Chapter 64: The Big Boner, Part 1

1

Sylvester was dancing.

No, it wasn't the end of the world, or at least not of this world, as he had earned a few days off by ending a world. Today he had chosen the club with the stupidest name in the nearest city to the base. This was The Big Boner, as the sign hanging above the door attested in more than one sense, they hadn't thought much about it when designing it and surely hadn't spent much on commissioning it from whoever. But at least it made things clear, yes, it was a Great Erection, for sure, no one could say they were lying.

Everything was a bother.

The lights of the ball spinning above their heads, a constantly changing rainbow, the unnecessarily loud volume of the music pounding his temples, the crowd around him, making the space so narrow that he could barely extend his arms without hitting someone.

The noise, the claustrophobic lack of personal space. And the sweat.

The sweat wasn't very pleasant either.

At first, he had thought he would wish to be anywhere but here, that for the few days of vacation he had, he had messed up big time, he had ruined it.

But now...

Well. To say he was enjoying it would be too much, but Sylvester believed he was starting to understand it, more or less.

All of that was annoying, no doubt, but it was a bother they all shared. Perhaps that was a necessary part of the experience. Perhaps it would dissolve, transform into background noise, and then he could let loose (metaphorically and literally, his hair was growing and he hadn't bothered to cut it, so he had just tied it up in a bun) and have real fun.

Since he was starting to think positively, of course something had to happen.

Among the crowd of people so drunk they thought they could dance emerged as if nothing, without anyone noticing in any way, a man with a strange sword.

Wrapped in a dark aura of power.

Yes, he knew it was different as soon as he saw it. That almost distracted him from the fact that the enemy this time was more of a boy than a man. Although that wouldn't make his hand tremble, of course.

"Wait," Sylvester told him.

He would do what he had to do.

In this case, it was to whisper, to try to make him listen to reason before people found out and chaos ensued and the opportunity was lost forever. For starters, he had no idea how he had managed to sneak in here without anyone seeing him with a sword like that, but he could leave that for later.

"There are too many people here. Let's go somewhere else. The surprise attack has failed and you only need to kill the Champions, so what does it matter to you?"

Yes.

The boy must see him as he saw him. Nothing more than an enemy, there was too much at stake to indulge in sentimentality or moral stupidity.

But it didn't have to be like that with all the people gathered in this stupid club.

That boy didn't respond. Sylvester had spoken the truth, but that didn't make it any easier to accept, quite the opposite. People didn't care about the truth, only what they wanted to believe. Or worse, needed.

In fact, he wasn't even looking at him. His head was bowed and his hair covered his forehead and eyes. There was something strange, in short, and not just with the sword he carried.

"Hey. Stop. It doesn't make sense to start a massacre when, if you win, everyone will die anyway." Yes. There was no need to spread more suffering. Couldn't they just let the civilians be nothing more than collateral damage, if the worst happened? That destruction was already too horrible as it was.

Although maybe it would be better.

It wouldn't be convenient to say it now, let alone work under that premise, but maybe it would be better if everyone was dead by the time the end came, if he failed.

He didn't know.

He didn't want to know.

The boy didn't want to know anything either. He knew he couldn't reason with him. It was expected, since they were enemies, but he had to try, he didn't want another massacre because of him, because of his damn fault.

Damn. How unpleasant.

He took a deep breath.

But it wasn't over, he could still try to save as many innocent lives as possible... Only now the highest possible number was considerably lower.

Well, he had no choice but to...

He didn't even have time to finish the thought. Sylvester had to dodge a slash by jumping back. If he didn't hit one of the civilians in his place, it was by luck, pure chance more than anything else. Unless he was holding back. But he didn't believe so.

Still, it didn't matter.

Many people would die here today. There was no way he could end this without anyone noticing, which was the only way no one would get hurt.

The presence of a criminal with a sword would sow chaos, they would run like headless chickens, looking for the exits.

And then many would die.

If not at the hands of the enemy of humanity, trampled by their own companions with whom they had been dancing so joyfully until then. Thrown to the ground and trampled by a human stampede, unable to scream. Too much happened with less reasons. He remembered an incident in which thirty-four people had died just because some idiot had decided to activate the fire alarm.

There wasn't even a fire.

That joke cost him several years in the shadows.

