CHAPTER 117 – BROTHER

LYSANDER FARADEISS

The tension in the air crackled like lightning, Johnny's piercing gaze a silent judgment of my every word and action. His brown eyes bore into mine, scrutinizing, assessing, as if conducting his own human lie detector test.

It was evident that trust was a commodity in short supply between us. We were more than adversaries; we were enemies forged in the fires of past conflicts. The memory of his ex-girlfriend's demise hung between us like a specter, a grim reminder of the bloodshed and betrayal that stained our past.

Johnny's gaze flickered down to the crystal I held out to him, suspicion etched into the furrow of his brow. His hesitation was palpable, a testament to the wariness that had become ingrained within him.

"It's understandable," I offered with a wry smile, acknowledging the barrier that separated us. "I know you can't trust me. We've been on opposite sides of this endless conflict, locked in a cycle of violence and retribution. I took your lover's life, and you sought vengeance upon me. But in another life, in another reality, our roles could have been reversed."

"What do you know about loss?" Johnny's voice rose, a mixture of anger and anguish simmering beneath the surface. "And how could you possibly understand the weight of a lost future? Our experiences, our pain—they're worlds apart. Even if our positions were swapped, we would never truly comprehend each other's suffering."

"But I do understand your pain," I persisted, my voice softening with empathy. "I've witnessed your sorrow, felt the weight of your grief. Whether in this timeline or the last, your anguish resonates with me. And every time I see you suffer, it cuts me to the core."

With a solemn gesture, I pressed the crystal against my chest, a silent vow of solidarity in the face of our shared pain.

As tears welled up in Johnny's eyes, his emotions roiled within him like a tempest. I braced myself for the storm, knowing that his grief and anger threatened to overwhelm us both. His clenched fists betrayed the turmoil raging within, the desire to strike out warring with the struggle to restrain himself.

"How can you claim to understand my pain?" Johnny's voice quivered with raw emotion, his disbelief palpable.

"Because..." I paused, gathering my resolve. "Because I'm your brother."

The admission hung heavy in the air, a declaration of camaraderie amidst the chaos of our shared history. Johnny's reaction was swift, his expression morphing from shock to contemplation as he processed my words.

"But I tried to kill you," he whispered, his voice choked with remorse. "And I subjected you to torture. How can you still consider me your best friend, especially when I'm not the same Johnny Wolvesbane you once knew?"

"Because you are," I affirmed, my own tears mingling with his. "I made a promise to you—to save you, no matter the cost. Even if it means sacrificing myself or forsaking my own humanity."

With a trembling hand, I offered a gesture of solidarity, extending my fist in a silent invitation. Without hesitation, Johnny reciprocated, our knuckles meeting in a gesture of mutual understanding and forgiveness.

Then, I presented him with the crimson memory crystal, containing the essence of his past self. With a determined grip, he accepted it, his fingers closing around the artifact with a mixture of trepidation and longing.

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As the crystal shattered upon his touch, releasing its ethereal fragments into the air, I watched in awe as the memories of a lost life flooded into Johnny's consciousness. In that moment, I knew that no matter the trials we faced, our bond would endure, a beacon of hope in the darkness of our shared history.

“Johnny?”

As Meike's voice echoed through the underground chamber, her arrival shattered the fragile moment of reconciliation between Johnny and me. Her flashlight pierced the darkness, illuminating the scene before her.

"Johnny?" Meike's eyes widened in disbelief as she took in the sight of him, hunched over in agony, mana dusts swirling around him like ethereal tendrils.

Before any of us could react, Johnny's body convulsed with sudden pain, his anguished cry piercing the silence of the chamber. His hands clutched at his head as if trying to ward off the onslaught of memories flooding his mind.

"Johnny!" Meike's voice cracked with concern as she rushed to his side, her crimson eyes ablaze with worry. "What the hell did you do to him, Lysander?"

The chaos of the moment left me reeling, my own fear and confusion mirroring Meike's fury. Her accusatory gaze bore into me like hot coals, demanding answers.

"I-I don't know!" I stammered, my heart racing with panic. "I-I just gave him a memory crystal, hoping it would help him recover his memories from the previous timeline!"

But Meike's comprehension seemed as fractured as Johnny's memories. Her confusion was palpable, her grasp of the situation tenuous at best.

"What is a memory crystal anyway?" she demanded, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

In that moment, as uncertainty hung heavy in the air, I realized the gravity of my actions. The consequences of tampering with the fabric of memory threatened to unravel the delicate balance of our reality, leaving us teetering on the precipice of the unknown.

As Meike cradled Johnny in her arms, his cries of pain echoing through the chamber, I felt a surge of guilt wash over me. My experimental magic had wrought chaos upon my friend, and I could only watch helplessly as he writhed in agony.

"It's my fault," I admitted, my voice trembling with remorse. "I thought I could use the magical energy in this room to create something that might bring back the Johnny I lost."

But Meike's response was swift and stern, her panic giving way to frustration and anger. "Lysander, you idiot!" she cried, her words a harsh rebuke. "You can't just toy with experimental magic like that!"

Her admonishment cut deep, driving home the gravity of my mistake. I paced back and forth, my mind racing as I searched for a solution to alleviate Johnny's suffering.

In a desperate bid to help, I suggested using healing magic to soothe the overload of his brain synapses. Meike wasted no time, her hands glowing with healing energy as she pressed them to Johnny's forehead, chanting the incantation of the Healing Touch spell.

For agonizing minutes, Johnny's cries pierced the air, his pain a palpable presence in the room. We could do nothing but stand by, offering what little comfort we could as Meike worked tirelessly to mend the damage wrought by my recklessness.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Johnny's screams subsided into ragged breaths, his body trembling with exhaustion. Meike's Healing Touch spell had done its work, easing the strain on his overwhelmed mind.

As Johnny lay still, his breathing gradually steadying, Meike turned to me with a stern expression. "Don't you ever dare to do something like that again, Lysander," she warned, her voice laced with authority.

I swallowed hard, offering a salute in acknowledgment of her command. "Yes, ma'am," I replied, chastened by the severity of the lesson learned.

As Meike advised against moving Johnny until his condition stabilized, I remained perched on the wall, anxiously watching over him. Minutes stretched into eternity as we waited, each passing moment fraught with tension and uncertainty.

Then, to my relief and surprise, Johnny began to stir. Wiping away his tears and drool with a handkerchief provided by Meike, he slowly rose to his feet, albeit with a hand pressed to his forehead, no doubt still feeling the lingering effects of his ordeal.

“How are you feeling?”

As he surveyed his surroundings, Meike inquired about his well-being, her concern evident in her voice. But Johnny's response was unexpectedly light-hearted, a defiant laugh punctuating his words.

"I'm fine, Meike," he declared, his tone carrying a note of bravado. "A puny little headache can't bring down a Dragon Lord like me."

Then, his attention turned to me, and for a fleeting moment, I braced myself for his wrath. But to my astonishment, he approached me with purpose, arms outstretched in a gesture of reconciliation rather than aggression.

Before I could react, Johnny enveloped me in a tight embrace, the warmth of his embrace a stark contrast to the fear and tension that had gripped us moments before.

"Thank you, my brother," he murmured, his words a balm to my soul.