Part 6

Regardless of what was different, at the base level, it was all just the same.

A job.

That is all that it was.

How long has it been?

Since he started to feel......nothing.

Small patches of sunlight peeked through the dark gray clouds over a wasteland.

The sound of several crows could be heard as they were circling in the sky overhead.

The scavengers of death.

Below them were several bruised, blindfolded men on their knees, with their ankles and wrists tied behind their backs.

In front of them was a large ditch that was dug into the ground.

Behind them were three men holding submachine guns.

The air was cold enough that one could see their breath in the air.

Panting was heard as a young female in a white dress was running in the woods under the cover of night, her bleeding bear feet stomping into the dirt and branches below.

She did not know where she was running to or what was happening, but she knew that she needed to get away—far away.

Behind her was a brightly burning cottage.

Her home.

Various car horns blared out as heavy rain hit the street during rush hour.

A businessman was using a gray briefcase as a makeshift umbrella, covering his head, under the intense rain outside of a building.

The man quickly ran towards a black four-door vehicle that was slowly coming to a stop. He opened the back right passenger door.

Nothing out of the ordinary for the businessman leaving work.

Shaking the briefcase, trying to get it dry, the man stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

The driver adjusted his rear-view mirror, staring at the businessman, before driving off.

Several whimpers could be heard as the blindfolded men were kneeling in the dirt with a rectangular dirt hole in front of them.

Three men dressed in black were holding submachine guns.

The blindfolded men shook as the door to a white van closed with a loud slam.

A man stepped out of the front passenger seat, closing the door behind him.

Anatoli Azarov.

The air was cold in the rain, but there was something to keep him warm.

A burning car with raging flames on a deserted road, with a young man watching on, not saying a word, with a blank look on his face.

His eyes so badly wanted to direct their gaze to what was beyond the edge of the cliff, to what lies beyond.

The screams of the businessman could be heard in the burning car over the raging flames on a deserted road.

Anatoli did not flinch as a hand slammed against the window.

The hand desperately tried to claw at the glass in an attempt to break free before being engulfed itself.

With a blank, lost look on his face, Anatoli just stared, holding a glowing, smoldering knife by his side.

There was a clinking sound as the men raised their guns, aiming them at the back of the kneeling men.

Anatoli raised his gun, aiming it at the back of one of the men.

Without any form of hesitation, the man moved his left index finger over the trigger.

It was all just the same....

It was one gunshot from his weapon, but that one started the wave of the next.

Multiple gunshots rang out, the bullets hitting the men.

Their bodies went limp, falling into the mass burial below.

The sound of dry leaves and thin twigs breaking could be heard as a female was running in the woods.

No matter how far she ran, she felt that something was stalking her.

In the cover of the dark night, a knife was thrown, striking the woman in the back.

Her mind did not have enough time to even register the hit; as quickly as it hit her, small embers were emitted from the handle.

And then-

The metal of the knife that has punctured her back has burst into flames.

A pained gasp.

That was the only sound the young female was able to make before the flames incinerated her organ.

Lungs.

Intestine.

Liver.

Falling to her knees, the body was then engulfed in flames.

The shovel was stabbed into a small pile of dirt, and with a grunt, the shovel was lifted, carrying a chunk of dirt.

From one pile, Anatoli, along with several others, carried the dirt and dropped it into a ditch with several bodies at the bottom.

When did it happen?

A grunt could be heard as Anatoli, along with three other men, were pushing the scrap of what was a burning vehicle.

The men were grateful that the wheels were somewhat functional.

Anatoli tried to avoid looking at the heavily charred body in the driver’s seat.

He never really thought about it before, or perhaps he tried not to think about it.

He was pretty sure this person had a job, just like him.

He was pretty sure this person had a family, just like him.

Anatoli just stared ahead.

At what point did it happen for the man?

The smell of burnt flesh started to grow more intense as he walked closer to the burning body on the ground.

At what point did he get used to all of this?

The dirt started to cover the bodies in the ditch below.

Since he had started to feel...

Standing at the edge of the cliff, Anatoli stared off onto the peaceful horizon beyond.

The water.

The clouds.

The afternoon sky.

The serenity of all of it.

So peaceful.

A life he longed for.

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But now-

There was a faint sound that broke his trance, causing him to glance down at the rocks below.

The vehicle had hit the rocks below, rolling several times before falling into the water.

This is his life now.

.....Nothing.

Anatoli watched as the small fire that engulfed the body continued to rage on.

As it did, all the sound in the area began to die down, and the body began to twitch.

Suddenly, a charred hand emerged from the fire, grabbing his left ankle.

Blackened, burned skin with glowing orange cracks.

Before he had time to react, the upper half of a black skeleton, with small patches of burnt flesh and glowing red eyes, had risen up from the flames, bringing its head several inches from his own.

Without warning, the skull opened its mouth, letting out a blood-piercing scream.

With the sound of the shriek, Anatoli's eyes shot open.

A white ceiling in a dark room

His home.

His bedroom.

In his mind, one sound was echoing that only he could hear.

Various screaming.

Haunting him.

He did not when he got used to it.

