There were people on the roof ahead of her who didn’t look like [Guards]. They wore heavier armor and carried around much heavier weapons, for starters. They also weren’t wearing the kingdom’s flag as an insignia on their shoulder.
It doesn’t matter, let’s attack them, said Siidi.
Agreeing Isse raised a hand and used… one of her soul half’s Skills: [Summon Lightning (Minor)].
She could do it thanks to another Skill Siidi had obtained nearly a month ago: [Soul Half: Share Skills]. With it, they’d found out, they could use each other’s Skills, which had prompted both of them to experiment with them in the most improbable ways, from painting the webs in her room in the colors of the rainbow (and then inevitably turning everything back to white because it had been horrendous, completely unlike anything Aru could’ve done) to learning a bit of fighting techniques from Siidi, although she hadn’t gained any new Classes out of that.
A ray of lightning formed at the tip of her index finger and shot towards the men in front of her.
Of course they dodged, but that was alright, she had planned for it as, immediately, she pointed her other hand towards one of people who’d just moved away and shot a [Snow Arrow], while with her other hand she cast a [Fireball] towards another group. Her former attack was dodged, again, while the explosion from the latter managed to hit the group since it had a much wider area.
Then, since their Skills had been consumed, she threw another [Fireball] at the remaining group and watched, smiling in glee, as they screamed, too late to move aside. Someone from underneath shouted for help, but that which amused her the most were the people screaming questions like ‘How in Airm hasn’t she exhausted her mana?’
The answer to that was, naturally, that she had the Mana Pool of two people combined inside her body, meaning that she could cast twice as many Spells as most other people her Level.
Although she was quickly starting to feel the strain.
So she ran.
Why did Albert have to buy a shop so close to the center of the city?
Probably because it would make it easier to sell his stuff, answered Siidi.
In front of them the space between two houses allowed the formation of an alley, and quite a large one at that.
Now, here’s a fact about arachne: they were bad at jumping. It’s not even hard to believe considering their dimensions, weight and how short their spidery legs actually were. They just couldn’t boost themselves up. Now, normally that wasn’t a problem since they could just, you know, climb anything that posed such a problem. That, though, wasn’t possible here.
Ok, we can still do it, it’s not that much, thought Isse.
She skittered forward faster, passing by the downed (and dead) men, before leaping for the gap between the houses and using Siidi’s Skill [Lengthy Step] in mid air. She managed to gain two, maybe three meters, but that was enou –
A crossbow bolt struck her in the shoulder.
With a scream of agony as she felt the sharp steel tip embed inside, tearing through muscle and bone, she curled up, messing up her trajectory and ending up body first into the wall, just a few inches away from the top of the roof.
Then, unable to put her legs under herself, she began falling.
The only thing that saved her from a ruinous fall was Siidi’s screaming, which prompted her to do just that.
And she was on the ground, the excited voices of both [Guards] and [Mercenaries] shouting that she’d been hit and was now grounded.
She turned around, ready to run again, the pain fogging up her mind as she stumbled backwards… into something wooden.
Turning around faster than she’d ever done in her entire life she raised her hand, ready to cast a Spell, any Spell, the words already on her lips, but she managed to stop when she saw it was, of all things, a middle aged man pushing a wooden cart with a little roof overhead containing… cabbages. Lots of cabbage. For the matter he was also wearing clothes of the same green as the cabbage, as if he was attempting to become one with it.
“Go. I’ll distract them,” he said with a face that was saying he would rather be doing anything else in the world than be here, his fear shining to her Skill enhanced senses. Fear and resignation. As if he didn’t have a choice.
Still, there was no time to dwell on these things as she stepped around him, climbing on the wall so as not to touch him or his cart, and ran away.
As she got further away she heard the sound of crashing wood followed by angry shouting, although that was quickly overshadowed by the man’s scream of pure horror: “MY CABBAGES!”
----------------------------------------
Albert struck forward, his blade reaching for Argus’ throat, but naturally the man dodged because, really, who would be stupid enough to attempt to parry such a short blade in the hands of an old man with many more Skills than you.
“Give up Albert, I know your strongest weapon was always the element of surprise. You’ve lost that and we’re prepared to fight you.”
Albert laughed unsettlingly again, causing shivers to crawl down every man’s spine.
“And you think an old man like me wouldn’t have a few tricks up his sleeves? I fought worse than you and your men Argus. Much worse.”
