Chapter 79: The Cold of Outer Space, The Warm Embrace of Death, Part 1

Caim sat by the window, gazing out at the unfamiliar city.

Well, his eyes were directed that way, but he wasn’t really seeing anything. In truth, he was lost in thought. There was a lot on his mind, and since he’d crashed into this chaotic world on the brink of total destruction, he hadn’t had a moment to really think—until now.

The city held not a single trace of familiarity for him.

Everything was too advanced, too different. But that was the least of his worries. The closest thing he’d ever had to a home was that small village by the river, where he’d nearly been burned at the stake. Where he’d felt the heat of the flames and the suffocating lack of air, convinced it was the end. Where Victoria had spilled her own father’s blood to save him.

He had never had the chance to set down roots.

There was nothing he missed from the past, and he could adapt to anything new. He was adaptable, a survivor by nature.

Yonah and Victoria would adapt too—there was no reason they couldn’t. They had much to learn, but in time, any obstacle could be overcome. All they really needed to understand was that this was a different world, one where the prejudice that had haunted him his whole life couldn’t follow.

Caim realized that unconsciously he had been moving his hand towards his horns. He let it drop before touching them.

Not everything was perfect, of course.

Even in the short time he’d been here, he’d received countless stares and a few venomous remarks, but to him, that was laughable. He was a curiosity simply because they had never seen anyone like him before—nothing more, nothing less. It didn’t mean he would be denied a place in the world, and that’s what mattered to him. It was all he had ever wanted from the start.

A place where his existence was, if not welcome, at least tolerated.

Finally, he had found everything he’d ever wanted.

And now it was going to disappear. Same old luck.

Caim shifted uncomfortably in his seat by the window. Everything was new; everything unsettled him. He had the feeling that if he let his guard down, he would fall through the window and plummet to the ground, but for some reason, he couldn’t pull himself away from the edge.

I’ve come so far, only to end up in the same place. Leading my family to death.

He jerked his head back as if Yonah and Victoria were about to burst into the room and catch him talking about things he shouldn’t be—if only to avoid giving them another reason to worry. But, of course, there was no one. For now, it seemed he still had this room to himself. Him and his melancholy thoughts.

Thoughts that would lead him nowhere.

He knew that. But that didn’t mean he could stop thinking about it. Thinking was one of the few things he could do to face what was coming—he certainly couldn’t rely on his sword. No matter how strong he was, this wasn’t something he could defeat in a fight. That much had been clear at first glance. He could level up all he wanted, crush endless enemies, and absorb countless skills—it didn’t matter. He would never be its match.

So, what now?

Nothing. Now, nothing.

So much effort, so much sacrifice, only to bring them to a world that would be erased in a few days. He couldn’t even say that at least they would get to experience the dream they had been yearning for all those years for just a few days. That wasn’t anything—it was barely a breath.

Nothing is the best I’ve ever been able to give them, he thought.

Leaving one night, abandoning them in peace, allowing them to live their lives—they would have been able to build a future anywhere without him, without the weight that inevitably dragged them into conflict and death.

Of course, they would have mourned him, would have looked for him, for a time. But people said time healed all wounds, and he believed that, in time, the pain would become a dull ache at most.

Anything would be better than this, in any case. A slow, inevitable end.

He heard the door slide open automatically, responding to the proximity of the room’s rightful occupants. One of the many wonders of this different world. He still wasn’t entirely convinced that some form of magic wasn’t involved in the process.

Yonah and Victoria were here. Of course, they shared the room. They always had. It didn’t make them uncomfortable in the slightest after so many years traveling together, fighting side by side. But even if it did, no one would be crazy enough to separate in a place like this and lower their guard, no matter how much they believed the locals had no reason to turn on them over a little discomfort.

You had to have priorities and act with some common sense.

Besides, they were family.

Not bound by blood, but that didn’t matter. Nothing could happen to them.

Caim took a deep breath.

