Chapitre 72: Spiritual Adam
*yeehaw, more yapp session right here, with the most expected beautiful dance to come in next chapter :))
Let me know what you think. Peace out and Deus vult*
Mark allowed his memories to flow freely as they sat down for a drink, talking about one thing or another, simply enjoying the simple yet bitter taste of 'Wake the Heck Up' that Acheron had suggested. It reminded him of beer, even if the bitterness was nothing compared to Himeko's coffee, the legendary drink that puts even the strongest warriors to the test.
Thus, he sat in silence, witnessing the scene about Aventurine's talk with Sunday and the supposed betrayal coming in from Doctor Ratio, who gave him up for information on the Stellaron and the studies conducted by The Family on it. It was something Mark considered trivial, perhaps because he had a few of those things in his body, gathered there together.
His memories moved on to scenes of what the rest of the Crew was supposedly doing at the time. Most probably the approach was the same, since his actions didn't seek to change the shift of the mundane things too much, out of fear that something greater would come back for him to balance things out. It was a thin thread that he walked upon, seeking to balance himself in both involvement and natural flow.
One wrong action, and his knowledge could become, at the very least, partially useless, which was maybe more than he could afford. How was one supposed to prevent a death before it happened if they held no clue of it? With a selfish wish in tow, to reach a forced ending where death is avoided as much as possible, Mark gave his most valiant efforts to preserve the future he knew while also changing traces of the past. One life saved there, another one in another place. He clung to his feelings like Acheron at times. Firefly's death was quickly rendered null as she appeared as SAM, thus Robin must also be alive. The question was 'where?'
"Even after that chilling tragedy, the dream is still running effortlessly," said Welt as the three of them headed out. "Other than The Family of the Harmony, it's hard to imagine any other power in the universe that could sustain a building of such magnitude."
"The Family itself is a huge, perfect building. Like... a living idol," replied Acheron to Mark's doom as he felt his mind sting again. It kept repeating over and over with every bit of subtle information that entered his ears. "Each member of The Family sees themselves as a piece of the divine puzzle, revolving a singular core and a shared ideal. Under THEIR command, they loyally fulfill their roles, offering themselves while also receiving sustenance in return."
Mark sighed loudly, rubbing his temples.
"Ah, damn it. I think this is no analogy, right? I have a feeling we're up against some hivemind or some shit like that. Crazy stuff."
The words leaving his mouth stung more, letting the shadows grow. Acheron took a step closer, putting them at bay with her mere presence.
"Perhaps you're right. But human bodies have their limits... and so does the divine's."
Mark shook his head, his gaze fixed on hers as Welt watched, listening along.
"Nope. True divinity doesn't corrode like that, doesn't make mistakes. I call beings like these 'fake gods', something that's pretty plain and self-explanatory. The Aeons are nothing but mindless followers of their own Paths. What would be the god here? The Aeon, or the Path? In short, I don't buy it. They're cheap copies, just beings of extreme levels of power, but not divine."
Welt nodded, taking in the words with interest, but the discussion would have to wait for another day.
"How about we return to the topic at hand?"
Acheron nodded, taking a brief glance around.
"Indeed. I'm sure you would understand it better than me, Mister Yang. The beautiful dream is crumbling, but not because of a particular Aeon, a particular faction, or a particular visitor. It's collapse stems from a certain inevitability of human nature. The Family refuses to acknowledge this, and it has ultimately backfired and become a catalyst..."
Mark listened as well, thinking about the situation as a whole and the information he has. Sunday, who forced Aventurine into that vow, putting his life at risk with a few words, speaking of Harmony's light while he himself is questionable by keeping the truth hidden. Hypocrisy, that was for sure.
"As people immerse their souls into the Dreamscape, where consequences and pain cease to exist and only ease and pleasure prevail, they draw closer and closer to necrosis. Regardless of the perceived bliss, death looms as the inevitable conclusion."
Mark scratched his chin, swirling his thoughts around.
"As someone said it once, 'Hard times make strong people, who proceed to make easy times. Easy times make weak people, who proceed to make hard times.' It's a constant cycle that seems to be present here as well, and back home too. Society had reached a point of easy times with no conflicts, thus, the people began creating their own problems, partaking in meaningless conflicts that held no serious weight. They chose to abandon what was good in exchange for pleasure and their own ego. So is the danger of an easy life."
