*yoo, we're balling. Peace out and Deus vult, I hope you lot will like this one too.*
It had barely been a while since their arrival in Amphoreus, and both faced enough trouble as is. Contact with the outside world was cut off for some reason, leaving her and Dan Heng separated. Their attempts to contact Mark were futile as well. No one could receive their messages, something that at first they had blamed on the location.
Ruins aren't the best place for mobile signal.
Thus began their journey, lacking one crucial team member who had vanished without a trace.
"Let's just review what we've been through," said Dan Heng, trying to keep note of their events for future reference.
Stelle gave a light nod, lying down on one of the comfortable chaise lounges the room had to offer. The Chrysos heirs—Aglaea, more specifically—had offered them a decent room. It looked beautiful in a simple style specific to their world. It even had a nice view outside, and she couldn't help but wonder how March would have liked it.
"It didn't take us too long to figure out the current conditions on Amphoreus and to build connections with the locals. We would be in for a good start if not for Mark going missing."
He sighed, trying to think where the madman might've gone off to, but no idea came to mind.
"Phainon didn't come across him, which sounds reasonable. I did expect Mark to appear in Okhema, guns blazing like he sometimes does," said Stelle, crossing her arms. Her eyes moved over the ceiling, then back to Dan Heng—who seemed to be deep in thought as well.
"No one held a clue about him, not even Aglaea. Chances are he's gone somewhere else, or..."
"Or nothing," blurted Stelle, not even taking the other options into consideration. "The crash was bad, but there's no way something like that would be enough to kill him. It's just like he's vanished into thin air."
Dan Heng exhaled through his nose, rubbing both temples with a soft groan.
"Not kill, but a wound could still do him in with time. He might be wandering the place in a totally wrong direction... but then again, he'd have probably taken to the skies or something to get a better view of the area. We'd have noticed at least SOME trace..."
It was infuriating at that point—she had to be angry with him for wandering who knows where. They're both worried about him, but a mild sense of anger is easier to deal with than actual consequences and potential issues.
"Let's just rest, both of us. We're clearly tired, and trying to make sense of the situation now isn't the best move."
At his gentle urge, Stelle closed her eyes, sinking into the comfort of the cushioning. The world was a large place, but whatever Mark was doing, he was bound to pop out of nowhere at some point.
He had to.
.................................................................
Silence.
It didn't break; it didn't just vanish. There was no voice to wake him up, just a chilly atmosphere that prickled his skin most gently. Mark had to get up slowly, trying to fight off the headache that was sinking deeper and deeper into his skull.
"What in the hell...?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
'There's no way the landing could've been that bad...'
But there was no landing.
He found himself inside the Express cabin, with Stelle and Dan Heng unconscious around him.
"Shit!"
He knelt at their side one by one, quickly grabbing a pulse, checking for breath. They were alright, just out cold. Light slaps did nothing; trying to shake them was just as useless.
"Wake the heck up, guys. This shit isn't fun," he chuckled, thinking it a prank, but the two wouldn't stir in the slightest.
"This shit sure isn't fun..." he repeated, softer this time, like someone could catch it. With a sigh, he whispered a short prayer, turning to the One solid presence in his life.
'Ok, time to check what the fuck happened. There has to be a clue as to where I am. No way we're that far off from the mark... no pun intended.'
But the mark was nowhere in sight when he checked one side. Turning around, he stared out into space, catching sight of something that might've been natural given the nature of the cosmos—that is, if the cosmos could turn giant planet-sized chunks of steel into weird constructs.
"That thing... where did I...?"
He squinted, trying to get a better look at it. Large, metal, looks close to but not quite like the Death Star. It just had that artificial nature to it.
The first beat of his heart as realization struck felt like a sledgehammer to the head—one swung at full power by a silverback gorilla. It was enough to make his legs give way, but he caught himself with a chunk of ice that jutted out to support him.
The second one came down even worse as more and more information flooded his mind, breaking past any pitiful attempt at avoiding questions. His mind just made connections as it was supposed to, and somehow the information gave way due to how out in the open it all was. There was no hiding it; there was no denying it. It was all there, bare in front of his now-bleeding eyes.
He tried to wipe it, but it kept going. Drop by drop, more and more fell down the pale skin of his cheeks.
"Express...where...?" he muttered, trying to look for some familiar place. There was no trace of it. His phone—which he reached for at once—didn't work. The signal was gone, and nothing could push past. With no sense of direction, there was just one place to head to.
'Either I move or I risk dying in here. I've never had this sort of mental boom hit me before...'
But that very statement proved itself a lie, doubling the strain on his body. He was shaking, blood pouring out from his nose as well in tiny rivers that soaked his clothes one drop at a time. It only brought out more memories that couldn't quite make it past his already strained brain.
"God... just... don't let me die yet..."
With a hand smeared with his own blood, he gave up on trying to stop it. He just focused what little clear mind was left to his name into pouring energy out. The whole cabin was infused with it, taking to the one single directive he could give: move.
He couldn't help but be glad that it moved forward, forward towards the scepter—the very cause of his agony.
'I feel like death would be better right now... it hurts...'