In any case, they were here. Time to put on a brave face. Or try, at least. No need to force it too much—there wasn’t much to be cheerful about. No one on this planet had much to celebrate, but there was no point in souring the last days they would spend together. They had to enjoy every moment. The end would come soon enough.

They could run, but they couldn’t hide from the end.

"We thought you’d be asleep," Yonah said, coming closer and sitting on the bed. Big enough for three. Even four, though it would be a tighter fit, naturally.

Victoria remained standing, silently watching him.

"I thought so too, but my body’s not cooperating." He shrugged. "It’s hard to sleep."

Knowing you might not open your eyes again. It all depended on the progress of that being devouring the world, leaving no trace—wiping away any memory that something had once existed in those places, slowly. Or imperfectly, but Caim would bet the creature was still in its digestion phase, nothing more.

This planet wouldn’t just die. It would be as if it had never existed in the first place.

It wasn’t his planet, his home, but he wished it were. That’s why it felt like his heart would shatter into a thousand pieces whenever he looked out the window.

Victoria lay down on the bed, sighed, and placed her staff in the space between the bed and the wall. Yonah glanced at her for a moment, then joined her.

"Come here, Caim. Let’s at least try to sleep," Yonah said.

Huddled together. Seeking warmth and safety as they trembled in fear, just like when they had embarked on this long, long journey.

Especially Victoria. After all, she had left her village with her father’s blood on her hands.

He...

He had left content, despite the fact that because of him, the girls had lost their home, their community. Because he was a hollow, selfish creature who had finally managed to obtain something. He should have been affected by his near-execution at the stake, but the truth was he had forgotten the fear and pain almost immediately.

And instead of appreciating it, instead of desperately holding onto that something, he had basically turned his back on them. Obsessing over his quest for the Tower, where he had finally found answers that had been of no use to him whatsoever. It hadn’t made up for everything they had suffered to get there.

Caim swallowed and sank into the warm embrace of his family, closing his eyes.

He was able to sleep, and his dreams didn’t turn into nightmares. In fact, if he dreamed of anything, he didn’t remember upon waking. He didn’t think they had been nightmares, though, because it felt like the first time he had truly slept in months. Rested, full of energy.

Even if he couldn’t channel it into anything productive.

——

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Sylvester had finally found Ryan. He had been searching for him for a while. Yes, he could have just called him and asked where he was or arranged to meet up if Ryan felt like chatting.

He hadn’t, he supposed, to have an excuse to delay the conversation or to prepare himself while wandering the halls.

Maybe a bit of both.

In any case, when he saw him, Ryan’s eyes lit up. Sylvester was sure his own did the same. It’s hard to risk your life alongside someone, fighting side by side, without growing attached to them.

You either grow attached or grow to hate them, but those teams didn’t tend to last long.

Not that it was usually a clean break. Not nine times out of ten, anyway.

Sylvester gave him a hug, and Ryan returned it energetically. They were alone, for now, though the hallway wasn’t exactly a private place to talk. Anyone could walk by at any moment.

Well, if someone overheard, so be it. He no longer needed to project the image of an invincible hero who needed no one and would save the world no matter what, like some cartoon character.

He was sick of that—sick of just about everything.

They broke apart.

"I feel like it’s been a long time since we’ve really talked. You mind?"

"Of course not, boss. I’m glad, actually."

"Glad about what?"

It might have seemed like a silly question, but he didn’t think Ryan was just referring to the chance to chat for a bit while they waited patiently for the world to end.

A question that might sound silly, but he didn’t think it was just about the chance to chat for a while while they patiently waited for the end of the universe.

“That you didn’t come in apologizing again for what happened in that city,” Ryan said.

Ah. Now he understood.

“It would be like if I apologized for something Cynthia did to you. It simply wasn’t you. Even if it was your fault, you’ve already made amends, but it would be so typical of you to apologize again anyway.”

“Yeah.”

He’d always suffered from that problem. And Ryan, in the relatively short time he’d been on the team (damn, how could so much crap have happened in so little time?) had seen him repeat it often. Often enough.

