Chapter 81: Nightglow
*just read. Also, Happy Birthday to our best boy Pioupipu (GamerPrime). Long live our broski, may he get only the best. Peace out and Deus vult :)*
His vision darkened, both while his eyes were open and obviously as they closed. The warmth that surrounded him was gentle, like a soothing kiss from one's beloved on a summer morning. It was eerily soothing, like a mother's embrace, but it also made it hard to depart. He clung on to his memories, to his hopes and aspirations. They were swirling around him, clashing against his imminent death, but to no avail.
The sword fragments were still pressing on his wound, despite him thinking them a hallucination. Blood gushed out from the hollow in his guts, staining the shattered concrete around him. It was done, the battle was lost. He could feel the looming shadows crawl around, ready to devour him and make him a part of them.
For him, it was done. No more pain, no more fatigue, no more rush, no more mental strain, no more thinking, no more planning—just the pure, loving embrace of death. Still, a tinge of warmth kept him back—just a tiny drop. Was it from the blood? No, of course not. That warmth he had felt once, when he pressed the sword fragments to his skin. They were a memento of the past, of one's death—and his own promise both to her and him.
His head felt like it rested on a soft cushion, cold as it was. His vision returned slowly, flickering a few times before witnessing the sun up in the white sky, its glow calling out to him.
"Where am I this time?" he mumbled tiredly, sitting up from the snow. It was a familiar place, to call it bluntly. He had no clue how that realm came to exist, yet it simply formed upon his clash with the first Stellaron on Jarilo-VI. Anomaly or whatever, he didn't care much. What he did care about was that he was whole—no gaping hole in his stomach, no flowing blood, nothing. It was just him, and before him, a burning figure vanishing slowly, the turquoise flames going out bit by bit.
"I see..." he mused softly, the words heavy on his tongue. "This is nothing but a moment of respite before death, huh? I see how it is..."
He walked closer to the smoldering pile, watching the figure fade away with each passing breath, with each strand of sand that fell in time's own hourglass. His hand reached out, feeling no heat, just as usual, yet the emotion within them lingered. It was a highly contrasted thing, at least when put side by side his current mood. He could almost feel the dark circles under his eyes, the urge to sleep eternally, and yet he was awake. Perhaps the flames were keeping him going for a moment longer.
"There you are."
He spun around, like a deer in headlights, lost in the moment, dazed by the familiar voice that rang out. He nearly couldn't believe his eyes as the words came to his lips, leaving without his permission, following the passion in him, whatever was left of it, instead of his rationality.
"Himeko..."
The woman before him smiled softly, her own expression a mirror of his own—tired, worn out, yet she smiled.
"I'm sorry," she said gently, stepping closer with soft steps, leaving her trace in the snow. "I'm not the Himeko you think..."
He shook his head, heading her way as his body or whatever it was trembled, his eyes teary, brimming with tears that had been bottled up for all causes, only to leave now.
"No... you're the Himeko I know... the one who sacrificed herself fearlessly for the ones she cared..."
A flicker of curiosity dashed along her ragged features, the beautiful skin on her face slightly burnt, with crevices that ran along her skin like dark veins, just a touch darker than the skin.
"I see... so you do know of me... I was unsure for a moment, but you actually seem to have your knowledge. Perhaps you even watched my last struggle from somewhere..."
He let the tears fall, forsaking his vision for a moment of relief—just a drop of water in the sea—yet it had its worth too. Vehemently, his head kept moving up and down as he stepped closer, reaching out with the most hesitant of touches, as if afraid she'd turn to ash in his hands. She stood before him, looking into his eyes, their fatigue there—a silent connection in itself.
"Don't cry..." she whispered, looking up at him with sad eyes of her own. Still, it only made the dam break further, causing his voice to quiver.
"I... I saw it... how you tried... and succeeded... but at what price?"
His palms rested lovingly on her cheeks, caressing softly along the brown lines on her skin, traces of what had happened to her. She pushed herself to the limit, but it was worth it in the end—at least for her.
"What price? I'm sure you know the answer to that question. I don't regret it, alright? It was my duty..."
He nodded, simply pulling her closer in his arms, the Fire of Will fading out in the background. Himeko's arms wrapped tightly around him, but her eyes were fixed on the fire. In a way, she understood what it meant, and her purpose was also clear.
"Mark... look at me..."
She pulled back slightly, holding his cheeks in turn, her touch gentle despite the crude remnants of the armor that still lingered to her body. It was mostly cracked, torn apart during the fight, yet chunks of it clung to her being. She looked the same as she had when her body fell into the darkness.
Their eyes met, and he could see the fire that burned in her eyes, despite how tired she seemed. It raged on with pure determination and desire to protect, putting his weak flames to shame. For a moment, he felt small, insignificant, as if just a spark from her being could swallow him and render his ash to nothingness.
