Worthy hated to admit it, but he was terrified of the dark.
Dimly lit spaces might not have rendered him petrified, but his childhood in Malas Town served its purpose well in traumatizing him. There was nothing good in the dark, where eyes could not make out appearances clearly.
It was the perfect place to hide secrets, corpses, and crimes alike. It also hid terrible creatures, humans and beasts alike. Except in the tower… it could hold more than that. It could hold unfathomable mysteries, things that the human mind was not yet met to understand, but would be forced to gaze upon.
Worthy had not seen such a thing yet, but just by way of attributing his experiences to the rest of the world, that possibility existed. Gazing too deep through the fog in the sky, or simply comprehending knowledge beyond the boundary of your floor, could leave you without a mind of your own.
He did not know it, but even Furfur of the Mind had been falling victim to knowing forbidden information. It had been killing him, chipping away at his vitality over time as he fought with the child. Although Alice was the primary support in his battle against the possessive fiend, there was much aid in the fact that the boy's memories, somewhere buried within them, contained information that slowly shredded the demon apart.
There was a primal fear in Worthy's body, incomparable to the dread he felt watching as millions of incomprehensible monsters flowed towards the wall of the Accursed Port like a sea of blood, tearing people apart. He'd watched men fall from the sky and get torn apart, but just looking at the darkness was spine-chilling. In Malas Town, he could walk into a space like this and be dragged off by a group of cannibals.
'D…Damn. I don't want to go in there, but I've made it this far, haven't it…?'
The crimson thread leading him to the belfry had gone into the darkness, becoming the only thing with color the child could see inside. It created a path that showed him a route to what he could only assume were stairs, judging by the way the thread twisted into different angles.
He couldn't believe he was faltering just because of some darkness, but it was also a fair concern. He was not just walking into darkness, but instead walking into a notable, living part of an entity. Worthy couldn't think of any house in the Accursed Port that was inherently darker than others. They all had the same lighting, one way or another. So finding such a raw source of blackness was unbearable.
What if he walked in and was transported into another dimension, or a parallel world worse than his own?
Maybe there was a giant abomination of a spider that had set up its nest in the bell tower, waiting to tear apart anything inside of it.
Perhaps there was an eternal battle unfolding within it, where miniature, atom-sized fragments of the Blood Marauder were fighting with microscopic golems created by Alice all those years ago. They existed, he'd seen so in the memories!
Fortunately, as far as he knew, they were long-since dead… But, that couldn't be true. The Prime Settlement was living, meaning there might have been other things left behind by Alice that he was not accounting for. Likewise, perhaps the Blood Marauder had some problematic fragments left…
Well, there were plenty of them outside the wall right now, aiming to breach and kill everything inside.
So, in truth, it was now or never.
Worthy would've preferred to choose never, but never was looking to span for only a few hours at this point. He had to move forward, even if he did not know what awaited him. He had to at least try to find something of value in the bell tower. It appeared far too unique for him to ignore; there must've been something inside of it, and he was going to enter and find what it was.
Pushing himself forward, despite the protest of his survival instincts, Worthy took his first step into the darkness.
Then, he took another… and another; and soon, he was walking in darkness. It was like he'd entered a new dimension. There was no sunlight coming through the door to illuminate the entrance. It was as if he'd just pushed through a looming veil of darkness, becoming one with its character.
'This isn't terrifying at all. Nah, I've been in scarier circumstances. It's all in my head. Nothing's jumped out to kill me yet, so I'm fine…'
He followed his crimson thread, taking his time. Well, he took as much time as a boy speed-walking through a dark structure could. His destination was the belfry, but he did not know if anything was going to break apart or suddenly impede his path, so he needed to watch his step.