“It sounds strange, but I’m glad. That complex you have isn’t good. That everything is your fault, that it’s always your responsibility. Someday it’ll end up killing you or driving you mad,” Ryan said.

I’m already mad, he thought.

“Sometimes talking to you feels like confessing to a priest,” Sylvester admitted.

“Really?” Ryan seemed half excited, as if he’d been paid a compliment. Sylvester hadn’t said it with that intention, but there was no harm in letting him believe it.

“Well,” he shrugged, “in my imagination. I have never confessed.”

“I see. Sorry to be a bother, what did you want to talk about?” Ryan asked.

You’re not a bother. You’re one of the few people who can put up with me. Even if you basically forced yourself to do so, it’s still true.

But he was a bit embarrassed to say something like that, so he kept his mouth shut.

Moving on to the next topic.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I wanted to know how you’re handling all this. You know, because of your faith,” Sylvester said.

“Uh-huh.”

I mean, anyone would have a crisis of faith facing the end of the world. If they didn’t, it would be impossible for them to ever have had one.

“Seriously, don’t take it the wrong way. I’m not trying to convince you that you’ve spent your life believing in a lie or anything like that. That’s not what I think. Or it’s not what I want to think. I’d like to be like you, I think you already know that.”

“You’ve told me once,” Ryan replied.

“Really?” He should’ve remembered, but frankly, he didn’t. He thought he was revealing a vulnerability he’d never dared to confess... Well, whatever. “Well, it’s true. Having faith in oneself sounds nice, it’s good, but when that’s all there is? Fighting against what we face day after day? I’m tired. I just want... I want to have faith. I want to be able to have faith.”

He didn’t think he’d sounded that desperate the last time he’d said something like that, that was for sure. Like I said, anyone would have a crisis of faith at the end of the world.

And yeah, it really did feel like he was confessing to a priest. In the end, the role suited Ryan, if only because he was the most devout person Sylvester knew.

“That’s not something I can give you, boss,” Ryan said.

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t understand. Because you’re looking for a reason why I can keep believing despite the circumstances. That’s not what faith is about. You know? My grandmother used to say: What is faith? Believing in what you can’t see,” Ryan explained.

If there were proof beyond any doubt, I wouldn’t need faith. It would be common sense. It was fair. He didn’t know what he’d expected.

“So, what can I do, Ryan? I’ve never felt so... so...”

“Pray with me,” Ryan said, as if it had just occurred to him.

“Even if I don’t believe? Even if I’m not sure of anything?”

“Maybe people like you are the ones who need to pray the most,” Ryan said.

That... was also very fair. Sylvester nodded, feeling as if he’d just been given a lesson in humility. What kind of lesson? He couldn’t put it into words, but well, it was a nice feeling.

You had to hold onto whatever you could.

So, he followed Ryan to his room, and they knelt, closed their eyes, and prayed. To be exact, Sylvester didn’t have much practice, so Ryan prayed aloud, and he repeated after him. But he tried to be sincere, to lower his guard and set aside his doubts. Out there, the world was dying while he was powerless to do anything.

He had to believe in something.

——

Heather was flying above the clouds, at a relatively safe distance, if something like that even existed, from the disaster.

Of course, by that, she meant the destruction wrought by that being, which was devouring the world bite by bite, leaving behind nothing but empty space. And holes in people’s memories. It didn’t just eliminate things physically; it erased any trace of them from the world.

From her world.

The world she wanted to protect with Sylvester, the world she wanted to grow old in by his side, if she was able.

But now all she could do was watch as it disappeared. Even if they eventually found a way, there’d be very little of the world left. All I need is Sylvester and at least one room, she thought, but he’s not that... adaptable.

He wouldn’t be able to bear living in a world like that.

A world he’d think he’d failed, even if it wasn’t true. Because he believed everything was his responsibility. Great power comes with great responsibility. Those were irresponsible words that could destroy a man.

Heather’s expression softened.

Or a child.

Many years had passed since he’d gotten her powers. Sylvester had certainly gotten older, but had he had time to mature? To grow as a person? Not much.

Not that she meant it in a bad way, of course. She was little more than a child herself.

