*I AM NOT DEAD! DESPITE THE ODDS, I'M STILL HERE! DEUS VULT!*
His hesitant steps took him to the center of the dark room. The floor was smooth, no steps. The depths of one's mind were unfathomable, so much so that trying to lay out every single thought stuffed in there would take enough time out of someone's lifespan—perhaps equivalent to the years encompassed by the memories. The case with Blade was perhaps even worse than any other human. Having lived for longer than most, Mark found endless chaos inside.
His focus was put to work like a star's core, burning on endlessly. It wasn't easy, but it was a variant worth exploring. His image of things was poetically tragic, with dead brown leaves and greenish branches, putrid and toxic, spanning the entirety of Blade's consciousness. That was mara given form—its true form, or the one Mark's mind perceived, remained a mystery.
'Alright, I'm supposedly inside. Now, to get rid of the insanity factor... if I can, that is.'
Carefully honing his control further, Mark pushed bits of his will inside, shaping it into shears suitable for the task. From outside, the others could only witness his eyes squinting in their closed state or the wrinkles on his forehead waving up and down with each motion he took. Blade was surprisingly calm, quiet like the dead. He had woken up from the temporary moment of slumber, calmly waiting.
The crammed space was hard to work with, so Mark kept pushing further within, as if shrinking himself to turn even the shortest blades of grass into a forest. The image shifted from fireworks crowding the sky to something more manageable, shifting and shaping to slowly become manageable. Sparks turned to bubbles, light to branches—ideas turning from concept to something tangible and comprehensible.
'Time for cleanup. Careful not to touch the memories. I just need to prune the rotten thing out of his mind one bit at a time. It's a lot, but burning it is no option. I'd risk taking out his memories or worse—his idea of self. Not that I'm fully sure of it, but tampering with one's mind will undoubtedly lead to disasters like that.'
One motion at a time, the rotten branches were chopped off only to turn into dust before vanishing from sight. It was a long process, with some bubbles—memories—being wrapped tightly, while others somehow had a looser grip. Mark thought it was Kafka's influence, just another guess in the sea of doubt he so often dipped into. Too much guesswork for his liking, but that's how powers are being developed in his eyes.
"It feels alright," said Blade, unprompted. He must be sensing the effects of the cleanup process, his mind a touch lighter.
Mark kept working, the speed slowly amping up as the process became part of him. The mara ran deep, with the space in his mind seemingly increasing with each breath.
'Maybe it's tied to Yaoshi's influence—the good side of it, that is.'
"I must admit, I didn't expect things to take this turn," added Kafka, her tone smooth as usual. There was a glint of approval in her eyes, one Mark couldn't quite catch thanks to what he was doing.
Silver Wolf and SAM watched from the side, exchanging looks for a moment before staring at Blade anew, seeing the way his expression seemed to soften a touch. Considering how long they've been working together, the change was both easier to notice and totally unlike him.
"I never thought I'd see the day where Blade would be close to smiling," teased Silver Wolf, arms crossed as she walked around to get a better look.
Mark remained motionless, barely registering the words tossed around. For him there was nothing but the cleansing process. The memory bubbles didn't seem accessible, tempting as they looked. None gave away any secret, keeping everything as it was meant to be.
Time kept flowing, hours passing without Mark noticing. Tedious work kept him stuck there, but the joy of actual progress kept his mind unaware. The others did linger around, moving a bit, just doing their thing while still keeping an eye out just in case the worst would happen.
Silver Wolf began playing away on some handheld, while SAM took a seat at her side. Kafka busied herself with some maintenance on her weapons, handling them diligently.
"I think I'm done," said Mark, his voice sounding foreign for a second thanks to hours of silence. He stood up, wiping some blood that came pouring down his nose the moment he had moved.
Kafka stepped closer, dabbing a handkerchief to his skin, the red droplets spreading through the clean white fiber. It seemed to have come from her coat, which did strike him as something she'd keep mostly for appearances or a touch of gentleness in her otherwise crazy personality.
"Well, well, well... you are a surprise in more ways than one, Mark," she remarked, the same easy smile on her lips that she brandished whenever the situation fit it.
"You keep mentioning that," he nodded, letting her wipe the blood away.
From the side, Blade got up as well, looking around the room. Everyone watched him, waiting for whatever would happen. He simply nodded at Mark, speaking in a voice perhaps clearer and calmer than usual.
"Thank you."
Mark gave a nod of his own, satisfied that it had worked. Blade still remained true to his personality, the distance between himself and others seemingly still in place—but with a touch more leeway. It was an oddly pleasant sight; that much he had to admit. Considering Blade's past, a touch of humanity displayed, even if barely, felt comforting.
