03 / 04 / 2019 - Bezgarz, Khtonres
Ch-shhhhh
"So this is it, Day 3 perhaps?…"
Brushing the strands that blocked his eyes, bloody-ashen reflecting the whole city before him — habitually, he let out a small sigh, his mouth agape for a little bit.
"Hahhhhh…."
Hearing the steam rising as the platform slowed down considerably, until it completely stopped among many other platforms out there.
He is silent, encased in a glass-like capsule; only now and then his tense shoulder and the right hand resting beside the dagger fall loose.
Reflected around him, beyond the glass — he couldn't see this previously on Mezakeir — a circular platform encircled the inner side of Helzogg here.
'And in the centre is a hole that stretches down below; each platform could contain so many people…'
Aside from the large platform that perhaps functions as an elevator below, he lifted his head to the much higher platform — the same shape as his, another private elevator perhaps.
He shook his head before he could take his gaze back; in a flicker of a moment, the miserable view of himself was captured in the glass. He stopped.
'…'
Eyebrows wrinkled — seeing the blood that stained his lips and chin, he brushed it off with the back of his hand hard.
Perhaps it was because of the mist and heat that the blood had not solidified and could be easily cleaned — a little tidbit — and he was back to his pale skin.
His lips pursed into a flat line with a pop, then he nodded to himself, and after, he took a stride towards the glass to take a better look.
With an inch closer, he seemed to be reminded of something; his steps faltered slightly, and he already guessed what he would see in the reflection — until he stopped.
"Hmmm…."
His hands touched the cold glass, tracing it from below to eye level, and the corners of his eyes and mouth slowly upturned like a crescent; the pale, rosy face tilted to the side.
What was reflected was an iridescence of colours in the eyes, like oil paint — blending and separating at the same time; ashen grey on the inner rim, crimson blood on the outer.
And…
The pupil was vertical like a slit, dark, but with a bit of bluish-silver on its edge that bled unknowingly — beautiful but at the same time alien, perhaps mythical.
'Hmmmm, it's true after all… but… why now?'
This confirmed it — nothing more, nothing less, as he had expected.
'Perhaps only by being broken can my Dragon self appear?'
Well, though it seemed he was used to it, he was not a person who enjoyed pain; it was just an unavoidable circumstance that forced him to feel it and perhaps empathise with it.
'If they have to experience this level of pain to become a Dragon… then would I have to let them do it…?'
Should he tell them — his siblings? That was essentially the question; his head hung low as he gazed at his bare feet moving rhythmically in thought.
'If it's Ayato, then it's okay, but for Irina… it is absolutely not.'
That was the decision; he intended to train Ayato to be the same as him. Irina — it was unnecessary; he could protect her after all, and perhaps at that time…
They wouldn't need him anymore.
'And I will focus on my goal.'
A clear intention in mind.
He shook his head, hands back at his sides, averting his gaze, body turning back to the open Gate of the Helzogg. No more Ground Station or Pillars — only flat ground here.
'Surely a relief…'
Smiling, he walked from the platform along the long path that led downward to the inner platform.
Step by step, the sound echoed in silence, sometimes accompanied by the steam pressure that resounded from afar — proving that even now, the machination was active.
With his hands in his pockets, his gaze darted around; technically, he was still on the inner side of Helzogg before exiting the Gate.
Feeling the warmth once again and the sweat that had built up, he found the area fresh — exotic plants and seats much like an airport — but he was not used to the temperature.
Behind the Gate, nothing was exciting aside from the metal golden gate jutting high; for what reason it was built, he did not know.
Tilting his head as he looked up at the sky, he followed the path to the open Gate.
"Wow…"
As he walked, the misty red-orange thinned near the gate, and as he looked up at the open darkness and the open gate, he was greeted by a strong breeze.
Shielding his eyes with the back of his hand, the hair fluttering in the wind.
After a while, the breeze gradually died down. Standing in the open space, right beside him was the gate, and in front of it were steps downward.
