Star Ocean: Till the End of Time [REMIX]
Cosmic Decadence
Chapter I: Time to Grow Up
Our world has been ripped, forcefully torn by war, its violence and meaningless massacre strewn throughout the continent of Gaitt. Our world has been plunged into hardship, the darkness engulfing the minds and hearts of the uninvolved yet inevitably involved; for war you see, doesn't really give the souls of the innocent much choice. Many said that this violent struggle could have been avoided if one party agreed to a treaty of peace and mutual concessions; many had argued that an outbreak of war was unavoidable between the continent's two strongest powers. However, opinions mattered not in this cruel conflict, in this raging pandemonium. People had to fight, a nation had to be divided, alliances crumbled and loved ones were separated and lost to the uglies of selfish and senseless fighting.
This land had fallen to greed.
The City of Aquios was located in the continent's northern region, the pride and joy, the capital of the Kingdom Aquaria, home to her majesty Romera and the church of Apris. This kingdom served as the home for the largest, most advanced runological lab in the sovereignty as well as the Great Temple of Apris, a sacred site for devout pilgrims. There lived peaceful folk, humble in worship and surrounded and protected by the land's beauty and prosperity, its defenders, and the all omniscient presence of their Lord Apris.
As opposed to this prosperous and holy land, high up in the snowy mountains' fortress, stood the Royal City of Airyglyph, the center of government for the Kingdom of Airyglyph, and home to his majesty Arzei. In this cold and frigid climate, resided great legendary beings called Air Dragons, safely and warmly nestled within castle walls, breeding, breathing, accumulating.
Airyglyph was ready for war.
Airyglyph was jealous and immensely frustrated by the unfairness of it all, driven on by an invisible entity called desperation. Airyglyph wanted Aquaria lands, its prosperity, its bountiful and ever-flowing wealth because you see, its people were suffering. The rich became poor and the poor became even poorer; the satisfied grew hungry and the hungry starved; the cold was killing its populace gravely by huge numbers. So was the unfortunate situation which befell this wintry kingdom, escalating significantly in the preparation of war. Airyglyph demanded the holy lands, wanted, needed to feed its people, strived for total territorial dominance, but were strongly opposed by the Aquarians. Aquaria claimed that Apris had blessed their lands and that this blessing, this privilege was beholden to no one but the almighty's followers alone. Their defiance however, only proved to make the already strained situation worse.
Both parties couldn't see eye to eye. Calm reasoning were reaching its limits, fierce disagreements turned to international disputes, and disputes evolved to physical and intentional acts of violence between the two sides, until the possible idea of truce could no longer be reached. Airyglyph readied their units: The Dragon Brigade lead by Lord Vox, The Storm Brigade led by Count Waltar, and The Black Brigade led by the notorious Albel Nox; all of which were fearful and formidable opponents. In response to that, Aquaria dispatched their troops: The Aquaria Runological Unit led by Clair Lasband, The Aquaria Army, and The Secret Legion led by Lady Nel of the Crimson Blade; yours truly.
After the Aquor-Greeton war, it is truly unfortunate that we are left to the same fate. Gaitt's peace was threatened once more; yet another war was afoot.
Our world had never been so bleak, torn by the actions, the hands of humanity. This was not the time for cowardice, not a single man retreats, least we suffer from the weight of an utter humiliating defeat. This was a turning point in our lives, this was where animosity took the place of gaiety and blitheness, this was when we had to put the past behind us and learn to be strong, and this was when the youthful displays of imaginative heroism had to come to an end. We were fighting a real battle of survival, not re-enacting the life and times of Robin Hood and his band of merry men; time to put those wooden swords away and pick a better poison, a more reliable compadre.
The gravel beneath my feet shifted, my footsteps fell to a reluctant drag. The Lost City of Surferio was fast approaching and it pained me, tugged at my heart-strings that this inevitable farewell had to take place. It was much too soon for my liking.
Nevelle Zelpher, chief intelligence officer of Aquaria long past, a great leader, a formidable combatant, and also my father. Killed in action, he passed this position down to me and somehow, I'll be lying if I said that I didn't expect the possibility of a similar fate. I didn't want those children to be involved more than they already were, whether they knew it or not.
Today would be our last adventure; today would be their first passage into maturity and the reality of a world's cruel spite; today they will learn to be real men. Gone were the moments of heart-felt merriment; gone were the days when I participated in their fantasy realm of heroic antics, watched them grow.
