The Overlord Saga
Vol II. Versus
Chapter 33: Puzzle Pieces
The Overlord stood in her office, back to the door as she stared into the churning flames. She closed her eyes, feeling the heat of the fire against her face. “Who was he?” she heard his voice from behind, deep and rumbling. A faint smile on her lips was replaced by a troubled, distraught expression on her features- but she tried to hide it with a simple shrug.
“He was like the brother I never had,” the Overlord said simply, her green eyes casting their gaze onto the picture above the fire. She swept her gaze quickly to the final person in the portrait- the one she hadn’t seen in years.
“What happened to him?”
“He just left one day...” the Overlord found her voice quivering. “Gone...” She turned and looked at the Theurgist, her green eyes fighting to keep their usual calmness.
“Did you love him?”
“No.”
“Why did he REALLY leave?”
“What...?”
“You’re lying to yourself, Overlord.”
Her gaze moved to the door as it swung open. Standing in his full suit of armor, the Nemesis loomed in the doorway, machete in hand. With each menacing step, he drew closer to the Theurgist, who stood calmly still. Eyes locked onto the Nemesis, the Theurgist didn’t even seem to budge as the Nemesis pulled his machete back and impaled him- directly into the heart. The Theurgist sank gruesomely to the ground, dead before he hit the wooden floors.
Drawing back in terror, the Overlord held up her hands, trying to summon her scythe, but feeling hopeless- powerless. The Nemesis’ eyes bore into hers, and she felt her entire body become rigid- frozen in horror. As he drew closer, she felt the warmth in her body leave- replaced with an unexplainable chill. He reached out, a gloved hand snagging her neck and lifting her into the air.
---
She couldn’t take it anymore. Bolting upright, the Overlord sat in her room, breathing heavily in comparison to the silence that surrounded Fort Effort. Stumbling from her bed, the Overlord grabbed her staff from where it leaned against the wall, using it to support herself. Hands still trembling, she forced herself toward the window, sliding open the door to the balcony and stepping out. One hand clasping the railing, the Overlord leaned forward, closing her eyes in an attempt to blot out images of the Nemesis.
“You’re not getting much sleep nowadays, are you?” the Theurgist was drifting just a few inches from the window, arms folded rather casually. “You got these nice raccoon rings under your eyes...” he gestured with a glowing finger to his own eyes, a chuckle in his tone.
“Give it a rest,” the Overlord didn’t fight to keep the coldness out of her voice.
“Rest. I’m sure that’s something you’d like to do,” the Theurgist remarked rather lightly. The Overlord turned to face him, brow furrowed in a scowl. He held up his hands, whistling a little tune to himself before continuing, “You know... Dreams always happen for a reason? Did you know that? Sometimes, they’re bits of your subconscious you forgot about. Or things you’re trying to forget about.”
“Well, thanks for that helpful nugget of information,” the Overlord retorted with a huff, returning to glaring down at the barren landscape surrounding Fort Effort, “I’ve been dreaming of your death for weeks now. And I’d rather like to forget it...”
“Is that what you’re trying to forget?” the Theurgist raised an eyebrow, “I think you’re horribly misguided, Overlord Emily Caroline-”
“Enough!” the Overlord glared over her shoulder, “You’re beating around the bush, I can tell. You know something. Now spit it out.”
“That’s not very polite,” the Theurgist remarked.
“It’s three in the freaking morning.”
“Noted...”
There was a pause, simple, yet meaningful. The Theurgist’s eyes flitted about the room, his transparent self wavering before her. He seemed perplexed a moment, debating between various logics, before stating, “There’s something you’re missing. A piece to the puzzle. And it’s very important that you see this.”
“Oh goodie,” the Overlord retorted, “What’s so important that it has to be shown to me immediately?”
“You’re not going to like it. You’re going to hate it. Trust me,” the Theurgist added with a tinge of sympathy in his voice.
“That’s reassuring,” the Overlord’s voice was flooded with sarcasm.
“You’ll learn to accept it...” the Theurgist remarked, “You’ll have to.” He extended a glowing hand, as if to offer her a handshake. The Overlord hesitated, then made a move to grab the Theurgist’s hand, though the instant her palm made contact with his, she was thrown back by a blindingly green aura, her back slamming into the ground.
Senses jarred, the Overlord lay on her back momentarily, blinking a few times and staring at the empty, slightly blurred navy sky. A veil of gray seemed to cloud everything around her, creating an effect as though she were looking through a fogged window. The Overlord sat up, leaning back with her hands propping her up. The gardens were a well-known place, a place of her youth in Tamashii. It was the old training grounds, littered with small pools filled with koi. Bamboo and trees scattered about the hollow, framing it and occasionally sprouting in clumps around the meadow. The Overlord ran a hand over the wispy, unclear blades of grass, feeling how unnaturally smooth it was.
