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The Heart Of Dawn

30 years after the second Machine War, the scars of the bloody conflict remain in the hearts and minds of those who survived. So much so that the mayor of True Maryland, commissioned two investigators, Haya Kinthos and Marcus Pollus to scout out and recon a castle nearby after reports that several machines are starting to revive there. Marcus believes that the revival is coordinated by a terrorist known only as the "Crimson King", and their revival might spell doom for the rest of humanity.

Alexander_Leigh · แฟนตาซี
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30 Chs

013

I stepped into the deep, dark, woods. Looking to each side, I find nothing but deep forests away from the trail. Each step on the dirt trail was crunchy. Looking down, the trail was full of fallen leaves. I forgot it's autumn. Typically, I shouldn't, but now I don't really know anymore.

I went deeper into the woods, there was nothing but the silent, ghastly rustling of falling leaves. It was chilly. The night, the winds, it was pretty cold, even under my coats.

I felt my body grew heavier, as my wounds, untreated and still bleeding, grew worse among the cold. "How much closer?" I asked Haya. A screen flashed in front of me--or perhaps it's in my eyes-- of a map, with a gps pointing directly to Twain's position.

"Your temperature's dropping, are you okay?" She asked, she knew I wasn't. But hearing her voice, even if it was in my head, amidst the chilling night is enough to make me feel better.

"No, but, I'm glad you're back." I replied, trying to get to the area with all I can. Limping, walking, bleeding. If I had the energy to look back I'm sure I'd see a long blood trail.

"Back? Oh, sorry. I was making myself feel more at home in your head."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for instance, I used whatever memories you had to craft a coffee. Now if you don't mind, I'll borrow your sense of taste." I felt the soft taste of coffee fill my tongue, followed by a sudden bitterness, "Oh-. That's not good."

"Huh?" I felt the taste in my mouth change, from sweet, to sour, to bitter, back to sweet, "C-can you stop that?"

"Almost done." The taste continuously becomes refined, until- mmh~! Perfection. "PERFECTION! I shall savor this taste in your mouth a-"

"Enough! Can you focus on keeping me alive along the way?" I yelled out. Seemed to have taken more energy for it than just talking it through in my head.

"Oh, sorry. I just wanted to know what I could do until I get a new body from Twain's Ambrosia."

"Twain's… how do you know he has one?"

"Uhm… I- uh, probed your memories about him."

"I see, yer doing that now huh?"

"Sorry, I know it's private and a-"

"It doesn't matter."

"Huh?"

"It's not mine, remember what the commander said?"

"And you actually believe her? Marcus, I know these memories are real, I was there, they're as real as you and I."

"And you're currently a voice inside my head."

"So you think I'm not real now?"

I sighed, "No, it's not that, I-" A wolf howls, and then another, and another, and another. From all sides I felt silent footsteps among the fall leaves.

"Shit, they're all around us, partner. I'm gonna enhance your Terrium output." I gripped my staff tightly. But no matter how high I'm outputting towards it, I feel weak, too weak. I felt myself dropping to my knees and,

BANG! A loud gunshot echoed through the forest as the wolves scampered. "Oh sweet goodness, it's a man. Out 'ere in the woods and-" I heard an old man speaking about, I was looking down at the ground, unable to even hear the thoughts in my head now. "A galactic agent?" I looked up, towards the man, "Marcus?" Were the last words I heard as I passed out.

------

I awoke inside my head, a deep dark void with no one else there but a lone figure of a woman. She was violet all around, Like a lone flower in a field of nothingness.

She turned around and smiled, the smile. The smile was all I could discern, it was a soft smile. As if she was glad I was here. I'm not sure, I can't discern from her eyes, I can't discern from her anywhere else.

Her height, body type, everything changes every second, shifting along everything. But her smile remained constant. She fully turned towards me. Then walked, walked towards me, with each step, the ground rippled, as if she was walking on a shallow puddle. Or a shallow sea.

I tried to run away but I couldn't move my body. Not because of any outside force, or inside force. But I can't will myself to do so. As if I wanted to be here, in this place, in this area, in this time.

She's in front of me now. And I could clearly see her face, or faces, as it rapidly changes. Eyes, nose, ears, hairstyles. She was always not the same, except for her smile. Her gentle smile that seemingly spoke to me.

She laid her hand on my cheeks, caressing it. Her warmth permeating throughout all of me, I grabbed her arms, having them on my cheeks even more. As if to delve into the warmth. Her other arms went to my other cheeks as she had me look at her eyes.

A variety of voices spoke around her. Overlapping one another, never the same. Yet all saying the same thing, "Never forget about me. Even if you forget about everybody else." Then, she turns into various images of various places. I'm in all of them, all with different women, they're all having fun, they're all different. "Even if I'm different, I'm the same."

She started floating high into the sky, a beam of light seems to be taking her away, like a purple angel being sent back to heaven. Her fingers momentarily touched my lips as she went into a short, cute giggle. I tried to grab hold of her as she leaves. But I'm unable to do so, I tried to scream for her to come back, but I'm unable to do so.

Then I woke up. Woke up in a warm, lovely wooden cottage. I heard the sound of cooking on my right, followed by the lovely scent of food. I was lying on a soft bed.

I tried to stand up but the man cooking beside me noticed and exclaimed, "No no, don't stand up, Marcus. Let yourself heal up and rest." He was Jeremiah Twain. A pretty old man, his hair was gray and thinning, his face rugged and rough. Yet he remained gentle, even though he's built to hurt.

I looked down to my body, I was half-naked, with bandages all around my chest, arms, everywhere. I tried to move but I feel strained. Seems like he was right, "Thanks for bringing me in, Twain." I told him.

"Don't mention it, wouldn't have known you'd arrive if not for your partner up there."

"Haya…"

"Yeah, you don't have to tell me, she told me everything."

"Oh?"

"Yep." Haya said inside me, "I talked to him over it, the commander, what we found, all that jazz. I also arranged a new body from his Ambrosia."

"A new body huh…" I said to myself, I stared down into the blanket I was on in silence.

"You okay there, partner?" She asked.

"Huh? Yeah. I'm good." I replied