"It's not your time... you still have others to protect, people that you care for... you know you can't go. You've made a promise, have you not? You said you'll make the most of the fragments from my sword, both for me and the Himeko of this world... so stay true to your word, alright?"
Silence fell. He needed time to process everything, to figure out an answer, time to say something. His vision just traces her features, watching as she was both trying to get his spirits up while silently pleading that he stay alive. The weight of the situation crushed him, but he knew what he had to do. It was duty, even as you shed tears—countless of them. Thus, with a sniffle, he tried to calm down and gather himself.
"I... I'm close to dying... what can I even do? I wasn't strong enough, Himeko... I failed. You saw it, you understand. It didn't feel a thing even as I was frying it alive with my flames. It didn't care, I, I can't de-"
"Mark, just look at me..." she asked softly, cutting his words short. No pleading, no begging, nothing would work. She just looked at him, speaking from the heart.
"I've seen you, and I know you can do it. Perhaps our journey was short, but... I saw enough to understand you. Enough to know how you work and who you are. You can do it, Mark. I trust you..."
She placed one hand on the back of his neck, pulling him a little closer as she kept speaking.
"I could hear the words too, about your will... I could feel it looking at me, that Meritas... but the important thing is, Mark... to shape your will, you need to know what you want. Simply thinking 'I want to save them' doesn't work. You need to understand what it is. If you wish to protect then you strive for that. You can have strength, but to what use if you don't know what to do with it?"
He simply listened along, feeling her warm palm on his skin, her other hand wrapping around him, holding him close as she looked up at him, her words carving themselves into his mind.
"Being so close to you, I understood a little about how your power works, even if a fraction. When you use your sword, you just wish to fight, yet your goal is to protect. To mold your will, you need to see the core of what you wish to do."
The core of what he wished to do. Albeit simple, he had to spin the gears in his already tired mind to understand them. The core... the goal is to protect, but he wants to fight... It fell in like a puzzle piece matching the middle of the image.
"I always went into battle thinking I'd just take the burden myself to protect... but did I not realize I needed to protect myself too in order to keep them safe long-term? My actions may cause ripples in the universe itself, and here I am... just thinking I need to fight, but not to protect myself too... I see how it is."
The Fire of Will in the background was nearly out, flickering slightly with shy flames. Himeko smiled softly, whispering.
"I knew you had it in you. Try to understand what you wish to do. Sometimes, saving others requires sacrifice, yet you don't wish to die until you see the ending you envision... and I'll be with you during your journey."
With that, she pulled him down, meeting his lips with hers, the heat transcending whatever was normal. Like the raging fire in her eyes, Mark could feel the heat of her lips, the way they guided his in the beautiful dance filled with passion and longing, her regrets and wants mixed in with the motions. He didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her, despite the crude armor blocking his touch. He simply brought her close, letting as much of her as possible be with him.
When she finally pulled back, their breaths were almost gone, both of them struggling to catch them. She let out a soft chuckle, the sound pleasant to his ears, fueling the blush on his cheeks.
"Heh... had to go on and take my first... I knew you had a bad dating life, but still..."
She chuckled softly, playfully smacking his chest before letting her hand rest against it, her fingers pressing softly right above his heart.
"Cheeky. You're young, but not unpleasant. Maybe if I had one of you too, things would have been different."
She let go, walking closer to the remnants of the Fire of Will, holding on to his hand.
"I'm afraid our time is running out, Mark."
The finality in her words didn't go unnoticed. He clung harder to her hand, scared to let go, but he couldn't move from his spot.
"Will we meet again?" he asked, scared to even let the words out. Tears were already clouding his eyes once more, the sore feeling in his throat growing.
She smiled brightly, speaking lovingly, seeking to soothe him.
"I will always be with you, Mark."
Pleasant words, but not what he asked. The tears kept falling even as he struggled to keep on a somewhat composed expression and not look like a complete mess in front of her.
"That's not what I asked... I asked if we'll meet again..."
She kept on the smile, but tears brimmed her own eyes, glistering softly against the light.
"I won't ever leave your side..."
He clung harder, but she gently slid her palm away from his. He fell to his knees, staring at her with wide eyes, crying. His throat hurt like hell, but he couldn't even ask it again. He knew the answer.
They wouldn't meet again... not like this...
She placed her hand into the fire, touching the dim wisp of fire as she looked over her shoulder, tears running down her face despite the bright smile that braced her lips.
"Thank you for protecting me, Mark... even if it's a different me..."
Before his very eyes, she was gone a second time. Her body was slowly engulfed by flames, but this time her own. She spoke gently, closing her eyes.
"I leave myself to you, Mark... in the way that I wished to protect, please go on protecting... never dying..."
