Chapter 75: Earth, Wind, and Fire, Part 9

Jonathan Harker kept fighting tirelessly against the hordes of monsters.

Of course, he wouldn't get tired.

For him, this was an easy and routine task, something like spring cleaning. Many of the monsters didn't even die by his hand; they perished before even reaching him, thanks to his diverse abilities.

A field of death surrounded him, making it difficult for low-level creatures like these to pass easily. For every five that got through, ten more died, and the remaining five were quickly killed by his collection of swords that floated behind him and shot out like projectiles.

It was very easy; he was crushing them.

But he wasn't winning, not at all.

It was frustrating. Now that he had grown accustomed to crushing his enemies without them being able to resist, to solving any problem easily and violently, it was true. He couldn't help but notice that. No matter how many he killed, more came from the trees. No matter how many trees he cut down, they still found a way to reproduce.

Some could reproduce by taking a human corpse and turning it into a bed.

Others reproduced in a more traditional but incredibly rapid manner.

Overall, it seemed this demon army was a tide that not even the Immortal Emperor of Humanity could stop. Irritating. Jonathan clicked his tongue, and dozens of swords descended upon his enemies like a high-grade explosive. The ground trembled, cracking, and a dense cloud of dust rose.

But nothing changed because of that, of course.

Even if he intensified his attacks, even if he started putting in real effort, nothing would change. It would just be repeating what he had been doing so far on a larger scale, and it was the method itself that wasn't working, not his level of effort.

There had to be some way to change things. Jonathan wanted to return to his world, to his throne, to the responsibilities he had toward his people. Moreover, he didn't want to let these people die miserably. His human heart hadn't completely frozen over the years and the weight of immortality. There was still, in the very center, a flame that he carefully tended, cultivating it.

He couldn't think of what the hell to do, though.

Had his time as Emperor made him take too many things for granted, causing his pirate-worthy creativity to rust? Or was the situation simply too strange, even for someone with a life like his?

In any case, the result was the same.

He had empty hands, didn't know what to do.

"Irritating," Jonathan clicked his tongue again. "You're nothing but insects, literally and figuratively, yet you're still stopping me. Me. ME! What a bad joke."

He laughed as the massacre continued.

He laughed at himself in a low voice, almost inaudible.

It really was a bad joke. He had to rectify this error of the universe with his own hands.

A monster four or five times larger than all the ants so far appeared, dragging along the crushed corpses of other infernal spawn and a crushed metal box with no idea what the hell was on top of it.

Leaving aside the eccentricities of a different world,

the important thing was that it was a rather large son of a bitch. It had a strange bulging, veined protrusion on its back, with holes from which strange liquids oozed, or its blood randomly chose the color it should take with each wound.

Was it important, a point through which he could deal significant damage? He had no way of knowing, but one way or another, he had to dispatch it.

So he would.

Jonathan flew.

He swung his sword before the unnecessarily large monster could react. The result was evident. The small, fast, and slippery ones had been nothing but cannon fodder against his incredible power. Such a large, slow, and clumsy target would die before it could blink.

There was a moment when it seemed his attack had done nothing, but then the monster staggered forward and disintegrated into a thousand pieces. Its vile blood of multiple colors (now he could confirm that beyond any doubt, whether he liked it or not) created a tide that swept through the shattered street behind him, dragging everything in its path.

Killing a few of the small bastards, drowning them, apparently, smashing them against the walls, the glass, shattering them, and also against things whose names he didn't know at all or at least didn't dare to guess for fear of looking like an idiot.

But that's it, that was all, oh well.

"I have work to do," Jonathan said, shaking the blood off his sword.

——

Caim was running through the ruined city of another world along with the people most important to him.

A few minutes ago, he had been bleeding on the ground after stabbing himself in the heart, determined to die. Now he was in a place like this, something had happened that he hadn't been crazy enough to even dream of, and he found himself perfectly fine.

No wounds, holes that had been so deep he could pass his hand through to the other side without much interruption, nothing. He felt like a new man.

So frankly, he didn't care that they were in another world, surrounded by death and destruction as usual, in danger once again. He was free from the chains of his lineage. The answer he had obtained after coming so far and sacrificing so much had almost destroyed him, but shortly after, a divine act, perhaps, had set him free.

This was his 'happy ending'.

Once they escaped from here and found a place to live, of course.

Yonah stabbed one of those insect monsters with both daggers, driving them deep, and kicked it, sending it into the air. As if they had practiced it, Caim was already there, ready to split it in half.

And since he had done that, Yonah had time to respond to the attack from behind, pushing Victoria out of the way at the same time.

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Perfectly synchronized.

They had almost lost everything due to their selfishness, and now they had even been forced to leave behind the world they were born in, in the literal sense, but they were still one person divided into three parts.

They were born to be together.

Fight together, live together. Die together, if necessary.

But they wouldn't die.

Not today.

Victoria was tired. Well, everyone was tired, but it was especially noticeable with her.

Victoria had pulled him from the jaws of death, not to mention everything else. It was natural for her to feel exhausted, even ignoring that she had the least stamina among them.

Come on, if they wanted to survive beyond tonight, they had to find the exit soon. The good thing was that the wave of monsters wasn't concentrated on them. They had to force their way through, naturally, that's how the world worked, but otherwise, it was fine. They didn't bother chasing them; they kept moving forward, looking for other victims.

He didn't like surviving at the expense of others, all this suffering, but he could worry about the innocent, the ones he didn't even know, once they got out of this hell and had a moment to take a deep breath.

Besides, this world was clearly more advanced than the dark and superstitious wasteland they had left behind. Surely its inhabitants were better equipped than them to repel this plague.

Surely.

——

Sylvester was on the verge of fainting.