In short, bloodshed was inevitable. As usual, no matter how hard he tried, it was. He frowned.

Another blow.

He dodged it again without problems, jumping to the side. Anyone who can see me, but not my attacker, must think I'm still dancing. He didn't know why he was thinking such nonsense at a time like this. And he hadn't even had a drop of alcohol, as usual.

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The boy's blade grazed the ground, he must have intended to split him in half, sparks flew high.

And it was over.

"But what the hell?"

It had lasted long enough, but it was over now. There was no way to control this anymore.

So, the only thing that could happen in a situation like this.

Total chaos. Wordless screams.

For the most part, humanity had grown accustomed to feeling safe after centuries of slaughter, people lived their lives without really thinking they could die until life kicked them in the mouth and forced them to look death in the eyes.

But the Lunar Remnants crisis, which now didn't even rank among their top ten problems, had changed even that.

Now everyone was painfully aware of the fragility of life, living with the sword of Damocles over their heads, ready to cut their necks. This hadn't led to a more united humanity, but quite the opposite, more division, more anger and hatred. And more drugs and alcohol in places like this, with equally picturesque names. In the past, people died in stampedes like this by accident, driven by panic, simply not realizing what they were doing to another human being. But now? Now they wouldn't stop even if they realized.

The spirit of humanity was irreparably stained.

Not everyone had run, some had simply been paralyzed by fear. And the enemy lunged at one who had screamed but nothing more, there he was standing, waiting for his death. Although not if Sylvester could help it. He didn't have his katana, but he did have a gun hidden in his coat, yet he didn't draw it, quickly assuming that the enemy could at least dodge bullets and that therefore he would be faster, this was the only way to stop the bastard before he did something not only horrible but completely unnecessary.

It didn't turn out to be a mistake.

Sylvester positioned himself between the enemy and the stupid but innocent civilian. He punched him in the chest and his fist cleanly pierced him, he clearly felt it shatter his ribs to make its way to the heart, which exploded like a piñata. Feeling the viscous blood slide between his fingers, Sylvester didn't feel the rush of victory or anything like it. Not even when he heard the enemy exhale what was undoubtedly his last breath against his ear, he had plenty of experience in that regard, it wasn't hard to distinguish and completely impossible to imitate well enough to deceive it.

There was no doubt the enemy was dead. However...

"Is it that easy? Seriously?"

Perhaps it wasn't the most appropriate reaction, but who could blame him? Life wasn't like that. Life was full of dark surprises, but not gifts, nothing was given, everything was paid for in some way.

With sweat, blood.

Tears.

2

Sylvester buried his face in his hands in the only place he had something close to privacy, the only place he felt safe enough to fall apart. There were no tears, at least not yet, but his eyes stung and his vision was already clouding. He saw no reason to hold back those tears, back in what was now his room, not his home, he had no such thing, but something was something.

He hadn't done anything he had to regret.

He knew perfectly well that he had fulfilled his duty, doing only what was necessary.

However, he had killed millions of innocent people more than he had saved. That was an irrefutable fact. No, that had been true since the first universe died before his eyes, it was just that he had tried not to think about it. Now it wasn't millions of times more, but an unthinkable massacre for which there were no words or adequate numbers.

"I'm suffocating," he thought. "Holy God, I'm suffocating."

Someone burst into the fragile security of his room. He knew it was Heather before raising his head, who else could have torn the door down with such ease? At least she made sure to fix it afterward, generating more of that black 'crystal' to hold it against the frame.

"Here you are, feeling sorry for yourself. I suspected it," were the first words out of the woman's mouth.

("woman? that's no woman")

"I'm not in the mood for your games."

Against everything he should listen to, morality, common sense, he liked Heather and now it was hard for him to consider the possibility of them facing each other again when all this was over, as coexistence between the Lunar Remnants and humanity seemed to be nothing more than a fever dream. But it wasn't the time.

"I'm not here to play. I'm here to..."

"What?" he snapped, unless she had the decency to get to the point.

"Do whatever you want."

"What?"

"You heard me. Tell me to leave, and I'll go."

That was precisely what he should do, but what had it served him to do what he had to do? He didn't see that it had taken him very far. The world kept turning, yes, no more, no less. That was all he had achieved with his efforts. That and empty praises to feed his ego and his deficiencies from people he didn't even like.

