We Meet Again (2)

BOOM!

The wall shattered with a booming sound. Glass, stone, and wood all bounced off surfaces like rain as the ominous figure shot forward. 

'What…'

The dust clouded the space. Through its midst, that familiar Awakened straightened, directing his gaze at Hope. His sword gleamed with an unnatural sheen from which Hope had barely dodged in time. 

'...the hell?'

"Cough! Cough!"

Hope crouched on the far side of the room.

He recognized the white mask wiped of any features, the black hood hiding any locks.

There was no doubt about it.

'This damn guy.'

Memories quickly flashed from the fight they had toward each other…and then together up against the Awakened Demon. From enemies to short-term comrades, to enemies again. 

"Tsk..."

This was certainly a stubborn Awakened. 

'Fucking hell–' 

Hope couldn't figure this guy out.

First, how the hell did this guy dodge all the traps out there? If he met the tech Awakened, then maybe he was shown a map of the traps around here that Hope could only assume. But then what damn Aspect did the guy even have to track him so easily? Was it really to see through walls?

Whatever the case may be, why come after Hope with a sudden bang?!

Annoyance pulled at Hope as he stood, tightening his grip on the [Ashen Shield], its battered surface reflecting the light seeping through the cracked walls.

One thing Hope had to question, whether the Awakened sensed him from afar or not, did Hope's Attributes play a role for the Awakened to act this murderously towards him?

'Are my odds that fucking bad?'

What was the correct response to this anyway?

'Attack…' 

!!!

Swssh!

As if in synchronized thought, without any further questioning, both lunged towards the other.

Kwang!

The Awakened struck first. A downward slash hissed before Hope parried it with his shield. And from it, their battle sang out.

The room tore under the last glow of sunset, shadows stretching like clawed hands over splintered furniture. 

Hope dropped to one knee.

Blade tore through air. Hope took the opportunity to cleave into the Awakened's heart, but the Awakened returned with a parry of his own.

Hope wasn't fast enough.

A Dreamer against an Awakened spoke for itself.

This confined setting left no room for fancy footwork either. Every movement crashed against this forsaken abode, scarring of a battle driven by the language of war. Hope had to acknowledge that fact. He had to acknowledge all obstacles before him.

But what did it matter if things seemed impossible? There was no room for faltering either.

Anyone could say that he was doomed from the start. That it was unreasonable to see through the end. But if the outcome was fixed, then the process could be made absurd. 

Tang! Tang! Tang!

Metal cursed the other. 

The Awakened lunged forward.

Sparks flew as blade scraped the disc.

'Adapt…'

Kwang! Kwa–

'Adapt. Adapt. Adapt.'

The masked figure slid to Hope's right and suddenly charged forward. Hope braced himself, but the force of the attack drove him back into a crumbling wall.

"Heook..."

Hope could slightly catch up, but the strength wasn't matched. Obviously. Maybe if he could pull a surprise attack, but Hope couldn't find the opening for that.

Kwang!

The confined space grew more chaotic than it was before—glass shards from the remaining windows crunched beneath their feet. The floor groaned under the weight. 

The familiar ache returned in Hope's arms from each reverberation.

Fwssh!

The Awakened's sword then came down, an arc aiming for Hope's shoulder.

Hope sidestepped. The whisper of the blade blew past him before Hope followed with a jab of his own. 

He hit. But whether the Awakened was surprised or not under the mask, Hope heard a faint grunt before the Awakened twisted with uncanny speed and made another counter.

Kwangangang!

With each passing moment, Hope's eyes glazed over the longer they fought. Which seemed to be long, but likely not even a whole minute had passed. No. Not even 20 seconds. And a lot can happen in half a minute. Let alone 5 seconds.

Hope supposed training that night with his memories paid off. It wasn't only because he relived the training with his high-ranking officers and Master, but he also relived the memory of fighting this particular Awakened. And now a part of this Awakened's patterns was known to Hope.

Part of it. Not entirely. And not enough either.

That meant he had to fill in the gaps as if it were a puzzle. He had to conjoin possibilities. 

Tang! Tang!

Against the dying light, their figures swept across the room like phantoms.

Hope brought the shield up to his chest just as the sword thrusted towards it.

Kwang!

Hope slid back—debris piling at his heels.

Hope clenched his teeth before coming to a stop.

A broken table splintered further once Hope sprang forward.

Now how the hell was he going to escape this time? 'Out of sight, out of mind' apparently didn't work on the guy. Or maybe Hope wasn't far enough? Would he have to attempt his ability on him again?

Kwang!

'Do I?'

Kwang—

Hope's shield repelled an overhead slash, and the sound rang out like a bell. 

Hope's eyes slightly widened.

'There–'

Hope caught sight of it. 