Granted, he had also been thirty years younger at the time though, and for all that he had his [Vampiric Vitality] keeping him in good shape, he couldn’t deny that his mind was slower than it had once been, his body beginning to ache in a few places as his time ticked away. He was very far from his prime and knew very well his many limitations, which was his greatest advantage at the moment: Argus and his people knew nothing of him, of how far he could push himself and how he could use said limitations.
Because yes, even one’s limits could be used to their advantage. For example, he’d once met a [Chef] in the city of Salvezza, a grizzled man who seemed to be more wrinkles than flesh, who used the trembling of his hands to cut and dice things.
Everything was useful if you had enough fantasy.
So he stood there and looked them in the eyes, position relaxed, hands raised and holding his dagger as he positioned himself with his shoulders to the wall behind.
Then, as if by unspoken command, they all attacked.
Eight men, that’s how many tried it, plus Argus, who unsheathed a shortsword and launched himself in the mix.
Albert kept on smiling, for what did he have left to do? He already knew he was going to die, now it was only a matter of how many people he could bring down with himself to Airm. So he smiled and greeted Death that way, in his half closed eyes a single question: Will I see her again? Will I be given that chance? To meet the love of my life one last time.
Always, the answer to such questions was… yes.
And that was all he needed to hear as he moved out of the way of a sword and dodged a crossbow bolt that curved around to try and reach him still, failing for they were too close.
Crossbows in close quarters. Bah. Would be more useful if there weren’t so many of you.
His dagger moved and cut right through a man’s armor deep into his arm. A scream of pain escaped him as blood began flowing freely. Much freer than it should.
[Weapon: Cuts of Exsanguination].
Another Skill, one he could rarely admire the effect of, for his victims tended to die on the spot with their neck or spine cut.
As he thought this his [Dangersense] spiked and he turned by a few degrees, seeing Argus attack coming. He parried, naturally, letting the weapon slide against the blade of his dagger as he changed his feet’s positioning to allow him to bend down and knife the man’s gut.
Or rather, that was his plan, until he heard Argus say: “[Disarming Strike].”
Immediately he felt his weapon slipping out of his grip as an unfathomable force wrenched at it. Unable to hold on he simply let go and crouched, charging into Argus shoulder-first. Naturally he was bigger than Albert, but he had the advantages of surprise and gravity on his side.
So, when they impacted, Argus fell with him.
“[Recall Weapon],” whispered Albert, his dagger flying back into his grip as he went for a throat cut –
Only to then be forced to roll away, his shoulder screaming in protest, when a [Guard] charged at him.
There were just too many of them, all defending each other without leaving him a good opening for long enough to use it.
Argus got back to his feet with a grunt and a nod of thank you to the man who had saved his life.
Then he stepped back: “[Unit: Enhance Armor], [Unit: Enhance Close Combat Proficiency], [Allies: Ghostly Crossbow Bolts]. Albert, the Brothers Two visited this city a few months ago and brought black with them. I won’t allow this city to fall. Now, get him! I want to see him dead.”
And with that the now enhanced [Guards] charged at him, ready to kill.
Albert assessed the situation and, rather quickly, came to a very simple conclusion: I won’t be getting out of this unscathed.
He heard voices coming from the stairs and felt his trap there getting methodically destroyed.
So… the elegance goes out of the window I guess. Sigh.
“[Blood is Time].”
And he stepped into the battle.
----------------------------------------
They were behind her, shouting orders and Skills, trying to corner her in an alley or shoot her dead. Well, good fucking luck with that! You try to corner something that can climb walls and, as for the sharpshooters, she had this thing called magic that could help her!
Or rather, it would’ve helped her if it wasn’t for the fact that she was starting to run low. Apparently shooting a dozen [Fireballs], no matter how small, consumed a lot of mana.
Had she said that to any [Mage] from the Tower Academy they would’ve laughed themselves silly and then agreed because that Spell was the most unoptimized one in existence. It had long since turned into a strange hazing ritual to make people fall in love with the Spell and let them learn it… only to realize just how useless it was for low Level people with underdeveloped Mana Pools. Now, Isse was lucky in that department, but everything had a limit.
With her right hand clamped over the arrow still in her shoulder (Siidi had told her not to take it out because the damn thing, apparently, was barbed, and getting it out would’ve caused more damage than keeping it there) she pointed back and watched as, immediately, people jumped out of the way, expecting a Spell that didn’t come. Instead she just used [Summon Lightning (Minor)] and managed to hit a woman.
