The daunting dread of the ever-dwindling shortage of time was not a sensibility that had escaped Camille. Through the streets, the woman ran. Cradling the boy in her arms as if he were a sleeping princess, her direction is that of her friends. Against the fact that he had no health insurance and overall demand for privacy, that seemed the most probable option.

It just so happened that Morgan's apartment was not far from here. A mere dozen minutes walk at best, Camille's goal was to reach it in three. Every now and then, the woman would spare a glance to the boy she held. In spite of the short time together, she could not foresee a future where he died. The short bursts of air that left his lungs and the subtle winces of movement in his body were more than a required deterrent of abandonment.

Odd as it were, none of Camille's reasons to save him was in regards to Aedi. That logic of needing him for the oncoming fight had been completely overwritten. Sure, while it had undoubtedly nestled a seed within her subconscious, that was all there was to it.

A mere bean that had yet to sprout into fruition, the true reasons laid not in mere utility for combat or her own survival.

Camille was never one to judge others subjectively. To assess others based on emotional connection alone was a sin she viewed as a fault. A repulsive rhetoric that was never to be touched upon or granted notice.

In order to be objective, Camille formed what is known as principles. A lens of ideas and rules through which others are to be viewed through. Family or friends, long term or short term, all people were subject to these directives.

Those principles, which had been formerly an ideal of pure logic alone, gradually ingrained themselves in her heart. Etched into the very record of her being by a knife of time and resentment, it issued a decree that those without ambition or virtue were nothing less than scum.

But what would happen if the opposite were true?

What if that very person who she subjected to her ideals were not only filled with a drive to achieve their dreams but were pure of heart?

Up until that moment, Camille was without an answer.

Impatient, her head jolted to the left. Seeing the intimate outline of a building she once frequented, her body accelerated. Missing a lone grandmother by a hair's breadth on the way, Camille stopped short in front of the building.

At odds with the building's keypad, which demanded of her a free hand, two possibilities flashed through her brain. Was she to lower Molok onto the miserable pavement, or was she to in disgrace, use her nose?

Over a span of a second, she chose the latter option.

The codes to the building inputted, Camille pushed the door open with a nudge of her foot.

Setting her eyes on the two elevators located in the spacious lobby, she then chose the one on the left. Tapping the button with the tip of her shoe, the elevator went down, she went inside, the elevator went up, stopped at the twentieth floor and by dear god she had finally arrived.

Knocking on the first door that presented itself, a short spell passed.

A duration that stretched to an eternity passed.

There was certainly no reason for it to take this long. It was the late afternoon, and Morgan should've been tightly seated in her home, relishing in whatever niceties she subscribed herself to. Yet, the more she thought about it, the less likely that scenario seemed. If that was the case, then why was she taking so long? Why was it that this had to happen in the worst situation possible? Why had fate thrust such a cruel fate upon those who were deserving of more?

Why, why, why.

Had it not been for the creak of a wooden door, there would have been many more whys. Revealing Morgan in her entirety, Camille suppressed the tension in her body and offered to explain with a lift of her lips.

Stopped by a raised palm, her friend simply beckoned them inside. Without even needing an explanation, her first reaction was to run for medicine. As Morgan tended to matters of equipment, Camille tended to matters of operation.

Deciding upon a table of considerable age, she set his body atop it.

Here Camille, motivated by a desire to do good, then proceeded through a series of logical steps. Taking off his robes and shirt underneath to reveal bare flesh, checking for any corresponding wounds and yelling for their respective medicines, she was just about finished.

That was prior to catching a glimpse of something. A glimpse of his masks which had been shrouded until then, Camille had an idea. Perhaps a mere idea that will never bear the pleasure of functionality, it was one attempted all the same.

"Inspect."

Going through sequential order, Camille went about inspecting each and every last one of Molok's five masks. So far, from the four she had checked, none were of notice. None capable of any method of healing or similarly abled skill, the remainder of her hopes were funnelled into one final mask.

One that had been as of that time, unseen in action, there was no way to say what power it held.

Thus, with one final breath, she inspected a mask yet again.

Mask of Moloch

Effect A bull mask depicting the Canaanite god Moloch. Grants the user double their Strength, Dexterity, and quantity/output of Mana. Will lose its effect upon a duration of five minutes before killing the user.

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The ever-present tick of a clock echoed. Ushering in the presence of a new minute, and a new second, it was that which signifies both the beginning and present and likewise, the present and future. A short spell of a somewhat fitful sleep later, and a boy had awoken. In a present where he laid shirtless and covered in bandages, and against a future that had yet to be seen, the boy's first instinct was to arise. Molok, who still bore the consequences of the battle prior, shifted his gaze around the room. Hoping to catch sight of the partner he had fought with, a breath of relief escaped his lungs.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

At the sight of Camille's unharmed self, smiling, he thought, was the only fitting response.

"Thank you, Camille." These were the first words he spoke. To the woman who was no more than an arm's length away, he then nodded as an additional token of thanks.

On that reaction, Camille nodded and uttered a brief "No problem." Devoid of any shred or invitation of warmth, any further clue into her outlook was found only through the tense fixation of her eyes. A clue Molok wasted no time in interpreting, he instead chose to ask the question that had been on his mind.

“Did you get the magician?”

“Nope, I took you here immediately after."

“Ah, I see.”

Casting his eyes to the side apologetically, Molok lamented on that fact. Soaking in the potential destruction and ruination caused by his own incompetence, Molok's body fell to a wayward limp. Reprimanding himself for being so ill-prepared before reprimading himself for seeming sad in front of Camille, he then raised his body.