The sky was still dark, but not wholly — glimmering in a deep blue, a hazy mist just like during the day. Paired with the silver light that fell in a slant.
Before this, he needed to inspect his environment as usual — and as to why Bezgarz was one of the assumed reasons for the destruction of the Dwarves?
'Is it really like that…'
Left hand on his chin, right hand on his hip, lips pursed, humming thoughtfully.
His eyes moved left and right; from the higher ground of the gate, he could see the direction ahead — one of the four directions.
'Is it bigger or smaller?'
An interesting question. The corner of his mouth twitched as he thought.
If he had to talk about his findings — though he had walked hour upon hour in Mezakeir — he had found no guidance until later, when he followed the wind direction.
'Basically, I was wandering aimlessly up there, lucky enough or desperate enough to eventually follow the wind in the first hours.'
In Mezakeir, there were two wind directions: a warm breeze from what he presumed was Helzogg, and another from the opposite direction.
For this, he had an assumption — due to Bezgarz and Mezakeir's structure, perhaps he was in some underground cave right now.
'Because there is also a wind conflict here.'
The cold breeze was unusual, since Helzogg emitted warm air.
Perhaps there was a large hole or open space consistently blowing air upward, and if it happened on two underground sides simultaneously…
'Is it a cliffside?'
That was his take — but since it was dark, he couldn't make out the detail so far away and so large. And then again…
Tilting his head, he placed his hands back in his pockets while gazing up at the sky.
'Perhaps Mezakeir is small, but the huge pillars and structures form an illusion of greatness that tricked his mind into thinking it was big, no?'
He didn't know if this was coping, but his sense of scale had been very much messed up since his first day here.
"Haahhhhh…."
Whatever — taking his bloody hands from his pockets to ruffle his hair in frustration, letting out a sigh as his eyes couldn't conceal their weariness.
The truth would probably be revealed later when daylight came, since the structure here was lower than Mezakeir after all.
'Now, what should we do…'
From above, he could make out the outlines of the four huge buildings, but the details were unclear now — he had to make do with what he remembered.
Thud
Thud
Stepping down the stairs slowly, it echoed in rhythm with the surroundings, and as he arrived at the road, there were many scattered machine parts around — or perhaps more than that…
He lowered his gaze — a puppet's head, staring at him. Looking around, it was the same everywhere: parts of an exoskeleton, giant structure remains on the wide highway.
Kicking the head, its clanking sound fed back at him after hitting steel, he took back his gaze, continued walking away from the orange backlight of the gate, and pierced the darkness.
The usual things tried to erode him — the gaping wound that had stopped bleeding began again; his soul felt as if it were being stuffed into an acid pool.
A phantom suffocating pain, different from the burning pain — an unknown ache that echoed deep inside. He let out a pent-up breath, the corners of his eyes trembling.
But still, he continued to walk, silently concealed — it could not differentiate friend from foe. After a while, other things appeared as his gaze lifted.
Something familiar — and he, too, wondered where they had come from; wow, it was answered partially as he stopped in his steps.
"So… you only appear at night, is that so?"
Trouble after trouble — clicking his tongue; his voice didn't even rebound under the shroud of this darkness.
His gaze narrowed at the bright red circles, and a murmur resounded in his ears. Looking at them — not two pairs of red eyes, but many. Hundreds were now circling him slowly.
'The body is like a shadow, but they still retain their former appearance — the only thing is that their eyes are red like lamps.'
'Of course that's the case — you haven't slept at all, have you, resentment?'
Some of them flew low, two hands at their sides, looking straight at him — wearing lab coats, armour, robes, and many more variants.
'Though this is my intention, now is not the time — daylight is soon. Better pass through them first….'
So — with one right step backward, right hand clutching the silver dagger and left hand on the silver lantern, he dashed forwards.
'Not now…'
…..
Two hours later.
