02 / 04 / 2019 - ????????, ????????
…
…
'Alive.'
Hazy like a mist, the scattered remains of what was once called thought appear once again.
Like a feather, a chill brushing through his bare skin invokes a tickle that awakens.
'Border?'
Body undulating in the darkness, stable in its own way.
A familiar feeling and situation. The drifting sound of ambience tells.
Slowly, thoughts gathered and converged — so that even, like an instinct, it knows its own time.
Hands hugging the knees like a shrimp, head hung low as his eyes closed shut, serene.
'Must go.'
Slowly, but surely, heavy but unimpeded, clarity must return.
The serene face turned cold and somber; the chill, as always, resisted him, didn't want to let go.
Closed eyes struggling; the eyes beneath the lids flickering, darting around.
This time—
Opened, and lifting his head slowly — can't make out details amidst the darkness, the chill stinging his body, frozen.
There's a direction, somehow, in this silence, his heart beating fast.
An omen, something unfamiliar.
In front of him.
Two red circles of light, like a lamp.
For the first time, they illuminated the eternal darkness of these seas.
Eyes widen, response late.
It rushed towards him, along with an endless chill, and then—
Agony and Resentment.
———
"AAAAKH—HAhhhhhh!!!"
Eyes snapped open, bloodshot and fully red.
Pain, pain, splitting pain assaulted his mind and brain.
Two hands clutched his own head — his left hand grabbing the dusty hair hard, while he used the cold gun, banging it upon his head, fighting pain with pain to ease it.
But no matter what, all his attempts led to nothing.
"HAAhhhhh—Hahhhhhh!!!"
Biting his lip, he curled up like a shrimp amid the same everlasting darkness, unchanging, though there was some silver light near him.
Blood flowed from his lips through the pain, and tears trickled once again from the corner of his eyes, along with blood that slid down from his head to his temple.
Inside his mind right now is a mess — conflicting memories and hatred colliding.
Various scenes flashed by, eyes unfocused, along with various screams and language of unknown origin, but their meaning was clear in his head.
He couldn't even avoid it as a storm of myriad emotions and immersion hit him — anger, confusion, hatred, and then the greatest of them all.
Resentment.
…
"AAAAGHGH—!!!"
Behind a huge stone wall stretching across the edge of Helzogg, bright red and orange light bloomed from the Rivers.
It brought along heat and warmth, safety and reliance — or that's how it was supposed to be, until the accident that was happening now…
"Why?! What are the engineers at Belzarg doing!!!"
The Dólgþrasir shouted through their teeth as their short statures fended off their own creations that had now killed their own kin.
And he too—
Clank
"Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! How could this happen!"
His eyes wide, huffing white mist through his long beard, the hammer met the steel sword, parrying the attacks of [Type 1-III Adjustor Puppet].
Letting out a huff once again, he lifted his left hand and aimed his musket with one hand, eyes looking through the close scope, while his right held it in place.
Smiling in anger, he knew that if he stalled it long enough, this featureless puppet would adjust to his moves and take into account his wisdom.
So—
Boom
The armour on his body trembled from the recoil as smoke rose; the smell of gunpowder and ash rose too, and the slender muzzle was red from overheating.
Thump
And under his gaze, he let out a breath, took back his left hand, and put the hammer at his right side.
He did not doubt that they would survive this; as smart as they are, they are still stupider than a drunkard.
His gaze rested upon the headless puppet, its faceless head now leaving nothing but a hole and a charred edge.
"Are you done yet? Old Næfr, would ya spare a moment, hah!"
Snapping up under his team's call, he turned his body and raised his musket towards another Adjustor Puppet that attacked Patti.
Gaze staying on the scope as he aimed at the puppet's head amidst the boy desperately holding off with a hammer in his hands.
"You useless mat! Leave it to me, old man!"
"(Thunder)"
And under his gaze, as the chant resounded in his ears, a lightning bolt flashed from behind him, traveled to the Adjustor Puppet, and then, leaving a spark, burned its Machinery Chip.
"Huhhhhhh…"
Unluckily, under his gaze, the lightning traveled through the arm of the Adjustor Puppet and left a little discharge through his body, causing him to fall to his knees.