Turning her head back forward she noticed too late the [Guards] gathering in the street in front of her, forming a wall of flesh, armor and raised swords with a few spears mixed in.
She immediately turned towards the closest wall but that was when someone shouted: “[Freeze, Criminal]!”
Her muscles locked up, stopping her in place.
Desperation and panic filled her mind, the men closing in on her, their eyes filled with bloodlust.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Closer and closer they came.
She tried to move, her muscles bulging in her upper half while the pumps in her legs strained for nothing. She couldn’t budge, no matter how hard she tried!
Tears began flowing from her eyes while Siidi screamed in fury.
She wanted to do nothing more than hug her belly one last time (even though she knew that her children were developing in her spider half, but the thought was what mattered), to console Siidi and tell her that they’d had a good run, that they’d been extremely lucky.
But then something unexpected happened: people appeared on the roofs, little more than shadows against a darkening sky, more like stars Observing the people advancing on the lone arachne in their midst.
Then… they dropped.
One by one they jumped off the roofs, weapons drawn, and fell upon the [Guards] below, the impacts of their bodies together with their blades basically decimating the men. One of them even got lucky and killed the person who’d used the Skill locking her in place and so she suddenly found herself free to move again, using this chance to start blasting at every person she could see that wasn’t one of these shadowed figures.
After a moment though one of them shouted at her: “Run the fuck away you imbecile, we won’t get ourselves killed just for you. Boss gave us orders, but that’s as far as we go.”
Glaring, she nodded her head in thank you and skittered up a wall, then back down the moment an arrow nearly pierced her head, and ran away.
----------------------------------------
Albert panted, his body was covered in bleeding cuts.
But that was acceptable, because he was surrounded by the bodies of over a dozen [Guards], most of which he’d drunk some blood from. He was still down to five years though, and steadily getting lower.
In front of him, occupying the width of the corridor, were dozens more of men, Argus standing at their center and guiding them in their so-far failed attempts at killing him.
Currently the [Guard Captain] was looking him deep in the eyes, his lips set in determination as he analyzed the situation.
“What? Got no more of them fancy Skills to protect your boys? Gonna have to resort to swamp me with people until I make one too many mistakes and die?”
He was egging them on, naturally. An angry man was an irrational man, and he could use that.
For a moment his mind wandered back, to a time when he’d met a [Berserker] from the City of Warriors with the ability to actually control his anger. He had looked like any other [Warrior] born from those ancient walls, jolly and always ready to throw hands, but serious to a fault in battle, but when he’d unleashed his inner rage during a fight against a monster… Albert still remembered the sounds that poor creature’s body had made, its bones breaking and pulverizing under the [Berserker]’s grip as he tore it limb from limb with an efficiency that would’ve made a [Butcher] hang his knives.
Then he blinked and was back in the present.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
His memories of the past were coming back to haunt him and they were too lucid. Probably a bad sign.
“You won’t trick me into rage Albert, you know me better than that.”
He chuckled and the sound was wet: “Yes, well, your men aren’t as disciplined as you.”
Argus narrowed his eyes before saying: “[Keep Your Cool].”
And suddenly all his men, who’d been tenser than a violin string, relaxed slightly, their grips on their weapons surer.
“Oh come on, that’s cheating,” said Albert with an expression of pure annoyance.
“Says the man who can apparently use blood to not die from his injuries like most common mortals.”
Albert raised an eyebrow: “You came here expecting a fair fight?”
“I didn’t.”
And with that he motioned his men forward.
The old man, the [Spymaster of Favor], sighed and tried to move in the most optimal combat position he could take right then, but his body didn’t respond like he wanted it to, being much too slow. His joints ached, his body getting older by the second as Time caught up with him, smiling sadly.
Not yet. I can still take them on, at least most of them.
Time’s smile didn’t change. In fact, it probably became more pitying. She sighed and looked down, hiding a slow tear escaping her eye. The problem with clockworkers was always that they knew how much of Herself they had left and they never gave up a single second of it, for they cared too much about Her gift.
So she looked up and smiled, this time managing to make it look kind.
Yes, she thought, she could give him some more of Herself, just this once. After all, she was bound by no Laws, for she was a Law.
So She snapped her fingers, a soundless snick that nobody but her heard, and watched as Albert’s clock ticked on… without touching him. She would come for him, that was inevitable, but Her presence in him wouldn’t hinder him.
