Spiritual Adam

*yeehaw, more yapp session right here, with the most expected beautiful dance to come in next chapter :))

Let me know what you think. Peace out and Deus vult*

Mark allowed his memories to flow freely as they sat down for a drink, talking about one thing or another, simply enjoying the simple yet bitter taste of 'Wake the Heck Up' that Acheron had suggested. It reminded him of beer, even if the bitterness was nothing compared to Himeko's coffee, the legendary drink that puts even the strongest warriors to the test. 

Thus, he sat in silence, witnessing the scene about Aventurine's talk with Sunday and the supposed betrayal coming in from Doctor Ratio, who gave him up for information on the Stellaron and the studies conducted by The Family on it. It was something Mark considered trivial, perhaps because he had a few of those things in his body, gathered there together. 

His memories moved on to scenes of what the rest of the Crew was supposedly doing at the time. Most probably the approach was the same, since his actions didn't seek to change the shift of the mundane things too much, out of fear that something greater would come back for him to balance things out. It was a thin thread that he walked upon, seeking to balance himself in both involvement and natural flow. 

One wrong action, and his knowledge could become, at the very least, partially useless, which was maybe more than he could afford. How was one supposed to prevent a death before it happened if they held no clue of it? With a selfish wish in tow, to reach a forced ending where death is avoided as much as possible, Mark gave his most valiant efforts to preserve the future he knew while also changing traces of the past. One life saved there, another one in another place. He clung to his feelings like Acheron at times. Firefly's death was quickly rendered null as she appeared as SAM, thus Robin must also be alive. The question was 'where?' 

"Even after that chilling tragedy, the dream is still running effortlessly," said Welt as the three of them headed out. "Other than The Family of the Harmony, it's hard to imagine any other power in the universe that could sustain a building of such magnitude." 

"The Family itself is a huge, perfect building. Like... a living idol," replied Acheron to Mark's doom as he felt his mind sting again. It kept repeating over and over with every bit of subtle information that entered his ears. "Each member of The Family sees themselves as a piece of the divine puzzle, revolving a singular core and a shared ideal. Under THEIR command, they loyally fulfill their roles, offering themselves while also receiving sustenance in return." 

Mark sighed loudly, rubbing his temples. 

"Ah, damn it. I think this is no analogy, right? I have a feeling we're up against some hivemind or some shit like that. Crazy stuff." 

The words leaving his mouth stung more, letting the shadows grow. Acheron took a step closer, putting them at bay with her mere presence. 

"Perhaps you're right. But human bodies have their limits... and so does the divine's." 

Mark shook his head, his gaze fixed on hers as Welt watched, listening along. 

"Nope. True divinity doesn't corrode like that, doesn't make mistakes. I call beings like these 'fake gods', something that's pretty plain and self-explanatory. The Aeons are nothing but mindless followers of their own Paths. What would be the god here? The Aeon, or the Path? In short, I don't buy it. They're cheap copies, just beings of extreme levels of power, but not divine." 

Welt nodded, taking in the words with interest, but the discussion would have to wait for another day. 

"How about we return to the topic at hand?" 

Acheron nodded, taking a brief glance around. 

"Indeed. I'm sure you would understand it better than me, Mister Yang. The beautiful dream is crumbling, but not because of a particular Aeon, a particular faction, or a particular visitor. It's collapse stems from a certain inevitability of human nature. The Family refuses to acknowledge this, and it has ultimately backfired and become a catalyst..." 

Mark listened as well, thinking about the situation as a whole and the information he has. Sunday, who forced Aventurine into that vow, putting his life at risk with a few words, speaking of Harmony's light while he himself is questionable by keeping the truth hidden. Hypocrisy, that was for sure. 

"As people immerse their souls into the Dreamscape, where consequences and pain cease to exist and only ease and pleasure prevail, they draw closer and closer to necrosis. Regardless of the perceived bliss, death looms as the inevitable conclusion." 

Mark scratched his chin, swirling his thoughts around. 

"As someone said it once, 'Hard times make strong people, who proceed to make easy times. Easy times make weak people, who proceed to make hard times.' It's a constant cycle that seems to be present here as well, and back home too. Society had reached a point of easy times with no conflicts, thus, the people began creating their own problems, partaking in meaningless conflicts that held no serious weight. They chose to abandon what was good in exchange for pleasure and their own ego. So is the danger of an easy life." 

