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CHAPTER 51: CACOPHONY OF EMOTIONS

After the explosions had rung around the tank, Eleanor, who was inside one of the secured compartments, hugged her sister in the darkness. She clutched her tightly, while counting the seconds in her head.

Elara looked up at her sister. Every time she tried locking eyes with her, Eleanor would avert her gaze. Seeing this, she hunched over as her chin trembled from the painful memories. Not once in her life did she ever believe such a thing could occur to her. But even with the trauma she was carrying, the plastic expression held by her older sister did little to mend the painful tightness in her throat.

"Big Sister..." she swallowed her saliva, taking the anguish with it.

"..." Like a broken record, Eleanor continued to brush her younger sister's hair while biting her lips. She did not know how to comfort her sister. She was the one who recommended this trip to her. Even though Elara wanted to stay at their villa, she forced her to come along, endangering her in the process. Sweat continued to trickle down her chin.

Seeing her older sister's response, Elara's eyes began to water. She began to grasp tightly on her sister's dress. Eleanor looked down at her sister as her eyes widened. She could sense how her hands were quivering. Her heart cracked to pieces.

'Have I already forgotten what Hermes had told me?' Her eyes began to twitch as tears fell down in droves.

"Elara..." She hugged her even tighter than before. Her voice began to shake, "it was all my fault... I-I don't mind if you hate me... I am s-sorry.. I am sorry for being so weak..."

Hearing her older sister's words, Elara began to cry as she stuttered over her words. "Big s-sister, it wasn't your fault..." She began to bury her head within her bosom, drowning out the voice of her own whimpers in the process.

The stifling air did little to quench their combined anguish. Rivers of tears fell from the both of them as they huddled each other for warmth.

Sam, who was sitting across from them, was looking down at the fortified floor, lost in thought. She had no idea what was occurring between the two sisters and decided to give them their much needed space. Because she was the only other woman available, Lance had assigned her to watch over the two sisters.

Observing their grief, she began to rub the back of her neck. All her life, she was called a tomboy. That title was not wrong. She had spent the majority of her childhood and adolescence around guys instead of girls. Witnessing their out-pour of emotions, Sam was speechless. At that moment, the only thing she knew how to do was keep her silence.

The air was stifling as the dust particles swam freely with every vibration from the explosions ringing outside. Occasionally, their bodies would jerk from side to side as Frederick busied himself trying to evade the ammunition raining upon them all.

Sam gripped tightly on her SV weapon. For whatever reason, her heart was quivering. No amount of effort could suppress her fears. Looking down at the floor, her breathing became even more heavy. She began to bite on her fingernails; a reaction she had not seen since her mother became ill many years ago. Suddenly, a voice entered her mind, jolting her awake.

["Officer Sam, I want you to move the two sisters to a deeper compartment within the tank. It seems like the other Mutant Devil Wolf has plasma weapon capabilities. The tank's shields are slowly going to deplete."]

Hearing the orders, she stood up impatiently, her eyes blinking rapidly. "Lady Eleanor, Lady Elara... Apologies, but I have been ordered to move the both of you."

For the first time in a while, Eleanor's gaze sharpened through the veil of tears as she gazed at the officer before her. She nodded and swiftly stood up with her sister in tow. Hesitatingly, she smiled at her younger sister.

"Elara... Let us continue this elsewhere... I... I will make sure to become stronger. I will not let anything happen to you again." her voice carried the weight of titans. She had finally recovered her Noblesse oblige.

Hearing her declaration, Elara whimpered softly, trying her best not to let her voice crack. "Mhm!" She wiped her tears away and walked along with her elder sister behind Sam, who was leading them to a more secure area.

Walking through a dimly lit hallway, Eleanor's attention was captured by a TV screen featuring footage of the outside. An image was displayed, showing the vast sand dunes fitted with heavy signs of battle. Suddenly, she squinted her eyes as she froze in place.

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Sam noticed her confused expression and walked back to her. "Lady Eleanor, what is it?" She shifted her attention to where Eleanor was looking.

Eleanor silently lifted her hand and pointed at one particular sand dune. Seeing this, Sam tried her best to hold back her impatience. "That screen is showing what is happening outside. Why are you staring at it so intently?" She immediately cursed herself for how crude the words came out.

Eleanor ignored her remarks and spoke softly, "there is a man on that dune... Who is he?" Sam's eyes narrowed; she tried to focus her attention on where she was pointing. Just as she was about to question her own eyes, she saw it. Her stomach dropped.

...

A hundred meters away from the battlefield, the figure of a tall man, donned in a black cloak that covered all his features, stood silently. He was watching Hermes battle it out with a Mutant Devil Wolf in the sky. Suddenly, he brought out his arm from beneath his cloak.

