CHAPTER 497
HEART-SUNG DEFIANCE
Hundreds of pillars of the earth, each shaped exactly the same -- sharpened toward the topmost end to look like a sword -- shot out of the earth in a set of concentric circles around an elderly figure, his robes flapping madly in the violent, roused winds. On the top of the pillars, countless bodies hung, eyes rolled up into their skulls, listless, some still spasming. Blood trickled down the pillars' sides, dyeing the earthly brown in a deeper shade, giving it a tinge of crimson.
Cain shot back right after, avoiding a singular bolt of lightning that exploded where he stood, churning out a ring-shaped electric net that drove through the pillars, collapsing them.
Sweat trickled down his forehead madly, his breathing rapid and shallow, eyes jostling in their sockets, looking left and right without a break, Qi in him burning like a bonfire.
His bald head felt cold, doused in the falling rain that had turned into a downpour minutes into his fight. It slowly began to wash away the stench of the corpses and the dye of the blood from the surrounding lands, though it would take a rather long passage of time for these parts to be cleansed.
He rocked his right arm upward, jerking it so quickly that he broke a bone, causing a wall of earth to jolt out from the ground beneath, taking a direct hit from a burning flash that melted right through it in a singular breath. That breath, however, afforded him an opportunity to dart backward, shooting over a squad of cultivators that had just joined the battle.
Without giving them an opportunity to prepare, he clasped his hands together mid-flight, intertwining his fingers and crushing them almost until they broke. The earth beneath the newly arrived shook and trembled all of a sudden, a claw-like protrusion beaming out around them and collapsing inwardly, swallowing them all whole, turning in the end into a closed fist of thin fingers and long nails. Blood slowly began to trickle from its edges, and it almost seemed, from a distance, like a bleeding flower.
He landed haphazardly, nearly stumbling back over his own tiredness. Coming to a stop, he slumped over slightly, holding onto his broken arm, breathing rapidly. He glanced up, noticing that they had begun encircling him once more.
Despite the white mist that had descended upon the Mountain Pass and the surrounding area, blocking the view past a few dozen meters, he could feel them. The earth beneath his feet pulsated with the rhythms of their hearts. Some were calm, some were worried, some were apathetic, some were cold, and some terrified. Such a massive mix, yet they all had to push onward equally. They all had to die for the desires that had nothing to do with them.
“... give it up, old friend.” a familiar, heart-soothing voice reached him all of a sudden, startling him. Snapping his eyes to the side, he saw a similarly balding figure crawl out of the mist, ‘6’ etched onto his forehead.
"W-why are you here?! D-did Hannah lose?!" Cain exclaimed.
"For some reason," Six said, sighing. "She kicked Seven and me out before the battle began. Though, she is stuck with One. So, I imagine, she can't be doing great." Cain sighed in relief; at the very least there's still hope. Everyone, everyone can die, but Hannah can’t. That would signal the end of everything. “Why put up the pointless fight? Surrender, and there might yet be some joy in your life.”
“... I’ve gotta give it to you,” Cain smiled faintly, shaking his head. “I never, not even for a second, suspected you were the great Watcher. You had us all fooled completely. Though, I guess, it’s expected.”
“--you can still save them,” Six seemed to be pleading, sighing as he spoke. “Your--no, our Clansmen. It doesn’t have to end this way.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Today I’ll die,” Cain said, looking up all of a sudden, though there was nothing to be seen there besides the white mist that covered the world. Thick droplets of rain continued to belt his naked head, cooling him. “That is my destiny, Sylver. I’ll die on these wet, bloodied plains. As good a place as any, I imagine. But, most importantly, I’ll die content. You won’t. Seven won’t. None of you will.”