'I guess this is one more thing I got a chance to solve. I'll have to go to the Xianzhou Luofu to try and fix up everyone. That would take a shit ton of time, but I'd gladly spend it trying to heal whoever I can. I think that Jingliu is first on my list tho.'
Snapping back to the present, he saw that everyone but Kafka had taken their leave. She turned her back to him for a moment, humming softly to a foreign tune. Mark just listened, humming along a touch off-tune. He tried to keep up for the mere sake of doing it. It was a peaceful moment, a soft melody with a touch of reverb from him and the delay in sound. Slowly, however, it came to a stop.
Silence settled in the empty room as Mark's eyes lingered on Kafka's back. He was half expecting her to strike, to test him again, or to simply mess with him. Still, the lack of sound was heavier than anything else in the moment.
"For someone capable of handling the memories of another," she started softly, her voice both amused and scolding. "You lack awareness of your own."
He raised a brow at that, curious as to what she meant. He was pretty decentered from the statement alone, grasping at everything he could. The past was there, and the future too, despite a solid frame made of pain guarding them. It didn't quite make sense to him, but she sounded too serious to be simply joking. Was there something he missed, perhaps?
None of the recent events seemed to point at anything, so he did what anyone would in his shoes.
"Go on, develop the idea. I'm curious what makes you say that," he responded, right palm resting on his chin.
She let out a soft sigh, shaking her head slightly before meeting his gaze. There was something in her eyes he couldn't pinpoint, but their beauty was rather indisputable. For a moment it was a reminder that he was just a normal-looking guy surrounded by people who probably outdid models in their fields without even trying.
"This is what I'm talking about. You remain unaware of the change, even if it's right underneath your nose... or perhaps in this case," she took a step closer, tapping his forehead lightly. "Right behind your nose, inside your mind."
Mark closed his eyes, sighing without pulling away. She stared up at him, studying him.
"Well, you do love being cryptic; that much I can say for sure. What I am missing, however, still eludes me. I'm not sure if you'd be so kind as to outright grace me with the truth."
"You're right about that, Marky. I do like toying with you sometimes, so I'll have you keep guessing."
Bit by bit, she began pacing from one side to another, keeping close to him as she kept her arms crossed underneath her chest.
"Elio cannot see you, so you bring about uncertainties. However, you do seem to stick close to the script, as if aware of it yourself. Your mind is special, from what I understood, guarded in a way that just glimpsing at it can bring pain or even death."
She kept threading around something that he could almost see. Words about his mind killing if one tried looking at it. It brought Black Swan to mind and how she did try to force her way into his memories. It didn't go that well.
'Could it be?'
His expression shifted just enough to signal he's slowly catching on. Kafka smirked, going on with her one-sided dialogue.
"However, what if someone tried to rummage through that pretty head of yours without looking? What if someone simply replaced things, burning some without looking?"
His blood ran cold, sweat dripping down his back in cold batches. The beats of his heart thrummed loudly, so much so that he thought Kafka could hear it too. She held his gaze, once again closing the distance. Her palm landed on his jaw, moving slowly up to cup his cheek. She leaned in, whispering.
"Yes, Marky. Someone tampered with your memories. I'm sure you caught on by this point. They said your mind is impressive, nearly impenetrable... but not impossible to modify. Getting things out is impossible, but putting others inside or burning away what was there... that seems to work just fine."
Their eyes met again, closer than he should allow. Still, the revelation had him frozen in place, rushing from one memory to another, checking, trying to understand what had been taken from him—or simply what had been destroyed.
It was one of his greatest fears.
Pushing past the pain of the future he was forbidden at the time, Mark began looking for answers, trying to keep the backlash to a minimum by focusing just on who could've modified his memory in places he's visited before, not daring to look into the unknown worlds they were yet to visit.
Answers came slowly, tantalizing in looks, with a deadly charm attached to them. It was, once again, the damned planet of festivities—Penacony.
"Son of a fuck," he muttered, blood gushing out his nose as the room began spinning. The color faded from his cheeks as his body gave up. Kafka caught him, gently laying him down. She bloodied the handkerchief more, whispering softly.
"It will be ok, Marky. All will be known in due time. There's always a reason why things must happen. You've become stronger now, so maybe give us a hand in the future. Until then, stay safe, my little rival."
His eyes tried focusing on her, but the whole world turned black. The strain had been too much for him to handle, even if the information itself wasn't too great. The burden stemmed mainly from everything else surrounding it and the gravity of other things tied to the person who had modified his mind.
When he awakened, he was lying in his bed on the Astral Express. He took a look around the room, noticing nothing out of the ordinary. He stood up quietly, a touch wobbly on his feet. The atmosphere was calm, unlike the chaos his mind had been drowning in.
'Better not to think about it again. I'll just go out and see what the others are up to.'
So, he made his way out, looking at the training room with a slight squint to his eyes.