Just as Hope pulled back, a clear pattern flashed through his mind as the Awakened countered—a flicker of predictability in the opponent's attack, a priceless glimpse of it.

Just as the enemy's blade darted out...

As Hope let its teeth graze his sleeve...

It happened…

It was as if Hope snapped. A switch flipped.

His body moved, reacting without conscious thought, following through with a chilling calmness. 

Fwsshh!

Hope advanced once more unwavering, stepping forward and angling his shield low.

Then with a sweeping upward calculated force—

Krack!

The shield's rim clipped the side of the Awakened's mask, sending it spinning through the air.

'Face…' His instinct darkly hummed.

Hope continued through the motion as he reached with his free hand. 

Of course. The face—

!!!

But just as Hope was going to deliver the blow, time slowed.

The last ray of sunlight piercing through a grimy window fell directly on the figure's face.

The Awakened's hood finally slipped back.

To Hope's surprise, it revealed a hair gleaming gold in the light as if the sun itself had woven it. And beneath it, dark eyes framed by youth stared widely back.

But Hope had seen this face before…

But not from this world.

'What the—'

Hope froze. His fingers faltered. 

And for a moment, which seemed almost infinite, he didn't see the man in front of him but someone else.

The knight from his First Nightmare.

***

"Urk!"

Hundreds of images flooded Hope's eyes.

Series of voices shouted in his ears.

The sunset's last rays that striped the room molded into the First Nightmare's fiery flames: the familiar choking smell of burnt flesh and smoke returned, as did the heat tingling his skin. Hope pressed his hands to the side of his head as if seeking to push the visions from his mind. All of these past events resurfaced like a forbidden veil.

And that knight…reached across it.

And Hope saw the knight's face reflected in the Awakened's eyes.

'Don't you know…in dreams, they look a lot like the living…'

'I've buried enough to know they all stay down—'

'Priest, don't do it! You can't give up like this!'

'Can you just–'

'No!'

'Let–'

'There's still a chance!'

'It can't be.' Hope's heart pulsed like a drum in his ears. 

'You have no right to speak of honor.'

'Of course. Pity they left you to defend the church on your own…'

Hope stepped back. A dizzying rush flowing through him.

'We…the Knights Templar focused more on our physical upbringing than our education.'

Hope took another step.

'[You have defeated an awakened human: Knight of the Heart Templar]'

Listening to all the voices only he could hear.

Hope couldn't properly see anymore—his vision torn by reality and muddled layers of the past bled distortion.

A different coldness filled him as even the Awakened paused in confusion.

'This doesn't make sense…'

The Spell. No. The First Nightmare. What was it? He was told it was like a dream, an illusion of some sort…But was it from pure fabrication of the Spell's ploy or from told histories from the Dream Realm itself? Hope knew it wasn't possible to take First Nightmares together. That wasn't his assumption. But if tailored to a person in soul and appearance, then what were the chances that people could embody a person within close relations from another person's trials? 

'Wait. That's not…You're not…'

Hope's lips stretched into a straight line.

The only thing he could logically do now was to curse silently at all the people from his supervisor, commanding officer Master, and every other damn high-ranking official for not explaining the Spell and Nightmares properly to him.

But before him right now—

'That is not him.'

It couldn't be.

But that damn face...

The Awakened hesitated, his stance faltering as if sensing Hope's confusion. Even when he had the advantage, he didn't attack either. Maybe Hope looked pitiful enough for the Awakened not to attack. There seemed to be some resolve passing those dark eyes as Hope studied him.

'No. Can't be him. It just can't.' It wasn't possible.

There was no recognition in the Awakened's eyes anyway.

But just as Hope recalled his First Nightmare's character's hands looking similar to his own, the knight looked similar to this Awakened. Not a spitting image. But close.

'Too damn close.'

"..."

"..." 

The Awakened stepped back. A weird…concern formed in his expression. As if he wasn't sure how to read his enemy out. Hope couldn't blame him. He didn't know how to react either if he were in his shoes. But…

'Can this guy seriously not talk?'

This guy never spoke once around him.

So was he mute?

'Seriously?'

Before Hope continued with that thought, the past continued to claw at him from all sides like pervasive spirits. Mocking and teasing him of all that came to pass in that cathedral, the tunnels, and the Tears of the Heart God.

Oh the cursed Heart God.

"Sigh. Fucking hell."

"...?!"

The Awakened's mouth dropped as Hope reached up to touch the wounds on his chest.

Pain spiked as Hope gripped the scratched flesh. At once the memories hushed to their soft volume and blurred away from sight.

Hope supposed what he did was a little strange.

But when the world cleared again the sun finally drowned below the horizon, and shadows enveloped the space like its own den.

And what remained was like a haunting ghost, carrying a stolen face that Hope didn't know whether he'd wanted to tear off or not.