It was covered in a dark black fur. Within the grasp of his three-fingered hand was a sinister red orb. Clouds of malignant aura radiated out from within its glossy texture. This was the last of the orbs he needed to use.

In one swift motion, he squeezed on its glass texture, promptly cracking it to pieces as the aura stored within exploded into a cloud of dark crimson. It immediately sunk to the sand beneath his feet, or more specifically, what was on the sand itself.

In front of him was a magic circle painted into the sand. The ominous fluids fell on top of it and spread across its surface, igniting a reaction. Like a multi-celled organism, the mysterious mixture began to slither across the floor, taking the shape of the magic circle. It began to pulse in a faint vibrant-red. The mysterious being stood in silence, observing every moment of what was about to occur.

Across the battlefield, seven other malignant formations were placed on the sand in each cardinal direction, creating a circle across the entire field. The cloaked figure kneeled down before the arcane symbols after noticing every single magic circle he purposefully crafted, became in sync with each other.

From beneath his cloak, he pulled out a sinister candle made from human skin. He placed it at the center of the ritualistic formation, forming an altar. With two of his fingers, he ignited the tip of it. A black flame formed, sizzling comfortably, regardless of the wind. It was as if its form was incorporeal in nature.

Now that the ritualistic candles were all lit, the mysterious being grasped his hands together in prayer. He began to chant under his breath the hymns of whatever entity he believed in.

By now, Hermes and the Devil Wolf he had been battling against both fell down from the skies. Taking a moment to recollect himself, he looked at the corpse of the monstrosity he had just defeated. Pain overwhelmed his senses as he clenched on his broken ribs.

Across from him, the remaining Devil Beast scoured the skies while unleashing numerous plasma attacks against the tank platoon. To defend themselves, Lance had ordered them to break formation to not get hit in their own crossfire.

After receiving Mason's [Cyber-Telepathy] message, he decided to try to head toward the tank's direction to ask for advice from Lance. Stumbling about, he noticed the trail of blood coming from his bruised right arm. He gritted his teeth, trying his best to maintain his balance across the uneven desert terrain.

Suddenly, a murky aura began to encapsulate him. His nose had already pretty much gotten used to the scent of rotting corpses. However, something was different about this. It felt much more sinister.

Within moments, his face turned ashen. Sweat trickled down his back excessively. He could feel a chill passing through his spine and his breathing became sporadic. 'Why... am I so afraid?...' But then his emotions turned once more. Agitation, worry, and anguish mixed into a cacophony of expressions.

While being on the brink of tears, laughter escaped from his mouth. While picking at his lips frantically, he began to think about Elizabeth and what her current situation was like. Restless thoughts continued to churn within a storm of unimaginable magnitudes.

Memories of his family continued to invade his state of mind. He began to pull on his own hair as his knees became numb. Tears streamed down his cheeks as a visceral frown radiated laughter; a laughter that carried with it his cries for help.

Noticing how chaotic his emotions were, he began to panic. His heart began to race. Looking around the battlefield, his stomach churned at the prospect of death. In desperation, he activated [Augmented-Comprehension], but his emotions made it difficult to focus on his cosmic force.

Out of frustration, he began punching himself in the face rapidly. Miraculously, it worked; at least partially. He sat down in the sand and began to meditate. He wanted to try his best to calm his own state-of-mind.

'What the hell just happened to me...'

Suddenly, the sky surrounding the battlefield darkened, as if an eclipse had manifested itself into reality. The clouds of Mars disappeared with the luminescence of the sun. Within moments, a black substance began to fall onto his skin. Touching his face to wipe it off, he noticed its odd texture.

Then the pouring began. Before Hermes had time to think about what had just happened, torrential levels of rain began to fall out of the darkened sky. Hermes clenched his chest. He had tried his very best to calm his own emotions, but the extreme changes to the environment heightened his senses for danger once more.

Hermes looked up, his eyes opened wide. "What in the Monarch of Wisdom is happening?!"

...

A hundred meters away from the scene, the man in shadow continued to pray before the ritualistic altar. Suddenly, the flames on the skin-coated candles lit ablaze, stretching up towards the now darkened skies like pillars. The magic circles all radiated in a slew of crimson hues, exonerating the eerie atmosphere even more.

Seeing this, the man lifted his head and stood up. Four arms of equal length emerged from his dark cloak. Each was adorned in a thick black fur, garnished with three fingers on each hand. He stretched them all out, as if trying to hug the sky.

"O, Collector of Dreams, in the night's silent screams,

Vanquisher of Sanity, in the daylight's vanity,

Almighty Visionary of Emotions, in endless oceans,

By the candle's flicker, by the embrace of nightmares,

I beseech your grace, from the depths of the dreamscape."

End of Chapter