Albert’s muscles and joints suddenly felt a lot more responsive, so much so that he nearly lost his balance, although he regained it just as quickly. He hadn’t felt this good since… since his first mission for the Pilgrimage.
But there was no time to marvel: the men were on him.
And, for all that his body felt young again, he was still going to run out of Time in a matter of minutes if things went on this way.
That was why… he decided to finish things. Fast. Maybe, if all went well, he’d have enough time – and enough of himself – left to help her some more. He knew that everywhere all over the city people were trying to resist him, to stop him from calling in on the favors they owed him, and failing miserably since the [Guards] and [Mercenaries] were being slowed down. For some reason he also wasn’t seeing any [Adventurers] around, which was a best case scenario: they were the real wildcard.
“[Absorb Blood],” he whispered.
They attacked.
He dodged, moving as fast as he could, cutting them everywhere he could and managing to draw blood from many. They grunted in pain and went to attack again, but many of them stopped in shock as they saw their blood… not fall to the ground. Instead it seemed to flow towards the old man in front of them, seeping into his skin and giving him a healthy flush.
Meanwhile the idiots who stopped in surprise found their throats cut and fell to the ground, their blood disappearing into Albert.
Albert… who felt like he’d just sniffed some good old Elven Dust. Well, not that he’d ever actually done that, he’d never been into drugs, but he’d been forced to hear the sensations being described by some colleagues of his who’d given up, and this was pretty close: his senses were enhanced, the world seemingly slowing down as everything came into beautiful focus.
The [Guards] falling to the ground, clutching at their throats, their companions shouting their names but not doing anything more because they knew that any distraction could and would be exploited against them; Argus thunderous frown looked limpid to him – had his eyes begun to develop some cataracts without him noticing before? – and the smell… oh, the smell, it was wondrous, perfect, beautiful, the best thing he’d ever smelled. How had he never noticed how great blood smelled?
A man managed to cut his arm, deep, but he lost his arm for the trouble and Albert kept going, the wound already starting to close down.
His feet moved following a mysterious rhythm only he could hear, a song written in the beating of the hearts around him and his own, faltering, heartbeat. A song written in screams and shouts, in order given and answers received, in the snick of blade on flesh and the clang clang clang of mythril and steel.
He danced at these sweet notes and people died around him, and he with them.
How many had died now? How much blood had he absorbed? How much more could he? His eyes were crying blood and his ears were bleeding, although none of that stopped him for the song was still going on, even though there were now a lot less heartbeats.
His body died.
His mind faded.
And he danced on.
----------------------------------------
Everywhere she ran Isse encountered [Guards] and [Soldiers] and [Mercenaries], and every time they came close enough to do some real damage someone appeared and helped her.
Sometimes it was something as simple as a woman throwing a potted plant out of her window and hitting a [Guard] right in the head, while other times it was [Merchants] at their stalls accidentally spilling all of their wares on the street and onto her pursuers.
But still it wasn’t enough. For all the distractions that were thrown at her enemies there were a dozen more [Guards] going after her from somewhere else, as if they could locate her. Which… was exactly what was happening. Because, the moment he’d seen her crawl out of her window, [Guard Captain] Argus had used a Skill to [Mark] her, so as long as she stayed within the confines of the city, he and his subordinates could know her position at all times.
As she turned another corner into a small alley, for a single moment, she thought she saw something yellow fluttering in the air in front of her.
But then she blinked and it was gone.
On she ran.
The walls were so close she could see them clearly. So close yet so far. How would she even get through them? She was sure that the moment she started climbing them she’d be shot down unceremoniously, but she couldn’t get out from the main gates because there would probably be an army waiting for her.
One thing at a time. For now we must worry about the people following us, said Siidi in as reassuring a tone as she could.
Isse nodded and kept running.
----------------------------------------
Albert took deep breaths.
He felt like he wasn’t breathing in enough air, like his lungs weren’t expanding enough to feed his hunger.
What remained of the rational side of his mind knew that this was going to happen, but the wild part of him, the vampire in him, the feralthing that hadn’t been fed properly in decades, cared only that this body wasn’t ‘up to standard’.
Still, the rational side of Albert had tried to [Call the Favor In] on Argus, hoping to maybe force him to stop the fight or give out the order to stop to his men, but every time he failed, his will, still strong even though fragmented, slamming against a wall of will that was reinforced both by how small the debt Argus had with him was together with the desires of, of all people, the [King] of Scasce.
