Chapter 87: Loss
*we're cooking in a new era, fr fr. I gotta see how I'm gonna go forward, cuz I got some shit to figure out first and then I'll probably cook the infamous 'My Readers Got Reincarnated Into My Fanfic and Screwed Up The Plot' mastermind plan (be quick to find that damned discord link in my webnovel bio and enter, seek the pinned messages at the bottom of the list in the 'talking for everyone' or whatever text channel and completing one of them character questionares really quick if you wish to be a part of it. For now tho, enjoy and have fun. Peace out and Deus Vult*
The cube rested on the ground, no signs of life coming from it. Lingsha had long since retreated from their attempts at understanding it. She had others pressing matters to attend to, and results from the samples they had collected would need a lot more time before arriving. Thus, it was little Bailu that was left alone to look over it, trying to find some sort of medicine that could help it. Just in case, she braced herself with some different pills and liquids that would be much needed should Mark come out of there in a state worse than the last one she's treated.
"You just keep getting into trouble and ruining yourself. Why won't anyone take the doctor's advice for once?"
She kept puffing and mumbling, angry at having to work too much in some cases, like that of Mark. Just when silence settled in, a loud crack erupted, tearing silence apart just like the hand reaching out tore the top of the cube. Slowly, Bailu watched, trembling with her back against the wall as the cube turned into a liquid mess, shaping itself and morphing. She didn't wait too long, choosing to instead bolt outside and scream at the top of her lungs that a monster was inside.
"Monster, huh?"
The low grumble was eerily calm, tired, lacking any traces of emotion. It was just a sound, not a tone, a mere murmur that sounded like words. The liquid from the cube fully merged itself with Mark, forming his new arm. It looked like the old one mostly, apart from the lighter tone it had, a slight difference he'd probably have to live with for a while. The thin scar that ran along his wrist was gone, the scratch now wiped from his being. Instead, his bare shoulder had a heart-shaped piece of metal embedded into it, the fragments from Himeko's sword one with him.
It simply rested there, a thin layer that was forever part of him, a reminder of her lingering will and the burning, passionate feeling of her lips on his. He just stared blankly at it, the spark in his eye gone. He took a moment to walk around, feeling his body twist and turn. It was healed up, completely back to normal, safe for his arm that seemed to be a new addition. His muscles were a bit more pronounced, his bones feeling stronger than steel in his body. Above all, the feeling of the strange Abundance that had been a part of him for some time was strong—a little too strong, maybe.
It moved with ease, following his orders, but the interesting part was that his hand could easily shape itself as he wanted it to. With a thought, it turned into a sword, solid as he tried to twist it with his other hand, fueled by the Stellaron's energy. His body was brand new, remade, improved, running better than ever before. Still, he could recall the events that had taken place around him. His biggest regret was that Acheron left and he was unable to talk with her. Privacy invaded, emotions torn apart, he simply gave up on trying. He would do it all himself.
"Hoolay... on the large ship..."
He stepped out, his tattered clothes showing off his stomach and back where he had been pierced. The gauntlet on his left arm was whole, covered in grime and his own blood, just like most of his clothing. The people around simply ran away from him, freezing upon meeting his lifeless gaze. With a simple stare, he looked up to the sky, wasting no more time. Lingering in his heart, beneath the betrayal, the pain of being left behind once more was nothing more than an insatiable desire to break something.
"What better thing to break than an immortal creature?" he asked himself, whispering the words with a heavy breath. The second it left his lips, he took to the skies, the red flames propelling him with speeds that far outdid those of his in the last battle.
What had just been released into the world was an emotionless mess, his coping mechanism kicking in to try and reduce the pain, trying to subdue the tears that threatened to leave his eyes. He silently decided to cast aside the need for companionship, focusing instead on his goal, which would remain unchanged no matter what—after all, it was one of the few things he held from his own world.