"Nel! Nel! Hey guys! Nel's here!"
I distinctively heard they jubilant cry of one of my fellow "heroes", unable to help the smile which graced my lips as he was soon followed by his gang of five. He scurried over as fast as his short legs could carry him, stumbling over once in a while and occasionally blinded by his helmet which looked twice the size of his head. The young Menodix tripped and fell forward with an unceremonious "Oof!", only to rise quickly to grin up at me.
"Nel! Nel! Nel!"
I offered him a warm smile, kneeling down to their eye levels. They had all come and were as ready and eager as always: Lucien, Vellion, Dribe, Lezard, Melt, and Roger. I patted the youngest of the lot on the head.
"Hello, boys, ready for another exciting adventure?"
Choruses of "Yeah!" resounded from the little mischief-makers as they reached for their respective weapons. I watched them with a lingering twinge of regret, hating the prospect of war more and more.
There was a heightening doubt on my part of revealing the whole truth to them; I couldn't bear to.
I still wanted to continue my position as "Lieutenant Nel", I still wanted to explore Lezard's potential in alchemy, wished to teach Melt so much more in the art of Runology, longed to continue coaching Lucien, Dribe and Vellion in the field of defense and combat, but more than anything else, I pleaded with Apris to extend my time here just a little longer to aid Roger in getting his "healing" abilities right. For some strange hidden agenda, there seemed to be rumors going around that the civilians would flee by the mere mention of the word "healing", especially when it was associated with the name "Roger S. Huxley".
I continued to pat his head fondly.
I loved them all from the bottom of my heart, had always and will always do, but was there anything wrong in having a particular favorite?
"Aw, Nel! Quit it would ya?"
"You're a man; you can take it!"
They laughed as I smiled, but the more I smiled the more empty I felt on the inside, and I wondered if this was how a mother felt as she watches her children grow up and slowly begin to leave her.
It dawned on me there and then: this would be the last time I would ever see these children again.
-0-0-0-
"So, what're we gonna do today, Lucien?" came the slow and ever hesitant drawl from the portly humanoid called Vellion, stubby fingers fidgeting every now and then in uncertainty.
The boy in question crossed his arms in his typical all-superior fashion, a wide and cocky grin crawling over his features. Lucien, the eldest of the group, turned to regard his eager companions, save Roger who merely pouted in displeasure. He huffed as Lucien began to give a long speech on the wonders of heroism; tales of valiant heroes who had slayed countless of monsters and a vivid elaboration on today's agenda as well as what was to be accomplished. Soon, Lucien began distributing the roles of each member in their little party, leaving Roger, to the horror of all horrors, as nothing but a look-out.
Nel was always their second-in-command, that much had been established long ago due her astounding fighting grace and keen precision in executing attacks, however, this unsettled him, rattled him beyond compare. Ever since Lucien had turned the big 13, his attitude had never been more aggravating, never more intolerable, like a splinter lodged in one's foot. In addition, the others always went along so readily with his plans, including Melt and Lezard, the apparently "judgmental" and "mature" ones.
What did Lucien have that he didn't?
"And that's why we're gonna go to the Passage from Parch to Plenty to see who's the bigger man --- no offense to ya, Nel!" Lucien concluded as the Aquarian shrugged.
"The Passage from Parch to Plenty, you say? My, that is interesting, not to mention formidable," said Melt, mostly to himself as he contemplated the fascinating proposal. Apparently he wasn't the only one who thought so.
"Heh, a test of endurance and courage you say?" Lezard hummed, pushing his large spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "Well then, I'm not stopping you. Of course, if you give me a few hours to prepare, I should have enough time to concoct a new batch of elixirs for the trip."
Melt nodded in agreement.
"Yes, yes, and this would also be an opportune moment for me to exercise my newly acquired skills –Nel smiled proudly- What say you, Dribe?"
"Are ya crazy?!" The little fox boy barked.
"It's daaaaaaaaangerous!"
Apparently, Dribe's sudden exclamation seemed to have knocked some sense into Vellion's more often than not sluggish mind. The boy's eyes widened, echoing his friend's fear in sputters. Nel immediately crouched down to make sure he didn't pass out from the prospect of it all, face and voice laced with concern as she gently relayed to him that he could sit this one out if he wasn't feeling up to it. Roger did nothing but approach Dribe to give him a good smack at the back of his head.