There were noises coming from the distance. Even inside of the tower, he could hear the distant sounds of panic, growing more audible the worse the situation outside got. Eventually, there was going to be an influx of Climbers, and once that happened it became pure chaos. Everyone was unified more than ever now to battle a common enemy, but once they accepted that they could not handle it, they'd do everything in their power to survive. Throwing their rationality aside for the sake of self-preservation was going to be one of the most common steps taken at that time.
Before that happened, Worthy was going to find his way through the bell tower in the dark.
He lifted his feet and took measured steps, and each time he took a step the floor creaked beneath him. If he were an average-sized adult, or maybe even a child of slightly larger proportions, then the floor might've been assured to break under him. That might've just been his paranoia talking, sadly.
In the dark, he had no way of telling how worn the structure was. He knew that he was rising higher and higher up the bell tower, closlng but surely working towards his objective. Nevertheless, an unaccounted hole in the floor was all it would take to throw him off course, and potentially send him on a deadly drop back to where he started.
'In all fairness, the drop wouldn't be deadly I don't think. I'd probably be trapped somewhere with my legs broken, then forced to starve to death and potentially even resort to self-cannibalism to survive. Honestly, the more I think about it, that sounds rather lethal. Actually, I'd rather be faced with an immediately lethal drop which left me alone, waiting to die.'
Hopefully, he would not die whatsoever. There were still nine more floors he had to climb before he reached the top of the tower.
Goodness, wasn't this symbolic, then? He was a child walking through the dark, led only by a crimson string, which was leading him to the top of a bell tower. It felt like it was a reflection of his current circumstances, if anything.
Soon, the boy realized something was wrong, however.
The voices that he presumed came from the distance… were louder. He could not make out audible words and what they were saying.
"The Lord of Hope… the Lord of Hope has been bled!"
"Flee! The land is accursed, we are doomed! The Giants have fallen! The tree has wilted, and thus the Agnolians have withered with it!"
"The lands are drowning, my lord! We have risen islands, but none can ascend high enough!"
"Something has fallen from the sky! It… It is…!"
There were hundreds, even thoughts of different voices carrying messages that were too clear. The boy had stopped in his place and looked around in disbelief. It was like ghosts haunted the bell tower, and now they were whispering in his ear. He thought he was reliving another memory.
For a moment, the child feared that he would reach the belfry and see an ancient world from before the Lord of Hope was killed. No, perhaps he even feared ascending and seeing that the deity was in the midst of dying, and then he'd drown in the being's blood.
Maybe, worse than that, he'd rise into a world that was already drowned, and so he too would suffocate on the ichor of a god.
Worse than that, he may wake up beneath the crimson tides and survive long enough for the Blood Marauder, prowling the depths of the holy ichor, to consume him like it'd done with the rest of the deceased who perished during the drowning of the world.
"My child… Please, I know that you cannot forgive me," There was a new voice among the cacophony of whispering wraiths. It was one that sounded calm, old, and tired. It was a man who sounded guilty, as if he'd just done something that he could not take back, and perhaps never would have the chance to consider whether the deed was worth it or not.
In the wake of the new voice, Worthy continued his climb through the darkness. It felt… he felt that he did not want to hear anymore.
Yet, the voice continued, a sorrowful atmosphere descending through the darkness.
"We are doomed. Me, your mother, all of your loved ones; all of us, we cannot survive what is to come. The world is ending. Hope is lost, and I cannot find it in myself to search for more. But, still… Still, please know I am sorry."
Something shifted in the darkness. Worthy saw it this time, the faint outline of a humanoid entity. When he turned in its direction, it was not there, but he knew it had been. Something he was not supposed to gaze upon directly, but it undoubtedly existed, and knew he was there too.
"You will carry our burdens for us, my child. You will carry our burdens, and you will ensure the survival of what we are, were, and will be."
"You will take up the regrets, the hope, the joy, the despair. My child, you take everything that this world has and you will hoist it over your head, and I beg you forgive me for pushing this upon you. I know you cannot, but this selfish man can only pray." It was the voice of a man pushing the weight of a whole world onto his child.