Welt crossed his arms, carefully analyzing the points presented by both of them.
"In the end, the dreams built in the name of freedom became the cages that imprisoned them. Such seems to be the case of the society you described, Mark. Perhaps blinded by their own nature, unwilling to accept their faults thanks to their enlarged egos, they chose to walk down that path and cause trouble for themselves. The human psyche is a most interesting thing that doesn't always abide by the rules."
Silence fell between them as Acheron's hand came to a rest on the hilt of her sword, pulling on it just a bit, letting go in a flash. Welt seemed to find the motion a little odd, while Mark made no comments.
"I'm sorry. This is just a habit of mine. I've become rather... forgetful, and the hazy memories seem to become clearer when this sword is unsheathed. I now vividly remember everything that's occurred on Penacony. Ask away."
Mark had no need for that extra information on the lifeless, corrupted nature of Penacony. It was a weird sort of Las Vegas, that much was obvious. It was the sort of place that didn't sit right with him, especially with how far the people were willing to go in order to fulfill their every whim.
Thus, Welt asked and listened to her stories, while he simply stood there and meddled with his thoughts, trying to better understand what was going on with him and the world around. His mind kept doing weird things, hurting more than usual, yet his nose didn't bleed. At first, he thought it was just an effect of the dream, and yet, that was far from it.
They began pacing away, and Mark was nearly left behind as his thoughts grabbed him into the abyss called consciousness.
"Someone once said to me," began Acheron, her voice a dull melody in the vibrant place. "'Penacony wasn't like this a long time ago, nor should it be.' I've traveled through the reality and Dreamscape of the Planet of Festivities, watched the tides of night rise and fall when time stopped for people. Where the spirits of the rich and impoverished... remained forever fixed on their own scales."
She turned to face them both, her gaze determined in its own way.
"This is why I think the collapse of the Beautiful Dream is inevitable."
Mark let out a soft sigh while Welt fixed his glasses, his voice somewhat softer as he reminisced of the past.
"There might be a way to change everything."
"Perhaps. But if this is indeed the world that people desire—if this is precisely why life chooses to slumber—should we still seek to change it?"
While Welt seemed to think out his answer, Mark blurted out a determined 'Yes', not even bothering to think about it too much. The answer was already a part of him, engraved into his own will.
"Wants are not needs... and wants usually lead to disasters, to destruction of the self. Greed, gluttony, lust, pride, sloth, wrath, and envy... they're all part of a self-seeking person. Hell, they're part of everyone when you think about it, however... not everyone gives in to their nature. Some hold out and fight against it. Thus, let me tell you... should the people think this world to be the reason why life slumbers... I'd knock some sense into them all and make them realize that life slumbers only to wake up anew, with newer power to brace for what is to come."
She had a soft smile in the corner of her lips, and Welt himself nodded along.
"I guess it is now my time to share a story with you."
He took two steps forward, recalling events past, events that Mark could recall.
"There was a man from my homeland who, at a time when the world was grappling with deep, unhealable pain, made a choice. He wove together the dreams of everyone in the world, linking people's dreamscapes, and shouldered this burden himself. From this, he created a giant, a 'Spiritual Adam.'"
Mark listened intently, keeping the onslaught of emotions and memories at bay. It was a lot to take in, and seeing someone from that world talk about it felt eerie, to say the least—like a ghost telling the story of its death.
"Since that moment, the giant stood between heaven and earth, becoming the pillar of the world's existence. As a price, those who found it hard to move forward, who could not advance... forever lost their 'future'..."
Acheron listened, showing no hint of emotion, even if Mark could see something in her eyes. It was tiny, barely there, but it was—and sometimes being is more than enough.
"They slumbered in a dream devoid of disaster and pain, living out their days peacefully in the man's created utopia. And it is because of the wishes of those people who wished not to awaken that this Spiritual Adam became unbreakable."
She spoke softly, the finality in her voice evident.
"And yet you stand here right now, which also means... that man failed."
"Because people must always move towards the future. Even if human weaknesses make them pause, when they truly cannot move forward... humanity will eventually seek a way to save itself."
He crossed his arms, and Mark couldn't help but admire the touch of respect in Welt's voice.
