Consequences

Chapter 130: Consequences

The last section of this chapter contains themes of depression that may not be suitable for all readers. Viewer discretion is advised.

/The Thing had felt terror.

That emotion was new to it, and yet it already never wanted to feel it again. Not as much as hunger, it wasn't quite there, but close enough to at least warrant caution.

After its encounter with the Hunter, the Thing became more vigilant towards its surroundings. It watched out for what could be dangerous, and what it could eat, making sure to pick its fights. No longer did it roam the lands as a mindless beast, but instead, it gained thought.

In a way, the Hunter saved its life.

Whether that was a grave mistake or not, only the future would tell./

(Legends: The Thing - 5; Budding Thoughts)

- - - - - -

The very next day, Mercury already missed the serenity of the mountain. Walking across the actual fields was beyond miserable, the constant threat was wearing down his nerves very quickly and the occasional ashstorms didn't exactly help with that in the slightest.

Also, since he had to find shelter every night, Mercury spent a majority of the evening searching for a place to sleep. Well, the scarlet sun didn't exactly ever set, but it did periodically dim and grow brighter. Not by much, but if he paid attention it was noticeable, especially since the dim light tended to make him more tired.

Perhaps that was also just the marsh in his dreams calling. This place seemed quite invested on making sure he landed there every night, no matter how tired he was. On the first week of his journey, he died to the stalkers once, too. He didn't manage to avoid one of the stakes, and it drove itself through his lower back, slightly above his back legs. A second soon followed, skewering his heart.

That night he woke up screaming, still feeling the pain in his chest. His heart beat so fast he was scared it would explode, and he probably only managed to calm down again because of his Skills. The pain dulled quickly at first, but then stuck around for the next few days, and when he travelled through the marsh, he left a trail of blood from a wound on his chest.

Needless to say, it was exhausting. Doubly so, since his dreams were hardly a respite anymore.

Throughout the day he battled creatures that could've been taken straight from a nightmare. Worms with mouths full of jaws, behaving almost like floor sharks, lions with manes of spikes, one of which he witnessed sink into another creature's shadow and leave a wound on its actual body. There were flies the size of a human head that spewed acid through their trunk, sizzling on the stone, and armadillos whose scales could stand on edge and were razor sharp.

Once night broke, he spent his time on another journey, towards the distant red crystal. When he died, he noticed it moved him back a bit, maybe half a night's progress. That was strange, either it moved his respawn point to the previous one, or it actually moved him back from the diamond. While he expected the first, he hoped for the second, since it meant that the thing he was chasing at least meant something.

Finally, when the night was over, he had to go and do it all again.

His companion did provide him water, which was good, but other than that, it usually remained hidden during fights, spreading out into a puddle. Watching that, Mercury noticed a very small, round shape floating in it, a bit of darker blue that would be near invisible if the sheet of water were any thicker. It always seemed to rebuild with that thing at its center. Perhaps it was its core?

It was good to at least have an idea of what he needed to protect, he supposed.

One of Mercury's more deadly encounters happened on day eight, when he was freshly hurt in the nightmare. Not long after he woke up and drank some water, he set out to hunt for food, and found one of the strange creatures that abducted him. A humanoid with its limbs bent strangely. He thought there would be more of them, since they seemed to be the only thing that left the rifts, but there had been none on the plains until that one.

When he looked at it, Mercury immediately moved to hide again, but his short moment of terror had made him freeze, and his attempt at stealth was just a little too late. By the time he moved to run, the monster was already pouncing on him, the claws on the ends of its twisted limbs cutting a small gash into his side. Luckily, he had moved to escape first.

Turning around, he saw the creature try to regain its footing clumsily. Its empty face spun around, the holes above its fangs expanding and contracting, in an attempt to find him. For some reason, it clacked its teeth almost rhythmically, the ivory daggers clicking together and echoing around. After a moment it paused, and its head snapped to the side, locking onto Mercury again.