'Hmm... now that I think about it, I think this one room is extra or something... am I wrong? I don't think I am. I'm pretty sure something about this... wasn't meant to be. But then again, my 'personalized' Stellaron wasn't meant to be either, so I think I can blame the same figure for both things. He...it...whatever did expect me to arrive, so perhaps it's not a stretch to assume it somehow got me a room in advance.'
Memories of that strange shadow came back, but he didn't bother much with them. For now, he paced down the hall, through the lobby, and finally ended up at the stunning Party Room, where everyone stood together by the bar. To his surprise, Sunday was there.
"What the? Why are you here?" he asked, the memory clicking in his mind. Quickly, some internal math took place based on how this new memory had been made available to him, which meant one thing.
"You're finally back!" shouted March, running his way to quickly pull Mark in a hug. She did look worried, and so did the others. They quickly went to his side, with Sunday standing a bit off to the side, like he felt a touch uncomfortable with intruding on the moment.
"Yeah, I am back. What the hell are you lot looking so worried for? I was gone for what... a day or two?"
He did say one day, but the new memory unlocked did prove that much more had passed, enough to make him worry slightly.
"You were gone for two weeks. We didn't hear from you, so we were worried sick," added Stelle, hand on her bat like she debated smacking him or being glad he's back.
"Two weeks, huh? It sure has been longer than expected, but not too long," he nodded, letting out a sigh of relief.
Still, he did wonder what the hell the Stellaron Hunters were doing for two whole weeks. Surely someone would've found him inside his room had they brought him back early.
'I guess they kept watch over me or something to make sure I don't die like some idiot. It sure would make for a funky death.'
He looked around, meeting Sunday's fleeting gaze. Mark just nodded, speaking calmly.
"Well, glad to have you here, bird boy. We're a bit short on space, so we'll need to figure something out for your housing also. I think I could work something out in my own space. Hell, I don't use three quarters of the room."
Sunday's eyes widened a touch, just enough to betray a hint of surprise. He was accepted that easily despite them having fought before, despite the derailed event that took place back then. Mark had no animosity towards him, simply accepting the man with open arms.
The others quickly exchanged some glances, making the tension vanish at once. Black Swan was there as well, studying Mark more than he'd have liked. She simply pointed to his neck, chuckling.
"My, oh my, it sure seems someone was 'busy' while away."
All eyes fell on him again, but this time on a specific spot he couldn't see. His hand flew there at once, rubbing slightly. He stared at his palm only to notice a shade of red smudged lightly.
"Huh?"
He was as confused as one could be. Himeko tugged him closer a bit more forcefully than needed, analyzing the mark with a keen eye.
"We were worried sick, but it seems you were busy having a good time."
Mark looked even more confused. Welt, as if sensing a bomb was about to go off, quietly retreated, pulling Sunday away. Stelle and March were watching, with Dan Heng debating if he should try to swoop in and save Mark.
"He's on his own in this one," he concluded, standing alongside March and Stelle, who were on the verge of grabbing popcorn.
"What kinda fun are we talking about? I don't even know what's on my neck, hell," he started, trying to push out honesty mistaken for deflection.
Himeko simply tugged him closer and sighed before grabbing a wet wipe Shush brought over. She wiped at his neck, back to being her usual composed self.
"It's lipstick, Mark."
Internally, he was cursing the living hell out of Kafka and her pranks, using words in languages the entirety of the universe wouldn't understand, with such colorful expressions that the devil himself would appear to take notes.
His cheeks went red, and a soft, barely audible few words managed to slip out.
"I didn't..."
He sighed, hating every moment of that. Himeko gently turned his face her way, her golden eyes quietly looking for sincerity.
"Are you saying the truth?"
He nodded, voice still close to a whisper.
"Kafka's prank, nothing more. I had a chat with them, and I ended up passing out... I think I was out of it for a couple of days. I know it sounds insane, but it's the truth. She told me something important that I need to look into down the line... but I didn't do anything stupid."
She nodded along, quietly brushing her thumb over his cheek. He was flushed, but there was no trace of a lie in his words.
"I understand, Mark. Just... be careful, alright?"
Somehow, the moment lingered for a bit, with Mark speaking without thinking.
"There's just one woman I'd kiss."
March and Stelle somehow got close enough to listen in without being spotted thanks to the tense moment those two were having, so they caught his words. They both gasped, exchanging knowing looks. It was the moment that snapped both Mark and Himeko out of it, with the former running away while shouting something about needing to go buy some materials to try and make a wall.
'FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! WHY DID I HAVE TO THINK LOUDLY?! SHIT!'
//note here: the next events are pretty much that one Christmas special I think I wrote like one year ago, then I have to move on to new things – Amphoreus. I still have to finish it, but I'm trying :))