Still in the stupor of battle, Temp quickly jumped up from his hospital bed, the clinical smell of medicine and perfume blessing Temps’ sense of smell, the smooth blanket enveloping him in warmth violently thrown off, his oak brown eyes darting across the marble white room. He failed to realise the innocent young woman who had been peacefully sleeping on his previously unmoving thighs.
Lucia jolted awake, equally startled. Grabbing the wooden staff resting beside the sturdy hospital bed—almost comically taller than she was—she instinctively began to chant Fissure, her hands wrapped around its shaft.
A chill shot down Temps spine, hairs on the back of his neck shooting up, a cold beat of sweat rolling down his pale face. With no delay, he haphazardly lunged at her in a dive, launching his entire body at her slender frame.
In just a few seconds, the calm ward burst forth with life. The once organised layout of the empty room with its 3 beds arranged in a straight line parallel to a wall was upended, pushed back by Temp’s sudden movement. The small side table situated beside it toppled over onto its side, the pot containing a plant with striking yellow petals shattering like glass, shards scattering all over the wooden boards. Amidst the chaos, a pair of students laid on the floor, one above the other, in a rather compromising position.
Returning to his senses once again, Temp opened his eyes to be greeted with a welcome sight. Somehow, while barreling through the air, he had managed to rotate the two such that it was now Lucia who was on top of him. Staring at her ch-, face, definitely her face, his eyes traced a path from her defined and slightly angular chin up towards her supple red lips, and further up towards her delicate nose complementing her sharp jawline before finally reaching her lightning yellow eyes, which had always enraptured him. Although the heavy bags under her eyes and slight cracking on her lips were new additions to her unchanging face.
Temp froze, his breath catching in his throat. Lucia’s face was centimetres from his, her sharp jawline softened by the faint shadow of exhaustion, eyes rimmed with the dark rings of sleepless nights. His gaze traced the delicate curve of her lips, cracked just at the edges, and the hollow of her cheeks where the usual brightness had faded. The sight hit him harder than any battle wound could.
His chest tightened, heart thudding against his ribs as if it wanted to escape. He instinctively reached out, fingers grazing her cheek, the touch barely connecting, as if afraid she might vanish.
Temp bit his lip, suppressing the tidal wave of emotions welled up in the very depths of his being from showing. The glint in his eyes softened and his arms weakened, shaking as they supported the weight of Lucia, which itself felt like air, but the burden that she bore felt heavier than the Heavens and Pangea combined—and Temp could feel it.
‘Told you, boy. Should’ve used me when you had the chance,’ his future self’s voice said, calm and steady, each word picked with intent, as though the mockery lay not in the volume but in the certainty of the statement.
Clenching his fist, Temp’s nails drew blood as he sank them deep into his palms. ‘Never again.’ he thought. ‘I never want this to happen again.’
Coming to, Lucia awakened, looking down at Temp, who put on a mischievous smile. “Thanks for the view.” he proudly and calmly stated, as if she intentionally put herself in this position. Feeling a rollercoaster of emotions, Lucia's face turned beet red as she realised the situation, pushing off Temp and scurrying to pick herself off the ground. She then paused for a moment, eyes scanning the person lying on the ground before her, still charading around with his ever so adorable and playful attitude, dropped her prized staff, and ran back to him—who had started raising himself from the ground—with her arms opened as if she was a leaf taking in the sunlight, maximising her surface area.
Before Temp could react, she was already upon him—baggy eyes brimming with tears and cracked lips softening into a beautiful smile—tackling him back onto the cool wooden floor. Smiling at the heartwarming scene, Temp, wiping the newfound blood from his hands onto his new sky blue gown, placed his hand on her head and started stroking her hair, like how a father would his daughter before sleeping.
“How long was I out for?”
Bawling her eyes out into his chest, Lucia stuttered in between ragged breaths, tears seeping into Temp’s outerwear, “About… 3 days…”
“Please… never… do that again… I’m begging you…”.
Temp's breath came in short bursts as Lucia’s sobs filled the air, his warm smile not departing from his face. His usual teasing demeanour was replaced by something much more solemn. The warmth of her body, the softness of her short hair beneath his fingers—it felt like a lifeline. A tether that held him in this moment, in this world where everything seemed to spin too fast.
Unbeknownst to our heroes, there were two other patients in the room who witnessed the spectacle which unfolded.
A cough from the corner of the room broke the silence. The Dwarf, watching with a raised brow, muttered something inaudible to his Fairy companion. "Why can’t I find this kind of love?" he said, clearly trying to inject humour into the situation. He slumped further, shaking his head with a wistful expression, as if lamenting his fate.
“Shh!” The fairy fluttered her wings, her delicate face lit up with a wide grin as she watched them from the comfort of her bed. “Let them have this moment. It’s way more entertaining than staring at the ceiling anyway.”
A few more moments of silence passed, save for the muffled sounds of the Fairy’s quiet giggles and the Dwarf’s occasional exaggerated sighs from across the room. The warmth of Lucia’s presence calmed Temp more than he cared to admit, enough that he did not even notice two dynamic duo opposite the room, his mind settling as the chaos of earlier seemed to fall away.
“You alright?” Temp asked, his tone soft and voice low.
“Just a while more.” Lucia responded, cradled in his arms, her body unmoving and breath stabilising.