The mopaaw grit his teeth, feeling the cut on his hind legs burning alongside the pain in his chest. He still needed to hunt for food after this, he didn't feel like digesting something that looked so strangely... human. That meant he wanted to finish this up fast, before the blood loss had time to attract more creatures.

Gritting his teeth, he faced the thing, its jaws rhythmically shutting as its body twisted into position for a lunge. It seemed so strangely feral, yet somehow its movements were also calculated. The demeanor threw Mercury for a loop and made it hard to predict, so once it lunged, the only thing that saved him was his reaction time.

At the last moment, he jumped forward at the thing, landing between its limbs and sinking his teeth and claws into its chest. Its skin may look human, and while the surface felt like it as well, cutting through it was tough and exhausting, mana flooding his claws to even give them the strength to cut.

Mercury took a deep breath as he dropped back down and jumped away, just seconds before the creature had shifted its balanced to slash at him. It wasn't exactly graceful, and the damage he did could have been much better, but it added a wound of his own.

The monster's body was already covered into a few of them, some larger gashes and some barely scrapes. It had fought before, and seemed to heal poorly. All of these humanoid things did, or so he hoped at least.

When the things slashed at him again, Mercury stepped back once more, staggering slightly as he put weight onto his injured thigh. He couldn't quite hold himself up, and somehow, despite its lack of eyes, the creature noticed his loss of balance, one of its arms whipping out and leaving another long gash over his back.

Hissing in pain, Mercury took some distance, before launching a web he had been weaving at the creature. It slowed it down a little, as it struggled with cutting itself free, and Mercury made use of the moment, launching two rocks at it.

They quickly impacted the creature, sinking into its flesh as it let out a wail. It sounded pained. That was a good sign, it could be killed.

Mercury felt as flakes of ash rained into the gashes on his back, three parallel ones from the thing's claws. It hurt like hell, but despite it, he remained calm. He split his mind and began weaving a second net with his lesser zeyjn, while the stronger of the two focused on compressing a rijn. His ystirs tied the knots for the pattern almost by themselves, and he could feel his mind's hammer taking shape.

It quickly made his head start hurting, but he beared it. Half a second ticked by, then another half, and the creature was free. He took a deep breath. It lunged. He breathed out.

His rijn impacted the thing's stomach, sending it higher into the air, and sailing past him, buying precious time to keep weaving away at his net. When it landed, he had already sent a rock after it, which dug into its shoulder. It slid across the stone, claws throwing up slight sparks under the ash as it dug in and twisted its head out of the way of the projectile.

No matter, his web was close to done. With a little luck, it would slow the thing down further.

Immediately, Mercury threw the web at the monster, only to have it cut in half mid-air. A few strings stuck to it, but not enough to even hinder its movements. Once again, Mercury was forced to dodge, and even as he activated <Drake's Wings>, it wasn't enough. His speed increased, turning a severe cut into a slighter one, yet he still felt the thing's claws drag across his right flank.

Resisting the temptation to suck in air through his teeth, Mercury took another deep breath, feeling his stamina surging and his mana coursing. When the thing landed, it almost fell to the ground, the shoulder he'd hit with a rock giving out, and immediately, Mercury pounced, clawing and biting at the thing.

It tried to swat at him, but the web and blood loss had made it sluggish, and after avoiding two of its blows, Mercury found the creature growing slack. Dead.

Until its maw opened .

Somehow, its neck stretched rapidly, extending its head forward to snap at Mercury. Even jumping back as early as he could, his breathing had been messy, and he ended up getting another deep scrape on his back and front right leg. Then, the thing sunk into itself again, though a devious grin remained plastered on its face.

Finally, a notification rang out, and Mercury swore to never believe himself again before he heard it.

[Killed a Lost Twisted Servant. Get: 500 Exp, 100 Gold.]

Mercury panted heavily, glad that the fight was over and done with at the very least. The injuries would slow him down, and his head felt like it was about to burst, but he lived.

Soon, the water came up next to him, and tried to lick his wounds for a moment, but the cold of its outer shell made them hurt more instead, so Mercury quickly flinched.

