War

Mark opened his eyes to a numbing darkness, coldness washing upon him like brutal waves in the sea. He tried looking around, but to no avail. To his surprise, he was able to see his body despite the lack of light.

"Huh, so this can only mean one thing. I'm back in that shithole," muttered Mark, trying to get someone's attention.

"Ah, so you're finally awake. To think you'd get beat up like that, you of all people."

Mark didn't miss that raspy voice; iron rubbed against iron, a cacophony of sounds that made up coherent words.

"So, you're here again. Quite the surprise, if you ask me. One would think you'd try to leave this place the first moment you set foot in here." joked Mark, a hint of irony that he liked to place around a seed of truth.

"Always the foul mouth, it seems. Don't worry; I'll make sure to take great care of you. I'll show you something, yet I'll make sure you gain nothing new from this ordeal."

Mark felt the space around him tremble and shake, moving along to a foreign rhythm of destruction. He felt himself shake, feeling his guts, or whatever part of them seemed to be connected to that world, strike him with the need to be emptied. He fought back that feeling, nearly gulping down his own vomit.

For a moment, it was all gone—even the vision of his body—until he blinked. His eyes fell on ruins, burning remnants of civilization. The heavy stench of smoke filled his very bones, threatening to choke him if he dared to inhale it again.

"Just where is this place?" asked Mark, watching around with wide eyes, feeling his fist tremble slightly as he formed it.

Screams filled the air, yet he had just heard them. The sound of battle rang from all sides, piercing his ears in a painful way, sending shivers down his spine. He glanced around, trying to figure out where he was, but to no avail.

He ran around, hoping to at least notice a familiar face, but even the people he saw in the distance were mere shadows, dark shapes that took to looking human. He sighed, feeling, for the first time in quite some time, truly lost.

"That's what he meant by me not learning anything more than I do know. I think that this might be that war."

He walked around, avoiding the main fronts, dodging whatever stray attack happened to cross his path. One glance at what happened around him didn't tell a lot, yet a careful gaze combined with his sharpened senses did reveal a glimmer of truth. Elemental attacks flew through the air, followed by rockets and other projectiles.

"Khaenri'ah, this damned war... my gut feeling was right on the money. I wonder why that creature brought me here."

With a deep sigh that resigned him to his fate, he began sprinting across the battle field, picking up speed before using Anemo to fly. They'd shoot him down? He'd like to see them try.

Like a shooting star, Mark flung through the air, evading blows from both sides, a mix of human weaponry and elemental energy targeting him. Despite all the maneuvering he had to do, his eyes were sharply on the lookout for someone—a certain blonde person. 

Staring across the battlefield did help, since he had seen his target at one point. Lumine, Aether's sister, stared in pain at the sight. As he tried to get closer, something stopped him—an invisible pull that held on to him like the gravity of a star.

Flung back, he had no choice but to give up. The feeling that trying again would only result in the same thing happening weighed down on his mind. Instead, he walked around the battlefield, trying to stay away from the bulk of the battle. He instead chose to visit whatever had remained of civilization, yet even those ruins were sealing away his entrance.

"Damn fucking void creature. I'm tired of that bastard already. At this point, just fuck off and let me do something in here."

A grim laugh shook his mind as he began looking around, his movements frantic.

"Oh, trust me, I have a lot more prepared for you. I hope you'll enjoy being immortal. I'll make it so that you get to enjoy yourself in here."

Mark's eye twitched as the word immortal crossed his mind. In that split second of realization, he saw himself as the center of a war that had nothing to do with him. In that moment, he felt fear wash over him.

"God, lend me your strength."

He shook himself out of it, forcing his body to move as rockets flew his way. His body twisted around as the winds became one, forcing him to take flight as another tempest pushed back the projectiles.

"Shit! At least if I had a weapon!"

His curses flew out through gritted teeth as he flew low, searching through dead bodies, grabbing a sword without as much as touching the ground.

"Well, I believe this will be an interesting experience."

He sat alone, cornered, watching enemies close in on him from all sides. Ash fell from the sky like gentle rain, smoldering flames painting the sky a grayish red as dark sillouethes walked closer and closer, shapes of humans, machines, and monsters alike marching towards him.

Forcing his arm to remain steady, he held on to the sword, making one important choice: he'd have to use all he had. His crimson aura flared alight, glowing brightly, flickering like candlelight once a gust of wind touches it. He snapped his fingers, forcing red crystals to grow around him. They were small in size, barely longer than his sword, yet they would work.

"Time to make my final stand, I guess. Hm, how about I play some music to help me reap and tear?"

Hellish sounds echoed amidst the battle field as Mark, alone, braced himself for a hell of pain. He was about to feel as much pain as a human like him could bear, to the point of breaking mentally.

He fought valiantly, giving it his all. Immortal he had become, yet pain was still familiar—the same numbing feeling that slowly seeped into your mind, tormenting you slowly. He couldn't die, no matter what they did. He broke, felt the pain, yet he was back to square one once the damage was too much to bear.

Minutes turned to hours, hours turned to days, days turned to weeks, and so it happened that Mark had spent months in there, fighting, doing the single thing he could. Running away wasn't an option. The same ominous laughter crossed his mind whenever he tried to get away. No, there was no getting away for him; there was one single option: fight.

..... 

Everyone stared at him, mouths agape, as his words weighed on their minds. He kept fighting for months, no break, just wielding his sword around.

"How could you even..." said Jean, her words stuck in her throat.

"I had God on my side; that's why. He's the reason I kept going, the reason I had strength."

Lisa glanced at him, her gaze soft, showing unrequested pity that Mark didn't know how to interpret.

"I'm sorry if I seem insensible, but we still don't know why that crisis of yours happened."

Mark nodded, placing his thumb under his chin, thinking.

"Ah, yes, right. Well, that was one random event, in a way. My battle was the same all along, repeating the same waves of enemies, yet at one point there was a strange being that came there. Despite being like the others, its aura was heavier than anything."

"I merely heard it talk, speaking some words in an ancient language or something. Those words somehow made my mind even more of a mess, and I broke out of that place for a minute. I tried to repeat them as I woke up, hoping to remember them, yet I seem to have failed."

Lisa took out a little notebook, showing Mark a few words written on a page.

"I see. Thank you, Lisa. As for why I acted like that, well, I wasn't fully in control, and my instinct took over, moving frantically based on muscle memory."

She nodded, taking back the notebook after Mark copied the words on another page, which he tore out, shoving it in his pocket.

"Well then, I hope this clears out some misunderstandings. Now, if you'll excuse us, I'll go with Ras and get some preparations done."

Ras got up, following Mark as they walked out of the office. Both of them spent a few moments in silence before Ras finally found it within him to ask.

"Dude, tell me one thing: did you feel all the pain?"

Mark looked him dead in the eye, speaking sharply.

"Yes. All of it. I nearly went insane in the truest form of the word."

"I see. I'm sorry to hear that."

Mark shook his head.

"Don't be; I learned a lot from that experience. I fought an entire army; I'm proud of myself."

Ras was a bit baffled, but after a few moments spent reminiscing, it all made sense.

"You, my friend, are one crazy son of a bitch."

Mark chuckled, taking out a bag of mora he had taken from his room.

"Hey, leaving that aside, I have some money we should spend."

Ras' face lit up as he rushed back in, only to come out with a bag of his own.

"Well, smart move, my guy. Now we can even treat ourselves to something nice."