"Haahhhh…. Hahhh.. Hahhhh…"
Tick
Tick
Lowering his head and body, sweat trickling down his cheek and falling to the ground, eyes half-lidded and now recovered after a moment of blur.
The left hand held his trembling knee steady, while the right hand gripped the rough and dusty surface of a stone, gasping for a while.
'Every time it will always be like this…'
'Not that I have to complain about it… the situation is fight or flight… there's no in between.'
'Then again, be clever — fighting is just a byproduct or a means; his goal here is to solve the crisis in Osaka after all…'
Letting out a final sigh, he straightened his hunched form and let his left hand fall to the side. The lantern had died out and was placed on his back once more, earlier.
'One way or another, that's a good way to identify whether it is night or not…'
Let's leave it at that — since it was daytime. He looked over his shoulder at the entrance of a place. The resentments that had been following him were now dispersing, retreating to dark corners.
His eyebrows and the corners of his eyes twitched — understanding another thing from this: darkness was their hiding place. Yet another reason this world was so dangerous.
"For now, let's clear up the objective first…."
Turning his body and leaning on the rough limestone wall, he slid down until he sat on the ground — once again feeling the timely cold, chilly breeze.
Hmmm?
Nose wrinkled — it was not a familiar smell this time, more like something he had once found in a forest. Musky… damp… so layered, perhaps. Very underground.
Gradually, his ears also picked up a whistling sound, slow and so faint that he hadn't noticed it until he had silenced himself for a while.
'There surely is a direction… and it is from…'
Looking into the depth of this place — it was not as dark as before; the light had picked up slightly, the [Sun Illuminating Pipe] changing, albeit slowly.
Like a coming dawn — truly an exhausting night.
'I've had no sleep at all…'
Leaning on the limestone wall, his eyelids were heavy; he had stayed awake from the tension and danger of this place, but after the coming comfort, he couldn't take it anymore.
Thinking absentmindedly — earlier in Mezakeir, having slept for a few hours and then been awakened by the attempted possession, a round of sleep until midday, after being done perhaps.
Then, having awakened hunger-struck as his body lacked energy to sustain repair, he was forced to hunt for food — and with nothing to cook with, he ate raw flesh like a savage.
'Leaving it at that, I got more wounds instead…'
Slowly and surely, the dim dark world brightened and dispersed, replaced by white-orange light as he leaned his head to the left — the slanting light from the direction of Helzogg.
'Another sight to behold.'
Enjoying this short moment, another magnificent sight — looking at the light with his dim eyes.
Still, he was alive, much like an undead, refusing to die; in the afternoon or closing night, after a series of wanderings, he had been chased by various inhabitants because of his noise.
The good news was his suffering was over and he still had some energy to sustain himself; the bad news was he had had to fight a Gate Guardian that managed to terrify the inhabitants.
He fought until midnight, then descended here in a matter of hours before dawn.
And now, after all of this, he just needed to sleep for a while, no? Perhaps it could be done — eyes closed as he thought.
'After waking, I'll try to gain some information about what happened and verify the geography, maybe.'
'And at night, I'll search for a way to reach Althr Baldr by giving up my body to them… in exchange for their memories.'
'Everything is good.'
Gradually, everything blurred and the mind drifted, but his attention persisted half-heartedly — so that even if something triggered him, he would snap awake instantly.
….
Five hours later.
Consciousness slowly gathered; the partial attention taken back, reassigned, and shut down. The blurry haze of confusion washed over his mind — his mind was tired.
But he had to get up, so this was it. Clarity returned from the depths, whistling entered his ears as senses came back online, caressing his cheek.
Opening his eyelids slowly, blurry as the function was being overexerted, physically recovering — his neck was sore along with his rear.
'Huh…. Even after some sleep, my body still feels tired, no?'
His skin felt itchy all over; his gaze lowered to his stomach — through his fluttering, ragged shirt, all the wounds on his chest were nearly closed.
Then, looking up over his left shoulder, the wound was halfway closed, the white bone covered by flesh once again.