"Lost humanity... my body is that of a monster... people died here, and I was unable to stop it, to prevent the disaster... I'm the reason they died... no, I'm not at fault... or am I? Who am I talking to? Why do I bother asking? Do they even care if I save them? Does anyone care? No, no one does. It's all about interest. I'm an outsider? What outsider? Me... I'm from the outside... I'm not of this world. It doesn't need me. No one saw the tears of the families, so are they even there? I know they died, but do I know they died? What if they didn't show it? Should I care? Why do I care? Of course I care, don't I? What am I at this point?"
His mind was in utter disarray, a jumbled mess of scattered thoughts and shattered ideals. Acheron left, those on the Express didn't trust him. He knew it was a logical choice, but he wished for compassion. Why did he care at this point?
"She left... they all leave in the end... why do I bother? It's use or be used... or is it? Why do I not believe it? I've seen it. Have I also seen the opposite? Sure, I have, but that doesn't change a thing."
He could see the Skysplitter and Hoolay on top, with three tiny dots around it—March, Yanqing, and Yunli. The downed Cloud Knights were thrown around, scattered on the arena, as the three youngsters tried to fight the beast, its curved blade dancing in the air as it let out a bloodcurdling howl. The three around it took a second to look at the sky, watching the crimson-red falling star slam into the wolf's face with a battle-ready foot.
The sound of bones breaking was muffled by Mark's crashing into the arena, leaving wide cracks in the ground. Hoolay's body was thrown to the side, rolling around before coming to a halt as the beast stood back up, the twisted skull visible as the bone showed. March smiled, eager, while Yunli was wondering about the unknown man's identity. Yanqing was glad, too, since his help would surely turn the tide.
"Mark, you're fine! You're back here, ri-"
March shrunk down in fear as Mark's cold gaze fell on her. He said nothing; his expression hardened, his jaw clenched. He told them nothing, choosing to simply step closer to Hoolay, who was fuming, enraged.
The Stellarons were running at 45% in Mark's body, the load barely felt. It was merely him trying to actually make the battle interesting, to feel something other than his own self-pity and murky wailing.
"You... who... no... what are you? Why do you smell familiar?" he growled, ready to swing the blade at Mark, aiming for a fast, clean strike. Mark simply slapped it away with his left palm, the metal clashing against his gauntlet, burying him in sparks as he grabbed Hoolay by the fur, slamming his jaw into the ground, stepping on his muzzle-like face cover, shattering it.
"You're poisoned," he said dryly, reaching down to touch him with his bare hand. Golden sparks moved along his new arm, flowing into Hoolay, healing all of his wounds, from the skull Mark shattered to the poison inside of him. Jiaoqiu would be fine, so he decided to simply do it as he saw fit.
"Who are you to be able to twist THEIR power and use it in this unclean form?"
Mark said nothing, instead stepping back, watching as the large borisin stood back up, towering over him with ease. Blood-lusted eyes looked down at Mark, letting out a howl as it grew in size even more, his fur burning a cold, bloody red on the now black colored hair. Mark stood there, letting it use its Moon Rage transformation.
"I'll make sure to offer you a cruel death for thinking yourself superio-"
He couldn't finish speaking, feeling Mark's punch connect with his jaw, followed by a flurry of punches that kept coming over and over, while Mark propelled himself in the air to reach his foe's face and fight on the same level.
Hoolay swung his sword at him, the glowing blade falling in from all sides, covered in a coat of fire like that on his fur, the energy fueled by pure, rabid rage. Mark kept dodging the strikes, moving flawlessly with no hesitation. Before, he would feel death linger around, brushing his shoulders, his face, touching his back with a cold, lifeless hand, but now... that touch was gone—and so was he.
The strikes didn't seem to reach him, leaving cracks and cleave marks in the ground where he stood as he kept moving from side to side, stepping back, dodging, until he got bored of that and decided to take it seriously. With one flick of his wrist, he slammed the gauntlet into the sword, the damaged piece of armor crumbling to pieces. Still, the sword fell to the side, and Mark took the moment to simply gather energy in his fist, a nice 52%, which thundered into the borisin's mutt.
