The shattered planet was engulfed in a dead silence, with only the slow gurgling of distant lava rivers and the whimpering of the wind as it swept through the massive battle scars.
Mark Grayson sat on a piece of cooled, mirror-smooth basalt, his molten gold pupils quietly watching the white figure embedded in a mountain crevice not far away.
Time passed little by little.
The starlight gradually dimmed, and the long, cold night of this planet was about to descend.
The White Lion let out a faint, pained groan, his bone-plated eyelids fluttering a few times before slowly opening.
His crimson eyes, which should have been filled with wild battle intent, were now scattered and hollow.
He first saw Mark Grayson, sitting like a statue nearby, then his proud head moved slightly, as if trying to lift, but ultimately he just slumped back down, deeply embedded in the cold stone pit.
His gaze, unfocused, drifted towards the unfamiliar star-filled sky, which appeared exceptionally clear due to the thin atmosphere, yet also exceptionally cold.
An indescribable, deep sense of desolation, like a palpable chill, emanated from the White Lion.
This was completely different from the arrogant, belligerent, and always eager-to-fight image of the battle maniac Mark Grayson remembered; in fact, it was the complete opposite.
This stark contrast made Mark Grayson hold back the questions he was about to ask, choosing silence instead.
He just watched quietly, waiting.
One man and one beast, one sitting and one lying, formed a strange and frozen tableau against the backdrop of ruins and the starry sky.
Night completely enveloped the land, and the temperature plummeted, making breath turn to frost.
Mark Grayson gathered some dry rubble and broken metal, easily igniting a bonfire.
The flickering flames dispelled a little of the chill, also casting dancing shadows on the White Lion's dull fur and bone armor.
Mark Grayson's patience gradually wore thin in the silence.
He still had many things to do and could not wait indefinitely. Just as he stood up, preparing to leave, a hoarse, dry voice, like the scraping of broken metal, finally spoke softly, so faint it was almost drowned out by the crackling of the bonfire.
"Kill me."
Mark Grayson's movements paused, and he looked back at the White Lion.
The latter was still gazing at the starry sky, as if the words had not come from him.
"What did you say?" Mark Grayson's voice was calm and even.
"Kill me, Mark Grayson."
The White Lion's voice became a little clearer, but the deathly silence and despair within it grew even stronger.
"Use your fist, just like you blew up that monster… give me a quick end…"
"This is my… only decent ending I can still have."
Mark Grayson sat back down on the stone block, his gaze sharp as a knife.
"Give me a reason, a reason why a battle maniac suddenly doesn't want to fight and only seeks a quick death."
The bonfire flickered, illuminating the White Lion's twisted face with pain.
After a long silence, as if he had exhausted all his strength, he began to speak in a broken voice, filled with endless regret and self-loathing.
"Trigg… that bastard…"
He gritted his teeth as he spat out the name.
"When I was in the Alliance… he whispered in my ear every day… like a venomous snake… He said there was a way to make me stronger, to transcend the limits of my race… a new energy…"
"I need to rely on that unknown stuff to get stronger?"
"Pah!"
The White Lion spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva.
"It made me almost tear him apart right then and there!"
"But… he said…"
The White Lion's voice trembled.
"You don't have to, but your people can use it…"
"My people… they aren't like me… born with great strength and combat talent… they… are relatively weak… living on a remote homeworld…"
Large, cloudy tears rolled from the White Lion's eyes, quickly freezing in the low temperature.
"I… I was possessed… I wanted to make them stronger… at least… capable of self-defense… when I couldn't protect them…"
So, with the White Lion's tacit approval and even guidance, Trigg's research team arrived at the White Lion's homeworld.
The energy enhancer, extracted from Great Old Ones remnants, highly diluted and disguised, was injected into almost all of his people who were unaware of the truth.
At first, everything seemed normal, and some even felt their physique improve.
The White Lion had even been smug about it.
Until… the upheaval in the Alliance, and the power of the Great Old Ones truly began to show its corrosive nature, as if activating a long-buried plague switch!
All of his people who had been injected with the serum, without exception!
They… they underwent terrifying mutations in extreme pain, their flesh twisting, their consciousness devoured by endless hunger and madness!
Nearly half of his people melted directly into living nutrients to nourish the Great Old Ones' minions, while the other half… became monsters, devoid of reason, madly attacking all living things!
"It was me… I personally…"
The White Lion's voice was choked with sobs, his massive body trembling violently from immense grief.
