Capítulo 45: The Weight of 100 Years
*ok, late chapter cuz I didn't have it in me to start writing. Still, it's a bit of a longer one, so hopefully this makes up for the dealy :))
As always, enjoy, and let me know what you think. Also, I'd be grateful if you took a few moments of your time to leave a review if you haven't done so. It helps the fanfic, and it also gives me some better insight into what you all think as the readers. Until then, please enjoy. Peace out and Deus vult*
Mark's gaze fell on the image of Jingliu that had appeared before him. It was a perfect copy of her, down to the last detail. Even the cold aura she emanated could be felt, as unreal as it was.
"So, this is the training dummy. Gotta train for like seventy years in here with her. We'll start slow, then just go up in skill until I get to learn more and more. Herta, delete each battle after it happens. Snap me out of it if something goes wrong."
Soon, he held his sword out, ready for battle. Jingliu followed him with tiny movements of her head, no sight of the eyes hidden beneath the blindfold. Steadily, he got closer, until a flick of her wrist sent her blade right after his neck. Metal clashed against metal, the sound a crisp vibration in the air. Her movements were slow, just like his without the aid of the Stellaron. It was going to take a long time until he'd get to her actual level of skill.
Outside, Herta kept studying him, the team of researchers that stood by her side compiling data on Mark, gathering all that they could on the Stellarons.
"What are the readings on that Stellaron?"
A woman from the team looked over to a screen, a bead of sweat rolling down her fore. She shook slightly in her seat, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Madam Herta, we... we can't get any more readings on it. It's like the Stellaron itself refuses to interact with the machines. The two normal ones are sending back similar data, but that one 'refuses' to be studied anymore."
Herta took a moment to think about it, unable to come up with a possible source for it. The truth was simple: no one knew what Stellarons were, they all made guesses.
"I understand. Leave it, then. Stop focusing on that and switch to analyzing his body. Reading into what effects they had on him is also of high priority."
The woman nodded, focusing on the machine and switching some things around with the team. Herta looked over to Mark, simply taking her time to try and understand what logic he followed. From what Himeko had told her, he simply appeared on the frozen lands with no recollection of the prior events. He could've been sent there from any corner of the universe in mysterious circumstances. It was like someone had teleported him there.
"Hm... he's too much of a mystery. Foresight or not, his circumstances are already missing a lot of details. If he's saying the truth, then some external forces were the cause of his missing memories and sudden transportation on that planet."
Her thoughts kept wandering, and without her knowing, Himeko had shown up, her steps light and dignified.
"Back already?"
Himeko nodded, looking over to Mark once more.
"Yes, we're back. The situation in Belobog has been handled. The IPC came to collect their debt, something they had given up on when they lost contact with the planet."
At the mention of the IPC, a sensor that did some reading on Mark shot up, only to soon wind down. The researchers were a bit stunned by it, but they pretended nothing happened.
"I see. Well, let's check up on Mark. He just started the last stage of his training."
They both walked over to the screen, watching what was unfolding at incredible speeds thanks to the discrepancy in time flow. Herta typed away and got a few scenes recorded, then slowed down for them to watch.
"The last stage? He's crossing swords with someone, right?"
Herta nodded, watching as Mark's blade was speeding up to match up to Jingliu's. It hadn't been a long time for them outside, but inside a few years had passed.
"He's already moving that fast. I take it that he's fully immersed in his training," said Himeko, studying the footage with a careful eye.
"Yes. He's done a few things already, and as much as I hate to admit it, he was close to pushing the Simulated Universe to the limit. He managed to control 100% of the power within him and was close to releasing it. That absurd amount of energy would have caused some issues."
Himeko nodded, taking a subtle note of what capabilities he held. She kept watching the recording for a while before Herta went over to check more of the readings the machine outputted.
"We've switched focus to his body in an attempt to understand what changes took place. The wounds he's had all over are partially healed, and the surprising thing I see here is a subtle trace of Abundance. The curious thing is that it lacks the effects that turned living organisms into abominations."
"The Abundance," repeated Himeko, her palm resting on her chin. "On the Luofu, he did absorb the Stellaron that was related to it. He did use other attributes related to them, such as ice and what we believe to be some form of fire related to the strange Stellaron. It's no wonder, then."
Herta kept checking the data, humming silently while reading it.
"He's an interesting test subject. His body is fixing itself at incredible rates while also strengthening itself, thanks to the Abundance. Perhaps he'll be able to become a proper vessel for the Stellarons if this keeps going... even if he would need a lot of time for that to happen."
Himeko simply stared at him, silent. She had a lot on her mind as well when it came to him, but a feeling of slight regret did play around in her heart. They had been a bit distant with him, doubting his intentions.
.................................................................
Mark was fighting against the virtual version of Jingliu for years now, even if he recalled nothing. It was their first battle in his own perception of things, even if he knew more took place before. She stood in front of him, her sword held steadily, walking slowly.
"Let's see what her speed is now."
She swung, coming in from the side with a powerful blow.