In Heather's arms, safe, there was no real reason not to let go, but he fought to hold onto consciousness as if he were still in the fight. As if he weren't drifting further and further away with each second, leaving the responsibility and dangers in the hands of others.

Better equipped than him to face those dangers, in his state, surely.

But still, he was supposed to be the one to handle these things. It drove him crazy to think about it, and precisely because of that, he couldn't stop dwelling on it.

As always.

That was the problem, that he did nothing but the same as always. He had become stagnant, perhaps due to his powers, which had influenced him to think that growth was measured in clear numbers and not in more abstract things. Because it was easier. And when the numbers had practically stopped growing, no one being able to give him a good fight, he himself had stopped.

He recognized that.

Okay, so what then?

He didn't know how to fix his problems, and lately, he didn't even know how to defeat his enemies. So, had he become completely useless?

Maybe the person holding him in her arms was the only one who saw any value in him, who loved him. Even if she wasn't a person at all, what did it matter? He gave her a surprise kiss. Heather blinked, surprised, but didn't pull away. On the contrary.

Good.

She wasn't human, but he wasn't a great example of a human being either, even leaving his powers aside. It was time to stop fooling around and hold onto whatever he could for as long as he could, and there were many worse things to hold onto than love.

Yes, it was that simple.

"I love you," Sylvester said.

Heather smiled.

"I love you too."

Everything was fine in the world, no matter how much it was collapsing and crumbling around them.

Though it didn't last long.

A strong wind blew, dragging them back where they had come from. A completely unnatural wind. Sylvester held onto Heather tightly, doing what he could not to fall, not to be an even bigger burden.

Something didn't want him to leave.

Maybe not anyone, but Sylvester believed it was especially him.

Naturally.

Nothing good can last, he thought, but…

We’ll see about that.

——

Something suddenly appeared, emerging from the flames. A monster unlike any Jonathan had faced in this world.

He had only recently arrived, so that wasn’t saying much. The point was that its form was humanoid, not an insect, royal purple from head to toe. Along with its shield and sword, it presented the image of a knight.

Jonathan snorted.

Such arrogance for, in the end, a monster that was no more than an insect. Long, long ago, Jonathan had sailed the seven seas as a pirate, ending the lives of many pretentious lords who believed their faith and money were some kind of shield, greater than the edge of their sword they didn’t know how to use or the excessively decorated armor they wore.

A long time ago, yes, but he supposed he still had a bit of resentment left.

Jonathan watched as the enemy approached impassively. He wasn’t worried in the slightest.

No matter how strong the enemy was, and he didn’t feel it was particularly strong, it didn’t matter. Neither it nor anyone could kill him, so in the end, he was destined to win any fight sooner or later.

Since time was on his side.

He didn’t even blink when the knight started to run with a speed as if it could teleport.

The enemy’s sword pierced his heart, pinning his corpse against a wall.

Jonathan came back immediately. The enemy looked surprised somehow, although it had no eyes or features to express that. Its face was something like a helmet, completely empty, as if it had been erased. But somehow, yes, it was quite expressionless.

"You may be used to winning, but you’ve never encountered someone like me. I am eternal and almighty."

All of you are nothing but ants beneath my feet.

He extended a hand toward the creature’s face.

The hand, not even his sword.

By touching it with the slightest of his strength, the helmet began to crack. The enemy quickly recoiled, withdrawing its sword. The hole in Jonathan’s heart closed in the blink of an eye and the blood began to pump again.

No, his legs didn’t even give way. He acted as if nothing had happened, though the exits of a bladed weapon were as painful or worse than its entries.

"I’m going to show you the difference between us, insect."

It was faster than he had thought, he had to admit, but in the end it would fall like all the others.

Against him, any kind of resistance was futile.

The enemy wielded its sword, aiming at Jonathan’s neck. Its focus was appropriate for a fragile existence like his. There was no need to waste time and oxygen talking, and all attacks should be lethal at least in intention.

Too bad for him that a good approach didn’t guarantee good results.

Jonathan grabbed the sword with his free hand and squeezed, making it shatter into a thousand pieces.

"You look impressive, but that’s all, huh? Pathetic."

It wasn’t worthy of finishing him off with his own sword. Jonathan clenched his fist, shook it towards his face, and before the blow could connect, the enemy tore his arm off. His expression didn’t twist in pain in response. He didn’t even raise an eyebrow.

Jonathan just laughed.

——

The wind didn’t cease, rather the opposite.

Heather wasn’t able to regain control, and he didn’t blame her. She had tried with all her might, but it had been impossible from the beginning. ‘Something’ wanted them here and so it would be. It had always been like this…

No, he had at least had a few years of freedom, but Heather had been suffering under that yoke even before she was born.

Even her birth had been for a ‘purpose,’ not just because.

In any case, they landed as gently as possible (not very) in the ruins of a building, one ruin among hundreds throughout the city. How many buildings had turned, in the blink of an eye, into mass graves when those things had fallen from the sky, tearing apart reality itself?

"Someone has to do something." Sylvester clenched his fists.

He knew that once again he was backing down, reneging on his decision, listening to the voice of reason. But did it matter at this point? After this, making it clear they wouldn’t let them leave?

No.

It mattered anyway, because it was his decision, external factors like that he hadn’t taken into account. He would accept responsibility for that. However…

Sylvester slowly got to his feet, with effort.

"I want to kill them all."

Heather stood up, standing beside him.

She touched his shoulder with her hand, squeezing.

"I’m tired of being someone’s toy, wherever I go. I’m tired of playing. This is a damn war. I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them."

"We’ll kill them," she said decisively.

Sylvester nodded, clenching his teeth and fists.

Thanks to the rage, his body was filling with power again. Rage was a lifeline in the dark and stormy ocean that was life.

Earth, Wind, and Fire, Part 9: END