"I had to clean… clean my home… my… people…"
It was a war a thousand times more tragic than fighting any external enemy.
He personally tore apart familiar faces, listening to them emit hateful roars that were no longer language.
In the end, the entire planet, except for him, had no other living, conscious kin.
The immense guilt and despair completely broke this warrior, renowned for his valor.
He destroyed all of Trigg's facilities on his homeworld, then left his homeland, which had buried all his loved ones and hopes, like a walking corpse.
He wandered, he fought, no longer for victory or glory, but simply… to seek death.
He hoped to be utterly ended by a powerful enough opponent in some battle, as atonement for his people.
Mark Grayson listened in silence, the bonfire casting a chiaroscuro of shadows on his face.
He could feel the White Lion's pain and regret, which almost consumed him, and it was not a false performance.
After a long time, Mark Grayson slowly spoke, his voice deep and calm, breaking the heavy silence.
"So, you choose to escape through death?"
The White Lion suddenly looked at him, flames of anger burning in his eyes.
"This is not escape! This is atonement!"
"Dying at the hands of a strong person is atonement?"
Mark Grayson stood up and walked in front of the White Lion, looking down at him. There was no pity in his molten gold pupils, only a gaze that was almost cruel in its scrutiny.
"That's too easy for you, and too easy for the masterminds who harmed you and your people like this."
"What do you want to say?" the White Lion roared.
"If you want to die, it's easy; I can grant your wish right now."
Mark Grayson's voice was cold.
"But then, Trigg might still be hiding in some corner, continuing his experiments, and the Great Old Ones would still be devouring world after world, creating more tragedies like yours. Did your people die for nothing?"
The White Lion's breathing grew heavy, the deathly stillness in his eyes stirred by Mark Grayson's words, creating violent ripples.
"True atonement is not death to escape pain."
Mark Grayson stared into his eyes.
"It's carrying that pain and fighting, tearing apart the culprits who caused all this! Until you shed your last drop of blood, or… watch them perish before you do."
"Perhaps you will still die at the hands of a stronger enemy eventually, but at least that will be on the path of revenge, a million times better than dying meaninglessly at my hands like this!"
Mark Grayson's words were like heavy hammers, each word striking the White Lion's heart.
His massive claws dug into the rock of the ground, emitting a grating sound.
Revenge… revenge on Trigg!
Revenge on the Great Old Ones!
Yes… if he died like this, those bastards would still be free… how could his people rest in peace?!
The deathly stillness and despair in his eyes gradually gave way to a deeper, more insane hatred and resolve.
He struggled, trying to get up, but his severe injuries made him fall back to the ground.
He raised his head, his crimson pupils fixed on Mark Grayson, and from deep in his throat, he let out a low roar, like an oath.
"...Good!"
"Revenge! Before I die… I will tear them apart!"
Mark Grayson nodded.
"Very good, then, from now on, your life is mine."
"Until you complete your revenge, or I deem you worthless, you have no right to decide your own life or death."
The White Lion gasped for breath, and finally, with difficulty, yet with immense determination… he nodded his proud head.
"I'm going into the depths of the universe to find a potential resistance organization, the Alliance, and to ascertain the movements and weaknesses of the Great Old Ones as much as possible."
Mark Grayson stated his plan.
"Your spaceship is more suitable for long-distance travel and stealth than me flying in my physical body."
He glanced at the White Lion's massive body and severe injuries.
"Moreover, you don't seem to be able to survive in a vacuum for long, so we need your ship."
The White Lion nodded again, his voice hoarse but now with purpose.
"The ship… it's mine, I can operate it… give me some time… to recover…"
Mark Grayson said no more, tossing over some high-energy nutrient solutions and medical kits he had found in the spaceship.
Hours later, the White Lion had barely recovered his ability to move; although he was far from fully healed, he could at least pilot the ship.
The two, one in front of the other, walked silently towards the silver-white, streamlined spaceship hidden in the mountain hollow.
The hatch slowly closed, and the engine started, emitting a low hum.
The spaceship slowly ascended, taking one last look at the scarred, utterly silent planet below, then adjusted its direction, turning into a silver light, and plunged resolutely into the deeper, more dangerous dark star sea.
A new journey had begun.
One was searching for hope and to unite forces, the other was a fallen warrior seeking an end on the path of revenge.
Their goals temporarily converged, heading towards an unknown destiny.
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