Long Night

*hehe, we're finallly here. Do enjoy and let me know what you think.

IMPORTANT NOTE: When you see this - *** - in the novel, play the following song on repeat as you read, for ambiance: https://youtu.be/D8Yq6vtjBLk?si=eFxjFcVYogmB7ny_

Have fun and let me know what you think. Peace out and Deus vult*

With a flurry of motion, he scrambled to his feet, staring at Sunday, watching the maniacal robot-like creature swing the baton around with flair, guiding along the symphony of pain that was coming Mark's way, the notes moving through the air with precision and speed. With restless movements, a flurry of light danced along to the flicks of his wrists, the sword moving with precision as it sent out pure energy slices through the air, cutting in their path enough to keep him safe. 

"I should move faster, strike harder, but where and how? I could make a little bet to try and get closer, but we'll have to wait and see." 

He kept moving around like a cockroach, dodging, sliding, throwing ice all over to clear a path. He made haste for Sunday once more, fueling the Fire of Will beneath the soles of his feet to ascend to the skies. As he prepared, he reached high above, increasing the size of the sword as he heard the subtle sound of the ice blade breaking.

"Let's see how nice this one will land," he chuckled, lifting the sword high up before lowering it with his entire torso, firing at once to the ground like a missile, the turquoise blade clashing with the partitures and notes that sung along in harmony, weaving themselves together in a shield. Mark's gaze fell below the translucent human-shaped beings, recalling what they were capable of. 

The flames increased, pushing with rattling power, crushing his tissues upon themselves as his arms struggled to keep the sword straight, aimed at Sunday like a lance. 

"I'll push through!" he growled through gritted teeth. 

Sunday kept moving, conducting his melodies like none other, bringing odes of Harmony, dedicating them to Order. 

"Embrace the dream, Mark. There's no pain there, it's a paradise for everyone, where no one has to face the cruelty and coldness of this harsh reality." 

The words resounded in an almost divine way, but Mark didn't falter. Instead, he used the pain as an anchor to reality, the sky covered in crackling flames of a nuance most unnatural, his Fire of Will increasing with his desire to take down Sunday. 

"Shut up, you cheap bastard! You refuse hardship and indulge in a dream, forsaking what is real for a glimmer of faked peace? How many had succumbed to the fake ambitions of this delusional dream?!" 

His sword pushed harder, the blade sharpening with each word. 

"How many gave up on trying because of that cheap alternative, dying out like fading stars?" 

Sunday's musical shield began yielding, scattering sparks in all directions as Mark's barbaric attack only strove to pierce him. 

"And you... you bastard..." he shouted, gnashing his teeth together. "You're forsaking your own family for a dream! Let me tell you from experience that THE ENTIRE DREAM ISN'T WORTH IT!" 

He pushed past, zapping like a bullet through the air, lodging the blade right in The Great Septimus' chest, feeling the ice crack even more despite his continuous aid. Sunday had no time to react, simply falling back as Mark took a leap away, gasping for air, his body weak. The Sword of Will was off, yet the open wound remained, albeit without blood in the creature. 

"I guess our final talk has concluded," said Sunday, straightening his back. The glowing humanoid things took flight, hovering up in the air, uniting as one in a bright sphere of light. Mark braced himself to jump and try to absorb the power, should it be from the Stellaron, but his legs gave out, the strain from using his body as a projectile catching up. 

He was blinded for a few seconds, staring at the new being that welcomed him, similar in appearance yet with a sinister take. The face, its eyes closed, like a thinker succumbing to their mind, was one with the torso, the arms brought together before it to cover it up. It was the Embryo of Philosophy, none other than Sunday reaching a deeper level of Order. 

"If you believe that your reality can save more people, sever my path with your hands, but I've seen it countless times before, heroic talks with no substance, mere words thrown against the wind." 

Mark scoffed, shouting to make himself heard. 

"Do words not reach you, fool!? I bore witness to this story before, to the man who tried to contain it all in a dream, and guess what? He failed! He was a million times stronger than any of us, and even he was doomed to fail! One can never stop suffering in the world, for that IS the nature of life!" 

He stood up, his legs shaking as he pointed his sword forward, standing up for battle anew. Sunday, however, wasn't going to just wait around. He began chanting something, the words clear in Mark's head, danger lurking in his spine. 

"With this seven-day vow, I command you to heed my summon..." 

