Chapter 67: Earth, Wind, and Fire, Part 1

Heather was the first to approach him, taking flight. It wasn’t surprising. Sylvester could tear Ryan apart as if he were made of clay, and although Cynthia had joined their ranks as another Champion, she was still a novice compared to him. She wouldn’t be able to stand against him.

Only Heather, his equal, could.

Perhaps that was the one thing that hadn’t changed since their first encounter under the moonlight.

No, it had changed; they had become companions. True companions, even if initially under the guise of a tense and temporary alliance.

That’s why he couldn’t help but cry.

He couldn’t fathom what he had done to deserve being stabbed in the back.

Or why it had happened precisely at this moment, while he was busy cleaning the streets. The same went doubly for Cynthia and Ryan. They weren’t just betraying him; they were betraying humanity.

Why? For what purpose?

One could ask a billion questions and get nowhere. What mattered was what he saw with his own eyes, the situation he had to resolve. That was all that counted.

“You have to let go of that sword,” Heather said.

He hadn’t expected an apology, but those were quite the first words. Sylvester forced a strained smile at that tasteless joke and tightened his grip on the sword’s hilt, his knuckles turning white.

“What does it matter which weapon I used to kill you?” he retorted.

“This isn’t you. You have to get rid of it.”

Sylvester furrowed his brow.

His head hurt. Suddenly, it was throbbing.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it’s not real. You’ve been killing innocents.”

“That’s a lie! You’re just trying to manipulate me, confuse me! I’m not crazy. I know perfectly well what I see and hear.”

First stage: denial, whispered a dark voice deep within his soul. Nothing new or worth paying attention to. His inner voice had always been his greatest enemy, trying to sabotage him at every turn.

Every day of his life, every year, from the beginning. He might win some battles, but not the war. And he wouldn’t win today. He wouldn’t win today. He wouldn’t.

Heather sighed.

“Of course it couldn’t be that easy; otherwise, they wouldn’t have forced you to do this. Okay, Sylvester, let’s do it. I’ll bring you back even if it costs me my life.”

She wasted no time; her wings flapped, and she launched herself at him with the force of a tidal wave. But Sylvester had ceased to be a mere human long ago. He could stop those relentless waves with his own hands.

“Stop spouting nonsense! How could you? After I gave you my body and opened my soul to you… How could you?”

“Women don't like clingy men."

In an instant, they soared above police cars, above buildings, above the train tracks that crossed that part of the city like a great metallic serpent.

It was as if he had gone back in time. If only he could go back. If only he could rid himself of this crushing feeling of betrayal and never feel anything for her, no, for them, ever again.

He had allowed himself to get close to only a few people in ten long years.

And that triviality had now cost him so much. If he had known, he would never have done it. He would never have taken that step, opening his heart, because the risks weren’t worth it. You gained very little or nothing, and in return, you put everything on the line.

It was a bet that no sane person would take. He should have kept his cards close and walked away from the table long ago.

If only he could rest for years after this fight… Close his eyes and not wake up. He didn’t know how it was possible to feel so tired, mentally and spiritually.

But even after killing them for this, countless battles awaited him; he didn’t even have the privilege of knowing when he could stop. With so many universes out there, damn it, an infinity of possibilities, perhaps he would be fighting for the rest of his miserable life, until he either won or some bastard got lucky.

And because so much was at stake (everything, literally), he couldn’t be selfish; he couldn’t decide to abandon it. He couldn’t condemn billions of lives to oblivion.

No, worse yet, he had already done that. That’s precisely why he wasn’t allowed to quit.

Why had he come so far, committing genocide multiple times, if he was going to let himself be defeated? What could he say to his victims when he died and was dragged to hell?

That he had earned a chance by crushing their lives, but then hadn’t even tried to seize it?

Being a hero, saving the world, wasn't worth it. He should never have wished for such a thing. It was just a heavy burden. He mechanically wielded the sword to counter the assault of the alien that was lunging at him.

And after all he had sacrificed, did that thing think he would go mad and kill innocents? That would be the same as giving up.

That would trample on the decision around which he had based his life, making all sacrifices meaningless. He would never, ever do that.

But how was he to understand that it wouldn't succeed in deceiving him?

Sylvester was no longer human, but at least he had been once. Heather had been born as she was, and in fact, had been vaguely aware even before being born. She hadn’t experienced a life, a normal development. She felt, certainly, but in a way different from other people...

Other, other, he said? As if she were human?

Alien.

It was just that, and although he had allowed himself to dream of more, today she had proven to him that it was just that. She had struck the first blow. She had brought this upon herself.

So, apart from the pain of that stab in the back, from those cheap excuses... Why did he even feel guilty?