Welt crossed his arms, carefully analyzing the points presented by both of them. 

"In the end, the dreams built in the name of freedom became the cages that imprisoned them. Such seems to be the case of the society you described, Mark. Perhaps blinded by their own nature, unwilling to accept their faults thanks to their enlarged egos, they chose to walk down that path and cause trouble for themselves. The human psyche is a most interesting thing that doesn't always abide by the rules." 

Silence fell between them as Acheron's hand came to a rest on the hilt of her sword, pulling on it just a bit, letting go in a flash. Welt seemed to find the motion a little odd, while Mark made no comments. 

"I'm sorry. This is just a habit of mine. I've become rather... forgetful, and the hazy memories seem to become clearer when this sword is unsheathed. I now vividly remember everything that's occurred on Penacony. Ask away." 

Mark had no need for that extra information on the lifeless, corrupted nature of Penacony. It was a weird sort of Las Vegas, that much was obvious. It was the sort of place that didn't sit right with him, especially with how far the people were willing to go in order to fulfill their every whim. 

Thus, Welt asked and listened to her stories, while he simply stood there and meddled with his thoughts, trying to better understand what was going on with him and the world around. His mind kept doing weird things, hurting more than usual, yet his nose didn't bleed. At first, he thought it was just an effect of the dream, and yet, that was far from it. 

They began pacing away, and Mark was nearly left behind as his thoughts grabbed him into the abyss called consciousness. 

"Someone once said to me," began Acheron, her voice a dull melody in the vibrant place. "'Penacony wasn't like this a long time ago, nor should it be.' I've traveled through the reality and Dreamscape of the Planet of Festivities, watched the tides of night rise and fall when time stopped for people. Where the spirits of the rich and impoverished... remained forever fixed on their own scales." 

She turned to face them both, her gaze determined in its own way. 

"This is why I think the collapse of the Beautiful Dream is inevitable." 

Mark let out a soft sigh while Welt fixed his glasses, his voice somewhat softer as he reminisced of the past. 

"There might be a way to change everything." 

"Perhaps. But if this is indeed the world that people desire—if this is precisely why life chooses to slumber—should we still seek to change it?" 

While Welt seemed to think out his answer, Mark blurted out a determined 'Yes', not even bothering to think about it too much. The answer was already a part of him, engraved into his own will. 

"Wants are not needs... and wants usually lead to disasters, to destruction of the self. Greed, gluttony, lust, pride, sloth, wrath, and envy... they're all part of a self-seeking person. Hell, they're part of everyone when you think about it, however... not everyone gives in to their nature. Some hold out and fight against it. Thus, let me tell you... should the people think this world to be the reason why life slumbers... I'd knock some sense into them all and make them realize that life slumbers only to wake up anew, with newer power to brace for what is to come." 

She had a soft smile in the corner of her lips, and Welt himself nodded along. 

"I guess it is now my time to share a story with you." 

He took two steps forward, recalling events past, events that Mark could recall. 

"There was a man from my homeland who, at a time when the world was grappling with deep, unhealable pain, made a choice. He wove together the dreams of everyone in the world, linking people's dreamscapes, and shouldered this burden himself. From this, he created a giant, a 'Spiritual Adam.'" 

Mark listened intently, keeping the onslaught of emotions and memories at bay. It was a lot to take in, and seeing someone from that world talk about it felt eerie, to say the least—like a ghost telling the story of its death. 

"Since that moment, the giant stood between heaven and earth, becoming the pillar of the world's existence. As a price, those who found it hard to move forward, who could not advance... forever lost their 'future'..." 

Acheron listened, showing no hint of emotion, even if Mark could see something in her eyes. It was tiny, barely there, but it was—and sometimes being is more than enough. 

"They slumbered in a dream devoid of disaster and pain, living out their days peacefully in the man's created utopia. And it is because of the wishes of those people who wished not to awaken that this Spiritual Adam became unbreakable." 

She spoke softly, the finality in her voice evident. 

"And yet you stand here right now, which also means... that man failed." 

"Because people must always move towards the future. Even if human weaknesses make them pause, when they truly cannot move forward... humanity will eventually seek a way to save itself." 