The shock sent March stumbling back, while Yanqing and Yunli were struggling to keep their balance. Mark stood there, unphased, showing no emotion, like his features were frozen. Hoolay was once more buried in debris, yet the Moon Rage transformation burned higher, seeking more of him, turning what little sanity the beast had into strength.
"YOU BASTARD!"
He lunged at Mark once more, blitzing before his very eyes, sword held high. Mark just moved his right arm back, turning his fist into a large sledgehammer, and swung, powering it with a sudden burst of 53% energy, swinging up.
Hoolay's sword spun time and time again up in the air, flying high to the very heavens. The borisin had the best view of it since his head was perfectly angled upwards, the sound of the broken neck lost in the burst of air that exploded with Mark's movement. The Moon Rage ended as the borisin forced his head back into position, staring down at the man—no, the creature that stood before him. The sword came spinning down, crashing right by Mark's side, who didn't even flinch. He grabbed the hilt, giving it a good twirl.
"Nice toy you got, borisin. I'll keep it. I needed a new sword anyway."
The beast prepared to scream, to use his Moon Rage once more, but Mark simply flicked his wrist. At once, Hoolay was covered in red crimson flames, burning alive.
"Stay quiet, mutt..." growled Mark, his words hardly changing tone from that lifeless note of his. With another flick of his hand, the flames turned to ice, freezing him over before burning once more, switching between these two stages over and over until he chose to fully engulf him in flames, burning away his flesh as the smell of burned fur penetrated the air.
"March, just what happened with Mark?" asked Yanqing, worried and a little frightened as choked shouts tried to erupt from Hoolay's scorched throat.
March was silent, her breath ragged from fear and worries, recalling the scene with Phantylia. This time, however, Mark was in full control, and his cold behavior threw her off heavily. Her eyes teared up as she covered her mouth, swords on the ground by her side. Yunli was at her side at once, trying to comfort her.
"March, speak with us. What's wrong?"
Her own eyes moved to the lightshow, staring at the burning borisin as it tried to move, but burned muscles wouldn't listen. Thus, Mark kept burning and burning, staring at his own macabre show, the smell bringing a sense of smoldering peace that soothed his anger, locking it deep within. Thus, Mark stopped the Fire of Will from burning, staring at the steamy body.
"Your heart should be preserved. Good... that's the cure for someone I know."
His eyes moved slowly over his shoulder as his head turned back, looking at the three huddled warriors, staring at them with no emotions.
"Mark, you... when did you get so strong?" asked Yanqing, trying to bite back his worry and act casual, but Mark could see the way his sword was held, ready.
"Don't worry... I never attack my own, no matter what they do..." he said, looking straight at March as he put emphasis on those last two words. He knew, and he clearly didn't like it.
March tried to speak up, her lips trembling, but the moment was interrupted as Mark brought his arm up, blocking a direct punch from none other than the Merlin's Claw. She went in for a series of punches and kicks, all of them fast like lightning, forcing Mark to leap away from the still steaming body. Hoolay's vocal cords were slowly regenerating, the growling sound almost proud.
"...beast... a true beast..."
Feixiao looked at his remains, watching in silence before looking over to Mark.
"What is your business here?"
Mark crossed his arms, speaking bluntly.
"His heart. Take it. That's your cure, General... that cursed 'Crimson Moon'..."
Her eyes narrowed the more she kept staring at him, almost reaching out to summon her weapons. Yanqing stepped closer to her, speaking calmly.
"General, that's Mark, a member of the Astral Express. He came here and handled Hoolay, despite his approach being... perhaps fitting for what the borisin did, but..."
No words were needed for that. Sure, he had done it once before; however, it was different. This time, he was fully aware of the things he did, simply healing his foe from the poison and a broken skull to further best him in combat and burn him, then freezing him over and over and over again. As if to send a message, Mark walked closer to the remains, grabbing an arm by the fizzling flesh and simply ripping it apart with a deadpan expression, listening to the borisin's growling.