"And that man... he was NEVER a failure. Like everyone in that world, he etched the possibilities of human nature into his heart. He was the sunchaser of legend, soaring towards the sky and embracing his final victory with his fall. He ascended to heights uncharted, only to come face to face with the sun—a place not visited by anyone before. His wings would melt because of it, only for him to fall into the sea, and after that... countless others would surpass him, soaring to even greater heights."
His eyes met Mark's, who were glistering a little in the light. A simple nod was all the young man had to offer—a simple symbol of understanding, of confirmed knowledge, of... compassion.
"A fitting metaphor for the Nameless' Trailblazing spirit," said Acheron, crossing her arms.
"Fitting indeed," replied Mark, thinking about the depth of it all. It was the original cycle of history, countless generations coming and building upon what was left of the past. Trying to reach a point where no one else could ever climb after seemed nothing but a concept for him.
"Thank you, Mister Yang. I know what you wish to confirm. The universe has innumerable similar yet different worlds. In these worlds, there are innumerable people who look alike yet don't. I, too, have embarked on journeys, encountering 'old friends' with familiar faces on different worlds, witnessing their destinies follow paths similar to mine. So, I will tell you..."
Mark's heart came to a halt, the spoken words carrying much more intensity than pure images moving on a screen.
"Even if not completely similar, this story you just told... It overlaps with my past. And within that abyssal dream... I ended that man's life, alone."
Her eyes met those of Mark, who was as silent as an animal hiding from the ones wishing to take it to slaughter. He kept thinking, imagining, connecting... it was hell.
"I am not who you think I am, nor will my home be as fortunate as your world..."
Welt nodded, speaking calmly, bitterness clear in the air.
"... I am sorry..."
"It's fine," she said softly. "I don't mind, as long as I can alleviate your suspicions..."
She looked at Mark, who was deep in thought.
"As for the name you said... I'm not the one you think I am, familiar as that name might be."
He held her gaze, speaking softly. Welt's eyes were just as attuned to his as those of Acheron.
"You lost your Kaslana... have you not? Your sword... the weapons forged together... Finality and what not... mere names that hold no meaning now, am I right?"
Silence. Utter and pure, heavier than steel could ever be, denser than mercury, more intoxicating than the sweetest allures of wine could even dream to be. Acheron showed no emotion, only a tear that came running down her face. Perhaps her memories had long since been lost, remaining a part of the blade she carries. Mark reached out, wiping that tear gently with a movement of his palm along her cheek. She didn't budge, simply staring into his being before turning around.
"That matters not," she whispered before looking over to Welt.
"I like your analogy very much. Indeed, birds are born to fly, but in a distant past, their ancestors could only gaze at the sky in envy."
Her gaze took to the skies, looking into the vastness that spread out above.
"They saw that faraway ray of light from above the heavens, piercing through the clouds and blanketing the earth. And so, time and time again, generation after generation, the birds spread their wings and took to the sky, attempting to touch its ceiling—all because the sun was there."
She looked back down, looking at Welt, while Mark kept following the movements of the shadows that danced in unison with his growing pain, keeping his memories at bay, letting them trickle out slowly. Acheron's world... her story was one of pure nihility.
"Then, what if the last bird finally soars into the sky, only to realize that the end of the light is not the sun, but darkness..."
Mark could almost see another tear in her eyes, which closed as her voice lowered to a pained, tiny whimper.
"Then why exactly... do we even walk towards the light?"
Mark sighed, thinking about how to phrase his words. Still, they failed him in that moment. For the first time in a decent timeframe, he was speechless, lacking ways to express the emotions he felt. Walking to the light had value in itself, a goal in life. She deems it useless, and thus Mark came to realize something that was missing. Her true path... it was Nihility.
Welt was silent, and thus she walked over to Mark, gently taking his hand in hers.
"Let's go. It's time for our dance."
"Dance?" asked Welt, thinking back on what had happened before.
"Yes, dance, nothing more. I don't know what Himeko thinks, but it was just a dance, something that I've missed out on a lot during my life... the simple joys of plain companionship..." said Mark, feeling pathetic at the thought of his life until that point.
Chapitre 73: Chains
*longer chapter today, cuz no chapter tomorrow sadly (kinda have shit to do sadly) so yeah, enjoy this and let me know what you think. I'm genuinely curious on how I did (and don't be shy, leave some reviews for the fanfic in the review section, helps a lot :))
Welp, I'll leave now. Peace out and Deus vult.*
He glanced over to Welt, letting out a tired sigh.