He crossed his arms, and Mark couldn't help but admire the touch of respect in Welt's voice. 

"And that man... he was NEVER a failure. Like everyone in that world, he etched the possibilities of human nature into his heart. He was the sunchaser of legend, soaring towards the sky and embracing his final victory with his fall. He ascended to heights uncharted, only to come face to face with the sun—a place not visited by anyone before. His wings would melt because of it, only for him to fall into the sea, and after that... countless others would surpass him, soaring to even greater heights." 

His eyes met Mark's, who were glistering a little in the light. A simple nod was all the young man had to offer—a simple symbol of understanding, of confirmed knowledge, of... compassion. 

"A fitting metaphor for the Nameless' Trailblazing spirit," said Acheron, crossing her arms. 

"Fitting indeed," replied Mark, thinking about the depth of it all. It was the original cycle of history, countless generations coming and building upon what was left of the past. Trying to reach a point where no one else could ever climb after seemed nothing but a concept for him. 

"Thank you, Mister Yang. I know what you wish to confirm. The universe has innumerable similar yet different worlds. In these worlds, there are innumerable people who look alike yet don't. I, too, have embarked on journeys, encountering 'old friends' with familiar faces on different worlds, witnessing their destinies follow paths similar to mine. So, I will tell you..." 

Mark's heart came to a halt, the spoken words carrying much more intensity than pure images moving on a screen. 

"Even if not completely similar, this story you just told... It overlaps with my past. And within that abyssal dream... I ended that man's life, alone." 

Her eyes met those of Mark, who was as silent as an animal hiding from the ones wishing to take it to slaughter. He kept thinking, imagining, connecting... it was hell. 

"I am not who you think I am, nor will my home be as fortunate as your world..." 

Welt nodded, speaking calmly, bitterness clear in the air. 

"... I am sorry..." 

"It's fine," she said softly. "I don't mind, as long as I can alleviate your suspicions..." 

She looked at Mark, who was deep in thought. 

"As for the name you said... I'm not the one you think I am, familiar as that name might be." 

He held her gaze, speaking softly. Welt's eyes were just as attuned to his as those of Acheron. 

"You lost your Kaslana... have you not? Your sword... the weapons forged together... Finality and what not... mere names that hold no meaning now, am I right?" 

Silence. Utter and pure, heavier than steel could ever be, denser than mercury, more intoxicating than the sweetest allures of wine could even dream to be. Acheron showed no emotion, only a tear that came running down her face. Perhaps her memories had long since been lost, remaining a part of the blade she carries. Mark reached out, wiping that tear gently with a movement of his palm along her cheek. She didn't budge, simply staring into his being before turning around. 

"That matters not," she whispered before looking over to Welt. 

"I like your analogy very much. Indeed, birds are born to fly, but in a distant past, their ancestors could only gaze at the sky in envy." 

Her gaze took to the skies, looking into the vastness that spread out above. 

"They saw that faraway ray of light from above the heavens, piercing through the clouds and blanketing the earth. And so, time and time again, generation after generation, the birds spread their wings and took to the sky, attempting to touch its ceiling—all because the sun was there." 

She looked back down, looking at Welt, while Mark kept following the movements of the shadows that danced in unison with his growing pain, keeping his memories at bay, letting them trickle out slowly. Acheron's world... her story was one of pure nihility.

"Then, what if the last bird finally soars into the sky, only to realize that the end of the light is not the sun, but darkness..." 

Mark could almost see another tear in her eyes, which closed as her voice lowered to a pained, tiny whimper. 

"Then why exactly... do we even walk towards the light?" 

Mark sighed, thinking about how to phrase his words. Still, they failed him in that moment. For the first time in a decent timeframe, he was speechless, lacking ways to express the emotions he felt. Walking to the light had value in itself, a goal in life. She deems it useless, and thus Mark came to realize something that was missing. Her true path... it was Nihility. 

Welt was silent, and thus she walked over to Mark, gently taking his hand in hers. 

"Let's go. It's time for our dance." 

"Dance?" asked Welt, thinking back on what had happened before. 

"Yes, dance, nothing more. I don't know what Himeko thinks, but it was just a dance, something that I've missed out on a lot during my life... the simple joys of plain companionship..." said Mark, feeling pathetic at the thought of his life until that point.