A shadow in the grayed settings caused her to whip around and stand in one fluid motion. She looked at the enigmatic figure as it strode forward, slowly taking a clearer stance in the fogged version of the training gardens. “Theurgist,” the Overlord realized, lowering her guard. As he came closer, his image became brighter, clearer, contrasting as she did against the Tamashii gardens. She held up a hand, as if trying to grab wisps of the gray fog that drifted through the air. “It’s like everything’s smeared. Like we’re in a painting.”
“Well, it’s your mind. You get to decide how things work,” the Theurgist retorted, “Maybe you should lay off the acid, Overlord.”
“This is Tamashii. Why am I here?” the Overlord asked, arms folded, “Why are WE here? ... And if this is MY mind, why are YOU in it?”
“I’m your spirit guide, I can do that,” the Theurgist replied with a toothy grin. His demeanor grew serious, however, and he gestured to the fogged gardens, “Your memory isn’t as sharp as I’d had hoped. You can’t even remember your own training grounds? Try describing them to me. Maybe it’ll clear everything up.”
“It’s been awhile...” the Overlord remarked, “There were little pools everywhere. Stones to walk across them. Frogs. Fish. Bamboo everywhere. Lily pads, the fresh scent of cut bamboo. Every now and then, you could hear the sounds of katanas clanging against each other as people practiced. It was still one of the most peaceful places in Tamashii. I’d come here a lot with my platoon just to hang out...”
“Your platoon,” the Theurgist moved on rather abruptly, “The Ninja-Lord was in it for a short period of time?”
“Toward the end, yeah. But usually, it was me, Thomas, and Warwick,” the Overlord glanced over her shoulder at the Theurgist, “Why do you-”
“The night you fell into the Overlord’s Sanctum... What happened?”
The Overlord noticed that the gardens were growing clearer, brighter- as though she were truly in the training grounds of the Ninja Academy. She held up a hand, noting how the contrast between her image and the rest of the parallel world was nonexistent anymore, “We were chasing the Operatic Werewolf,” She began, drawing in a deep breath, “I wasn’t paying attention. I fell in- tripped over a branch, misguided a leap to a tree, I don’t remember which. But the important part? I wake up underwater, and all I can hear is a voice telling me that ‘destiny had selected me’ or something like that. Then I saw Jesus Christ. No joke. He was looking pretty good. So we talked. Then he said something about ‘powers awakening’, and the next thing I knew, I was on the shore of the pool, coughing up a lung with Thomas next to me. Warwick said he’d tried to pull me out but fell in himself. Warwick had waded in to get us.” She paused, taking in a small breath before exhaling loudly, “We were all given powers that day. Or something happened to us. None of us were the same.”
“That’s an excellent observation,” the Theurgist inclined his head. The Overlord thought to chide him for his snarky remark, but she didn’t. Instead, she allowed him to continue, “You heard of the Uberlord then. You heard that there were forces to be rallied- this was your destiny. To thwart his plans to take over the entirety of the Between so that Death was inaccessible.”
“Thomas, Warwick, and I all knew. We... decided to fight him together,” the Overlord’s voice was very faint, as if recollecting the day when she had spoken to the other two Tamashii ninjas.
“Why did Warwick leave?”
“He wanted to go solo.”
“That’s a lie.”
The Theurgist’s voice was sharp, cold, even a tad menacing. Glancing at him, the Overlord found herself braced, as though prepared to take some sort of physical blow from the spirit guide. The words ‘why can’t you remember’ were being repeated, over and over again, but barely audible. The Overlord drew back a step in fear. He clenched his fist in frustration, pacing, then, almost shouting, “The night he left, where were you?”
“I was in my room!”
“No.”
“I wasn’t here?”
“No!”
“I was... in the gardens?”
The Theurgist stopped, looking at her as though she’d made some sort of break through. Shuffling her feet, the Overlord glanced at the ground, her boot nudging a twig that lay in the midst of the jade grass. “I was in the gardens...” She repeated, glancing up at the Theurgist uncertainly, as though she was some child getting scolded, “He was telling me about how... He was strong. And we could all get stronger. He was telling me about his plans. His dreams.”
Wavering before the two were images, fuzzy and blurred, but growing ever clear. A youthful Overlord stood, Kagi slung in her belt and her long brown hair tied back into a ponytail. Adjacent to her, stood Warwick, his dark burgundy hair cut short with a slight poof atop his forehead. He was clad in black as she was, a katana on the left side of his waist.