"We are done here, too, old man!"
Putting down his musket, he shook his head, ignoring their call; he turned his body towards the Gate that was far away instead.
"Giddy up, sleazy one! We must go to help those at the Gate — if they reach the Residential Area—!!"
'And swear that if Mezakeir has fallen—'
Then he put the hammer on his shoulder while his voice echoed to the street as he secured the square, looking deeply and with resentment towards the distant Gate…
"—Then I'll personally butch up those incompetent bastards in the Council Hall! Mark my words, ya scum!!!"
…
Long later, near the Gate.
"Hold your line!!!"
"We must not fall, or those seedlings will fall!!!"
Screaming at the top of his lungs, his furious gaze rested upon the enemies; then, raising his beloved hammer and slamming it down on the concrete,
"(The Anger of Earth!)"
Rumbles echoed far away from the great quake. The concrete ground blasted open as his hammer was powered by the rune, leaving an earthquake that spread forward as various Puppets fell.
And right as he lifted his hammer to his shoulder in an attempt to catch a breath, the soldier beside him reported in a horrified voice, holding a telescope.
"Captain! We caught sight of [Type 3 - V One of Six, Gollus]!!! How could it have traveled this far!"
'What?!'
His mind frozen. Gollus? Gollus!
Snapping back up, he took the telescope from the young soldier and looked towards the open gate filled with hazy red mist; a silhouette of a giant figure loomed.
The little calloused hands clenched the telescope hard — hard enough to crush it — and at the last moment before the telescope surrendered to his strength, he caught himself.
'No…'
But it was too late.
A beam of light traveled through at the same time as his lungs expanded.
"Incoming!!!"
Screaming once again as his lungs burned, the white light traveled through the distance in a flash, falling one block in front of him.
Shwing
There was no scream, nor explosion — all was decimated to ash under that light. His eyes were wide as his soldiers, his defenders, became ash; that was death in front of his eyes.
Death not in honour, but knowing they had no chance.
That Bezgarz and probably Althr Baldr had really fallen.
Rage, huffing, filled his mind as his eyes were bloodshot; it was their own creation that had now betrayed them — the dead things that were supposed to serve them, turning their backs.
"Fraiigilar!—!!!"
That bastard Councillor and his son, who had turned all of this — long resentment and grudge — had now finally erupted.
Years upon years they had built this, their millennia and history, and now it would be gone by their own hands!
Not by the betrayer or those Samaritans from First Seas, but from themselves! Unforgivable! Even if he had to die today—
"Even if I die, I'll bring you down today!"
"I'm your creator and I will bring you down!!! Mark my words!!!"
Screaming, he raised his hammer high with both hands, and then let out a steaming white breath; with a bloodshot gaze, he let out a roar, the runes of the old one!
"(Strike em-down! Declare! Emissary of the Golden Hammer! The Great Thunder God!)"
"(Lightning!)"
His eyes flashed in the white divine colour, his hammer illuminated by wild crackling lightning that sometimes struck his skin, leaving charred marks, and through his lips, blood flowed.
"FALL!"
Instead of striking the hammer down like earlier, he spun his body faster and faster, then, as his body was breaking apart, he suddenly stopped and threw it like a boomerang.
Leaving a white trail — like a ball of plasma traveling through the air in a second, a sonic boom.
Boom
Then, as the eyes could not see through the light, various machinery creaked; even the [Sun Illuminating Pipeline] luminance dimmed for a second under its power — the power of the prisoner!
But—
At the moment of impact, the silhouette behind the mist did not evade, or did not have time to evade; smoke rose in an explosion of blinding white.
"Haaahhhh… HAhhhh…"
Breathing and spitting blood to the ground, his eyes grimaced, his right arm gone, his body crumpled, leaving a ravine that traveled through it.
Falling to his knee, he watched as a pincer body — one of its legs stepped out of the smoke and white mist — then—
Another beam of light in a flash, and the body disappeared in ash.
'Azngur, I hope you notice this…'
Thought lastly as the scene froze.
The recollection ends.
….
"AAAAGHHH-HAAhhhhh…!!!"
Eyes back to focus but blurry, amidst the surrounding darkness, he is still in agony as the memory ends; the ghastly feeling of his body burning at the moment of impact is vivid.