I'm disgusting.

Suddenly he couldn't do that.

Suddenly he couldn't say anything, so he just pushed his lips against hers without any warmth. But that wasn't to say they weren’t inviting, just like the rest of her because... At first she tensed as if she hadn't expected this, but she relaxed or forced himself to relax and closed her eyes. That submission excited him more than any human woman had. Perhaps because he knew Heather had the power to destroy this world, and yet she desired him.

Perhaps because something had broken in his head.

In any case, he dragged her to the bed, pushed her down, and climbed on top of her. They writhed on the bed wildly like a snake biting its tail, kissing without separating for a second to breathe, undressing without hesitation, now Heather had taken to wearing clothes although the first few weeks she had spent naked because she had nothing to show anyway.

And so what? She is here with me. She desires me, no, she needs me.

That is more than enough.

In fact, it is everything.

And despite what Sylvester had been thinking, he grabbed her thighs, spread her legs, and lowered his head only to stop when he saw what he already knew: there was nothing there. Neither one nor the other. When he raised his head, he saw what he should have protected her from. Pain, shame.

To the core. I messed up big time.

He had no answers to the questions swirling inside him. Silence, to stop asking, was something akin to peace, something he was willing to settle for.

They plunged into clumsy, hurried, trembling passion. Would Heather even be capable of feeling pleasure doing this? Or at least like humans. No sound escaped her lips, she seemed more surprised and inhibited than anything else, and her skin, her black crystal skin, didn't warm up. There was no hint of color in her cheeks.

However, he didn't take long to dispel any doubts about that.

3

"It's Sylvester, he saved us, fuck, fuck, but it was so close, fucking hell."

They knew him.

Much more than their bosses would have wished, that was clear. It had been an impossible dream from the start, however. He still wasn't sure how they had managed to keep all this shit a secret for a few weeks.

Someone put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a half embrace. That someone was very lucky. Sylvester managed to restrain himself and not react by tearing him in half, waiting for another enemy to appear. He maintained that people's attitude toward death had changed, but they still took certain things lightly. Like the danger of approaching someone like him by surprise.

Speaking of which, this guy surprised me and so did the enemy. What the hell is wrong with me?

"Let me buy you a beer."

"Maybe later. I need to get rid of this."

Sylvester slipped into the bathroom amid cheers, disappearing from view as quickly as he could. It couldn't be that easy, that idea persisted in his mind, spinning endlessly. He could feel the dark power of the sword vibrating in his hands. Yes, his hands. He had been forced to hold it with both hands shortly after entering the bathroom. It was a heavy weapon, but not in a physical sense, if it were in a physical sense it wouldn't be a problem thanks to his monstrous strength.

He hadn't witnessed for the third time (God, he had already done it twice and had had more than enough since the first) that horrible destruction.

So that man must be nothing more than the first of the Champions of his respective universe.

It wasn't like the previous one, where some had done most of the work for him and there had only been one left. A slippery and super powerful bastard, but only one after all, who had only fallen because he had basically given him the tools to defeat him, unknowingly. Of course unknowingly. Who would be stupid enough to do it knowing it?

Ahem, but that wasn't the point. The point was that this one was weak.

He resisted believing it, no matter how fucked up life was, someday they would have to be the ones with the upper hand for a change. Someday they had to be in the position of the powerful universe against which the other seemed primitive, underdeveloped, weak.

As much as his heart screamed, "so easy? Can it really be that easy? For example..."

Someone stumbled into the bathroom.

At first glance, he seemed like another innocent in the wrong place at the wrong time, but Sylvester understood that he was the next obstacle. That he was here to retrieve the sword and kill him. He was his enemy and, more importantly, he was the enemy of all humanity.

Therefore...

"Hey, thanks for..."

He raised an open hand, waving it.

Surely he would attack him, either with his bare hand or with some weapon he would try to grab right now.

So Sylvester split him in half with a single stroke. It was strangely easy once again. But even when he saw his two halves touch the ground and the blood spreading outward almost as if it were something alive, he didn't feel calm. Quite the opposite. The anxiety pressing on his chest was so strong that he could barely breathe.

The darkness enveloping the blade, invisible to the naked eye, roared.

In a human language.

AT LAST, I FEED!

The Big Boner, Part 1: FIN