyes.
He was always insensitive.
"But this is not a permanent limitation. With time, your body will adapt to mana."
"Anyway."
He turned back to the board and began writing in German again.
"This is the first incantation—the most basic one. It's pronounced like this—"
|3rd POV|
The Fool kept tearing through the tendrils, laughing every time he destroyed one.
He stopped.
What is this?
Turning around, he saw Marceline.
Her head lowered, trembling slightly as she gripped her axe.
"Huh? You're still standing? You want a fourth round?"
Silence was the only answer he received.
What is this feeling?
Kris—who could only follow the fight through Marceline's colors—was caught off guard.
Is her temperature rising?
Steam escaping her lips, Marceline stomped the ground, raising her axe over her shoulder.
Between breaths, she murmured—almost like a whisper.
"Höllenfunken."
(Hell's Sparks)
The vampire's eyes widened.
German...? Is she a demon?
And in an explosion of sparks, her axe ignited in flames.
Its already reddish hue deepened, shifting into a vivid crimson.
With a powerful surge, she launched herself at him, leaving a trail of fire in her wake.
She brought the axe down in a heavy overhead strike, which he tried to block with his forearm—
only for the blade to cleave clean through flesh and bone, forcing him back with a laugh.
The axe only stopped when it slammed into the ground, shattering part of the rails and kicking up dust.
If I hadn't pulled away, I would've been split in half.
The smile on his face faded for a moment.
When he looked at the stump of his forearm, he noticed the charred flesh—steam rising from the wound.
It's not regenerating.
He was snapped out of his stupor by another flurry of attacks, barely dodging them.
The smile returned to his face—but this time, more strained.
Damn it… demons are so annoying.
But he just laughed, his grin widening with each second.
"That's it! Now this is finally getting fun!"
And before he could lunge at her, she lifted her head.
Her calm eyes locked onto his.
Why…?
His smile faded once more.
Why do I feel uneasy?
"Tch."
He scowled, brushing it off as he lunged at her.
She swung horizontally, but he ducked.
As he tried to strike from below, she drove a knee into his face, breaking his nose.
Ignoring the pain, he extended the claws of his remaining hand and slashed at her.
Using the shaft of her axe, she blocked.
They locked into a deadlock—him gripping the handle, trying to wrench it from her grasp.
"Without that axe, what are you gonna do? Huh?" he asked with a grin.
Marceline gave no reply. Instead, she began gathering blood in her mouth.
"Hm?" the Fool muttered in confusion.
Then—she spat the blood straight into his eyes.
"Argh, that's disgusting!" he snapped, letting go of the axe as he tried to wipe it away.
Before he could clear it, she whispered once more—
"Höllenfunken."
The blood flared into a neon glow—then ignited, bursting into flames across his face.
"AAARGH!"
Good. This is perfect, Marcy.
The vampire tried to smother the flames on his face, only to be stopped as the tendrils suddenly detached.
In an instant, they coiled tightly around him.
"What?!"
Kris couldn't track him clearly through infrared—his color blending into the surroundings.
But he could still pick up the subtle fluctuations he caused.
With the heat Marceline was generating, he was able to pinpoint his position.
"Hey! Let me go!" he shouted, struggling.
Using his arm, he began tearing through the tendrils.
"Höllenfunken."
Before he could break free completely, Marceline ignited her axe in flames once more.
With a sudden burst, she struck upward—her blade slicing cleanly through the vampire's neck.
Then, in a ring of fire, the Fool's head was sent hurtling through the air, sparks scattering alongside droplets of his blood.
His eyes wide, mouth agape.
With a dull thud, the vampire's body collapsed to the ground.
Hm?
His thoughts were hazy.
Why am I seeing everything upside down…?
As his head hit the floor, he caught sight of his body—slowly turning to dust.
Ah… I see. I lost…
Well…
He closed his eyes, a satisfied smile forming on his face.
That was fun...
Marceline gave his head one last glance, the blood on her nose and at the corners of her mouth already dry.
Then she turned to his body, now crumbling into dust.
Stepping closer, she opened her mouth.
And like a vacuum pulling everything in, she drew the dust in.
After that, she closed her eyes—absorbing what remained of the Fool.
The flames around her axe faded, revealing the snapped strings of her bass.
When she opened her eyes, she dropped onto the ground with a soft thud.
"Ah—what a drag."
Her eyes wandered across the tendrils, which slowly detached from the walls and began to gather together again.
After a few moments, the tendrils collapsed back into a small pool of mass before reshaping into a humanoid form.
Kris, now reformed, was covered in cracks, his neon glow dimmer than before.
He took a few steps and sat down beside her.
She turned her gaze to him, her eyes half-lidded.
"You good?"
Turning to her, he answered weakly,
"Yeah… I'm fine. Just need some air."
Marceline gave him a playful smile.
"Oh, cut the drama—you don't even breathe."
Rolling his eyes, he rested his head on his knees.
"Yeah? No shit."
She let out a tired laugh before leaning her head against his shoulder.
With that, she closed her eyes.
With a hint of concern, he looked at her.
"Hey."
…
"You didn't die on me, did you?"
…
…zZz…
He let out a relieved sigh.
"Well… guess we can rest for a bit."
Then he leaned his head gently against hers, closing his eyes.
|Inside a fortress|
The sun rose on the horizon as the moon retreated to the far edge of the sky.
Within the fortress, silence was law.
Along every corridor, tense vampires stood on constant watch.
At the end of the halls, leading into a grand chamber, stood a throne bathed in gold—a testament to the power of its ruler.
A red carpet stretched toward the throne.
Carrying a golden tray, upon it a goblet filled with blood, a vampire made his way toward the throne.
His trembling hands struggled to keep from spilling it.
When he reached the throne, he dropped to one knee, raising the tray toward the woman seated upon it.
With a delicate motion, she took the goblet with grace, bringing it to her lips.
Taking a sip, she smacked her lips lightly, savoring the taste.
The vampire seemed to relax slightly.
But suddenly, she flung the goblet into his face, spilling its contents across the carpet.
"Is this the best you can do? Trash."
Resting her chin on her left hand, elbow propped against the throne, she crossed one leg and waved him off with the other hand.
"Clean this mess. If you take too long… you'll see the sun."
The vampire simply stood up, head lowered, picking up the goblet before going to fetch a mop.
"Is everyone here incompetent?"
She sighed.
Then, for a brief moment, her expression flickered with surprise.
"Hm? The Fool is dead?"
And just as quickly, a cruel smile spread across her lips.
"Incompetent."
|Inside an abandoned factory|
Sunlight filtered through the factory windows.
Deeper within, a small room held several large jars.
Inside one of them, something rested.
Sensing something, it briefly opened its vertical, blue eyes—before slipping back into sleep.
|Deep within a dark forest|
A man in a brown trench coat and black boots walked calmly.
His blue, vertical eyes remained fixed on the path ahead.
Suddenly, he turned slightly, glancing toward a distant direction.
"The Fool is dead?"
Then he turned back and kept walking.
"That was bound to happen… what a waste of potential."
|Inside a dark lair|
A lion-headed vampire watched something, a faint interest in his eyes.
Then he felt it.
The Fool is dead.
His eyes closed briefly.
Your card was always reversed… a Fool, indeed.
But that doesn't matter.
He opened his eyes.
In front of him, a man was tearing into a creature at least six meters tall.
I've found something... better.