"Mister Welt, how about you go and do what you planned within the Dewlight Pavilion? We'll meet here later and have everyone gather together to discuss what we know and should do moving forward."
Welt nodded, watching Mark as he walked away with Acheron, who held on to his hand in a gentle manner, something a bit unexpected considering her somewhat cold character. It was one of the warm contours that made her who she was, the beautiful 'ranger'—in name only—who threads a path of self-destruction while keeping herself whole.
"Let's go, Mark," she said, pulling him along. She simply walked off in a random direction, and he was suddenly reminded of her ability to get lost in the most insane places, yet he didn't care. Something about the situation felt natural, almost like he yarned for it. Secrecy, the thrill of just the two of them heading off to someplace probably neither knows of, ready for their moment, a simple dance of two.
Thus, Acheron led the way, her steps leading to a secluded area towards the edge of the Dreamscape, where not a single soul was in sight. Just them and the weight of their tie in the air. Mark could see the shadows twirling around, ready to plunder him at all costs, waiting for the moment his mind wouldn't be able to handle the toll.
"You're a rather enigmatic existence, Mark..." she muttered softly, letting go of his hand as she took a step forward, her back turned to him.
"In what way, Acheron?" he asked, the words flowing out in a soft, warm manner. It was a heart-to-heart that they were about to have, that much he knew. She looked at him over her shoulder, palms clasped behind her.
"You seem so distant, yet so present. Always looking, never seeing. Sometimes it's like you already know what's about to happen, and sometimes it's like you're as lost as a wanderer in a faraway land."
She turned to face him, stepping closer until she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. There was nothing he could associate with her scent other than a pleasant aroma that engulfed his nostrils. Maybe it was the scent of a warm, beautiful death, or perhaps of a single thread that held one united with the world around, a beautiful red-colored string.
"Is that all you've gathered on me? I'm a daydreamer, what else is there to say?" he smiled a little, moving one hand to her waist while the other held her palm in it. It was a slow back and forth put in motion, a gentle waltz that began in a tender manner, warming up the body.
"Hmph, don't make me laugh," she answered, her own lips curling just a little. "You daydream, but the things you see... they're different from the average thoughts that fill one's mind. In the midst of chaos and different parties going after the Legacy, you chose to side with me from the beginning. It's almost like you knew of my nature."
He scoffed softly, saying nothing as they kept moving, going from side to side like leaves blown by the wind, trailing down slowly without a care.
"Well, let's just say that I have a good eye when it comes to things like this. I too, like our gambler, like to side with everyone at first, to keep all doors open just in case. Seeking to be on good terms with everyone works until a specific point, so it's all about playing it well."
His fingers were pressed together slowly as her own curled a little tighter, keeping his palm steady as a low, intense flame burned in her eye. The connection was there—something that words couldn't quite find. Kinship, but something more. Like water that knows it belongs to the skies, forced to settle on the ground and reflect the very thing that it seeks eternally. Their gazes were steady, focused on one another.
As the dance went, lacking music in the background to dictate a rhythm, he simply gave her a little spin, her own hand trailing gently over his chest as she did so, feeling the rapid thud of his heart against her fingertips in the fleeting moment.
"You say that, yet you didn't give others too much of a chance. You didn't even bother with the chance that The Family might not have been at fault and chose to side with the Stellaron Hunters in the blink of an eye. You've mentioned something that made me think you've had brush-ups in the past, and yet they're notorious criminals... or so the world says."
He shook his head lightly, parting ways as she went to the side, their hands remaining locked as the distance grew and diminished a few times.
"The world says plenty, mainly guided by the IPC's idiocy. I'll never respect that organization, and I might go as far as messing with their plans—that is, if I had the power to protect everyone. Sometimes it's better to leave the hive undisturbed and go your way, even if it's in the middle of the path. The bees will buzz but leave you be, and so you get to focus on other dangers that lurk around. Still, I guess it's enough talk about me..."
She leaned closer, her breath brushing against his neck as she held on a bit tighter, speaking in a low, interested voice.
"Not so fast... it's rather impolitely to rush a lady, don't you know? There's still much more I want to know, Mark... especially about those shadows that seem to follow you around."