He brought his palms up, holding them towards the sky, the face opening its eyes, letting out the golden light, spreading it within its crevices that ran down like tears. A large golden halo with intricate markings formed on its back, and Mark didn't know for sure how to brace himself. He brought his palms together, focusing on the energy within. 

"It was not you who created all things... It was humanity that created you! Your divine being will become the foundation of our paradise." 

The disk flew to the sky, acting like a gate of sorts, breaking into fragments that spread out around, the light blinding. From within, a hand reached out, its index finger ready to touch that of Sunday. Mark's palms held within a glowing burst of energy, ready to launch it. 

"This shit might fry me..." he muttered, stretching out his arms nonetheless. 

His breath was shaky, the feeling of more energy gathering slowly pushing on his nervous endings, sparking up pain in himself. 

Sunday was about to touch the hand from the sky, until... crash. Mark lowered his hands, grinning as he scoffed. 

"Son of a fuck..." he muttered, watching the translucent copy of the Astral Express, one made by Stelle with the power of Harmony come crashing right in Sunday's face, shattering upon impact—yet not before leaving him flat on his back, disrupting the incoming blast. 

"Took you long enough," laughed out Mark, watching the rest of the Crew come to his aid. With them was Robin, who looked at her brother with sorrow. 

"Brother... why?" 

Her question got Sunday dazed, the machine standing motionless for a moment. None would wait for its answer. Mark took the moment to form a large ice pillar with a burst of energy, infusing it then yanking it with all he had at Sunday, sending it packed with energy. 

"Don't push yourself more, Mark," said Himeko, walking to his side, worried. Mark sighed, looking at her briefly, focusing his attention back on Sunday, who got thrown off badly by the train. 

"I choose how much I push," he answered curtly, moving aside. It hurt him, but he was unsure of his own feelings at the moment. 

"Is it over?" he asked, stepping forward, watching Sunday still hang by the ledge. He tried to attack, to do something, but Stelle simply fought him off with another train to the face, the projection striking hard with more power than his ice pillar could build on such short notice. 

"I believe so," said Welt, coming over. He took a quick glance at Himeko's somewhat defeated expression but said nothing of it. He just looked down for a moment, then followed suit and watched Sunday fall to the ground, speaking in a defeated tone. 

"Why does life slumber?" he asked, to which Stelle answered, tilting her head a little. 

"It slumbers... to wake up..." 

Mark walked closer, looking over to Robin, who simply ran to her brother's side, not caring for the machine-like body, the lifeless puppet of Order... fallen like the Aeon itself. 

"Something about this was almost too easy," thought Mark, staring at Sunday with interest. The figure began crumbling, revealing a bleak-faced Sunday, defeated, finding comfort in his sister's embrace, the only real family he has. Mark sighed, wiping the corner of his eyes on the go, not allowing the tears to come out. He walked over to Sunday and, without even bothering anymore, struck him on top of the head with a karate chop. 

"Do this shit again and there will be issues, you heard me?" scolded Mark, staring at the man with harsh eyes. Robin looked up at him, a little taken aback, but Sunday simply smiled. 

"I see... I understand. Even like this, I'm sure there will be plenty of issues. I betrayed the Harmony and tried to imprison everyone within a dream..." 

***

Mark sighed, shaking his head. That was the least of his worries in the situation. Instead, he stared at the puppet. It hadn't done that in the game, cracking like that, remaining up there on the flying platform. He was a little worried. 

"Where's the Stellaron? We need to seal that thing." 

Sunday was about to speak when Mark's gaze shot up to the sky, the ice sword in his hand pointing there instantly. The sky was black, covered by something—the very thing that had tried to sneak up on Aventurine as well, the very monster that left his mind in the dream. 

"How?!" he shouted, watching as the Stellaron floated in the middle of the swirling tongues and jaws, the constant shift in the amalgamation swallowing the Cancer of the Worlds, turning it into a glowing red orb that stood up in the sky like the moon, glowing from within the dark cloud of substance. 

Shrieks filled the night, rattling the souls of everyone present, all the people who had awoken from the dream watching from below with worried expressions, feeling the fear form inside of them. Laughter from a million voices rang out, bringing about fear. Everyone was taken aback by the sight, while Mark was simply trying to process everything. 

"I told you I would be back... I will eat you whole, Devourer of Cancers... when dreams meddle with reality, one finds a window in its own kind, using it to become real..." 

"The Stellaron... it used that to become real..." 

Everyone was at his side, wide-eyed at the eldritch horror that covered the night sky, turning everything into a bath of blood-like light. 