"That's enough," said Feixiao, looking back to Yunli, watching her comfort March. The sight is clearly too much for her to handle. Yinqing stepped forward, a mixture of emotions on his face.
"What happened to you, Mark? You weren't like this last time. You were... nice, you joked, you smiled a little more, even if not often, and you just... just what is wrong with you? Did that cube or whatever mess with your head?"
Mark sketched no emotion, simply looking down at the boy with empty eyes, speaking nothing. Feixiao moved Yanqing back, stepping up between them. She looked up at Mark, unimpressed by his display.
"Mark, huh? From this young lad's words, I take it that you were a laid-back guy, but I guess something happened with you. Why don't we talk about it over some drinks? Nothing makes words roll out like alcohol."
She smiled, being all friendly with him, extending a hand without hesitation. He just stared at it, his mind reminding him of how she had also swayed him a little during his gameplay, but in the current moment a single voice rang out in his head: "TRUST NO ONE!"
He just stared at the hand and shook his head. Like a broken record, he spoke of what he cared about, looking at Hoolay once more.
"Your cure... it's in him... will be a bit dangerous, but I'll hold you at bay. Just go for it; don't let his sacrifice be in vain..."
Her lips pursed, the smile fading as her hand fell back by her side. She was serious, perhaps a little too much. Still, knowing that he's with the Express, she chose to believe that maybe the information came from the other members, avoiding scenarios that had him in cahoots with the enemy.
"Fine. I understand what you mean. Are you sure you can handle me?" she cocked a smirk, smiling slyly.
It was the perfect shot for Mark to hit one of his classic jokes, but he chose silence over it. The jokes died with him.
"Just do it. I got things here."
March still looked at him, wishing to just go hide away. His gaze didn't bother to meet hers, and yet he was aware of her looking. He just looked over to Hoolay before grabbing the borisin's blade.
"I'm keeping this," he declared calmly, not even asking for permission or the like. It was his, and thus he swung at the now half-regenerated borisin's chest.
Chapter 88: Old Habits
*thus, we keep going forward. Peace out and Deus Vult*
Hoolay's ribs cracked with a satisfying crunch, his blood flowing out in heaps, the weird liquid covering the blade that had once been his own. Mark loomed over the body, casting an ominous shadow as he reached out with his right arm, shaping his fingers to have sharper, claw-like tips before sinking it right for the heart. He grabbed it with a firm grip, feeling the strange pulsing sensation as he took it out, the bloody light it emitted causing his heart to pick up speed. It looked like the Stellaron did through the dark liquid flesh. His arm trembled slightly, yet he betrayed no emotion.
"Here, Feixiao. Take this. It should solve your issue. I'll make sure to hold you at bay."
With that, he tossed it into the air, allowing it the gift of flight. The General simply looked up, following it after leaving her sword in the hands of Yanqing. The sky glowed red, and Mark simply clenched his jaw tightly, keeping his lips pursed as the subtle thud of his heart resounded just a touch louder in his chest. Feixiao's fox-like spirit swallowed the Crimson Moon before she fell from the sky, her consciousness momentarily severed.
Unlike the game, Mark didn't let her crash to the ground—as if it would feel like more than a little nudge in her back. Still, some things were bound to remain the same no matter what happened to an individual. Specific thoughts, patterns, things carved in the mind would remain there to the person's very death.
With a gentle movement, he lowered her to the ground, watching her carefully. At once, her fist cut through the air, gliding at his face. His head tilted to the side as he tossed her away, preparing as her feet found solace on the ground once more, spinning her torso in one fluid motion to face him.
The glowing red ring that circled around her iris was intense, burning with hatred as she growled, her voice strained.
"You damned borisin..."
Her mind wasn't exactly at home in those moments, and he knew for sure what was about to happen. It was time for him to test his new body against a formidable foe in simple combat, man-to-foxian.
"Come, Saran..." he mumbled, speaking just for her ears to hear, in case her true self inside her mind can hear it and know that someone out there knows. No explanation would come from him, but the information would flow out. He didn't care.