"20% energy output from me and she's not even doing her best. Damn it."
His body picked up the pace, his senses enhanced. Each blow was met head on, followed by his own attempt at a counterattack. Sparks flew all around as time seemed to slow down around them, their own dance of death following the beat of sword clashes.
Mark's movements had reached a level of engrainment within his muscles that allowed for easy counters, but attacking was what took more of him, requiring that he actually use his mind. He was far from pushing her on the defensive, even if he got a few swings sent her way.
"She's not going all out, she's not using her ice along sword strikes, she's not even viewing me as a threat. I guess I'm just a few years in."
The battle kept going and going, ending like each other one from before: Mark lost. He kept losing, the cycle repeating over and over. Indeed, it was good for him, since he didn't aim to simply overpower her with pure energy used at once. He couldn't use that much in the real world, and it would also render his training null. Instead, he focused on just keeping up in speed because it required faster reaction times, pushing him more and more.
More years passed, and Mark was slowly starting to feel something was off. It was something his mind had picked up on, a subtle change that went unnoticed before the effects increased. Sometimes, his vision would play pranks on him. Shadows lurked in the corner of his eyes, following him around. His sword tried at some point to meet them, but nothing was there. The eerie silence that followed a battle didn't help.
He was alone with an artificial copy of Jingliu, both of them standing in the city of Belobog, with no soul in sight. Herta's avatar was nowhere to be seen.
"Weird... it should have been around here," mumbled Mark, but he didn't pay it too much attention. Instead, he focused on the battle ahead of him, on reaching new limits.
Decades must have come and gone, leaving their mark in his skills.
"50% output, from here on out it's pure insanity if I go above. Still, it seems that she's at full power, meaning that I only need to use 50% power to fight against her the right way. Who knows, maybe my Sword of Will would give me an edge in a real fight, considering how it could cut through the Engine of Creation."
As he braced for Jingliu's strike, he was left in a daze as she moved to the side, leaping at him while swinging her sword, releasing tens of ice slashes that raged his way. Mark barely had time to register it, finding his body high in the air as his legs moved before he thought of it.
"Damn, good call, but now I'm fucked... or am I?"
He flexed his legs, propelling himself forward through sheer air resistance against his feet. He flew at Jingliu, meeting her sword with his own. Touching the ground, he kept moving around, distancing himself just enough to use his blade properly. Sparks and fragments of ice flew around as she added more of it to her sword, her strikes rattling his bones as time dragged on.
The two were tangled in sparks, slashes, and stabs. Mark's gaze kept aiming for weak points, studying everything rapidly before striking at any opening found, only for her to block and counter. He leapt back, distancing himself, only to see the ice slashes follow, falling from above as her form moved with them, changing direction to the side.
He dodged all of them, moving between them as he got closer, trying to cut her before she'd land. Metal clanked, throwing both of them back, increasing the distance.
"Heh, damn, I don't get tired; she doesn't get tired; this is something. We could keep going for a long time at this rate."
His mind grew heavier and clouded, the signs of strain from the prolonged usage of the virtual space and erasure of his thoughts over and over finally growing into something. He shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Herta, this is bad! I need to get out!"
No answer came to him other than Jingliu's cold blade buried in his chest. There was no apparent pain, but the idea of death clashed with his mind, sending it into a frenzy. He was hyperventilating, struggling to hold it together.
The shadows lurked around him, finally showing themselves. He tried to look at them, staring long and hard, but he couldn't make out any features. They were just shaped like humans. Tightly, he closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that it was all just an illusion.
Opening them again, he kept looking, only to find himself in the middle of nothingness. More and more shadows kept gathering, their forms morphing, countless whispers gathered around, increasing in intensity and volume as they turned into shouts, all of them pointing out the flaws and insecurities he harbored.
"What the hell is going on? This again? I thought I was rid of it!"
The voices kept increasing, laughing, mocking, shouting, gathering closer and closer. The same monsters of nightmares began appearing around, morphing into different forms, their twisted expressions and limbs coming his way. He tried fighting back, but his movements did nothing. They were simply ineffective.
"What is this? Show yourself!"
Among the shadows and twisted forms, one single entity walked closer, the culmination of them all, the single thing that he hated most turned living. It was a mix of many things, all of them born out of his own fears and insecurities. It was a being he had met once before, but now it haunted him even in the Simulated Universe.
Its face was ever-changing, the features twisting and cracking, opening and closing. Ears turned to eyes, only to then turn into tongues. It held no coherent form, playing with his thoughts just by looking at him. Arms twisted into tentacles, back into arms, then into chunks of flesh filled with the faces of those he held dear, all of them twisting and screaming in agony.
"What the fuck are you?" asked Mark, feeling himself slip slowly into something sinister, a primal feeling that had never surfaced like that ever in his life. It was pure fear.
"What am I?" it asked back, the thousand voices mingled together nothing but a painful sound.
"I am what you tried to banish. I am the very will of what you think you can control. You have no idea what it is that you're doing. Do you truly think you could hold us in forever?"
