The theater’s lights flickered on. Arata had yet another exhausting day at work.

  Geez… boss’s not gonna like the news, all that for a whole lotta nothing? After all I sacrifice bustin my ass at the job… I guess I've got to review the footage a bit first.

  Arata finds his hindside being graced by a cushioned stool as he relaxes in a chair. Arata rests his head against a sleek wooden counter.

  *shake shake*

  “I take it you need a little something to wind down? Here’s your Martini.” Ravenna slides her fancy glass across the counter, somehow landing it in between Arata’s fingers.

  Ravenna dressed up, wearing a fancy tuxedo suit and putting her hair back into a ponytail to complete the look. Mannequins would be slightly animated all around the theater, pretending to drink as background characters.

  Why am I playing along with the act…

  “Ravenna, I’m 19. I can’t drink yet and besides, this isn’t a Martini, it’s straight vodka.” Arata slides the glass on back towards his bartender, yet she wasn’t prepared to catch it.

  “Janitor! Ugh, well in this world the legal drinking age is whenever and second, you can’t even get drunk in the theater since it’s resetting your body.”

  Arata’s eyebrow perks up, “If I can’t feel the effects of alcohol then what is the point? It tastes disgusting… Ren let me have a sip one time, never again.”

  Ravenna begins mixing up another cocktail, “You kids just don’t know how to enjoy things like this… want apple juice?”

  Arata gets up from his seat, “You have too much free time, let’s review the footage of my death, everything you can figure out about the Erlking.”

  Ravenna nods, taking out a projector from under her bar, casting the screen up towards a projector manifesting out of thin air. On the screen, the scene is reconstructed of the Erlking meeting Arata.

  Why a projector… it isn’t even on theme anymore, well if she can still make sense of it.

  Arata rewatches the video, meanwhile Ravenna takes notes when the mannequin in Arata's place was impaled, flowing out of the screen came blood and alongside it the stench of rotting.

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  “Ah god damnit Ravenna, I get accuracy but do you have to get the smell of a corpse right too?” Arata pinches his nose together.

  “I didn't, the smell comes from the hands. It's likely the fourth type of fae, I've been hypothesizing as such when reviewing the script, the existence of godmothers… there's something I forgot to tell you about regalia, it's a very rare application of this world's power. The internal regalia shaping.”

  “Internal?”

  “Usually, regalia projects the shape of your soul onto an inanimate object. The soul acts as a mold that is designed to shape mana in a specific way onto objects. But you can technically use other souls for said process. By absorbing a soul, those whose souls have a stronger will can change the shape of another’s soul, imparting their will. It's Rachamah’s secret to her power, she uses it for adaptation by utilizing the shapes of others’ will. It varies between users how this ability can be used. For the Erlking, it seems like these are what remain of the elves. Their rotting corpses have all been made into regalia of the Erlking, this man’s limbs are thin for his size so it's clear he’s not a brawler anyway.” Ravenna explains, panting a little after talking for so long.

  “You’ll probably have to stay off the ground against him. How about you go in there one more time for testing? If his effective range is midrange you’ll need to figure out how he plans to keep people out and dodge his regalia.” Ravenna finally concludes, the bar vanishing alongside her suit, the theater returns to normal as Arata is sent back in.

  Arata, following the same path, decides to hold onto Bloody Mary for longer. The Erlking was similarly awaiting Arata yet again, the lanky figure’s features bore into Arata the second he entered the premises. This time, Arata’s solution was to glance down in prediction.

  As the hands of the dead crept up through the floor, weapons in hand, Arata countered with Demiurge Foundry, an arc of flames spread across the room, returning towards the Erlking.

  The Erlking merely smirks, “Oh? What an interesting parlor trick you’ve come up with human? Were you trying to blind me huh? Thought I wouldn’t see the obvious coming?” The Erlking looks underwhelmed as Arata throws a half of Bloody Mary through the flames at his throat, catching the attack with blatant disregard, the blade amusingly pierces his wrist.

  “Oh my, I do appreciate the effort, peering into the minds of my men, I yearned to have a tale of my very own to regale.”

  The mana surrounding Arata flickers out causing Arata to tense up further. He’s not attacking. Though he seems like the oversharing type.

  “Getting lonely? What did you expect to happen surrounding yourself with a mere hive mind?”

  The Erlking ponders, his malleable finger reaches up to position to ponder on his chin rather than his hand. “Who else am I supposed to keep around me, besides I’ll have you know I’m a master of ventriloquism. It’s basically the same thing as talking to a real person. Real people talk as what’s unnatural to them already when in my presence, out of fear of saying the wrong things, they swallow back their true nature. Tis the fate of being a sort of virtuoso when it comes to making tragedies. They fear joining the others who opposed me.”

  Wa… That’s it! The signals go between him and the dryads, keeping him occupied does the same as killing the dryads. Yet the very second Arata stops talking, failing to amuse the Erlking he is sent back to the theater in a flash of silver, the top half of his head spurting a fountain of blood.