Farewell, My Dear

*I'm alive. Yesterday I kinda got sidetracked, my bad :))

Here is today's chapter tho. Hope you'll enjoy. Peace out and Deus Vult*

Everyone had gathered round, mouths wide agape, shock etched into their features, from the barely seen signs on weathered faces like that of Welt and Dan Heng to pure, unfiltered worry on that of March and Stelle. 

"Son of a nice lady... just what the fudge was that?" asked Boothill, trying to understand the show that he had just witnessed before his very eyes, down to the last moment when Mark was swallowed whole by the unknown substance. 

"Mark, just what are you doing now?" asked Himeko, stepping closer, hesitantly touching the cube. It was warm, yet solid like steel. She tried to thump her fist against it, feeling as the material absorbed the shock, molding around her knuckles before she stopped. 

She kept looking at it, thinking, trying to understand, to see if Mark was fine. Her ear came close to it, pressing up against it, trying to find a sign of life from within. Acheron just stared at it; her expression hardened, yet the soft traces of unshed tears twinkled in her eyes. His expression, battered, tired, beaten to a pulp as it clung to that tiny crooked smile of his, was carved in her retinas, showing up each time she blinked. 

"Mister Yang, he'll be fine, right? Right?" asked March, looking around to each person present, trying, hoping from the bottom of her heart to see a trace of hope, but silence was the only answer she received. Stelle patted her on the shoulder, the touch comforting in that moment. 

Black Swan took to the realm of memories, casting aside her presence among their ranks for a few fleeting breaths during which she tried to enter the cube, to reach the core. It was a difficult task, incredibly so, for reasons that she herself couldn't fully understand. The substance itself was like a large memory, carrying with it the scent of grief, pain, and loneliness. She pushed through it, bracing herself for a mental storm, and found, inside, Mark's locked mind. 

His memories were there, hidden behind the lock, and she, being the Memokeeper she is, tried to unlock it and see what was inside. The moment she touched his mind, a simple image of a shadow with a glowing eye flashed in her vision, pushing her back at once, casting her outside his memories. 

Defeated once more, she materialized herself, letting out a sigh that contained both relief and a bitter touch of loss. 

"He's inside; I found him." 

Everyone felt a heavy weight fall off from its spot on their shoulders. Robin smiled a tiny bit; her usually cheerful expression turned into a soft shadow of itself as Sunday stood by her side, silent, but the regret in his eyes spoke volumes. 

"He's inside, so that means we just have to break him free from those confinements, right?" she asked, the soft notes that left her mouth a gentle melody in their own right. 

"That seems to be the case, however," said Acheron, prepared to take out her blade. The Nihility inside was dimmed, the mere presence of that cube dwindling it. "That substance... it's not normal. Plus, even if we take him out, we must be prepared. He had suffered heavy wounds, from being impaled to even losing one arm. If we set haste, we might only bring about his..." 

She didn't finish the sentence, not wishing to let the word 'death' leave her lips. The mere thought of him passing crushed her heart, causing more pain to swell up inside and burn in an agonizingly slow manner. His sacrifice, taking on that creature alone—surely, he must have seen it as his responsibility thanks to it originating from his mind, and yet she was sure that no one around would put the blame on him. Nihility is a heavy burden; that much she knew to her very core, and him managing to somehow contain that much inside without showing signs was astonishing. 

"Mark, you fool... I'm sorry and thankful... sorry for what I'm about to do, and thankful that you showed me hope..." 

Himeko still kept her palm glued to it, staring with pained eyes, the slight tremble in her lips barely noticed. She had not had time to speak with him to clear up what had happened. She blamed herself like never before, the guilt eating at her core. However, for the rest of the Crew, she had to put on a strong front to keep herself steady. 

"If we wish to open it and pull him out, we must do so in the right environment. Miss Black Swan, could you check again and see how he is inside? If possible, try to get a grasp on his vitals." 

Black Swan nodded, albeit hesitantly. 

"I shall see what I can do." 

She vanished again, only to return in a few minutes, appearing before the rest with a strained expression. 

"I got all I could. He seems to be fine inside, as if... the cube itself is healing him rather than causing harm." 

"Then cutting it open is out of the equation," said Himeko, taking a moment to relax. 

"In that case, I believe it would be best to wait and see how the situation develops," chimed in Dan Heng, his voice as calm as usual. "We should find a way to carry him to the Express, then keep track of the situation's development." 

Welt nodded, fixing his glasses. He wished to ask Mark about some things that were slowly taking life inside his mind, of some foreign memories that showed a different path of his past, and most of all, about a figure clad in white, their face blurred as they kept the situation moving as they saw fit. 

"We shall see to it. For now, I believe it would be best to handle the aftermath and see how the situation develops." 

Thus, the day passed, with Mark being moved back to the Express, confined in the weird cube as he was. The crisis was quickly hidden and branded as an attack by a foreign Stellaron, something that worked better this time as an excuse thanks to the difference in situation. Mark himself, the man who had won a million bottles of SoulGlad, was also branded as a hero in the attack, along with his Nameless friends. The information related to him quickly grew, the curiosity of the people swarming at once, bursting forth in places that he would have rather kept at an arm's length, such as the notorious IPC. 