He took a step back, watching as the shadows were slowly closing in on him as the thing stepped closer. It wasn't something he could fully describe with words even if he wanted, but the grip it held on him was clear. Just like the time Phantylia tried to take over him, memories flowed into his sight, enveloping it as they all grabbed him, trying to tear him apart.
"No, no, no, NO!"
His shouts fell on deaf ears. The nightmares were worse than ever, the fake memories mingling with the real ones. He saw his family, all of them disfigured, staring blankly at him without eyes. The scenes kept dancing around, shifting his idea of self into more horrors than he could count. Countless faces of the people he loves, all of them sitting on the walls of a bleak room, staring at him, shouting, cursing, and accusing him. It wasn't just his family and friends back at home, it was also the people on the Express and the others he'd met on the journey.
"What is happening to me?" he mumbled, his voice wavering, his heart pained in his chest. The pain was real—too real to be a simple simulation.
Hazy, his vision blurred, giving way to the image of the twisted creature built from fragments of himself.
"You're weak. You might have won a few times, but it's just a matter of time before we take over. You're just a failure, a speck of dust in the grand machinery of the universe. You hold no value, and you know it better than anyone else."
The thing then morphed its head into a giant mouth, opening it wide. Mark could only stare weakly at it, unable to do anything. He was wrapped in tens of tentacles that held him tight. His ears were numbed by the constant screaming and painful reminders. It was difficult to get over guilt and insecurities, especially when they were a part of you for life.
He closed his eyes, feeling the putrid stench engulf him. Tears ran down his face like rivers as he kept repeating a few words over and over.
"I'm sorry..."
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Herta and Himeko were watching him train, despite it having been a few hours of constant surveillance. Mark was close to reaching the end of his training period.
"It seems that he's figthing Jingliu at a level of skill that's close to her prime. She's far from going all out, as he probably thinks, but he's still holding on well. This should match what he had seen and kept in his memories."
Himeko nodded, watching the screen with interest. Since it was the last battle, the time contraction had been disabled along with the deletion of his memories. They both wanted to see what Mark was capable of after a hundred years of training. It was an interesting sight, witnessing his battle, but it took a weird turn. The screen went black.
"Huh, weird. This wasn't supposed to happen," said Herta, instantly contacting Screwllum. Himeko watched in silence, looking over to Mark, only to notice worried looks on the faces of the researchers.
"What's wrong?" she asked, standing from her seat.
"His pulse has increased, he's spasming inside the machine, and he's breathing rapidly and unevenly. Above all, his brainwaves are fluctuating at an alarming rate, oscillating at extreme values."
Her heart stopped. Herta kept talking with Screwllum, trying whatever she could to try and make the screen work. Somehow, it did open, but no one had control over the Simulated Universe in that moment.
"What's this?" asked Himeko, stepping slowly to the display, staring at it with worry in her eyes. Her heart thumped loudly, trying to break out of her chest. Even Herta had no clue what was happening.
"What are those things?" she asked, trying—and failing—to move her avatar around. They could notice Mark in the middle of nowhere, a plane of nothing but darkness, surrounded from all sides by different abominations. The most disturbing was the one in the center—a being that seemed to defy any biology.
The sight was grotesque, and Mark was in the middle of it, face-to-face with a horror that went above and beyond normal. Herta kept trying to type away commands to somehow regain control of it, but nothing worked. The researchers were still panicking, switching to trying to administer different injections through the machine, hoping they would stabilize his condition.
"Wait... the thing's speaking..." whispered Herta, turning up the volume to hear what it was saying. The sounds were faint, but somewhat audible.
"...take over... what is it saying?"
Herta's puppet held a serious expression, bits of her humanity showing through.
"It's the Will found within the Stellarons. Most of them seem to have a form of ego, a consciousness, but to think they would manifest like this..."
The words it spoke were like poison to one's soul. She could see the scene change, the images flow, and she could see brief flashes of what Mark was seeing. It made her stomach churn slightly, disturbing her on a level she didn't think possible.
"Is this what you were dealing with all this time, Mark?" she asked softly, her words barely above a whisper.
Herta stood up, walking over to a specific terminal hidden to the side.
"I'll forcibly eject him. The safety protocol should still stand, even if control over the machine is lost. He'll be out safely, but we should expect his mental state to be in turmoil."
With that, she typed in a long combination of keys before the machine stopped. She removed the headpiece that Mark was wearing, only to reveal tears that fell down his face. The inside of the helmet was wet thanks to them.
"What the?" she asked as a few drops fell to the ground. The researchers opened the machine, only for Mark's limbs to struggle against the restraints on the inside. He was shaking and crying, and he kept mumbling apologies over and over.
Himeko stepped closer, leaning down as she cupped his face. She spoke softly, trying to hide her worry.
"Mark, wake up, Mark. I'm here, it's alright. Open your eyes, please."
Her voice didn't reach him at first, and thus, they ended up with a broken mess who seemed to have snapped.
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