"Sorry buddy," he said, "but I think I'll just have to bear with these."

He took a few steps forward, and honestly felt it wasn't that bad. Until the adrenaline wore off, and he staggered on his feet, barely catching himself. Then, he took a deep breath.

"Okay, maybe lost a little bit more blood than expected," Mercury muttered. "Piece of shit." The hell were those things even? Lost twisted servants?

[Lost Twisted Servant: A Twisted Servant of the Court of the Crimson Sun, which has since gotten lost in the vast landscapes that surrounded their old residence, doomed to forever roam the place of raining ash as it may never find its way back. Not without the eyes that they gave away so willingly long ago.]

Yup, sure, that didn't sound sinister at all. Honestly, even if he wasn't in pain, Mercury felt quite unsure if he wanted to know more about this. Court of the Crimson Sun? Giving away eyes? Yeah, that sounded just about right if he wanted to get himself goddamn killed!

Shaking his head, the mopaaw grit his teeth and took deep breaths, steadying himself. The scavengers would come soon. Before heading off, he remembered to at least take back his rocks, cleaning off the blood with <Telekinesis>. After all, if he wanted to heal, he still needed to find something to eat.

There was nothing confirming it, but it really felt as though the servants had been human, or at least something like that, at some point before. It just didn't feel right to eat something like that. Maybe there was even a chance of the system granting him some sort of skill for spiritual cannibalism, or a taboo or something. Was there something like that?

...

Thanks, <Appraisal>. At any rate, if it wasn't a confirmed no, he would rather avoid the risk, and instead moved on, trying to find whatever passed for easy prey around this place.

After eating, he'd have to push the pain aside and continue travelling. Staying still while bleeding seemed more like a death sentence than anything else. Things would come to find him. If he stayed on the move, he might leave a trail, but at the very least they would have to follow it first, rather than immediately being able to locate and eat him.

Some of them might even be eaten by bigger fish on the way, but that was wishful thinking.

Giving a long sigh, Mercury looked at his translucent companion. They seemed... empathetic, or so he thought at least. Sad to see him get hurt.

"That's sweet of you, but don't worry, I'll be fine," he said, lightly tapping the water-cat's forehead before continuing on. It seemed to calm them a little. That was good.

Walking hurt, but it was bearable as he kept it in check with his breathing. In and out, and with each time a few steps forward. Just focusing on his rhythm, Mercury continued on, only trying to suppress the pain, hardly noticing how his entire body seemed to slowly become more synchronised.

Yet, that synchronisation only seemed to tell him that his health was worsening.

- - - - - -

Berthorn was torn.

This had been the perhaps greatest stroke of success in his entire career. He achieved everything he set out to do splendidly. The spark he was tasked to gain was retrieved, and Zyl was now weakened physically, as well as mentally. He was sure that ordering them to still kill the mopaaw would have hurt his brother, even if they hadn't known each other for so long.

"Silly Zyl, always so protective," he muttered. It had been his brother's flaw. Zyl always had to be in the spotlight, at the forefront, taking responsibility for things he really should not. Perhaps it was the instinct of a dragon in him, that things he saw as close to him were his and his to protect. Perhaps his hoard, in a way, was people.

But that was simply his musings, in truth, he didn't know why Zyl had that need. Perhaps it was just a sense of duty, or something he chose himself. Berthorn scoffed. Whatever the reason for it, the choice was poor. It left him vulnerable beyond belief. He shook his head.

Yet, somehow, despite the fact that this was an almost perfect victory, he was bothered. There was a seed of fear still in his chest. The mission had not been quite clean. Apparently, a blood eclipse occurred precisely when the assassins struck, surely that was no coincidence. The old man teaching the mopaaw even escaped.

Since Berthorn had not seen the body himself, he didn't feel confident in concluding the cat had died. Granted, no one had ever returned from a blood eclipse, but that mattered little to his paranoia. He feared, because if the beast returned, he might face consequences.

Still, he simply shook his head a little. This was a fleeting thought, barely a detail that passed by. Even if the mopaaw, by some miracle, was still alive, he would deal with it then. No, for now he was rather afraid of the politics that awaited him.

