This was it. Prota and his friends’ journey was finally coming to an end. The party stood on a giant sundial, which served as the roof of a tall tower made of gears that rose up from the ocean. Tumultuous waves and jagged rocks threatened to catch them if they fell. Prota stood there, holding onto his orange bandana as his black hair blew fervently in the harsh winds. He looked to the center of the sundial, where a man with long white hair and a black cape stood. This was Anta: the man they’d been searching for all this time, the one who started this catastrophe. All the endless pain and suffering and starvation… was because of him.

Prota felt his blood boil as he looked at the mysterious stranger. He knew the second he showed up that this was the man they were looking for. But beneath the fury, there was something else, something Prota couldn’t quite place. He felt a pull towards this man, and something told him it wasn’t just the wind.

“Is this him?” Tiki asked, as she looked at her friend and leader. The wind caused a few strands of blonde hair to escape from her ponytails and tickle her bronze face. “The cause of immortality?”

Prota nodded solemnly. His brown eyes stayed locked onto his enemy. “That’s him, alright.”

“What do you suggest?” Krain asked, as he sidestepped over to his teammates. He tried not to trip as his ragged olive green cloak pushed against him. The long tendrils of his headband followed the gusts and flew in waves towards the opponent. Shaggy dark brown hair partially covered Krain’s olive eyes and skin as he glanced from friend to foe.

“What else?” Prota asked, knowing his friends knew the drill. “We do what we always do. We fight.”

Before he had even finished that thought, Tiki had pulled out her tonfa blades, and Krain pulled his massive sword from the holster on his back.

“Hmph,” Anta scoffed. “Must we do this? You know I’m doing the right thing. I’ve achieved humanity’s greatest dream.”

“As if!” Prota roared, as he unsheathed his holy sword and ran towards the man with all his might. He swung violently. The man dodged blow after blow. Prota kept missing by a fraction of an inch. “You’re…” Prota spoke between swings, “just prolonging people’s suffering!” The man ducked as the boy went for his neck. “What kind of dream is that?”

“Suffering is better than death,” Anta claimed. Strands of silken white hair were severed by the sharp sword as he continued to evade.

“Is it?” Prota got tired of all this dodging. He wanted the man to fight. “Even if it’s causing pain to those who could live full lives?”

Anta elbowed the boy and effortlessly sent him flying.

Prota fell to the hard floor with a thud. He picked himself up, doing his best to ignore the pain. He knew the others were suffering way more than he ever has. “The people of Respiria,” he said, as he got back onto his feet, “have to live with terminal illnesses. Their bodies rot as their loved ones watch. Those who have been horribly injured in accidents,” he slowly stepped forward, dragging the sword on the ground with a hair-raising screech, “those who were crushed or decapitated,” tears filled his eyes, “have to live on with this agony!” He looked up at the villain, with fire in his eyes. “Do you understand this?!” Prota’s voice cracked and grew hoarse. “Have you any idea what you have caused?!”

Anta stood there, callously unaffected by the boy’s words.

Krain put a hand on Prota’s shoulder to calm him down. “Cool it, kid,” he said, snapping the boy out of his blind rage. “A little bit of anger is good, but too much and we can’t think straight. We want to get out of this in one piece… without becoming one of them.”

The Lost was what they called them: The people who are too far gone to be called alive, but aren’t really dead. The ones who can feel everything, even though they’re living corpses.

Tiki ran in, not unlike Prota. But her moves were agile and skilled. She was particularly light-footed and could jump to great heights. She managed to confuse Anta by somersaulting over his head and slashing at his shoulder blade ever so slightly.

Prota flinched.

“How did you do it?” Krain asked, while swinging his sword widely. “How did you manage to stop death?”

His heavy sword was too slow for their enemy. The man dodged with ease, leaving the sword to crash into the stone, sending chunks flying.

“It’s a machine, isn’t it?” Prota asked while inadvertently rubbing his shoulder. He had his own magic-imbued gadgets to use against this guy, but he suddenly felt hesitant.

“Indeed,” Anta replied, as he continued dodging Tiki and Krain’s attacks. The girl’s fast moves were proving to be a little challenging. “I created a powerful magical mechanism that will keep people from dying, as long as I’m around to keep it running. And as long as it’s running, I’ll be alive to keep it that way.”

Tiki attacked relentlessly, not letting up no matter how much Anta evaded. She tried from every angle. The man didn’t even have a sword, but she knew he must have some magic up his sleeve. 

Krain swung at Anta from behind, giving Tiki an opening. But when Prota saw that she was about to get a hit in…

“TIKI, STOP!” Prota roared in panic. He had a bad feeling…

Tiki gaped at him. “Are you crazy?!”

“I just,” Prota stuttered nervously, as he looked between friend and foe, “let’s regroup and come up with a plan. We’ll never beat him like this.”

Anta’s clear blue eye that wasn’t covered by his hair looked directly into Prota’s soul.

Prota found himself breathing heavily as his party members retreated with him and left the villain to his own devices. They watched as Anta knelt down and traced the letters in the center of the sundial. A passageway opened up and he stepped down into his tower, the top of the sundial closing above him.