"Hahhh…. Hahhh…"
Breathing hard, his eyes winced, tears streaking down his cheeks, and blood flowed from his lips and nose — his body red as if scorched by a thousand degrees.
'No… you will… not!'
Gritting his teeth — not today, he will not die today! His body is wet from the heat that burned his skin and innards, ragged; his head feels like it has been stabbed with a thousand needles, throbbing endlessly.
Eyes red with a mix of black, lips agape, slowly muttering — and among this is a resentment that fills his heart, his own heart!
"You… are… not…!!!"
This is his body, he is Shirakami Akane, and no one can take this role from him! No one!
Gleaming in another kind of red — crimson and bloody — a mere resentment dares to mess with him!
They are just ghosts! Incompetent, ignorant, and useless! They died because they were weak; he won't be weak; he has sworn, he will live and triumph! How dare they!
His gums bloody, followed by the sound of the tide rising in his ears, the slow creaking of doors being opened, and the forbidden territory awakened.
'Do something!'
Heeding his words as his eyes were wide and bloodshot, as he wished! Countless noise and murmurs filled his ears — a thousand souls of beings — followed by a crackling sound: fire, the fire that burns and rejects all hatred, severs all things!
Meaning that was not supposed to appear flows freely in his mind.
Clutching his head further, his body curling further, gritting his teeth as this time the pain shifted from his mind into his body.
He could feel it — flowing from his soul, from the door, and into his body, cleansing everything, burning everything, merciless; but at the same time, it would not spare him either.
"Khhh—"
He pursed his lips — endure, he is stronger than this! Even in this situation, he didn't want to attract attention; even if his mind is muddy right now, the fact that he slept before is the cause of this pain.
'Endure.'
That's the only thing he must do now — breathing hard, lips barely parted, whimpering and sobbing echoing in a whisper.
Glancing to the side, slightly stiff, both elbows entered his vision; through his blurred eyes, in contrast to his pale skin, the veins are now black, exuding a dark mist and black fire enveloping his long arms.
Sweating, a warm white mist escaping from his barely parted lips, a charred smell; his eyes winced and narrowed. His flesh and innards are being roasted and cleansed.
"Haahhh…."
Thoughts heavy, he wanted to sleep more, but the pain that constantly hit him like a wave kept him awake.
And after a long while he couldn't even track.
His eyes narrowed — from the depth of himself, weary and tired — he seemed to hear rustling leaves, like a bell, and laughter.
Like a tree blown by the breeze, the rustling sound ever so slight, ringing in his ears; the corner of his mouth slowly upturned as his hands loosened and fell limply.
Eyes slowly narrowing, unable to close as everything receded, the tide brought back into the depths of himself, back to the Maroon Door as the chain locked it up once more.
Breathing slowly, his arm still warm and tingling, a chilly breeze hitting his body from nowhere across the night, creating a contradiction as his body lay sideways, the tenseness fading away.
The pain had subsided, but it did not fully erase the phantom traces still haunting his mind, though his body felt lighter and lighter.
'It's over?'
He asked himself — or maybe asked what existed deep inside. Gradually, his weary mind began to drift; the lids now closed, softly and smoothly, breath escaping his lips.
….
A while later, after an uneventful night.
"Haahhhhhh…."
Letting out a sigh, bloody-ashen and lifeless, with narrowed eyes, looking into the white and hazy yellow sky of Mezakeir — strangely, bluish lightning often flashed between the mist.
His face hollow and weathered after a series of events that broke his very self, tears leaving long traces; beneath his eyes is a dark smudge, his eyes sunken.
Face ghostly white without any healthy colour at all, combined with a streak of dried blood at his temple covering his left eye; his hair is messy and dusty, a result of rolling on the abandoned ground.
His hands at his sides — even in his state, his right hand still clutching the gun now covered with a spurt of blood, from banging his own head against it.
The left hand hanging limply at his side, open; dark traces left on the nails, perhaps dried blood or dirt, a strand of hair covering his left eye. He looks a year older in one night.
'From where do I have to start…'
Thinking appears in his mind, strangely now full of clarity and a little lightheaded — in contrast to the state of his body, which appears ragged and full of wounds.