Worthy saw the wraith in his peripheral vision again. This time, he did not make an attempt at looking at it. Instead, he realized that as he ascended, more and more of these wraiths began to appear. There were hundreds of them, faint outlines of figures that were not all humanoid, but outlines nonetheless. They were looking at him intently, staring at him from deep in the darkness.
It was like he'd been transported to a new world, because there were more wraiths than what could possibly fit in the darkness.
All of them remained clear of the crimson thread leading the boy up the stairs, as if they would not dare disturb the path he chose to walk.
'Spirits,' The boy deduced. They were spirits. Not the ones he heard about in stories, but true vestiges of beings from an ancient time…
"Promise me this, my child. If nothing else, then at least promise me this one thing," Worthy felt a weight on his shoulders, like someone had grasped him there and sought to hold him firmly. It was a familiar firmness, like the gentle, crushing feeling his father held him with during dark, desperate times.
"Alice, my beloved… Alice, stand your ground."
The world seemed brighter all of a sudden, the darkness descending the further he made it up the tower. Looking down, the boy still saw the darkness which invoked an unexplainable fear in him, but slowly, he found that he could make out worn stairs in his wake, and something at the top of the stairs… the entrance to the belfry, a ladder.
"Stand your ground, and when it seems like the world is against you, abandon a burden and stand your ground again!"
"You carry a torch! A burning, world-scorching torch in your hands that will nurture a legacy you cannot fathom, Alice!"
"There will be gods who stand in your way! There will be monsters who want you to surrender and perish beneath this weight that only you can carry!"
"Hate me! Despise me in your heart! Abandon my burden first, but Alice, my cherished child, I only pray that you live!"
Worthy felt as if the man were speaking to him directly. The voice was resonating with him in a way that did not make sense. He felt his eyes watering, as if his own father were speaking words to him. He felt himself crying and could not understand why until the light from outside began uncharacteristically blinding.
'Alice.' It was the memories of Alice that resonated with his emotions, because Alice was no longer a mere memory, but a part of himself in a way that he could not understand. Their minds were connected, even if she'd been abandoned in solitude in the depths of his mind where he could not freely reach.
Alice's father had pushed the burdens of the world upon her… and she'd abandoned some of those burdens in this settlement when she made it.
The Accursed Port… It was truly cursed by spirits, or at least remnants of those spirits that remained in the depths of this place. The blinding darkness, each atom of it, if that could even be used as a measurement for darkness, was deep with the will of millions of people.
The boy's hands reached up and grabbed the first pole of the ladder leading to the belfry, and then reached to grab another as the voice continued speaking to him. He heard the sound of powerful wind outside, tempests akin to the one that'd reached him when he opened the door.
"You sick bastard," Worthy gritted his teeth and spoke, ignoring the tears rushing down his face as he muttered words of resentment towards a man he did not know. "Pushing that weight onto your daughter? You've got some nerve."
Perhaps the child had no right to scorn the man for wishing to keep his world alive. Worthy may have done something similar, if given the power to do so. He could not even fathom the power it took to shove the will of an entire realm onto the shoulders of one person. He prayed he'd never have to.
"Those burdens…" This time, as Worthy climbed higher and higher up the ladder and deeper from the depths, he turned his eyes toward one of the wraiths.
As the rest vanished back into the darkness below, this one persisted longer than the rest. It had no face and no discernible features other than being human, and somehow the child singled it out. It was because this wraith was more visible than the rest—its will was more present than any other.
"Do you think pushing those burdens on your little girl was worth it?"
The child did not expect an answer, because the man was long dead. What he was hearing, just like every other voice, were the final moments, or at least the most critical, of a being of a bygone age. There was no discussion to be had, and the boy simply chided the ghost to appease his own wrath.
