The Laughing Swordsman

Apollo was caught off guard by the sudden death of the wind elemental. He was just getting ready for a huge fight, but now there was no fight to be had.

Apollo continued to laugh, but he grabbed the side of his head and tried to muffle breathing, trying his best to calm down. As for Mark, the white mist seeped into his body. The winds around him grew stronger the more mist got inside.

Once he was finished, he let out a soft breath, shooting out a tiny blade of wind.

Mark's body quickly reverted from his demonized form. The horns went back into his head, his hair turned from white back to a healthy yellow and his infected-like skin reverted.

But now, his eyes slightly parted to reveal blue irises, but white pupils.

By now, Apollo gradually calmed down. He shot a look at Mark.

"It's finished, right?"

Mark nodded.

"Yes, yes."

Apollo let out a soft sigh.

"Ok, then I'm going to do what I need to finish."

He flew down towards the floating city that was tipped halfway to the side.

However, as he did so. Apollo found his body couldn't move.

He looked up to Mark.

"What are you doing?"

In response, Mark looked at him.

"What exactly are you planning to do to the people in the city?"

At that moment, the city that had been tipped over gradually returned and the person responsible was Mark.

Apollo frowned.

"I still have to kill them all!"

Mark raised an eyebrow.

"That sounds a little drastic. Is there a justified reason you wish to do so?"

Apollo clicked his tongue.

"Basically, I was told to do so by someone. I already said that I was going to do it so-"

Mark narrowed his eyes.

"And why exactly do you have to listen to this person?"

Apollo furrowed his brows.

"...Why do you care?"

Mark simply smiled cordially.

"Just curious."

Apollo raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I already did what you wanted. Why are you trying to stop me now?"

Mark did not respond for the next few seconds. However, he let out a soft sigh.

"Sorry, kid."

Apollo looked up at him with confusion.

"What?"

Before he could ask any more, his body was no longer under his control. The winds that grabbed onto him were like mountains, restricting his movement almost like he was a robot that suddenly shut down.

Apollo grit his teeth, trying his best to struggle. However, the only thing he could do was stretch and tear his skin.

"What the hell is this for?"

Mark looked at Apollo with the same cordial smile, but his eyes seemed to be looking at him differently. And the entire time, he was silent.

Among grunts of pain, Apollo found himself sinking deeper, going into the pit at the center of the city. As he sank deeper, the smell got far worse, indicative of both the trash and human waste around here.

Thankfully, there was none of that stuff at the moment, as the people dumping the trash were currently panicking for their life at the sudden earthquake.

However, Apollo shot through the center of the island, helplessly shooting towards the ground. Lots of lighting built up all across his body, crackling violently like a lion. However, that lion was captured in a cage.

For a few moments, everything became really dark. As he found himself really deep in the pit. He could only see a tiny light above him and below him.

At first, he was only feeling anger, wondering why Mark suddenly shifted his mood.

But the island really was huge. Though he wasn't exactly forced down slowly, it still took quite a while. After quite some time, Apollo gave up on struggling.

Instead, he just looked at the light above him slowly becoming smaller and smaller.

...

Willow was beginning to see things.

Hallucinations in the forms of memories formed as she trudged through the snow.

Originally, she had the intention of searching for something to heal her debilitating wounds. However, as the cold was seeping into her body, her judgment was becoming impaired.

Willow's blood cloak was black. But at some point, she began to see her cloak as blue.

Instead of a black sword, she had a bloody iron sword.

Willow's breathing was very shallow as a heavy burden began to form over her shoulders.

She was covered with the blood from herself, her enemies, and her allies.

Behind her, was an army. All of them had black hair and were similarly bloody like her. 

They did not talk.

They did not even look at each other.

All of them simply moved forward, for what seemed to be a noble reason. However, it also seemed like they had forgotten what that noble reason was again.

Far off in the distance was a fairly large palace.

They were going straight towards that palace. As they got closer, people began pulling out their weapons or tightening the grip around their hilts.

Closer... and closer.

Until eventually, they were at the foot of the palace.

And right there, was Vicar.

He was now a young man. There were muscles lined across his body, but he was quite slim. There was a massive white greatsword resting on his shoulder.

Though he was only standing there with a tranquil expression, there was something rather unsettling about it.

It was probably because he was covered in large amounts of blood, from his sword to his clothes. Even the ground around him was covered with it.

And they were people that all had heads covered with white hair.

Even when countless people began approaching him, Vicar's expression did not even fluctuate.

Willow slowly lifted her stained sword and pointed it at him.

She did not say anything more.

As for Vicar, he slowly shifted his gaze to look into Willow's eyes.

"Do you consider us enemies?"

Willow frowned.

"You are part of the evil ones."

Vicar slowly shut his eyes.

"I see."