He had given the spark as instructed, and while he didn't know what exactly it would be used for, he could hazard a few guesses. None of them boded very well for his authority, lest he believe the words of the others. Again, he scoffed. Yes, certainly, those people were about as trustworthy as a strange man standing inside your house at night next to a broken window.

Slowly, Berthorn sucked in the air from the window. No, he wouldn't be cast aside, in fact, he refused to. Now that they had the shard, they would be distracted, their power plays set aside to stew. But he was unburdened by this, since he had no more involvement, and completing the mission gave him not just standing and reputation, but quite a bit of funds, too. Enough to set up a strong faction, perhaps even an organisation that he would be the head of.

That thought put a slight smirk on his face, soothing the unease he felt in his heart. It seemed a good idea, if his gut feeling was to be believed, and usually it was, given how many points he had spent on early warning Skills in the shop.

Berthorn the coward nodded to himself as he spun more plans. A faction was what he needed to back himself, and he was more than happy to capitalize on the war of the others, already looking forward to cannibalizing their best subordinates. Tensions were already high, after all, and well, in the games of dragons, little sleights could make all the difference. Even if the target was only implied.

Letting his thoughts go further down that line, Berthorn's smirk widened ever so slightly. If the dragons by some miracle didn't tear themselves apart, well, he would simply have to give them a push, wouldn't he?

- - - - - -

Avery didn't sleep well. If one considered being unconscious as sleep at all, really. He was out for close to three days, and once he was finally awake, he still had to stay in bed.

Every bit of his body ached terribly, but he would recover, that much he was sure of. No, the problem was with the pain in his heart.

Each time he woke up, it seemed to grow a little heavier. He'd failed again. Sure, people were praising it as a success, that he gave it his all, that he couldn't have done better, but he knew it. There were people out there, screaming and crying about their lost ones. Parents without children, children without parents, or lovers who lost each other.

Those cries weighed on him, growing heavier each moment he was awake. He couldn't even find consolation in company. As Marcel tried to cheer him up, all he could hear was a hint of disappointment in his voice, a disapproval his friend tried to keep hidden. Perhaps it wasn't even there at all, in fact, sometimes Avery was certain he was deluding himself, but that didn't make it any less painful.

He'd failed.

He'd failed again.

He'd fucking failed, same as the last time!

Sometimes, when his thoughts spiraled, he clenched his fist. He didn't hit anything, not the bed, not the table. He didn't scream or roar, either, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew it would only cause more destruction, and that was not what he wanted.

Yet, every time he wished he could. He wanted to scream, to shout, to hit, to vent, something, anything. "How did it get to this?" he muttered to himself. "I'm a fucking failure."

Lucia came to visit him too, her eyes filled with sadness. Perhaps it was empathy, but to him all he could see was disappointment. What had all his training been for, his oath been for, if every time the city was attacked, he only managed to save half of it?!

"Breathe Beckham," she would tell him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The tears streamed down his face, some disappearing into the bandages, leaving streams there. The salt hurt his wounds, but to him it felt like only a small penance for his repeated failures.

'How do you do it?' he'd think. He wanted to know how they all got up again, how they tried over and over, and he wanted to know why he couldn't say those words out loud. Whenever he looked at the faces of those that remained, he felt like absolute shit. It felt like all their suffering was his fault, directly, and no one else's.

He was silent, when they spoke to him, encouraged him, his breath stocking and betraying his feelings when he let out the occasional whimpers. They'd bite their lips, not knowing what to say. It was hell, to him, not just having failed, but now even weighing down the others.

Some days, when it got especially bad, he just wished everyone would forget him. That they could move on, cut him from their life like the cancer he was. He knew they didn't feel that way, he knew it was wrong to think it, yet he did.

Those days, all Avery Beckham really wanted to do was disappear, yet all he could do wa sob in silence, all alone in his room, until he was out of tears to cry, then hope he fell asleep quickly to forget it all for a few hours.