Why did he feel as if his heart was shattering? He was supposed to be untouchable, invincible! The unstoppable savior of humanity! And he had let a non-human creature poison his heart! From the beginning, this world had been as small as a handkerchief, a world that seemed only to move when he was on the scene!

The sets were made of cardboard and the characters were nothing more than shadows waiting for him to do something.

He couldn't reach anyone and no one could reach him, because they lived on... on different levels. So why had he descended? Or why had he pulled them up with him?

Why did this have to happen?

Distracted by his own thoughts, the usual foolishness, Heather almost ripped his neck off with a sword strike. Typical. She talked about saving him, about bringing him back, but behind her blows there was a clear murderous intent.

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Why did she speak as if she was trying to deceive him when she didn’t even bother to hide her intentions at the same time? Maybe her mouth could lie, but not her body... Not now, at least, that night she had lied enough.

Hahahaha!

After all, deep down he deserved it for having been deceived. It was his fault. He had let his guard down too quickly. He felt lonely and had been weak.

The night sky trembled with the force of their clashes. Both had plenty of skills, but as if they had agreed beforehand, as if this were some sort of competition and not a fight to the death, they were merely clashing swords against each other.

The air between them filled with sparks, and anything that ended up in the middle would be shredded in a tenth of a second. It was a destructive force much greater than a giant drill.

"Damn it, why won't you drop it?" Heather sounded agitated, but she couldn't be tired, they had just started. In fact, it couldn't even be said that they had begun. They hadn’t used their most powerful attacks and hadn’t suffered any damage (since they had trained together so many times, they knew each other's techniques too well). The thing in her voice must have been fear. She had finally made her move, but she understood what it meant to betray him. Fine. "Sylvester, think about it! It's a sword you just took from the enemy, not even your usual katana. Why do you refuse to let it go?"

But what did she think he would do, for God's sake? Stand there empty-handed and give her the perfect chance to finish him off? He couldn't let go now even if he wanted to, and he didn't want to, but that wasn't strange at all.

But what did he think he would do, for God's sake? Stand there empty-handed and give her the perfect chance to finish him off? He couldn't let go now even if he wanted to, and he didn't want to, but that wasn't strange at all.

It was nothing but twisted logic, like the crude lie that he had been murdering innocent people.

They were enemies, each and every one of them had tried to kill him first. Well, maybe not. Maybe some had died even before, but was it a sin to end a fight without giving the opponent a chance to screw him over?

It had obviously been self-defense. He was just doing his duty, nothing more, nothing less.

As always.

That was all he was good for.

So it was unthinkable that he had deviated from that path. The path of righteousness, of the hero. There was no human being named Sylvester. He was just a tool for a purpose.

He would fulfill his mission.

Sylvester grabbed the sword with both hands and executed a strike above his head. It was like the blow of a hammer on an anvil. But it didn't temper the "steel"; instead, it shattered it in Heather's hands. It had been about to break for a while. His swords had always been fragile.

He gave her no respite, of course, he had no reason to. But he didn't use the sword either. He lunged forward with an open hand, grabbing her neck. He dragged her through a building, forming a "tunnel" between the broken glass of the windows of some empty office, lights off, a lot of junk and papers scattered everywhere. Not empty. Evacuated and in a hurry.

Sylvester spun Heather in his hand several times as if trying to dizzy her before throwing her upward.

She crashed into a lightning rod, ripping it from the ground, and fell to the roof.

Sylvester landed on the roof shortly after, his black wings folding. Several feathers detached and floated forward like a velvet curtain being drawn.

Had that happened before?

He didn't believe it.

He didn't remember some things well, but he didn't believe it. Then, was it a sign that something was wrong? That no, damn it. That she was not right.

It made no sense, to begin with, and considering the contrary was to consider that he had done something irreversible, that he had not only crossed a line but shattered it.

So it couldn't be true.

It simply couldn't be true.

"Why didn't you use the sword? You grabbed me by the neck instead of taking advantage of your position, stabbing me, trying to kill me."

She was right. She was too dangerous an enemy to play with her; he wouldn't be so stupid, but then why? Why had he just spun her around and thrown her, something that wouldn't harm her, he knew?

It was such a strange decision that he couldn't even justify it to himself.

Was he that angry, perhaps? Had he thrown aside sense, thinking only of revenge?

"Come on, Sylvester. Fight! Fight!"

Sylvester...

He frowned. He growled, baring his teeth.

As if he hadn't been doing it already. All he knew was the fight.

But her, Heather…

She wasn't taking advantage of her position either, even though she was asking him for the same thing, exposing a terrible contradiction. And he had to admit it was true. But then, it was doubly strange coming from her. So why was she doing this?