The winds were one with her as she bolted forward like an arrow let loose, cutting through the air with ease, bringing her strikes in from all sides, hitting ruthlessly, fighting to kill. Their hands made contact countless times a second, both of them pushing each other to the limits. Perhaps in her eyes, Mark was worse than Hoolay, considering that he had used the beast's sword a few moments before.
Their feet danced in a tangled back and forth, stealing ground from one another with each opening as strikes kept connecting. No feints, no hesitation, just the thrill of battle and Mark's desire to forget. Each blow that rattled his bones was an emotion yanked out of his chest, one last thing to weigh on his mind. They were bound to return, but not then.
"Come on, is that all the Merlin's Claw has to offer?" he asked, his tired gaze fixed on her as both engaged in a deadlock, their arms tangled as they tried to overpower one another. His muscles were running on waves of energy, feeling alive, used to the high intake of pure power. Feixiao's jaw was tightly shut, her teeth grinding against one another as she struggled to overpower him. Still, he knew that her body wasn't giving its all. In that state, she was like a puppet running on basic commands like 'fight' without actually drawing out her inner strength. That power of hers was, for now, engaged in a battle with Hoolay's being, the Crimson Moon, trying to wrestle control over her and infuse the old Warhead's mind in her own.
Mark footed himself, pressing on the ground at once as he brought his arms up, lifting Feixiao in the air before trying to toss her aside. Like a sly fox, she moved her legs around his neck, trying to choke him like that. Her vice grip was strong, like anvils pressing on both sides, straining his muscles as he tried to resist it. She snaked herself around his head, trying to both snap it or just choke him out.
His breath was slowly dying out, yet giving up was not on his list. With her on his shoulders, he just leaned back before jerking forward, throwing his core muscles into the gutter with a simple burst of mustered strength. Her head sunk into the ground, forcing her grip to loosen, giving him a window to slide out and grab her, forcefully holding her against him to ensure she wouldn't hurt the others. Perhaps the sole thing that could restrain her was him.
She struggled and fought back, her half-dazed state from the blow still putting up a fight. She kicked at his shins, tried to reach back to hit him, but she couldn't deal any serious damage.
"Did he just... fight General Feixiao alone and win?" asked Yunli, studying him intently. She couldn't believe the sight, and by the looks of it, Yanqing had a hard time believing it too.
The only one who wasn't that surprised was March, who had seen the way Mark fights, witnessing his lonely struggle on Penacony, which was probably the pinnacle of his power to date—or so she thought.
"Miss March, just how did he train until this point?" asked Yanqing, looking back at her over his shoulder. She was silent for a bit, unsure of what to even answer. Just then she realized that she barely had a clue about his training. Himeko had mentioned something at some point about him having trained in the Simulated Universe on Herta's Space Station, but that was long ago.
"I don't know..." she said softly, almost regretting the words that left her lips, the truth a tinge too sad for her. She hadn't asked about it, hadn't tried to understand. He simply went off to do his thing, that much she knew—but what was he doing?
"Perhaps some secret training, I guess. He's crazy strong now, and it's barely been a while since we've met last time and trained together. It's just... how?"
Yanqing's spirit seemed to break at the insane speed of growth displayed before him. Was he perhaps holding back last time to not hurt him? Just who was Mark, truly—or rather, what was he?
Meanwhile, he just stood there, holding Feixiao until she snapped out of it. She looked at him, catching her breath as if she'd had a scare. Her blue eyes stared deeply into Mark's bland, lifeless gaze, seeking answers.
"You're holding me rather tightly, you know? That's no way to handle a lady," she chuckled, and he simply let her go. Still, unable to hold back the primal urge within him, his palms gently grabbed her ears, giving them a few soft rubs and squishes. Feixiao tensed up at once, a soft blush on her cheeks as she tried not to purr, but he could still feel the gentle vibrations coming from her.
"Hey, who gave you permission to do that?" she asked, trying to sound angry, and yet her voice wavered ever so softly. He shrugged and rubbed them a little between his fingers before letting go.