'All wounds from day one are ninety percent recovered…'
"Huhhhh…."
He pursed his lips and let out a sigh with a puff, propping his palm on the ground to lift his body, feeling the rough texture now sticking to his hands, jolting him awake slightly.
Standing up by the wall — though his body felt fresh, his mind did not; it didn't matter much, the pain sensitivity was still there, and the objective now was to explore.
His mouth agape, he let out a breath once again and raised his hands high, stretching. Various cracks echoed in his joints and bones, earning a groan.
Then, finally, he let his hands fall limply to his sides; his right hand slid into his inner waistband, finding the pistol still there after all of this.
Pulling out the gun and checking the magazine — holding it in his left hand, he tried to remember the last count groggily, lowering his gaze.
'Ah, right, last magazine, fifteen bullets.'
'Silver Dagger intact. Silver Lantern also intact….'
Knowing this, he paused for a moment; the corner of his mouth upturned — perhaps he had struck a jackpot with his very first weapon.
Well, whatever — nodding his head, he held the gun and turned towards the entrance of this place, now brightly lit.
Surreal. He turned to walk inside — since he was here, it was better to check this place first. Remembering somewhat, this was also one of the four.
'It means importance, no?'
The corridor was dark, damp, and cold; its height was a bit too high for dwarves. It felt wet around here — silence all around, only the whistling of the wind.
'Perhaps they too hated cramped spaces, no?'
Thump
Thump
As he walked, the echoes of his bare feet felt the chill of the stone; with the rough texture, he stepped on a few chunks of rock, face forward.
The atmosphere seemed to evoke memories of a place that wasn't real — perhaps like an abandoned place on the side of a cliff.
'Just there in tranquility, in ruins, with water splashing on the cliff.'
Feeling the breeze and a smell of salt — it was no different from here. His empty left hand traced along the wall as light gradually entered his eyes at the end of the long tunnel.
The breeze grew stronger; in this light, he narrowed his eyes.
Instinctively, he stopped in his steps.
"Well, well, well… it's been a long time since we've had a guest here…"
A rough and muffled voice drifted into his ears. His body tensed as the gun was instantly aimed at the figure far away.
It was a huge open space, filled with countless seats and desks, with many holes in the ceiling through which light fell, forming a half-circular shape surrounding the seats in the centre.
The design was very similar to the Colosseum; the other half-circle was an opening — which verified his first guess. A cliff. Light filled his vision, along with a strong blowing wind.
Far away on the green grass was a visible downward edge.
And then…
His hands were still, focus only on the seat at the centre — the body illusory, half dark and phantom-blue. The eyes serene, much like a ghost's, but perhaps a conscience, no?
His grip on the gun tightened, eyes narrowed. Sitting in the seat with a monocle on his left eye, eyes brown and dark, a white beard adorning his compassionate face — a dark beret with a string attached to a tassel.
"Relax, young man… I will not harm you, or… perhaps I may?"
He was holding a book in one hand, wearing a long white robe, eyes curving into a crescent as he looked at Akane.
Akane's body instinctively shivered, gritting his teeth — as if stared down by a beast, he spoke through trembling lips.
"Who are you?"
The figure rose from its seat, levitating — its stature no taller than his shoulder perhaps — but bringing immense pressure.
It did not answer until it stopped in front of him, looking at him; one eye behind the monocle was open, along with his mouth, his shoulder shrugging.
"I was called Councillor a long time ago… but now…"
A trace of melancholy in the depths of those eyes — incomprehensible to him. Then, under his gaze, with a sigh, one hand was held to his chest, the other holding an open book.
"—Now… I'm just a simple old man… a sinner… Fraiigilar."
"So—"
"What is your intention here? Foreigner?"
As the last word was uttered, his knees gave way under pressure as if he carried thousands of kilograms on his shoulders — the ground cracked as he knelt, struggling to lift his head; reflected in his gaze were crackling divine eyes.