The turquoise fire turned red just like her hair, swallowing her whole, leaving nothing. Still, it burned like never before, and Mark stared blankly at it before walking closer, touching it with trembling fingers.
Just like that, he opened his eyes again, watching the looming shadows close up on him. The sword fragments on his stomach weren't moving anymore, their warmth lingering. He brought a weak hand to this face, smearing it with blood as he felt for the tears that cascaded out. He gathered the metal bits and held them to his chest, as if wishing to embrace them.
Ice chunks shot out, sending the shadows toppling back. He couldn't stand alone, but he wasn't about to give up after witnessing that scene. With his own powers, he brought his body up, the ice holding him firmly. He closed the wound like that, unbothered by the thought of potentially worsening his condition.
"Why do you stand?" asked the thousands of voices from the darkness, from every place around him. Mark's gaze was grim, devoid of life, a simple testament of the feelings within him.
"Why do I stand? Because I want to, you fucker..." he spat out, growling lowly. "I have to... protect... that's my duty..."
He held the bits of metal in his hands, his tears falling on them one by one.
"A great teacher who's giving lessons even after death... thank you dearly, Himeko..."
He gripped them tightly, placing them within the ice chunk that held his body together, engulfing them within. More shadows tried to close in on him, but he didn't care. Trembling against all odds, his palms went up, burning with the crimson fire coating them. At once, hell broke loose as the flames spread out instantly, devouring all in their path with raging might, the past and present coming together for a common goal—to save.
He took off like an arrow, fueled by the Fire of Will that pushed him forward, just like it had done Himeko when she saved Kiana. His goal was the same, to save everyone, and thus he pushed, dashing ahead through the night sky until he found the dark dome—Robin's barrier—covered in the monsters. Inside, Dan Heng tried to reinforce it with his powers to help Robin's Harmony as the nihility in their foes was slowly corroding it.
"Get off!" shouted Mark, reaching out to the side, preparing himself.
"My will in this very moment is to get my fucking sword back, alright? I gotta protect these guys, and for that, I should be able to fight."
From his palm out, the sword formed, a beautiful broadsword of a dazzling crimson, covered in flames that roared out in all directions. It was as long as Mark was tall, bearing a mix of both him and her. Double-edged, it sunk right into the dark flesh, cutting it away like it was nothing. Her side of it was the handguard, perhaps a reminder for him to protect himself also.
Shrieks engulfed the night, crying out in pain as Mark kept cleaving over and over and over again, all his training from the Simulated Universe coming back in heaps, putting his muscles at work with sheer instinct. He watched the flesh seek to retreat, but it first lashed out at him from all sides. With mastery, the sword spun around, flashing red into the night, but cutting something that was both solid and liquid at a moment's notice proved impossible in the true sense of the world. The pain was there, but they'd simply stick back together.
His right arm was swallowed whole, the eyes staring at him as the mouths along grinned like nightmares when they stir people in their sleep.
"Yeah?" he smirked, fueling the Fire of Will in his palm like crazy, feeding the monster a deadly dose of peer pressure and heat. He kept increasing it, more and more, until that part of the creature blew up in one large explosion that took his right arm with it. He quickly closed the wound with ice, feeling his ears cry out in pain as the deafening screams shattered the night once more. Still, he smiled as he looked below, seeing that the mess retreated, leaving everyone else safe within the barrier.
They looked up, their faces mixed with all sorts of emotions, but he just smiled, trying to wave despite lacking his usual arm for the task, so he had to switch them.
"Protect... My will now is to protect them, but to protect, I need both offense and defense... I need to protect myself too so I can stand for them..."
His right arm was replaced by an ice one, infused with energy so he could move it around. He closed his eyes, bracing himself as the change happened slowly within. The fire moved around, swirling in one whirlwind that covered him, only to reveal a human fortress.
With his left hand reaching out, he grabbed the new Sword of Will, holding it in the armored hand, the metallic claws clenching around the handle. His gaze looked through a red visor, the dark helmet boasting crimson carvings in it that moved along the edges. On top, it bore a beautiful crimson red plume, but it was no feather, simply material akin to hair, not of his own.
His chest bore no marks, just crude, strong plating, while his stomach bore a beautiful piece shaped like a heart made out of the sword fragments. He simply stood on the barrier, looking at the glowing Stellaron that colored the night red from within the giant figure in the middle, a monster of horrors in the making. His sword pointed forward as his words rang out in a low, double voice, carrying about an echo.
"For the righteous falls seven times, but he gets up again... for I failed a million times, but I stand again... we were never the same..."
He dashed forward in the blink of an eye, leaving behind destruction within the mass of flesh. He was running at 51% output, yet the armor helped him by reinforcing his body. Thus, it was time to end the night and bring about the nightglow.
*Imma go grab napkins cuz I was damn near crying like three times while writing this...*
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