Nevertheless, he kept cursing the spirit. "You're a piece of shit. I don't know your daughter, but I know her enough to tell that that time alone in this world was hell. She built a city because she was so alone she couldn't stand the prospect of seeing nothing. That city became a sanctuary, and now it'll be destroyed, and those burdens will be for nothing. So really, in the end, was it worth it—putting your daughter through all that torment?"
He'd seen the memories and still could not fathom them. It was like his mind skipped certain points, solely because the mind was not meant to endure that much solitude or despair. Alice shouldered it all because she had no choice. She could not avenge the death of the world because the Blood Marauder had not killed them. Whatever killed the Lord of Hope was long gone and Alice was left as the last one standing when she killed the carnivorous god.
Worthy knew why the walls of the Accursed Port were alive now. He also knew that Alice had not been wholly truthful.
There was despair when she named this place. The entire city was brimming with despair, even on its happiest day. The boy could not fathom why Alice was so mighty. She was a woman that fought and defeated a god that stole the powers of every being that ever walked their earth, and she conquered it with creations that could have saved countless lives in the world before.
Alice had miraculously survived the end of the world alone, and she also escaped it.
Her power was not simply creation. Perhaps the law dictating it was impossible to create something from nothing persisted here.
She created things from burdens. Each and every burden a person ever carried, every miniscule weight a person carried in a spiritual sense, was pushed upon her and she used those things to create, and create, and keep creating.
When she made the first Gateway, perhaps she'd used the lingering burdens of the Lord of Hope as well, who undoubtedly had a connection with the sun where his blood fell from upon his demise.
"I guess I have to thank you too, in a way." Darkly, the child laughed as his hand finally reached through the square opening at the top of the ladder and grabbed hold of the old, wooden floor of the belfry.
"If it weren't for your selfishness, we would've died here."
As the child reached the belfry, there he found a massive, silver bell hanging in the center. If he rang it, the vibrations would probably kill him. Nevertheless, he felt that such a thing wasn't going to happen. Not only because he couldn't ring it, but also because there was a unique, mystic feeling emanating from the bell.
"Still, I'd be damned if I thanked a selfish bastard like you…" The wraith was still there, now hovering beside the bell. Silently, the wraith observed him and did not show any signs of guilt, or anything at all.
For a minute, the child stopped and looked over the vast city. It was lovely, a lavish place where everyone idled and grew comfortable, despite Alice's wishes. She made a shelter for those who were facing insurmountable odds, and now that place was going to be destroyed.
The only remnants of Alice's despair, and one of the only remaining proofs of her solitude, were going to be no more.
The straps of his backpack fell, and he took hold of it in his hand. The child did not have the strength to ring the bell on his own, and there did not look to be any device that could aid him in ringing it either. So, he could only put his faith in hope.
"That's right… Hope is lost, right?"
However, hope was not lost. It was War Reaver who gave the speech affirming that there was still hope to be had. One man, the mightiest man of all, who was now giving it his all to eradicate the most dangerous of monsters as everyone else played their part.
They were not puppets to be played with. They were human beings who had their own wishes and desires.
"Maybe you were right. Hope was lost a long time ago, when this world was drowned. Still, I'm willing to put what little hope I have into this one act. All the odds, I'll bet all in right here, and right now. Because there's nobody for me to push my burdens onto."
His hands tightened around the straps of his backpack, and he took steps forward, closing the distance with the massive bell. Even if he struck it with all his might, there was no guarantee he could move it. Yet, he held hope.
And a little hope was all everyone needed at their most troubling times.
With all his might—the inferior might that could hardly be used to push over a grown man, let alone move a bell with enough weight to crush the entire tower if it fell—he struck.
And as his back crashed into the tower, where the crimson threads tightly embraced it like a spider's working of webs, the bell rang.
In the next moment, a mighty force was unleashed that launched the child out of the belfry and onto the roof of a building nearby.
Then, after three chimes of the bell, which swung with enough force to unleash torrents of wind in all directions, the world shook.