Heh, you know what? I don't regret it. That gigantic dragon might act like some kind of god, and really— who's gonna argue after it eats an entire freakin' nation? Right? That doesn't mean I've gotta follow its every whim.

I'm the guy who usually rots in jail. The one who gets out, sometimes, and attacks some jerk before getting off prison property. I— I can't help myself. I once thought, long ago: if I try hard enough, this time it'll be different.

It never was.

I've had people in jail reeeegularly tell me— not only the wardens or counselors, oh no! I've even heard other inmates say the same damn thing. If I really want to turn my life around, I need to focus on positivity.

'What does that mean?' I'd ask.

'Oh,' they'd say.

An object of affection; a dedicated pursuit; a noble goal. They'd list things they thought would shift my impulses toward something positive.

But— what's positive? I don't freakin' know. I've spent almost my whole life in jail. Nothing is 'positive.' Nothing. Not even those pep talks.

I'd begun to hear this shit and wonder: 'who the hell do they think they are?' I ain't who I wanna be, but who I wanna be is clearly never gonna happen. So why you blatherin' at me about this positivity nonsense? You're makin' me feel upset and ashamed. You. YOU should be upset and ashamed for doin' this to me.

But you're not. You're proud!

It makes me so angry.

I'd punch them.

They'd be all: 'no, why would you do that?!'

Because, you opened your damn mouth about something you don't understand!

You can't understand.

When you've lived a life like mine, seen what I have, 'positive' ain't even on the table. It's why I've got zero motivation to change.

Oh— I do want to change. I do.

Except it's like the gods themselves stand in front of me saying 'no, go back and punch that guy. Again.' So I do.

That's no change; that's what I'd do anyway.

Which is why I found it hilarious when I was given a 'criminal reform opportunity' by that self-important 'Chronometric Dragon God.'

Man, I freakin' broke down laughing. You want me. To punch, kick, and stab. To prove that I can be better? What, are you tryin' to reform us into murderers? I ain't killed anyone— but that seems to be what you're askin', you know?

This is exactly why I find such 'positivity' nonsense absurd. People always look at their 'reform' plans and only see the positive side of things. Even some of the prisoners get hooked on whatever bullcrap they're sellin'.

I enter the damn program, and all I see are the negatives that they couldn't be bothered to notice. And it's always, always, ALWAYS, so damn obvious. If they'd just get their own heads out of their damn asses. This prison stuff ain't supposed to be a fuckin' circle-jerk!

Yeah— at first I was afraid of being shipped off to war. I really was. I accepted the program because, you know, screw jail and all that.

Plus, I really do want to improve my life. I guess the dragon somehow saw that? I ain't got a damn clue how he would. Nobody else here is the irredeemable type. So, this is the one thing I can't understand.

Why am -I- here?

Turns out, the moron intends on blanketing us with magic. Great, so the negative went from 'dying in war' to 'being unstoppable.' I know how stupidly powerful that dragon is. Again, it ate a country. Don't gotta be a genius to figure that one out.

Why is 'being unstoppable' a negative, I'd briefly thought. For barely a moment. The answer was obvious, as usual.

It took away all my own power and achievement. I'm actin' as someone else's limbs; like when I worked at that merchant business oh-so-many years ago.

What's the godsdamned point?

Sure, I got paid at that merchant job, and I get paid for doin' this too. Plus, unlike the merchant job, I can earn my way out of jail. So what? I know. I know the MOMENT I get out, I'm gonna punch or stab some smug asshole right in the face.

I always do. They always deserve it.

In fact, after bein' at war, I'm worried I'll do more than that. My impulse control's never been all that great— oooobviously, right? Everyone tells me this, and I know...

They're right.

I simply don't see any reason to restrain myself when some jailbird tells me they're gonna go rob a bread stall for pennies after they get out. I know that's how society works; the weak try to succeed while the powerful push 'em down. That's why I don't much mind stayin' on the inside.

All the moreso when 'the powerful' is apparently an honest to gods— well, god. One who tosses me out here and expects reform. It's lazy, boring, weak. It's all the same.

So, I'll hack another guy's arm off. Whoopde doo.

*shink*

"Aaugh!"

I really hope I don't get used to this bull crap.

Suddenly, I feel an urge to look behind me. I guess everyone else does too, because they're all turnin'. It's like my body knows there's somethin' there I have to see with my own two eyes. An aura, even, tellin' me divinity itself demands my attention.