She had come into this world with nothing. Believing herself the princess of those twisted and strange creatures humanity called Lunar Remnants. And she had accepted it because she was empty, and with that, she could at least start filling her void. But it had only been the clumsy attempts of a newborn trying to find meaning in her existence.

Now she had more or less accepted the truth.

That she was exactly the same as Sylvester. An accident.

But there was an important difference.

“Maybe you’ve given up, my love, but I haven’t. Not yet.”

Heather turned her back on that sad spectacle and flew back to his arms, to his warmth.

The home of her heart.

——

They finished praying, opened their eyes, and stood up. It had been a... different experience, neither good nor bad. Of course, he didn’t expect a miracle to happen just by doing it once. Anything worthwhile required consistency.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to do it again or if it would help him at all, even though he would probably repeat it, but that was another story. And it wasn’t Ryan’s fault. He was just being a good friend, nothing more, nothing less.

“It was nice. Thanks,” said Sylvester.

“No, thank you. I never thought we’d share a moment like this. And to think you were this close to slitting my throat.”

He was obviously joking, but Sylvester grimaced as he remembered their first meeting. Though Ryan remembered it in his own convenient way. Cynthia had been the one about to slit his throat, but well, he understood the point. No need to be so literal.

So many things had changed since then.

So many revelations.

It felt almost like he wasn’t the same person, and not because he had changed one bit, personally. His life bore no resemblance to the one he used to have.

“Funny how things change and how simple they were back then.”

He hadn’t been sent to personally handle a Lunar Remnant crisis in a long, long time. Too busy with the multi-universal war. Sure, hundreds of people who could’ve been saved had died because he stayed on the sidelines.

But if he fell, if his team fell, every speck of dust in the universe would die.

The balance was clearly tipped to one side.

“Well, some changes are for the better.” It was hard to focus on what had improved, but it was still true. He had been fighting so hard for so long, and sometimes it had been worth it. He needed to remember that in his worst moments—that not everything had been a waste of time. “Let’s call Cynthia. We could go out for a drink, chat, have some fun. Your girlfriend’s invited too.”

Sylvester grinned like an idiot, but that, unfortunately, wouldn’t be happening.

“She’s out.”

“Where to?” He couldn’t imagine where Heather might want to go, especially under the circumstances. Normal enough.

“To get a closer look at what’s coming. I didn’t ask why.”

There was no need to say that Ryan shouldn’t ask either, because he had no damn idea. He loved Heather, but that didn’t mean he could read her like an open book. He wished.

“I hope she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“If I suspected even the slightest bit, I wouldn’t be here.” For better or worse, he had priorities.

“That’s true. Come on, let’s go.”

Laughing, Ryan gave him a few pats on the back. They left the room like that, then Ryan split off, called Cynthia, and they arranged to meet at the nearest place. Empty, closed. Even better. And it wasn’t hard to get in.

Cynthia had already done all the work and was waiting for them. She had always seemed like an attractive woman to him. Not in the sense that he had any interest in her—sexual or emotional—just in the sense that, well, he had eyes, that’s all.

For some time now, though, she didn’t seem quite so attractive.

Not ugly, by any means, of course. His eyes were still working. But he simply couldn’t see her the same way anymore.

Anyway, he wasn’t impartial.

Her smile was the most beautiful thing. It lit up her entire face. Even Cynthia had an optimism that he lacked. Of course, he saw the small signs—the weariness, the pain. But with a smile, she could still light up her whole face. He envied her, just as he envied Ryan.

They were more complete human beings.

“Boss.”

“Don’t you start with that, too. At least call me Sylvester.”

They hugged.

Maybe it was a bit much to call them friends. They hadn’t had much time to act like that. Always one fight after another, more crises to solve, fires to put out, or training to be ready for the next crisis, always more dangerous than the last.

But they were comrades, brothers in arms, and that was almost as good. Or better.

He couldn’t think of better company to share these moments before the end of all things.

The Cold of Outer Space, The Warm Embrace of Death, Part 1: END