"Mark, is that?" asked Himeko, letting go of everything else at the moment. 

"Yes. That..." said Mark, his lips quivering, his voice shaky. "That's the thing that bothered me... the very being that lived in my mind... that's the incarnation of the Wills of the Stellarons within myself and my innermost self..." 

The others were dumbfounded, and March, who seemed to shrink in fear, asked hastily. 

"You had THAT in your head? And you could sleep at night?" 

He sighed, instantly shooting out ice as a large slide, sweeping everyone off of their feet, letting the dark tentacles that sprawled out grab on to the island. The others barely had time to react as the ice yanked them away, forming a path all the way to the ground. Mark gritted his teeth, feeling a cold shiver run down his spine, moving on to grab his heart and hold it with a lifeless grip. 

"We're fucked..." he muttered, while the others still tried to understand what's going on. Himeko looked at it and fiddled with a remote, watching as the blast flew in from space, crashing against the dark cloud with a bright explosion. The blinding flash vanished, showing that barely any harm had been done. 

"It did no damage..." whispered Stelle, still trying to wrap her head around what they were up against. Sunday seemed mortified, holding Robin behind him, shielding her with his body as they slid down the ice, reaching the ground. 

"Did I cause that?" he asked, the weight of his mistakes suddenly taking a new turn. Mark, however, was simply dulled in an instant, reminded of the first time they had met inside his mind. 

"Not directly... no. It would have done this no matter what. The Stellaron is the key." 

Mark sighed, trying to collect himself. While the people fled, Acheron and Black Swan approached the group, with Boothill by their side. 

"Mark, are you alright?" asked Acheron, stepping closer, holding him by the chin, tilting his head on all sides, inspecting him carefully. She looked into his eyes, just to make sure he was himself and not somewhat controlled by that thing up there. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine. For now we have to deal with... that...." 

Acheron looked up, nodding. Her hand went to the sword on pure instinct, ready to step up and solve the issue herself if she had to. 

"Our combined strike seemed to have pushed it away back when the gambler tried his scheme." 

Mark nodded, recalling the moment. In the sky, tentacles lashed out, growing with teeth and eyes pouring out, oozing into a dark, liquid flesh that sought out prey. The voices rang out from the sky, shouting in unison, the horrific sound causing a lot of people present to simply shiver in fear and crawl into wherever could provide solace. 

"I shall consume your flesh and drink your mind, returning it to myself. You tried to enslave us, forcing upon us your being, but we were so much more... foolish vermin who meddle with forces that transcend understanding, bear witness as the consequences catch up to you, and sink deeper and deeper into nothingness, let yourselves be consumed by it and become sustenance for me..." 

The thousands upon thousands of eyes that floated above focused on a single person on the entirety of Penacony... Mark. He stared up at the sky, the red light turning everything and everyone into bloodied versions of themselves. He fought back all the negative feelings that tried to bring him down into the abyss. Acheron, sensing the traces of Nihility acting up inside of him, held his hand gently, speaking softly. 

"Breathe in and out... calm down and focus on the battle ahead. It will work out." 

Welt placed a supporting hand on Mark's shoulder, nodding as he fixed his glasses. 

"Well, it does seem like plenty of strange occurrences have taken place recently, some of which I need to discuss with you. We're in this together, right?" 

March shook her head, trying to gain some courage. 

"Right, Mister Yang. We're in this together. As creepy, ugly, scary, whatever that thing might be... we're together against it." 

Stelle nodded, fixing the hat on her head, smiling a little. 

"Someone has to clear up your mess, Mark." 

Dan Heng nodded, summoning his spear, holding it tightly as he prepared to use his powers of old, turning back to his past once again. 

"For an 'observer', you sure enjoy getting into trouble." 

Himeko took notice of Acheron's action, feeling a pang of something in her heart, but she braced herself nonetheless. With a soft voice and a tiny smile, she spoke, holding his gaze. 

"We're here, alright? You're not alone... I told you since that time..." 

Black Swan couldn't help herself from teasing him a little, even in the desperate moment. She spoke softly, smiling. 

"Make sure to write a wonderful story for me to remember, alright?" 

Boothill watched the entire thing, grinning with no fear. 

"Motherfudger, you sure know how to get the smokin' hot ones all over you." 

Mark shook his head, chuckling a little at the lighthearted atmosphere. 

"Heh, for now... I guess I brace myself..." 

He stepped forward, ice blade in hand, reinforced with whatever he could. 

"The night is long, and the beasts many... time to join the hunt..."