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So I turn.

It's the dragon. Sigh. Of freakin' course it is!

"Fellow soldiers, I— am Chronomet!"

Good for you. The hell do I care? I almost want to turn back around. Almost. But I'm curious.

"You have fought hard for my sake! For my glory! For that, I, Chronomet, am grateful!"

Ohhhhkay?

"Now, witness my power, as I fight for YOUR glory! For YOUR sake! Together, we shall become eternally glorious! For it is my grand respect, that YOU have rightfully earned!"

Holy crap. Is this weirdo serious?

As if to answer my question, Chronomet runs up to the frontlines at a nonsensical speed. His huge wings flutter behind him like a see-through pair of flags.

Flags symbolizing incoming death.

DAMN he's fast!

He jumps into the air, then his huge legs slam into the ground in front of me. I've never seen him so close.

*KLAM-krumble*

He swings a massive pitch-black sword.

*shooo—*

I watch as his sword comes down, its incredible sharpness... Going straight through me and a whole lotta my allies. A huge black blast is emitted from its end, killing thousands of enemy soldiers in a single blow.

*—sssh*

##KLAMMM##

Cool, but.

What the fuck, dragon. I'm on your side?

Then, as if to negate everything I knew— as if to negate everything I am—

I'm fine.

Nothing happened.

I turn around. What little is left of the enemy is retreating. This dragon... He used his grand and immense power, directly through my body.

And I'm... Fine?

I look up at him. He walked over at some point and is now staring directly down at me.

I can't clearly see his features through his pitch-black darkness, even though I feel like I should be able to see him. His blazing red eyes somehow tell me... He's smiling. The terror I that should feel; it's replaced by pride.

Pride that I was able to act as a partner in displaying his greatness— exactly as he had claimed. Not as a tool, nor as a machine, but. I saw him fight with me, through me, and the bastards we'd fought together.

Fled.

Why? Why do I feel this way? It's like my mind is broken. Like the impulsive side of me wants to find something wrong, something bad. For the first time ever? I can't. For the first time in my life, I don't want to stab someone.

I... I want to be like him.

My eyes tear up. I drop to my knees. I clasp my hands, bow my head, and pray to his towering figure.

He's a god, right? He should like this pose. Just take my worship and go. I don't know why I feel like this— but it's not comfortable. I know. I should want to feel good. But it's all totally wrong. This must be wrong.

Everything is wrong, all the time, somehow.

So take my prayer, you damn god, and be sated.

Leave.

...

He doesn't.

He leans down and drapes his huge clawed hand over my entire body. In his grasp, I feel an impenetrable sense of security and comfort.

How strange?

He slides his huge hand back to hold my body from behind.

I look up at his eyes again. He speaks to— into my existence.

"I know you've fought harder than almost all the others. I know this isn't nearly enough to win. Still, keep fighting. So long as you fight, the day when you find glory will come. It always does. Because even if you die trying, you'll be remembered as the man who never gave up. Glory always finds those who persevere."

He lifts his hand from my body and walks away.

I watch his tail sway smoothly behind him as he moves.

I'm stunned while watching his form.

Not by his incredible draconic body, but by his words.

What... Does he mean?

He can't be talking about the battle. He must know I've been lazy; I haven't killed anyone. He's not mistaking me for someone else, right?

He's a god; he won't make that mistake, right?

Then— I feel something else. A very old memory. I recall it once. So long ago.

From when I was a child.

From before mother died.

'Julio, never stop trying. You can always be better. You only fail when you give up.'

I stop praying. I let my head fall toward the ground, but not in prostration. I'm crying. I can't stop.

"Uuuuhuhu..."

WHY, CHRONOMET?! WHY ARE YOU PRAISING ME?! Why... Why me... I just...

I rub my arm against my face and sniff.

"Skkkk."

Did I want to see the hate? The chaos? The negative? Was it because I had my positive, my mother, taken so soon?

Did...

Did I give up?

I break down sobbing uncontrollably.

My entire life. Did I waste my dear mother's goodwill? Did I lash out, thinking I was following her intentions all along?

But—.

Deep down.

I knew.

"Uuuuhhhaaaa. Shkk."

This wasn't what she meant. I denied her just as I denied myself. Even as I tried in my own way to exact revenge against the society who'd harmed her so deeply.