It was almost deafening, but the man did not react beyond a blank, lost stare.

The ceiling.

In the dead of night, his eyes opened to the white-painted ceiling, and he breathed heavily with a lost look on his face.

How many times has it been?

The dreams.

The nightmares

Him waking up the same way, lost and confused.

It was all the same.

He turned his head slightly left and let his eyes gaze upon his sleeping wife.

At the sight of her face, his body relaxed.

Anatoli pushed himself forward and turned his body to sit on the edge of the bed.

It felt like an eternity as he sat on the bed, staring at the floor under his feet.

In his head, the screams continued, and with his left hand, he grabbed the bridge of his nose.

Squeezing the bridge and closing his eyes tightly, he tried to block out the screams.

He felt a migraine-like headache as the screams got louder.

There was a silent groan that escaped his lips.

Among the various screams, there was another one that he was all too familiar with, lost in the various screams.

The sound of a wailing infant.

Anatoli's eyes widen as he heard the wails.

He raised his head over a small white baby crib with blue sheets.

The room was dark, and the only source of light was the moonlight that peeked through the dark blue curtains.

Anatoli pushed himself off the bed and began walking to the crib, as he had done maybe hundreds of times before.

But now-

His feet felt heavy as he slowly moved one foot in front of the other.

Each step felt heavy as he inched closer to the crib.

His body moved with a sense of caution, as if he was expecting something awful to happen.

Dread.

Anxiety.

As he got closer, the baby’s crying started to drown out the various screaming’s in his head.

Standing over the crib, Anatoli glanced at the wiggling infant.

Lost in a daze, Anatoli mumbled a single word.

“… Dmitry”

As he reached inside to pick up the infant, the screaming in his head had died out.

Holding the infant to his chest, feeling washed over him.

Rubbing the back of the infant, tears began to swell in his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Anatoli quietly wept out. "I’m so sorry."

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Dread.

Dark clouds.

Light rain,

The burnt smell, that caused his nose to slightly wince.

A destroyed village.

Burnt buildings.

Broken pillars.

Rubble.

Destroyed statues of their lion deity

Dead that were scattered across the ground.

The brutal remnants of a Dragonborn attack.

That was apparent to the two that walked through the ruins.

Cassius and Alistair.

Their boots stomped into light puddles.

Both dressed in black hooded cloaks.

The duo walked through the ruins of a destroyed plaza.

Silence.

Blood.

Squashed fruit.

Scattered trash.

Broken and mangled bodies

Alistair began looking around.

At the sight of what he assumed was a deceased mother shielding her child with her body in a vain attempt, Alistair turned his head, looking away.

Both were dead.

He felt something twist inside of him.

“Do not look away," Cassius said, not staring back at him as he kept walking forward.

Alistair glanced at Cassius.

“This is the reality of the conflict between Light-borns and Dragon-borns. The death, pain, and destruction, the end result of the war between the two. Ignoring that now will do you no good."

Alistair slowly averted his eyes back to the ruins, taking in all the death and destruction.

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“Is there ever going to be an end to the conflict?”

Both men sat on separate large logs with nothing but a small fire between them.

It was a simple question from Alistair that caused Cassius to stare at the young teen as a depressed look appeared on his face.

Cassius averted his eyes.

"No," Cassius said in a low tone, almost a mumble. "There is no end to this.”

Alistair stared at the man in silence.

Cassius glanced down at the fire, the light reflecting off his eyes.

"I have been around for a long time, and even then, this conflict was even longer than that. The only thing that has changed is the number of bodies left in its wake.”

Cassius took a quick sip of water from the cup he was drinking from.

Pulling the cup from his lips, he spoke again.

“No one knows how the conflict started, but it’s been too long and far too many bodies for any side to simply leave now willingly. Loved ones, family, friends….. losing all that in a conflict such as this, could you truly forgive and try to move on?”

There was silence from Alistair as he stared at the man.

Cassius stared down at the ground.

“For a moment, I tried. I really did. My family—my wife and daughter. I knew of the conflict, and I had somewhat brushed it off, even subconsciously, as nothing more than a passing thought: We will be alright; the skirmishes between the two would never reach us; that was what you and many others thought until you are holding the remains of your loved ones.”

Alistair glanced away from Cassius.

Cassius raised his hands, staring at his palm.

“In these hands, these hands that used to plant flowers at my house for my wife and hold my daughter had to drag their mangled dead bodies out of the rubble of our destroyed house from a Dragon-born attack.

Cassius clenched his fists.

“In one fell swoop I everything, and it woke me up to this nightmare and how the world, and it made me realize on fact I could not escape from.”

Alistair glanced back.

“….And that was, there is no hope for us, born in this world, only to be caught in this conflict, and the only freedom we will have from it in this life is in death.”

Alistair felt his heart sink.

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125th Street, NEO New York City Subway Station.

An underground subway station where Haruko sat on a wooden bench, yawning, and Alistair, who was leaning against the blue cylinder pillar near the edge of the platform, overlooking the tracks, waiting for the train to arrive.

After getting off The Sky Train, it was nothing more than a quick run over several blocks to the nearest subway station.