He nearly faltered in step, thus lowering Acheron, her leg going up in the air as he held her firmly by the waist, leaning over until his balance was pushed to the limit.
"So, you DO see them... I see... How about you enlighten me, oh beautiful Emanator of Nihility... a being that shouldn't exist..."
Her gaze shimmered with a dark shade of black, just like the shadows that swirled closer, wishing to pull him down to his own makeshift hell that lurked in the back of his mind.
"I guess you're far too knowledgeable about some topics... my past seems to be like an open book to you, a simple story that you've read and memorized. You seem to understand what hides beneath the surface, so tell me," she lowered her voice to a whisper, their steps halting for a moment as her face inched closer to his, their tie thickening like blood left in the open. "What is it that you see inside of me, Nameless?"
Mark's hands trailed up the sides of her body, along her arms, his movements slow and steady, unlike his breath, which was ragged, brimming with uncertainty and unspoken turmoil. His mind was more of a mess, but the shadows didn't dare come closer. They stood to the side and watched, a faint flicker of white dashing through, only to get lost within the mess.
"What do I see?" he whispered, gazing into her eyes. They seemed bleak, but the emotions hidden beneath were layered, hidden behind so many walls that he could spend years trying to reach the truth of her soul. Still, he didn't use classical ways of figuring out someone. He knew her story, her trauma, her grief—he knew more than perhaps anyone else did about her.
"Your grief, your sadness, your loss, your pain, your anguish..." he breathed out slowly, moving his hands up to her cheek. His touch was light, scared, battling within himself. The conflict burned behind his eyes, like a raging tempest.
Should he just give in and accept what's before him? Should he keep chasing something that might never be, or take the promised ending that was in his hands? It was a simple thought that hid an intricate maze of complex issues, all of them forcing his heart to choose. It was either the beautiful, blazing red-headed Navigator that he loved and cared for, or the self-destructive beauty that he wished with all his might to pull out the darkness and save. His heart was at war with himself.
"What of them?" she asked, simply staring at him, keeping her emotions to herself. He found his left palm resting above her hips, while his right one still held on to her cheek. They were moving left and right, still engaged in their soft dance, their bodies close, the same darkness lurking in both.
"They're what made you who you are—the things that both ruined you and made you a beautiful masterpiece. Why is the price of beauty pain? Why does the world seek to defile it, to bring death upon all that is a gentle warmth in the darkest of winters? You've fought relentlessly, protected what you could, until you had nothing to protect but yourself."
She simply listened in silence, the memories a part of her that forgetfulness could never steal, a part engrained in her very soul. Loss, anguish—a story of no renown, a life that had no goal. Such was Acheron, the woman who managed to overcome nihility and embrace it.
"Such is the nature of life. A futile chase after nothing. Why do we keep struggling? Most importantly... why do you struggle?"
Her eyes reflected his very uncertainty in a way that no mirror ever could. The primal sight was raw, unfiltered, as seen by her, a woman who had lived hell and made it out alive.
"Why do I struggle? Need I answer? It's because we were given life, so we must live it. It's a thing of choice. All those philosophical talks about reasons of being, goals, how worthless they are or not... they're all useless..."
His voice was soft, painted in pure honesty and determination.
"I was born, thus I will live. I was given life, thus I will learn how to live. I am here... thus I will make it matter."
Their steps were slow, gentle, like a lullaby in motion. His hand kept caressing her cheek, and she unconsciously found solace in the warmth his hand provided, letting her head tilt slowly into it. Both her palms rested on his back, feeling the fabric of the coat he wore with dignity. She clung to him, even if just a little.
"You wish to cut down IX," said Mark, glancing at her sword. "There is light behind the darkness. The bird that reached the sky only to find darkness instead of light... it had to keep going. Darkness is nothing but the absence of light, thus... there is light somewhere, otherwise, we'd have no darkness."
Her eyes trembled softly, her soft lips parting just for a moment, letting out a tiny breath that mingled with his.
"You make it sound so easy," she chuckled softly.
"Sometimes we have to dumb things down for our own good. The complex issues tend to give headaches, so make them simple. Keep living, Acheron... I'll try to pull you out from the darkness..."
She sighed softly, pulling back just a bit, prepared to prolong their dance with a touch more movement as her eyes took in the shadows around.