Who'd KILLED her.

"Uhhuhuhnnnnaaaaa."

I pound at the grassy earth.

*thud*

"Skhhnk. Uhhhaaaaahuahua."

*thud*

"WHY, CHRONOMET? WHY?!"

A random soldier walks over to me.

"Ey doggie, you liek wittle head peeets~?"

I instantly feel boiling rage. I want to punch his dumb face. His uncaring, insolent face. Then, I remember my mother.

I remember Chronomet's eyes.

I take a deep breath.

Like the counsellors told me.

"Ssssss. Khaaaa."

I stand up. I walk over to him, teeth clenched. He grins at me as though he got a rise out of me. Like he's going to make a fool of me. Not this time. You. You want to fuck with me?

If I'm going to be a fool either way, I might as well be in control of the situation.

See how you like this, you dumb fucker.

I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him in a powerful bear hug. Like how Chronomet held me— but with actual force.

*thak*

"Hey. Hey— the fuck'r you doing?!"

One of the soldiers watching the commotion points at us and yells something.

{"Look ... t!"}

A few others turn around and start paying attention.

"Let go of me you stupid idiot, this isn't funny!"

I hug him tighter.

*kr-kr-kr*

"It's alright. It's all gonna be okay. Just try harder— maybe you can get outta this. 'Til then? You're gonna have to stand here and get hugged."

He struggles fruitlessly. The other soldiers are pointing and laughing at us.

{"Hahaha!"}

*kr-shka*

*skr-ka*

*ah-kka*

{"Wahahaha!"}

*rhk-kah*

{"Hawhawhaw!"}

I'm not here to defend my glory; not this time. I'm here to defend Chronomet's. But more importantly, I'm here to defend my mother's. I can't NOT hit this bastard— so I'll kill him with kindness.

I pull my grip down. Then, I lift him into the air.

*shrk*

{"What is he— ahahaha!"}

"Hup!"

"Oof! Stop that!"

{"Ahhahahaha!"}

He smacks me on the helmet. Chronomet's shield spell protects me, just as it does him.

{"Ahhahahahaha!"}

*thzz*

{"Gooh, look, haHA!"}

Some of the soldiers are doubled over laughing.

{"Ehhahahahahh!"}

{"Bohwohaoha!"}

{"Gyahaha- do they- ahaha!"}

{"Kyahakkahaha!"}

I realize. Am I making people... Happy?

Have I ever done that?

I dance around in a little circle, dumbass still held within my tight grip. A few soldiers fall over, laughing while rolling on the ground. Even I start laughing through my still-pouring tears.

{"Gaaahhh, hahaha!"}

{"Ohh, I'm dying— nahahaha!"}

*thok-tik-tik*

{"Dyahahahaha!"}

*thok-til-tik*

{"Fuhahahahaha!"}

"Ha, haha."

*thok-tik-tik*

{"Foohohohoho!"}

This really is hilarious, isn't it?

I hoist him into the air, trying to put him on my shoulders like a little kid. He struggles, causing me to lose my balance. The scuffle between us, plus my imbalance, causes me to stumble a few steps.

"HUUP!"

{"Huhuhuahahah!"}

*paj-keek*

*thod-feek*

{"Rehhehehehe!"}

I put my armored foot directly into a slippery mud puddle.

*splorch*

{"Ohhohohaha!"}

I slip sideways onto my back, losing my visor in the process.

image [https://timjames.net/data/acd/images/071.png]

He ends up face down in the mud, his big plate-armored self pinning me in the puddle.

*sh-iiip*

*PRSHHHST*

*THZZ*

image [https://timjames.net/data/acd/images/071b.png]

There's only faint sounds for a moment.

Because the soldiers are suffocating.

They're laughing too hard.

"BAHAHAHAHA! PFFAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"HAWHAWHAHAWHAHAHAHAW!"

"HAHA—oh, I CAN'T-GAHAHA! AHHAHA!"

"FAAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHHAHA!"

"LUNGS?!HAAAAAWWWWW!"

"YAHAHAHAHABBFFFTAAAA!"

Yeah. This isn't negative. There's risks to what we're doing... Or there would be, if not for Chronomet. But that's the point, isn't it, mom?

There's downsides to everything, all the time.

You have to make the upside yourself.

I have to be the upside.

Myself.