Rush hour was expected soon, so the station was slightly empty.

Haruko's blue eyes glanced up at a HUD that was hanging from the ceiling that notified passengers of the arrival times of oncoming trains in green font, down to the very minute.

2 Train New Lots Ave 1 min.

3 Train New Lots Ave 4 min.

It did not matter what train they took; either train would get them to their location.

Central Park North-110 Street.

Just two stops.

As the green font for the 2-train notification turned orange, an announcement came from the overhead speaker.

[There is a downtown express 2 train approaching the station. Please stand away from the platform edge.]

This was it.

Two stops from this station would be Central Park, where-

(...if that is the case, then he is most likely either at or on his way to Manhattan.)

-The old man would most likely be.

Using the arm rest, Haruko pushed himself off the seat to stand up, but paused halfway.

This was it.

As soon as he entered this oncoming train, there would be no going back.

As he stood up, a feeling washed over him, one he could not explain.

Dread.

Nervousness.

Anxiety.

Standing up fully, Haruko grabbed his gut with his right hand as he felt butterflies in his stomach.

(Why...)

Haruko lightly gripped his gut.

(...do I feel this way? So uncertain. Why now...)

A quick image of the elderly man flashed through his mind.

(This feeling—could it really be because of him? If so, then why? what makes him so different from anyone I fought with?)

Haruko never tried fighting for himself; yes, self-defense was a thing, but it wasn’t like he actively sought out conflict.

Sure, the fate of the world was threatened by Nereus, the first-generation Crystal Guardian, who wanted Aoi to steal her powers.

But-

Haruko did not fight Nereus to save the world but rather to save Aoi- one person.

It was one action, inadvertently, that he never even acknowledged or fully grasped until now, and even then, it was nothing more than an afterthought to the teen.

Haruko's eyes widened in realization.

Even with this power, could he ever truly save the world with it?

As much as he was struggling with his newfound powers, he was still a Crystal Guardian- He was by definition a GOD over the element of lightning.

Lightning could not heal the sick or the blind.

Lightning could not cure world hunger.

He wasn't even sure that he could make the world a better place with his powers.

There was a loud sound and a gust of wind as the train entered the station.

So-

Perhaps he did not save the world that way.

Right now, war hangs in the balance of the battle both were walking into by one person. War was something the teen never experienced, but it was that reason why he was here right now; it is why they were all here right now."

To stop one person.

Just one.

The train slowly came to a stop.

Just one.

Haruko let his right hand fall to his side, and he clinched his fist with a new resolve.

Just one.

To stop the current wave of murders across the city and the prospects of war...

Just one.

All they needed to do was stop one person.

The doors of the train opened.

[This is 125th Street. Transfer is available to the 3 train. Transfer is also available to the M60 Select Bus Service to LaGuardia Airport.]

Several people exited the train, walking past the two.

Alistair pushed himself off the pillar.

It was a single step forward with his right foot, but it was a start.

Another step followed, with his left foot.

Step by step, inching closer to the instrument that would bring them closer to their destination, with no return from here.

Haruko watched as Alistair entered the train.

He knew that Alistair was all in about this; now it was his turn.

(Just one)

The cold air from the train air conditioner hit his face as he stepped inside the train car, grabbing the metal pole.

[This is a Brooklyn-bound 2 Express train. The next stop is 116 Street. Stand clear of the closing doors, please.]

Just one.

He just needed to defeat one.

That was all that he needed to do for this to be over.

That was something he could do.

There was a beeping sound as the train doors closed behind him.

Just one.

That was what he mentally told himself as the train exited the station.

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At this point, it was a scene all too familiar to him now, even after two years, but-

This time, something was different.

Anatoli could not put a finger on it, but that was the feeling he got as he stood there in the room with several other men by his side.

The situation has changed.

That is what the program director said to the six men standing across from each other in front of the desk he was sitting at.

"You have a particular target..." he stared as he slid an envelope towards the group on the desk. "Unlike any other you eliminated so far."

"Unlike? What kind of target is it?" Pavel had asked.

"The situation between the Magi population and government is starting to reach a point that, if left to fester, will cripple this county at a time when we need stability."

Anatoli grabbed the envelope off the table and began to open it.

"This target, along with several others, are those we have kept a watchful eye on to see how they would react."

"A group of power," Pavel asked.

"Not in the traditional or political sense."

"What do you mean?"

"This particular group is made up of several magician families who have cozied up with the government."

Several of the men went wide-eyed at that statement.

"It is unclear to what extent their influence is, but what we do know is that several members of that group have been conspiring with The Magic Association.

Anatoli pulled out a large black-and-white photo, staring at it for a few seconds.

It was the type of photo a private investigator would take of a man with short hair and a thick goatee. The individual was in dress attire and with dress shoes, but Anatoli could not tell which color due to the lack of color in the photo.

It was the same routine he has gotten used to by now.

It was all the same—nothing more, nothing less.

Anatoli raised his head to the program director.

“Who is this individual?” Anatoli asked.

"Nikolai Volkov, the current head of the Volkov family."