“Ems...” Warwick glanced at her, voice light and airy, “The Between... What do you think it’s like?”
“I’d imagine that it’s... Well, not like here,” Emily replied with a light-hearted laugh, glancing up at Warwick fondly, “I mean, it’s a whole different realm, right? Maybe... The people that live there are blue. And have really long legs. And fangs. Or something.”
“That’d be freaky,” Warwick laughed, shaking his head, “I’m concerned, though, about our cause.”
“Well, I think we all are,” Emily replied, maintaining the same nonchalant attitude. “I can’t believe we’re going behind Sensei’s back and doing this. It seems... Wrong. But at the same time, it feels like it’s the right thing to do, you know?”
“So even wrong things... Can be right?” Warwick asked, one of his eyebrows quirking.
“I guess it’s just a matter of perspective,” Emily shrugged, gazing up at a flickering, halfway clouded full moon. She and Warwick stood for a few moments, the Overlord and the Theurgist watching, invisible to the memories before them. There was the subtlest creep of Warwick’s hand onto the hilt of his katana, so liquid-like that it seemed natural. Emily was oblivious, “Kinda like how the glass is either half empty or half full.”
Warwick chuckled coolly, “I suppose you’re right.” He turned, effortlessly drawing his katana and pointing it at her, the blade giving off a pale blue shine as the moonlight struck it. The Japanese character for the word ‘ice’ glinted especially bright, causing Emily to draw back.
“W-what are you doing?” Emily asked, grabbing the hilt of Kagi as she drew back a step, “We’re not supposed to be training this late.”
“This isn’t training,” Warwick replied, “This is me establishing my dominance over you now, then Thomas later.” At Emily’s confused look, he added with a laugh, “What would have happened if all three of us stood at the Uberlord’s throne together? A peaceful reign of two Lords and one Lady? I don’t intend to share power once I’ve taken it.”
“You can’t do this to me,” Emily scoffed, “You... You called me your sister!” She argued, pulling out her katana reluctantly. Warwick shrugged callously, offering an unsympathetic.
“Well, things change. I get the Between. You’ll just be... the tool in which I carve my empire with.”
“And how do you suppose you’re going to do that?” Emily snarled suddenly. The Overlord was shaking where she stood, drawing back even further. The Theurgist planted a firm hand on her shoulder, urging for her to stay and watch.
“Your soul is mine.”
The two katanas clashed at once, Warwick propelling himself forward and knocking Emily back. She backflipped, then counterattacked quickly, Kagi’s blade emitting a trail of flames with each strike. Warwick’s own sword was pulsating, clumps of frost spraying out from his strikes. It became evident immediately to the Overlord that her past self was relying on a series of speed attacks to thwart the heavier-set fighter, who was merely focused upon blocking the onslaught of strikes. As Emily moved to strike Warwick’s head, he took this moment to grab her by the sleeve, throwing her to the side with relative ease. She turned, his blade stabbing the air next to her side, then kicked him in the stomach, sending him back.
A few more blows were exchanged- a cut to Emily’s side warranted after making a miscalculation in her dodging techniques. Blood sprayed the grass from her side, trickling down her hip and onto her leg. Warwick suffered a stunning blow to the forehead from Kagi’s hilt, then a slice to the leg. He hobbled a few moments before unleashing a blast of ice at the lithe girl. She countered by sending an orb of flame, the fire blocking his attack entirely. More strikes were given back and forth, the occasional spell only lighting up the gardens. Evidently, Warwick was thrown back by Emily, her blade dripping crimson as she prepped to impale him through the chest.
“I don’t want to kill you!” Emily screamed, her entire body trembling. “You’re my-” She was thrown back before she could finish the phrase, an icicle cutting through her shoulder, and traveling to strike the trunk of a nearby tree- a clear hole in the midst of her flesh. She grabbed the gaping wound, gasping in a concoction of shock and horror.
Her foe rose from the ground casually, though his pale eyes were full of malice. “You stupid little girl,” Warwick snapped, “Clinging onto your delusions of family and love. You should really learn to let that go, Ems. It makes life a hell of a lot less painful.”
“No one... Betrays me... And gets away with it,” Emily replied vehemently, her eyes clouding over to where her pupils were, at first, dilated, then almost invisible entirely.
“Saevio,” the Theurgist breathed. But as Emily lunged forward, a jet of ice consumed her left leg, pinning her to the ground. Her blade was alight in fire, stabbing through the ice but it was too late. Though she shook with unmatchable energy, Warwich was faster, his katana plunging into her stomach. The Theurgist winced, “... Or so you tried.”
