Aether Bardock: The God Of Destruction

Chapter 1.5: The One Who Pulls The Strings

Earlier, at the Execution...

An abyssal Pyro mage stood silently, observing the spectacle from the shadows, his crimson eyes flickering beneath his hood. Beside him, an Abyss Herald disguised as a human watched with cold indifference as the crowd gathered around the broken body of the Traveler, Aether. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension almost tangible as the moment of judgment drew closer.

Neuvillette's voice cut through the murmur of the crowd like a blade. "Aether, you stand accused of heinous crimes, not only in Fontaine but across all nations. For the genocide, the betrayal, the chaos you've wrought... I hereby sentence you and your companion to death."

Aether, bloodied and beaten, tried to raise his head, his voice weak and disbelieving. "No... I didn't... I never committed those crimes... This isn't right... I—" His voice faltered, overtaken by pain and despair.

The Abyss Herald sneered beneath his breath, his voice low. "We've twisted their minds well, haven't we? The poor fools think he's a monster... when the truth is far more entertaining."

The Pyro mage nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on the spectacle. "Keep your voice down. If they realize the truth, things might get complicated. But yes, it's amusing how easily humans fall for lies. No need for real evidence, just the right words at the right time. They're so... gullible."

The Herald chuckled darkly. "Pathetic creatures. They don't even see how easily they're manipulated. That genocide they're so eager to punish? It was nothing more than a well-placed illusion. Yet they're ready to tear him apart."*

Before them, the crowd began its brutal assault on Aether. Fists and feet crashed into his body without mercy, each blow accompanied by sickening cracks of bone and wet splashes of blood. His skin tore open, his cries of pain drowned out by the roar of the mob.

Paimon, restrained by Chlorinde, screamed in desperation, her voice filled with anguish. "STOP IT! PLEASE, STOP! DON'T HURT HIM! PLEASE!"

The mage glanced at the fairy, intrigued. "Even after all this, she stays by his side. Curious. She's no human, yet she's willing to endure this for him."

The Herald smirked, his eyes narrowing. "That makes her valuable. If she survives this, she could be useful to us. Convincing Aether to join the Abyss might be easier with her at our disposal."

But the scene intensified when Navia, stepped forward and addressed Neuvillette. "I request permission to end this farce. Let me put an end to his suffering."

Neuvillette, cold and detached despite the tears forming in his eyes, gave a single nod. "Granted. Finish it."

Paimon's screams of despair echoed through the square as she struggled to break free. "NO! PLEASE, NO! DON'T KILL HIM!" Her voice cracked, raw with grief.

The Abyss Herald frowned slightly, glancing at the mage. "Is this really what was supposed to happen? We weren't sent here just to watch him die, were we?"

The Pyro mage's gaze remained fixed on the scene, his expression unreadable. "The princess foresaw this outcome. If Aether dies here, it's of no consequence. We'll retrieve his body... Plan B was always an option."

The Herald's confusion deepened. "So, she expected his death?"

"Of course," the mage replied smoothly. "This is Fontaine—the nation of justice. There was never any chance of escape for him. This... this was always going to be his end."

As the mage's words hung in the air, Navia raised her weapon, her face a mixture of sorrow and vengeance. "This is for the lives you've taken, Aether. May the dead find peace... even if you cannot."