He wanted to laugh, but all that came out now were wet sounds.
Still, in his mind, he laughed, because that bastard of a man was really living in a nightmare these last few months: first it was an entire Clan of arachne, or Nest as they called it, and now he had one in his city, running around and getting people killed. Truly hilarious.
“Getting tired there, Albert?” asked Argus as stood unsteadily there, his hand going for a healing potion in his bag of holding since the old man had broken all the ones he kept on his hip for easier reach.
Albert himself would’ve gone for one but he had none.
“You know, this could’ve been so much easier. I could’ve made this painless for you,” continued the [Guard Captain] as he drank down the reddish liquid, grimacing slightly at the taste and then taking a deep, relieved, breath as his wounds closed.
Albert’s only answer was a blood gurgle coming from his throat caked with blood. Actually, that was probably one of the reasons why he couldn’t breath well.
“Instead you had to be a stubborn piece of shit and get so many good men killed.”
The old man checked his pocket watch, the only thing he had left on that wasn’t tattered or broken.
… a few minutes. I hope it’ll be enough.
His pocket watch showed he had five minutes left. Five minutes!
Five… minutes…
Five…
Ha. Hahahahahahahahahaha!
Five minutes! The perfect number! The number of stories!!! Hahahahahahahahahahaha! He had the world on his side now, one of the oldest Traditions of this world to help him!
Five minutes!?
He better make them count.
He stepped forward.
----------------------------------------
She turned into an alley.
There were people there.
A [Mage] threw a [Fireball] at her, using her own new weapon against her, so she tried to climb up, but an arrow nicked her leg and, in fear she went down.
With wide eyes she watched as the flaming ball of death and doom flew towards her, time seemingly slowing down as she huddled in on herself. Maybe if she made herself small enough the damn thing wouldn’t hit her… too much.
She closed her eyes, waiting for the end, her shoulder screaming in agony as she lay on it.
She could feel the heat.
Then the explosion.
…
And she was still there.
Opening her eyes in astonishment she looked around, wondering how in Airm one could miss with a [Fireball] in an enclosed space like a fucking alley! Not that she was complaining.
When the smoke and dust cleared slightly her eyes alighted on something off white and yellowish that was standing in front of her, covered in reddish dust from the bricks around her. The thing stumbled around for a bit before it shook heavily and stepped forward.
“Skeleton Abominations! They’ve gone feral! Call the [Necromancers]!”
“There’s no time, just fucking blast it to pieces!”
More Spells were flung at the… skeleton. Yes, it was a skeleton, and it was moving around. Its body was covered in bone plates that didn’t allow anyone to see the insides, only letting them see the legs, which were made from thick bones with lots of joints, giving it a great movement range and enough strength to kick in a wall, as it was showing the men in front of her.
The last thing she noticed was the head, which reminded her of, of all things, a cow, with big pointy horns covered in blood that it had used to skewer several of the [Guards] behind her.
So these are the undead labor Albert told us about a while ago, said Siidi, nodding in appreciation in the back of her mind.
Why are they here?
They went feral, probably. They’ve clearly been around a while and, from what I remember, undead tend to become more… independent as time goes on. Even [Necromancers] can’t keep the same undead around for too long unless they want to be killed in their sleep after a few years.
This… is awfully convenient.
Don’t look a gift pegasus in the mouth. Now run!
She did just that, climbing the wall and managing to reach the roof without anyone shooting arrows at them since every single [Guard] was concentrated on the undead bulls or whatever they were that were attacking everyone.
So close…
----------------------------------------
Albert gasped on the floor, bleeding out.
Argus, too, sat on the floor, his body a mess of cuts, his left eye gouged out.
They were staring at each other.
Then Albert rose.
One minute. Just one minute.
His legs trembled and he looked pale. There was no more fresh blood to absorb around him and he was steadily losing every drop he’d gathered so far. But that was alright. He only needed to kill Argus. If he died then… she’d have a better chance at escaping.
He stepped over a corpse but lost his balance, falling face down on the wet floor.
“Fuck,” he said.
Argus shuffled back, stopping only when he heard Albert chuckle.
Then he said: “Hah, seems like I lost the bet… Isse. I said a bad word.”
His voice was becoming fainter by the second.
Still he rose, or rather, he crawled onwards, on his hands and knees now.