Silence fell in the Express as Acheron stood glued to the cube for a good while, remaining alone with her back pressed to it as she stood on the floor, sword by her side. No one could hear her words, yet she still spoke softly, almost as if it were him by her side. 

"Why must you walk this path, Mark? Can't you see that you're hurting others with your reckless actions?" 

Her words were a gentle scolding aimed at him, one she knew wouldn't reach his ears. 

"You said you walk a selfish path, but you're lying, Mark. Sure, it brings others pain, especially to those who, like me... care about you, perhaps more than I dare to say. You hurt others by hurting yourself, and yet... you're not selfish, but quite the opposite. Trying to save us, you went to the brink of death, walking on the string that separates the living from the dead." 

She took a shaky breath of air, trying to calm down the bubbling feelings inside of her. It had been long since she felt something. Nihility had taken so much from her, and yet he brought out the human side of her, even if for a little. 

"You're reckless, Mark, far too reckless. Will you give up your life for your goal? Why do I even ask, since you almost did so in this battle. Do you see your life as nothing but a token to be used for that of others? Do you not understand how much you're hurting others? How much you're hurting me?" 

She let her head fall back against it, feeling a warm tear make its way down her cheek. He would have wiped it, that's for sure. Still, he wasn't there, not in the way she would have wanted. Perhaps it would make the situation a bit easier for her. With shaky breaths and quivering lips, she stood up, looking at the cube as she fixed her sword back on her hips. 

"I'm sorry, Mark, but I don't wish to see you dying for me. If leaving Nihility means you must lose your life, then I'll gladly stay in it and let it corrode me. I've seen enough people I cared for simply... go before my very eyes... I don't wish to see it again." 

Her hand rested on it, her forehead following as she simply imagined him against her, closing her eyes to just enjoy the moment, a memory that she wouldn't let go of no matter what. 

"Mark... in our short time, I might have developed something for you. I'm not sure if calling it love is the right thing, since love has a deeper meaning, but... I do care about you, more than I should. You just made your way into my heart, and I wish to keep you there, even if I have to leave." 

Another tear fell down her face as she simply stepped back, looking over the white surface once more. She wished she could just drag him out and hold him one last time. 

"Farewell, Mark. If we meet again, please... don't try to save me by putting yourself in harm's way. I don't want to see you die before my eyes... take care, my dear..." 

She turned around and left the Express, casting no glance back as her steps guided her to the next stop. 

The others were busy with other tasks or simply resting. The next day came, and Stelle, accompanied by March, met with Welt and Dan Heng at the Dreamjolt Hostelry, discussing the development of the situation and the IPC's involvement in the matter. Siobhan stood at the bar, focusing on her own work, until she decided to join the conversation. Soon enough, she turned to the thing she enjoys, making drinks. 

"Let's see, the mixed drink should be solemn, dignified, and unique, as we'll use it to pay respect to those fallen heroes..." 

She looked to the Crew, holding a bitter smile. 

"To the Nameless resting in peace... and to Gallagher." 

"Ahem... I'm pretty much alive." 

The voice made everyone snap out of it, their gazes moving to the door, where the man himself had stepped inside. Siobhan's face fell, and she damn near let out a tear at the sight. The Crew looked at him too, wondering about it. 

"How?" asked Siobhan, stepping out from behind the bar, walking closer to him. Gallagher himself let out a sigh, scratching his head with a confused look on his face. His eyes moved over to the Nameless. 

"That friend of yours, Mark... what's his deal? I heard about his performance in the battle, and I've also felt something amiss ever since he touched me the moment we've met. I couldn't figure it out at that point, until slowly I began to notice some weird changes in me... almost as if my body was reformed. I don't know what trick he used, but here I am. Also, I'm not alone." 

From behind stepped out Misha, a baffled look on his face as he met the eyes of the confused Crew. 

"I can confirm what Mister Gallagher has said. The first time we met, Mark did the same, and I felt odd ever since. I didn't think much of it until I woke up after the disaster and I found myself in the real world. Mister Gallagher found me there, just as confused, and we both made our way back here." 

Silence fell as no one could grasp the situation fully. Logic seemed to have jumped out the window, and the only one who held an answer was stuck in a cube, in a state between life and death. Needless to say, the situation was a happy one. 

"I guess he did do what he loves," said Stelle, smiling slightly. 

"What do you mean by that?" asked March, crossing her arms. 

"You see, he first made a run for Cocolia back on Jarilo-VI. Then, on the Luofu, he didn't hesitate to jump in to save Tingyun. Somehow, he always finds a way to avoid death. It's almost like he sees it coming in some cases and knows exactly what to do to counter it." 

Misha's face lit up when he heard of the story, his own thirst for the Trailblaze amplified. Gallagher sighed, thinking it was too much, while Siobhan just laughed out loud and wiped a tear that snuck out her eye. 

"Well, in that case, how about we prepare a different type of drink? One to both commemorate the old and celebrate the future. Gallagher, it's your turn, right? I take it that you've kept your skills despite this weird situation." 

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he stepped closer to the bar. 

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to make something special for the occasion. After all, we somehow managed to come into existence from a Dream. Make sure to send him my regards when possible." 

The Crew simply nodded, but their downcast expressions were shown at once. Not wishing to touch more on the subject, Siobhan and Gallagher fetched the ingredients and made some nice beverages—without alcohol—so Misha could enjoy them too.