"That's payback for you almost strangling me," he answered, completely unbothered. With the crisis solved, it was time to wrap up the entire situation. He simply grabbed Hoolay's sword, giving it a nice look before putting it on his back, using his ice to attach it to his back. Torn clothes, wrecked look—he was a whole mess, but he was alive and standing, at least physically.
Feixiao's gaze fell on his shoulder, the exposed one part of his new arm, looking at it with interest as she noticed the metal heart in it. To her better judgement, she refrained from speaking of it, yet Mark did catch sight of the subtle interest in her eyes.
"It's a gift... from someone dear to me... it means that she'll always be with me..."
She nodded, a look tinged with bitterness and soft understanding appearing on her gentle features. She didn't look like a General from up close, like a beast of war—she was just a soft, tender being.
"I see... I'm sorry..."
He nodded, the look in his eyes just a touch regretful, otherwise lacking emotions. His arms were crossed once more as he spoke.
"No worries, it's fine."
Just like that, Feixiao fell to the side, grabbing on to Mark's ragged clothing for support. He was quick to grab her and carry her in his arms, heading straight for the Alchemy Commission. Their battle must have taken a toll on her. The other three simply followed along, watching as Mark leapt around and flew once more, the red flames brightening the sky with their crimson glow.
Quickly after, he dropped off the General right in the care of Lingsha and Bailu, who was still a bit scared of him. He just stood there, watching the little dragon doctor work her magic, as Lingsha cast her gaze his way, looking him up and down.
"Looks like you made it out of that cube. You also look like you could use a seat here."
He shook his head, lifting a dismissive hand. He was still covered in dry blood, that of his own from the Penacony disaster, while his outfit was far from being called clothing.
"Focus on her. Where's the other two?"
She looked to the side, towards the Lunarescent Depths, while shaking her head.
"Those two, they just didn't want to listen and snuck out."
He nodded, looking around at the mess. Cloud Knights, all of whom had fought against the borisin, were scattered around, with medics bustling around to try and heal their wounds. Some of them were worse off than others, while some had minor injuries. Still, he blamed himself deep down for not waking up sooner, for not being there to prevent, or at least alleviate, the damage caused.
Somewhere on the way, Stelle and March appeared into view, with Yunli and Yanqing accompanying them. Whatever they were discussing must have been about him, since Stelle's face fell at the sight of his expression. He looked gloomy, like a rained dog who had lost all purpose. She glanced at March, who nodded shyly by her side. Mark didn't even bother.
"I see that your friends are here. How about we go chat with them?" asked Lingsha, smiling a little, and yet Mark just shook his head.
"It's fine; go ahead if you wish. I've no business with them for now. Just go on."
His answer was rather strange, yet she didn't question more. Experience told her that no matter what, there would be a form of conflict everywhere, just like with her and the Alchemy Commission. Bailu had patched up the foxian, then went on to care for others, leaving Mark alone with her. He was silent, so silent that not even his breath could be heard. For a moment he felt like he didn't need air.
"You're still here?" asked Feixiao, already forcing herself to stand. He just nodded, not really in the mood for chit-chat.
"I guess you don't feel like speaking much. I can't say I blame you. With what just took place and what your friends said had happened to you a while back. Still, you're strong. I hope you're up for some training."
She smirked, standing up as if nothing was wrong with her, but she was straining herself a little. Mark nodded, feeling as though another joke struck him right in the mind, but he didn't bother. It was his default setting, yet at times too much.
"Sure, I'm down for that. I need to see how strong I got."
She stretched a little before walking to the door, suddenly looking serious.
"I need to go find someone. Would you perhaps join me?"
With a sigh, he nodded, following along at that point. Some things had taken a different turn. Jiaoqiu's usage of poison must have been lost thanks to Mark defeating him like that, so the news of his sacrifice would probably strike a lot harder. Still, he prepared, following behind her.
Weekly Power Status
200+ Power
Ranking 
7 Power
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