Absentmindedly, gazing at the white mist in the sky, he is reminded of the events the night before, but before this, self-inspection first.
'After that, there is the sorting and review in ordered events and timeline.'
So—
What's his condition now? He asked himself — though it had not been long since he awakened in the daylight, he hadn't moved much aside from changing position.
"Hmmm…"
He tried to hum as he used to, but was only hindered by his now dry throat. Gradually, as he felt it, the functions of his body came back online one by one.
Narrowing his eyes, the matter is still the same after all — pain.
"Haahhhhh…"
Letting out a breath once again, he first tried to move his two hands slowly, only to be hindered as he groaned,
'Left shoulder impaled by a steel sword before, probably 2 centimetres deep. Also—'
Lifting his head slightly to look downwards, trying to see the condition of his torso and upper body; his eyes twitched at what he saw.
'Diagonal line from his waist into the left shoulder — what a match, the two are connected…'
'And then, two holes in the stomach. How could I even be alive?'
The corner of his mouth upturned, though he again winced at the pain as he let his head fall back with a thump. What about his feet? Right palm? And his soul?
Trying to twist or rotate his legs — again, there was a slight resistance, like something refusing to move, but as he gritted his teeth, they bent under his will, moving slightly.
'My two legs are sprained, perhaps? Or broken? But by the feel of it… they seem to have recovered a bit.'
'My knees are scarred — nothing compared to anything else.'
Well, how about the palm? Moving it lightly, there was also a gritty feeling. He turned his head slightly to the right, still clutching the gun in his right hand.
Under his lifeless and dim gaze, there is a purple bruise, a few dried bloodstains, and red marks.
'Probably strained from the recoil.'
He rolled his eyes, took his head back, and gazed at the sky once again.
The body is done — the result is not optimal, though he has something in mind he wants to address, as it is related to something deep inside him.
A confusion or perhaps a guess that he had after everything experienced earlier; his gaze is still.
'Maroon Door is reliable though — helping me fend off that resentment or ghost — but oh well, a living person like me will inevitably be included too…'
Feeling the cold and warm breeze, he thought this was not the first time the Maroon Door had opened, but this was the first time it had given some knowledge for free.
'Its habits or characteristics are surprisingly similar to my abilities or my ascension.'
To this, he is genuinely suspicious; he ascended through a Door, and the Maroon Door is obviously a door too — so does this mean the Maroon Door is another source of advancement?
Also, this Maroon Door is really full of hatred towards living things — though this includes him, which is why it is merciless to him, as it is just its nature.
Licking his dry lips: if this is true, then he seems to see some hope for the future, an alternative path — it's not bad to have a second option, then again…
'Maroon Door is expected to be the tide, then what about the rustling leaves before?'
He is genuinely confused. Before he slept after being possessed by what he now calls [Dwarven Resentment] — or what was trying to possess him before being fully cleansed — there was a sound of rustling leaves from deep inside him.
Looking downwards, his left hand moved to clutch his chest amidst the pain.
'It's warm but also domineering.'
He is not exaggerating — it's at the same level or maybe a bit lower than what cleansed him, but comparable; it healed him in the process.
'Which is why my wound is now partially healed and I can still be alive…'
"Haahhhh…"
But he still didn't know the source of this power, so he let his head fall back to gaze at the sky.
If he had to make a blind guess, then he certainly would choose it — and he also had a way to verify it later.
"Probably my Dragon power, right? It's impossible that Serpent will heal me though…."
Serpent is as aloof as ever. Forgive me for talking ill of you.
Narrowing his eyes, he let out a breath once again. Self-inspection done — what is left is to review the memories now isolated inside his mind.
'Great job, though I don't know how they can be isolated, but well, I guess…'
Conveniently, the memories of Næfr are isolated by a wall and cannot even influence him after his death; as he said — this old man, though useful in life, useless in death.
But before this—
"They probably noticed it too, right?…"
Smiling as his gaze is frozen on the white mist in the sky, swirling like clouds, he hopes they won't be too frightened or too angry that he left without telling them.
Also, he hopes they are well and can forgive him when he comes back, right?