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Temp had never seen her this distraught before, from their days of being together since the orphanage even to the first time Temp had used his Unique Ability, severely injuring both himself and his uninvolved Dwarf senior.
She was always the level-headed, reliable girl of the pair. Whenever Temp had faced hardships, it was Lucia who encouraged him to push through all difficulties, but now, due to his own incompetence, she was reduced to this bumbling mess of bottled up emotions.
His gaze drifted downward, his fingers gently brushing against Lucia’s arm, and his thoughts swirled back to the time he had first used his Unique Ability. It had been a long time ago, but the memory still haunted him, the memory that made him vow to never use it again, despite what might come.
***
Very quickly on, Temp discovered that he indeed… had no talent for swordsmanship. Every swing, every step he took was awkward and clunky, every mana channelling he attempted ending in injuring himself and requiring healing from the nearby Fairy healers. Whilst in a light spar with another greenhorn, he could barely track his opponents sword movements, even though he himself was a newcomer. He was beaten with ease, in less than 3 exchanges Temp had already sustained a blow to the abdomen, a second to the legs and a final one to the head, ending the duel immediately.
The first blow was honestly a fluke, in Temp’s opinion, he had tripped on a dent in the floor, losing his footing and falling directly onto the hilt of his opponents wooden sword, in the second and third, he was completely outclassed. While waiting for a strike by the opposition, he got impatient and proactively struck, widely lifting the sword up above his head and swinging it down, much like he had when he killed his second demon a few days prior.
His opponent, noticing the obvious attack, stepped one foot in, parried the blow with his one-handed sword like he was pulling a teh tarik, the sword moving in perpendicular motion from the ground, and while Temp’s sword was low to the ground, unable to be moved in time, the Dwarf drew a semicircle with his sword like he was tracing a rainbow, before twisting his body and stabbing Temp in the thigh in one fluid motion.
Not learning from his previous mistakes, Temp tried the exact same thing that he had done the previous round.
He got a well-deserved whack to the head for it.
Then, it was finally time for the hard sparring sessions, a place where you could use anything at your disposal with the only drawback of no real sword and no stopping until your opponent conceded or the time ran out.
Finally allowed to unleash the full extent of his Unique Ability, Temp revelled in the satisfaction of getting revenge for his previous embarrassment, with his opponent being a Dwarf, he could also not worry about injuring the poor soul due to their races’ unnatural bulk.
What he did not expect was permanently disabling him and traumatising everyone else in the crowd.
Upon activating his Unique Ability, he imagined the drawbacks to appear after he used it, losing a part of his sanity and recovering after a month, max. That did not happen. Temp, on activation, found himself in the backseat of his own body, acting as an observer for the cruel things that were about to unfold due to his actions.
Instantly, the atmosphere felt heavier, the aura about him completely changing. Channelling an immense amount of mana into his tendons instantaneously snapping them.
A blinding pain seared through his whole body.
‘Fuck! No! Stop!’
He didn’t.
Temp burst forth with incredible acceleration, colliding with the sturdy Dwarf, who despite his sturdiness, broke his spine from the impact alone. He still had to concede defeat before the duel could stop and receive medical attention.
“I qui-”
He wasn’t.
Allowed.
To quit.
What followed next was like the God of Cruelty had descended upon the mortal realm, overriding Temps’ control over his own body and using it to commit the most heinous of acts of violence on the closest unfortunate creature.
Punching the chubby Dwarf’s neck, it completely shattered his vocal cords, and could now no longer admit defeat in any way. This gave it free reign over what it was about to do to the unlucky Dwarf with no intervention, neither from the onlookers or Temp.
Gripping him by the neck, it lifted him well above where he should’ve been able to, with Temp’s frail—much less than muscular—arms, however this thing just seemed to trascend the laws of everything, the principles of morals and ethics included.
It smashed him into the solid concrete flooring of the sparring grounds.
‘This isn’t happening…’
"Boom!"
Blood spilled.
Over,
‘Why do I have to be so useless!’
"Boom!"
Bones cracked.
And over,
‘I'll do anything! Please… stop.’
"Boom!"
Flesh tore.
And over again.
‘It’s all my fault…’
"Boom!"
Will crumbled.
But it was not done with just that.
‘...’
It reached out to his arm—the lifeblood of Dwarves, the entire purpose of their lives, the hammering limb—and tore it clean off.
And then the other.
No screams.
No pleas for mercy.
No sound escaped the Dwarves’ broken body, his body alive but soul dead.
Just silence.
And all Temp and the onlookers could do was watch.
***
This time, it was Temp’s turn to cry. Reminiscing of that traumatic scene always made Temp emotional, and now, with Lucia cradled in his arms, he felt a lot more open to let it all out. As the pair sat there, whimpering to themselves like little children, the ever-present Dwarf and Fairy sat there, staring in disbelief.
After a long silence, the Dwarf sighed, his voice breaking the constant cries of the couple. “What's got the young lad cryin’ as well?” The older Dwarf thought aloud, barely managing to contain his tears.
The Fairy fluttered her wings, forcing herself to stifle the waterfall that she herself was about to unleash. “Who *sniff* knows? Either way I’m not interrupting. This is their *sniff* #CoupleGoals moment!” The Fairy responded, trying to lighten the mood.