“[Weapon: The Naga’s Coating],” he said, closing in on Argus who could no longer move, too tired from the fight.
Twenty seconds.
More than enough. Yes, more than enough.
Time walked by his side, crying hot tears and smiling, telling him that he could rest in a few moments. He wanted to tell Her thank you, but there was no voice left in his throat, no air in his lungs for they had been punctured. The only reason he could still talk and move was because of his Skills that were keeping him alive, but not for much longer.
There was probably pain somewhere in there but he’d long since learned to ignore it.
Fifteen seconds.
He stood close to Argus, who raised his sword with trembling hands, trying to ward him off by stabbing in his general direction, but his muscles gave up before he could do any real damage and his sword fell to the ground.
So close…
Ten seconds.
He planted his dagger in Argus’ chest, plunging it hilt deep. He didn’t know what he’d hit, but it didn’t matter. Either way, the man in front of him would be dying, be it from blood loss or poisoning.
Seven seconds.
Heh, the number of luck. But Luck was dead, so what was it now?
“You know,” coughed out Argus, a smile on his face as he resigned himself to the inevitable, “I liked you. You were a bastard, but a good one, until this. So… goodbye, Albert.”
He chuckled.
Four seconds.
“I liked you too. I’m sorry.”
Three seconds.
Goodbye Isse. Goodbye Siidi. I’m sorry, I won’t be there for you.
Two seconds.
[The Teacher’s Legacy].
The dagger in Argus’ chest disappeared. One last gift for her. A gift he hoped she would never need to use but, sadly, was sure she would.
One second.
…
The world stopped.
Everything turned a shade of gray and white and black.
He felt… lighter. So much lighter.
With a ‘hup’ he rose from the floor and looked around.
And right there, standing by his side, was a shadow. A shadow with white circles for eyes, like two stars in the night sky.
Beside him stood Time, glaring at the shadow slightly while also looking… saddened.
The shadow spoke in a light voice filled with the weight of age. Albert had come to know it a lot in his life: it was the same way Master spoke during his final days, before his mad attempt at leaving the Game by performing the Pilgrimage of Eights.
And this shadow… it had so much more of it.
“Hello, Albert Sirion.”
He stopped, seemingly hesitating, but the old man couldn’t tell for sure since he couldn’t see any features on the shadow’s face.
“Thank you. I’m… sorry, but… it was necessary. She… she’ll be safe, know that. Thank you again.”
Albert didn’t know who this shadow was but he could feel the gratefulness in his tone, so he nodded in understanding.
“...You’ll be going to Airm, you know that, right?”
Albert couldn’t help it: he chuckled.
“Yes, I was expecting as much.”
“...I can promise you this then: not for long.”
“And who are you that you could deny the will of the gods?”
The shadow shrugged: “I am nobody. A mere shadow in the dark. And yet they fear me.”
The old man didn’t understand the meaning of that answer, but for some reason he found it satisfying, so he nodded.
Then Time hugged him.
She told him it was alright, that he’d done everything he could and succeeded, her little clockmaker of wonders and chances. She told him that he was a kind man, even though he protested, and she told him that he would, sooner or later, find his happiness again. She gave him a peck on the cheek and then… she was gone.
Only the shadow remained, sitting and looking at him.
And then Death stood by the shadow’s side, offering a gentle hand to Albert.
I’m sorry, old one. There will not be peace awaiting you on the other side. But I’ll allow you some time by my side, if you wish. Sit with me by the first fire, rest, and get ready.
Albert looked at it, at Death, at the extended hand.
Then, with a weary sigh, he took it.
Peace flowed through him, like a sensation of nothingness as, suddenly, he no longer just felt light, but downright weightless.
He smiled, genuinely.
Then Death embraced him, letting him sink under the protective darkness of its cloak, where it was warm and peaceful and… a fire glowed in the distance.
He walked towards it, the flames getting closer and closer.
Until he reached it.
And there, by the flames, sat a single, lonely, figure. A figure he would’ve recognized anywhere in the world.
Oria.
The love of his life.
She looked up from the flames, her eyes alighting on him. A smile appeared, then she flung herself at him and they embraced, tears trying to flow from their eyes but not managing to because they were only souls.
“Took you long enough, Albert.”
Then they sat down and talked.
Death had never said how much time was ‘some time by its side’.
----------------------------------------
How does a [Clockworker] say goodbye then?
It’s simple: by stopping a hundred clocks together with his own.