He clutched his head in one hand, dirtying his face even more. Nothing could alleviate the pain; not even ice formed into a tight-fitting helmet. It cooled him down, brought him to a semi-functional state, but that would soon come to pass, and he knew it.
'What do I even do if I get there?'
He had no plan, not this time. Thinking about what would await him there just made the headache worsen, and the faint images of a mechanical being struck his vertigo into motion.
'Just a little more... I can see some crevice in there. I might be able to get inside through that spot.'
The cabin sped up little by little, as if listening to his soft pleas, wishing to aid him further. Stelle and Dan Heng remained unconscious inside, and he couldn't help but wonder if exiting the cabin would even be a wise move.
'What other choice do I have? I don't think anyone's coming to rescue us... not yet... these memories... I can't... too much, too soon...'
He had no choice but to take a gamble, something he'd have rather not done with the lives of others on the line. His was one thing, but Stelle and Dan Heng... that worried him the most.
'Good... I'll just... move us all further inside, just a bit...'
Holding on was a herculean task in that moment, more than life had even been. It's no wonder so many give in to torment and confess to whatever they're asked to, be it lies or not. Pain like that was one of the worst things he's ever felt.
'A bit deeper, then I'll walk out... try to leave a trace...'
His wobbly feet managed to keep him upright, while the vertigo kept spinning his eyes into the bloody orbits, forcing them to slide around like puppets moving to strings he's lost control over.
The second he walked outside, blood left his system as he knelt and puked. It poured out in droves, leaving him gagging and grasping for air. Surprisingly, there was something that kept him able to breathe.
The door finally closed behind him, remaining stuck like that by a layer of ice he'd tried growing around the frame. It jagged out at weird angles, thicker in some areas while others were barely a finger's width. He didn't care much for perfection, not when he struggled to walk.
One last act taken before going forward was to leave a trace large enough to be seen from outside. It was the best he could do, pushing out a surge of ice and letting it poke out into the emptiness of space like a giant pimple on the side of the metal planet.
'Done with this... now... forward...'
The further he dragged himself, the more the scenery began looking like what Herta and Screwllum had been exploring together. A strange purple hue held the whole place, with shattered pillars in its grasp. Ominous red lights stared at him from odd angles, stuck to crumbled columns of stone. For a scepter, it looked like hell.
The reason was there in the blend of blood, pain, and memories that had settled deep into his flesh. He had no ship like Herta and Screwllum had. His powers felt unstable thanks to his unstable mind. Flight would be difficult to maintain, and his normal ice paths might come out worse than the simple sealing job he's done earlier.
'I'm forced to make a flashy entrance. Not good with him around, but there's little else I can do.'
From underneath his feet, jagged pillars of ice shot forward, breaking and splitting like branches on a lightning-struck tree. Some were broken in the middle; some just deviated for the sake of it. Some got in his way, but the path was thick enough that he could risk falling without ending up at the bottom of wherever the chasm led to.
Slow and steady was his motto, even as the pain kept too fast and furious. It pushed its way deeper into his mind with each realization he kept making. The full story of Amphoreus just popped into his mind, and he was unable to use it for anything.
'Not yet, at least... not yet. I'll find a way.'
Forward he kept going, slipping and falling, grabbing on to the weird ice protrusions that he couldn't control as his path kept stretching. His power did what it felt like doing, its primal, unbridled nature rearing its nasty head.
His eyes got blurry, then reddened the more blood he failed to wipe away. It kept trickling, slowly coagulating underneath his eyelashes.
Step by step, he got closer to the barrier, barely making out the pattern imprinted on it.
"A bit more. A bit more."
His mumbling was barely audible to himself, but not to others.
"A bit more until what?"
The eerie voice cut through the haze for a blink, unmistakable even in that state of his. The unnatural way it carried through space, the way each couple of words was followed by a little break.
Lygus took a step closer, staring in Mark's direction, unbothered in the slightest.
"I did not expect guests, but nevertheless one such as yourself is welcome any time."
"Welcome, huh?" mumbled Mark, trying to wipe his eyes—slowly, trying to gather himself in front of his foe.
"Indeed, welcome. It is with rare pleasure that I offer these words to you."
Mark managed to stand up straighter, just a bit. His eyes wouldn't listen, so he was forced to stare in a rather blatant manner.
"I have no intention to fight you, not when you seem to have something I covet. It is, I admit, a mere pleasure of mine to witness a being such as yourself."
"Being such as myself how?" asked Mark, hoping that buying some time would let him gather a bit more strength. Lygus didn't prove to be that strong a foe, so maybe he could win with a quick strike.
"How? Your friends were able to enter Amphoreus without issue, but you," he said, taking one step closer. Mark's arm moved to strike, but Lygus stopped out of reach. "You alone remain in this pitiful state. I would much rather you not find your end in here, because the cancer of worlds inside you risks devastating the area on a scale much, much worse than what I have already done."
What Lygus had done already.
Those words set the train of thought back in motion. The Stellaron he's used to blow the place up, the Demiurge.
Cyrene. Irontomb.
Mark's mind caved in, the pain shutting him off. His eyes rolled over as he succumbed to the weight of forbidden knowledge, a future he shouldn't have peered into that far. The last thing he saw was Lygus looming over him, a white face ornate with two streaks of gold.