"How do you plan to pull me out when you yourself are sinking into Nihility?"
His breath hitched, his right hand holding hers as they walked slowly in a circle, their interlocked limbs moving higher ever so slowly.
"Don't act surprised. I think you're well aware, but maybe you didn't fully accept it. Those shadows that follow you around... there's a reason we felt connected. You and I are the same, Mark. As much as you try, deep down you see everything you do as futile. It's strange, right? You manage to make things work one way or another, and yet..."
He spun her in place, her slender fingers dancing over his lips with the motion.
"You focus on the losses. You're willingly clinging on to the pain of the past, to regrets. Those shadows are a part of yourself in their own right, even if I haven't seen them manifest like that before. You're special, Mark."
Her feet slid across the ground, and she moved closer, sliding her fingers over his cheeks, down to his neck, along the partially exposed collarbone, only to guide him back into the normal dancing position as she began taking steps back, from side to side. He remained mute, listening to her talk.
"Perhaps like myself, you manage to preserve part of yourself against the destructive nature of this path, or it doesn't have full power over you since you cling to something, a purpose that, while futile deep in your heart, still seems attainable. To both see life as futile and strive towards a goal... that's the odd duality that some tend to have."
His lips pursed, silence settling in their midst as he gently sent her to the side, letting her body fluidly twirl to the outside, her hand stretched out as their gazes met once more. She smiled a little, and slowly, the world around them grew dark, leaving just them in that realm of nothingness. Her hair turned white, just like her skin, with crimson hues that covered her limbs, prolonging like cracks over her delicate features. Her violet eyes were a deep shade of red, staring through Mark like knives piercing a tender piece of meat. He looked down at himself, noticing the chains that were tied to his body, just like Black Swan had seen. The creature simply watched from above, grinning with a thousand mouths upon seeing Acheron.
His body burned dimly, the turquoise fire warm, reflecting itself on the dark chains that emanated dark fog, thicker than smoke and darker than the night.
"What is this place?" he asked, his hands still on Acheron's body as her frame returned back to him.
"How come we're here?"
She smiled softly, the look pleasant despite the eerie aspect that she took. It was the form used in her ultimate, when her sword was unsheathed. It was still in its scabbard, but he didn't dare question. Her eyes moved above, noticing the creature of horrors.
"What a grotesque sight. No wonder you sometimes seemed so lost in your own thoughts. With such a thing in your mind, I think you've had a hard time living."
He let out a heavy breath that had weighed down on his chest.
"Perhaps. But... it's a part of me, right? Not me, but... something that is there."
She nodded, turning Mark around so that her hands could rest on his shoulders as she inspected the chains.
"These chains... they stretch into the darkness. You're weighed down by your own past, Mark... I know the feeling all too well... as much as I refuse to admit it."
Memories of the things he's left behind without meaning to—family, friends, goals, ambitions—washed upon him anew. He thought that they were gone from his mind, that he somehow accepted the truth of his situation, yet it was nothing but a lie told to himself, a lie so good that he believed it. In truth, those thoughts were piled up into the creature of horror that lurked above.
"What if I cut those chains?" he asked, feeling her body press softly against his back, her breath warm on his nape as she held on to him, moving her hands to his middle.
"I'm afraid I can't cut those chains. I tried interacting with one of the shadows that kept following you, but they only seemed to disperse for a moment, feeding on the Nihility within myself upon contact. They kept their distance willingly, but the truth remains the same... they're beings connected to IX, and they feed on THEIR energy. Everything related to THEIR Path becomes nutrients."
With a reluctant sigh, Mark tried to make a decision, and thus he reached out to the side, summoning an imperfect Sword of Will that lacked a physical medium. He had only done it once before, and even then, without meaning to. That was the only thing he couldn't train, no matter how much he tried to.
"It's my pain, thus, it's fitting that I get rid of it, right?"
The creature spoke from above, cackling laughter boiling in the air.
"You'll never be rid of me, fool... no matter how much you struggle, I'll be a part of you to the very end."
He gritted his teeth, and Acheron took a step back. Their dance had come to an end, it seems, and not one they wished for.
"We'll see about that, fucker," he growled, and without further hesitation, his sword fell like lightning against the chains, dark sparks flying in the air, burning in turquoise bursts as he forced it through the chains. Acheron watched, feeling the space around them rattle and shake as the sounds of the millions of voices rang out at once in rusted laughter.