“... do you still think he stands a chance--”
"None of you quite understand, Sylver," Cain leveled his eyes once more, meeting his old friend's. There was a certain trace of pity in the former's gaze, the ilk that made Six shuddered for a moment. "What he's capable of. Not just in terms of strength and his prowess, but his capacity to outdo you when it comes to cruelty. He's not kind, whatever the people of the Empire might tell you. He's as cruel as the most sadistic of men and women you've met in your heyday. It's not a matter of whether he stands a chance or not," Cain added. "It's simply a matter of how quickly he'll kill you all."
“... you became a believer, old friend.” Six said after a short silence, sighing. “I always knew you to be a rational man. Now, as all those touched by him, you’ve turned deluded.”
"... you believed once, too," Cain said. "For the life of me, I can't figure out why you abandoned your heart when it was calling out to you. You knew the boy, Sylver. Yet, you still chose to ignore it, settle back in familiar ways."
“None of us wanted this war, goddammit!” Six cried out in anger all of a sudden, his expression distorting slightly. “Do you think I wanted to witness hundreds of thousands perish in a single bout?!!! Do you think I wanted to watch the Heart of Life itself bleed so?! He left us with no choice!! You know it! If he’s let loose and allowed to do what he wants, he’ll have usurped the world at its roots!”
"... would that be such a bad thing?" Cain said lowly. "The world's broken. It's been broken for as long as I'm alive, and for as long as you're alive, and for as long there were living things here. Wars after wars, calamities after calamities... pain never seems to end. Would it be so bad to let him change that?"
“--you really think he would have made it better?”
“He will make it better.”
“He will die, just like all other Empyreans before him.” Six said firmly. “Whether by ours, or his own hand.”
“... should he die by his own hand,” Cain added. “The world would end. Just like Hell. All of you fools seem to have collectively forgotten the past Empyreans and what happened when you struck at their cores. The only reason you’re alive, the only reason anyone from the Descent is alive is that you'd crawl back into your holes like cowards and wait out the carnage that the rest of the world suffered. There won't be a hole deep enough to crawl back into, however, this time around, should it happen."
“... I see that you are too blind. Shame. I quite liked you, Cain. I handed you over Qe’ll’s because I saw potential in you. Potential to eventually succeed me.”
"I suppose I should be flattered," Cain said, chuckling. "But, it doesn't matter. The past should stay in the past, where it belongs. Swords had become the words, old friend," Cain said, his weakness betraying him as he fell to his knees, slumping in the rain, his head hung low. "So speak to me, once more. Just like the old days."
The sound of a blade slicing through a thin layer of skin, straight into the heart, was low, unheard by anyone but the two of them, drowned out in the rain. Six lay kneeling next to the old man, his right hand holding onto the handle of the sword, trembling, his slightly parted lips quivering. He felt the weight on the blade grow as Cain’s body leaned forward, into him. He grabbed it, holding the wet head against his chest. A few trails of scarlet dripped down, though he didn’t seem to care.
He looked up into the emptiness, holding back a scream. Why?! he thought inwardly instead, his grip on Cain’s back tightening. Why are you all so much stronger and braver than me?!!
Nothing and nobody replied to him, however. Only silence. Dull. Eternal. Accursed. He felt like a frozen statue at the moment, kneeling there in the wet cold, dead bruised against his chest. Why was it that he didn't follow Lino? Why was it that he turned his back on his heart? Why was it that he condoned the hell that surrounded him at the moment? All this while, he refused to ask himself that and, more importantly, to answer the questions. He feared what he might find at the end of the introspection. He feared what he might learn about the man he became. He shuddered at the thought; he had forgotten why he was doing all this. Soon... yes, soon it would come to an end. He needed to endure just a little while longer.
Several minutes in, he finally let go of the old body as it slumped to his side, rolling out, old man’s face looking up at the sky, eyes closed, lips curled up in a smile, no trace of pain or regret anywhere to be found. Sylver looked deeply into that smile, one that had never crowned his lips; content, free, liberated. Is that how it felt like to die for something you believed in? Is that how it looked like to die without regrets? He knew the answers, yet dared not voice them out -- not from his lips or from his mind. All he could do was get up, wipe the expression from his face, and walk away.