“Where are we?”

“My friend Morgan’s house.”

“I hope it did not inconvenience you.”

The moment those words left his mouth, was the moment Camille rose up from her seat. Imposing her presence on the bed-confined boy, the shadow of her figure enveloped him. Trapped within its dark embrace, an unexpected shuffle of his legs pressed Molok against the bed's headboard.

She had spoken in a low and rather solemn tone so far, but she now exclaimed “What the hell were you thinking running in like that?”

To which an answer had already been prepared, Molok answered with brutal honesty.

“Apologies for the distress, I was simply executing the best strategy available.”

“You could’ve died back there.”

“I am aware.”

“Aware?" Camille declared, as if questioning Molok's knowledge of that word. "And does dying mean nothing to you?”

There was no quick-witted or pre-prepared responses for that question. Unforeseen as it were, the boy instead resigned himself to silence. In the vain hopes that Camille would relent and eventually subside her passion, Molok who let silence take centre stage remained hushed.

Seemingly effective, a shift in expression then occurred. Gentler then before, it was apparent through the slight adjustments in her face that Camille wanted to move on to other matters.

“Whatever, what’s your strategy to beat Aedi?”

“I will use my ultimate mask and send her flying.”

That in itself was not a lie. By all intents, there certainly laid the possibility Aedi would go flying.

“Sounds wonderful, and awfully convenient too, you must be a grand magician to have such a thing.”

Molok considered the sincerity of that compliment. Though it was nicer than usual for Camille, he saw no particular reason to doubt her words. And so, still quite intent on the maintenance of his facade, Molok persisted.

“Of course, I am quite capable, yes, quite, indeed.”

Blurting out the last few words of his sentence, Molok then coughed in his hand as reassurance.

“Any chance I could see that mask?”

He found himself a bit at odds but eventually chose to accept. Predicting that she was unable to discern the contents of its abilities from sheer observation alone, Molok politely described its appearance.

“Certainly, it is the mask of the bull.”

With that, Camille turned her back to Molok and went to the small table in the corner. Her hands, which were occupied with Molok's robes for a moment then brought out the aforementioned mask.

Lifted in the air as if it were some grand prize or trophy, Camille's eyes suggested a great fascination.

“Wow, how exquisite, how exactly does it work?”

Another unimagined question stoked through Molok's brain. Forcing him to compromise between believability and speed, his mind which had been thrown in shambles then decided upon the former.

“It, it enables me to shoot out a giant laser beam.”

Lasers were pretty common he supposed. If the little information he got from brightly coloured posters served correctly, they were a common staple nowadays. Applicable in all areas from space warfare to land to even sea, to even being holstered on giant mech robots, Molok envisioned it as the perfect response. Powerful, yet familiar enough to the average person, Molok nervously waited for its success.

“Really?" Camille gasped. Showcasing a degree of awe. "I wasn’t aware, cause when I checked it out for myself, this is what it showed me.”

Absent-minded was the term that best described Molok's state of mind. As a weird shape of a blue box manifested out of nowhere, a series of words which painfully illustrated the nature of that object was made evident. Having been unaware of the intracasies of her Idiosyncrasy, there was nothing more to be said.

“You were planning to sacrifice yourself to defeat Aedi weren’t you?”

“No, I.”

Her palm slammed the headboard behind him. Covering his only angle of escape, Molok shuddered. Darting his eyes to the wall to avoid her untempered gaze, it was a action that proved to be of little use. As Camille, who then leaned in, was now little more then a fingers length away.

“Do not fucking lie to me.”

Because there were no other option but to speak the truth, Molok did just that.

“It is the only way.” Emitted in the absence of fear or distraught, the boy decided to meet her eyes with his own.

“Is it though, or is that just what you’re telling yourself, cause from what I remember, you didn’t even fucking try to search for another outcome, like seriously, waiting for Aedi in a park?”

While true that he had been hasty in making that choice, he still saw no wrong in it.

“You do not understand how strong Aedi is.”

“No, but I do understand you’re a dumbass.”

“Um, my apologies for being one.”

He hoped that his existence did no trouble her.

“You’re just going to let me call you a dumbass?”

“Yes.”

“Dumbass, twat, bitch, retard, trogolodyte, idiot, halfwite, imbecile.”

He hoped that calling him those names made her feel better.

“….”

“You annoyed yet, still feel like saving me?”

“No, I am not annoyed. I am a dumbass and all those nasty words you used, but that does not change anything.”

He hoped that would end the matter.

“So, you’ll go as far as to sacrifice yourself for a complete piece of shit you met yesterday?”

“Please, do not say that about yourself. Your life has value.”

“And yours doesn’t?”

He hoped that she would stop reminding him of his principles.

“If you die, it’ll be the end you know, nothing’s coming after. No more dreams, no more fun, no more nothing, and you’re okay with that?”

Offering one last respite in the form of a despondent look, Camille patiently awaited his answer.

“Yes.”

At that moment, Molok felt only a harsh sting across his face. An unmistakable circle of pain that occupied his right cheek, there was no mistaking its nature.

Camille who then left the room surrendered the entire area to Molok. Allowing him ample time to relish with his lonesome self, that was all there was to it. A period of nothingness where no emotion proved dominant, there lingered not even a feeling of anger.

For despite all Molok's objections to her apprehension, he thought Camille was right.

In the end, if he was able to bring one shred of happiness to another, then so be it.

Whether it be through his own suffering was of little consequence.

If the price to save a precious human being is the life of its wretched imitation, then so be it.