"I won't be a slave to you!" he shouted as the chains broke, vanishing into the darkness. The pieces that were still tied to him vanished, and an eerie silence fell around.
"Fool to the very end... I was limited by your mind, having it as a prison, however... you overlooked something... I'm you... a you that was born of them... the Stellarons that you boast about... and now your mind is attuned to the Dream..."
Acheron remained still, staring down the creature that mingled with the dark. The shadows dispersed, gathering together within the being above. Mark gritted his teeth, trying to take to the skies and fight the creature, but the sword vanished from his hands. So, he remained grounded, watching the shadows above gather into a single dark cube that vanished, leaving behind just an echo of a thought.
"I'll turn this Land of Dreams into a nightmare..."
The snow began falling softly into his mental realm, returning to normal. He checked inside for the Stellarons, which he could feel in his body. One blink, and they were back outside, both looking normal, somehow still holding hands as if they were still dancing.
"Well," she said softly, looking up at him. "You did cut the tie with it, so that's one step forward, but I'm sure you'll have to face it at some point. 'I'll turn this Land of Dreams into a nightmare', that's what it said, right?"
Mark's eyes, while looking at her, were clear of the shadows that once defiled his peripheral vision, yet the pain in his mind was obvious. He felt like his head had split in half, one part of his mind clashing against another like raging fire.
"If I'll have to fight that being here, so be it... but I doubt The Harmony will let it roam freely, right? It's some sort of 'holy' Aeon or whatever I should call it. It should be able to purge evil like that, right?"
"Who knows? I'm sure you'll be able to handle the issue when the time comes. It should turn into a memetic entity, a 'memory' that roams the Dreamscape."
He sighed and nodded. At the very least, he was free of that monster for the time being, even if he feared the things it could do. Still, the memory of him beating down 'Death' like it was nothing but a helpless monster alleviated his worries.
"Yeah, it'll turn out fine. At most it will only scare me into oblivion, but I did fight that will once, and I won, despite having been weaker. Thank you, Acheron," he whispered softly, pulling her a little closer. It was time to focus on the matters of the heart once more.
"Don't mention it," she replied gently, her tone warmer than usual.
"So, since I'm free of Nihility, I should be able to pull you out now, right?"
She shook her head, scolding him with the movement alone.
"Who said you're free of it? You merely let go of the manifestation, but your worries linger... they're not something you can remove like this."
Perhaps she was right. He still felt the tie they shared, a tie forged through pain, each one with its own intensity. They had lost a lot, each in a specific manner. Mark was taken away from his world, while she had to watch it crumble before her very eyes. No wonder she had ended up an Emanator of Nihility while he wasn't even on the Path fully.
"Well, it doesn't matter... I'll do it regardless..."
She scoffed, lacking malice, doing it just to mess with him.
"You're ambitious, I'll give you that, but it takes more to pull off such a feat."
More. What was 'more' in this case? He felt like the answer was there, visible, but he was scared to take it. An emotional rollercoaster, going from the heart to the mind to a realm beyond it. Still, they were holding one another, even if the distance was there. Slowly, somewhat moving on pure instinct, he stepped closer, feeling his heart and mind clash.
"Himeko thinks me some sort of womanizer... hell, is it even worth trying? If she changed her opinion so fast... wait, when did I even think she had a good opinion of me regarding these things? She got mad thinking I ditched the mission. Wait, is that all? Hell, do I even care anymore? Should I give up on what I have here? Do I even try? What the fuck do I do? Hell, I'M OVERTHINKING AGAIN!"
She could notice it on his face that something troubled him, despite the closeness. Thus, like a fleeting moment, she chose to do something that worked in her usual manner of thought—based on feelings. Buried beneath layers of suffering and pain was a side she thought forgotten—a softer, gentle side. Without much hesitation on her side, she gently wrapped her arms around him—perhaps for both of them, not just him.
"Take a moment to breathe, and let go. We have a mission to focus on. Thank you for the dance."
He smiled a little and hugged her back, whispering.
"Anytime, Acheron... anytime..."
Thus, silence settled, with the issues of tomorrow left to be handled in their due time as they simply sought the warmth of the moment.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
200+ Classement
Power Stone 
12 Power
stone 
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