What was it that he couldn't see, that he didn't understand?

He had the feeling it was something important, that he couldn't get out of this if he didn't figure it out.

What could be so important? He just had to smash the enemy in front of him as always. That's what he was made for, and that's what he did. What he had always done, what he would always do. He used to say that even if the world came to an end, he would continue killing monsters on the ruins of the world until one finally managed to kill him.

But now he could no longer say such a thing, not anymore. Now defeat was the end of everything.

"Sylvester, I'm here, I'm here. Don't worry, I won't abandon you."

Ah, but what was she saying? If he wasn't in control, then who was? The damn sword? Hahaha

"Sylvester, I refuse to believe that you've gone beyond my reach. Nothing will end until I say so. I refuse!"

Couldn't she shut up already?

God, his head hurt. It would be a blessing if someone blew his fucking brains out with a shotgun.

"You know you can't beat me in a real fight, so you have no choice but to resort to these tricks. But it's my fault, still letting you get into my head. That you affect me!"

"No, Sylvester, you were so close… We were!"

Not every day… she sounded so anguished. And she had no fucking right, he was the wounded one here.

Enough, enough. How long have I gone without attacking?

It was time to remedy that.

He wielded the sword with both hands, above his head, moving faster with the help of his wing beats. Yet, of course, Heather dodged it. Rolling on the ground like the common mortals. Like the poor bastards he had wanted to exterminate. Yes, now he had regained his sanity. How could he have allied with a monster like this, a mass murderer. And if only he had allied. There was no way to sugarcoat it, he had betrayed his species.

Good thing it ended here and now.

"When I find who did this to you, I'll tear out their guts and eat them," she said even as she returned the blows furiously. "Do you hear me? Whoever you are? Do you hear me, you fucking bastards?"

What a pathetic spectacle. Crossing swords over and over, they talked like madmen, not even with each other. It seemed like they weren't speaking the same language.

And yes, Heather had managed to summon another sword to defend herself in time, of course. He had never expected anything else.

This time he had gone straight for her heart. There was no contradiction. He couldn't remember why he had been so worried, so divided, just a moment ago.

Better. Useless baggage.

Sylvester was the first to break that impasse in which they usually ended up stuck and, as usual, their roles would soon be swapped often. But, for the moment, he was the one with the upper hand.

He breached her defenses and sent her flying against the faithful companion of modern man: an advertising sign. The screen shattered into a thousand pieces, each crack fine as the strands of a spider's web, sparks of all colors flew high, it was quite a scandal, if the area hadn't been already evacuated there would have been many screams and people running. He thought it would fall, but there it stood. A small wonder of modern design. However, tragically it couldn't survive Heather taking off. But it couldn't be said that it fell, but rather flew out. Which should have made the damn thing fall sooner or later, but instead, intended up embedded in the facade of a building and from there, who would move it?

Sylvester and Heather met again in the air.

They performed the same dance as always.

With so much training, it was as if they had truly rehearsed it.

A fight to the death shouldn't feel nostalgic.

It shouldn't, but he was fucked up in the head.

There were thousands of things he shouldn't do. If he had just done what he was supposed to, he wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

Each of their attacks carried the weight of lost time and worry, when he should have been looking elsewhere. And she responded with animal fierceness. There was not a trace of humanity in her, if there ever was more than a mirage, a convenient illusion.

Under the night sky of a city whose name he no longer even remembered, they were going to decide the fight they had postponed for months. Damn, it was about time.

There was still a huge difference between them, but Sylvester believed he could make up for it.

He better, in any case.

——

“There's no way to get in the middle of that.”

“Yeah, you don't have to swear it to me.”

As obvious as something might be, someone had to say it. Or rather, admit it. Although people tended to not be very kind to their messengers.

In theory, she was at the same level as them. She had trained hard, she had risen. But in the end, they simply had lived that way longer. Therefore, the gap between them only widened, that would never change. That is, she would never have what she wanted.

It was somewhat like the parable of Sisyphus.

No matter how much she pushed the damn stone up the hill, it would always end up rolling down to crush her.

However, she also wasn't allowed to give up and go home, to leave the stupid stone where it was forever.

——

Sylvester was not lost.

She had been about to reach him with a very simple logic. If she kept trying, she could drag him back to the surface and into the light from the deep darkness in which he was lost.

If she said she loved him, wasn't that her job?

She was in no hurry to see how he would react when he knew the truth, but she would accompany him in that agony too.

In joy and in sorrow, in health and in sickness…

Earth, Wind, and Fire, Part 1: FIN