Pupil-less and writhing on Warwick’s sword, the young ninja’s scream tore through the air, cutting deep into the Overlord’s chest. She found herself rooted to the spot, unable to look away as Warwick whispered, “You will bow to me.” He slid the sword from her effortless, not even watching as the blood began to spill from the gaping wound. The half-crazed Emily lay on the ground, panting and trembling uncontrollably, her fingers gripping the earth so tightly that she ripped blades of grass from their roots. “You will worship me...” Warwick walked away, boots tapping lightly against the ground. Emily forced herself to stand, sword discarded on the ground. An orb of fire, mixed with strands of black essence, danced within her palm secretly. She breathed heavily, angrily, as if she were a maddened beast. “... And you will serve me.”
“Vereor!” The orb was fired at Warwick in a deafening explosion. Warwick flew back, unmoving for a few moments as he lay facing the clouded sky. Emily stood, slightly bent over in exhaustion. Grabbing her sword from where it lay, she ran at Warwick, leaping up and angling her blade down to stab him. Warwick’s hand raised and a bolt of ice knocked her from midair, causing her to flip and land on her back just a few feet above his head.
“No!” the Overlord yelled, finding something was stinging at the corners of her eyes. Tears? She couldn’t believe it- and she’d never admit it.
Warwick crawled over to where Emily lay, some golden orb coming into view just above her chest. Her pupils had returned to normal, the bloodloss beginning to effect her. She twitched, spasmed, and writhed, hands shaking to the point where she could not hold her sword.
“You have lost... Sister,” Warwick hissed, reaching down to grab her soul as it wavered before him. She gasped, a few droplets of blood running down from her nostrils and landing near the corners of her mouth.
“No...” Emily whispered. “No... Please...”
“You can’t beg... It’ll happen either way,” Warwick laughed, tinges of insanity creeping into his voice. His fingers wrapped around her soul, and she began to feel a tug.
“NO!” the Overlord screamed, covering her eyes and sinking to the ground. “Damn it!” Feeling tears flood from her eyes onto the wooden floor of her room inside Fort Effort, the Overlord was unable to look up, even though the grass from the Tamashii gardens had faded from view. A few moments were spent on the ground of the room, shaking and clutching herself as though she’d seen her worst fears come alive. As she looked up at the Theurgist, she saw that he had become transparent again, and merely watched her sympathetically.
Silence ensued, and the Overlord forced herself to sit in a chair, though was unable to speak. Her eyes were tearful, blotchy, and she felt weak- weak for crying in front of her spirit guide. But still, there was one question that remained, “... So what happened?”
“You refused to see the ending. So I’ll tell you...” the Theurgist said calmly, “Before he could take your soul... Thomas arrived. With Sensei and a few others. Warwick fled that night. No one had seen or heard of him since. You were unconscious for half of a week after that. They didn’t think you were going to make it.” The Overlord felt sick to her stomach- sick at how calm he sounded, and sick that she hadn’t been able to remember. “When you awoke, they asked you if you remembered what had happened to you. I’m sure that’s even fuzzy still...” The Theurgist’s voice grew softer, “The experience was apparently too traumatic for your mind to accept- his betrayal, especially. So the Tamashii elders lied and said that Warwick had run away from home to seek a different life. They lied to you so that you wouldn’t have to remember.”
The Overlord sat there, absorbing the information. Staring out the window at where the sun was creeping on the horizon, she asked absent-mindedly, “Why did you tell me this?”
“Because now you know what you face when you return to the Fortress, Overlord. The same thing you faced that night, but this time...” the Theurgist replied, “You’re both stronger.”
“Warwick is the Nemesis,” the Overlord stated hollowly, “... Damn it, Thomas, why didn’t you tell me?” She whispered, eyes closed and head bowed. “He wants my soul. Just like before. He wants the Fortress and the Between. Just like before. Why didn’t I see it earlier?”
“You didn’t know. You didn’t remember,” the Theurgist replied calmly, “And now you do. Now you know why you must be the one to defeat the Nemesis. You’re the only one that can, Emily.”
The Overlord stood up and walked to look out of the window, “He’ll pay for what’s he’s done to me. He’ll pay for what he’s done to you.” Her fist shook, and she slammed it against the window pane in frustration, “Today... We rally all of the ANF forces. We begin our assault against the Nemesis. And when I’m done with him...” She let her voice trail off, emotionlessly as she gazed at where Kagi lay on a desk, blade concealed by a sheath.
“Hell hath no fury... Like the Overlord.”
END OF PART THREE
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