"Grr, you gutless wonder! Of course it's dangerous, all adventures' gotta be dangerous otherwise where would all the fun be?"
"But there are monsters in there and did I mention I haaaaaaaaate danger?!"
"You idiot! Don't go announcing stuff like that; where's your manly pride?!"
"That's enough you two," Nel intervened, folding her arms as she looked them down in mock sternness.
"Roger, don't go forcing Dribe into something he's not comfortable with; that in turn isn't exactly very manly, understand? We're all friends here, aspiring heroes of the intangible future; I thought you would've understood everyone's feelings by now. You don't see Lucien criticizing other's short-comings, do you?"
In the background, said boy was grinning away, enjoying the sight of his rival being lectured by the older female. He shook his head. When would Roger ever learn that the key principle of being a real man was to simply grow up?
"No, m'am," Roger said softly, lowering his gaze to the ground. His ears drooped.
He never liked this kind of attention from Nel. Sure, he admired her greatly like everyone else, but he felt more than noticed that she had been constantly breathing down his neck these past few weeks, admonishing him for the slightest of mistakes and pushing him thoroughly on every mission. Oh no, she treated him kindly, as fondly as any mother, but she seemed to be particularly over-protective of him, constantly fussing over him more than the others and it wasn't because he was the youngest. Somehow it unnerved him; it was almost as if she didn't trust him, but could that really be the reason or was there something else concealed beneath the serenity of her smiles?
Nel smiled and placed her hands on her hips, turning to look at Lucien who had been rather quiet throughout this whole exchange. As she looked him over, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride over-whelm her being as she took in his maturing, self-confident disposition; how had he grown.
Lucien turned to look at her, his characteristic smirk never once leaving his features.
"Lieutenant Nel, the report."
"Ah yes," she saluted.
"Agent Melt and Agent Lezard have left in preparation for the trip, stocking up on items and concocting new spells. Agent Vellion and Agent Dribe will be joining us on this journey with confident hearts, and Agent Ro-"
"Come on, Nel! Ya know I can be as good a captain as Lucien, maybe even better!" Roger interjected as he tugged at the end of the red head's skirt.
"Lemme be captain for this mission, please? And why does Lucien always get to decide what we're gonna do, huh? I'm Sir Roger, this party's true and dashing leader! Don't I get a say in anything?"
"Bah, you, leader? Don't make me laugh!" Lucien mocked, leering.
"I'm twice the man you'd ever be, plus I'm older!"
"What?! What does that haf'ta do with being a real man, Lucien?!"
"Er, I don't know, probably the part where one--- grows up?!"
"Why you---!"
"Alright you two, break it up!" Nel immediately placed herself between the two childhood rivals, forcing them apart before anything serious could really occur. As the two struggled for freedom and dominance, the female sighed and shook her had tersely. Perhaps she had gotten more than she'd ever bargained for when associating with these vivacious juveniles.
"Honestly, I thought you had more self-control than that, Lucien. Anyway, we'll see you and the rest at the entrance of the Passage from Parch to Plenty…" She sighed and turned to face the younger boy.
"As for you Roger, may I speak with you alone? I have some imperative issues I'd like to discuss."
Wide amber met narrowed emerald and Roger gulped audibly, not exactly taking any fancy towards this sudden turn of events. A thousand and one questions fleeted through his befuddled brain, many of which were centered on the thought of possible trouble or facing the wrath of his not-so-secret aficionada; and the one thing he'd learnt from life was this: never entertain a female's wrath unless one wished to experience excruciating vengeance from said woman's blades of glory and justice.
"Y-Yes, m'am," the young boy stuttered, padding obediently after the Crimson Blade spy, glaring over his shoulder once in a while at his rival. Oh how he longed to wipe that cocky grin off Lucien's face once and for all. He'd show him; one day.
Upon arriving at the small patch of grass in the middle of the village, Nel sat herself comfortably underneath the shade of a tree, patting the spot next to her as she beckoned Roger over. He wasted no time in scurrying over, doing his best to appear at ease but failing miserably.
"A-Am I in trouble or something…? You seem pretty upset, Nel."
Nel regarded him with an unreadable expression before reaching out to wrap an arm around the Menodix's shoulders, before resting her cheek against the surface of his helmet. Roger blushed from Nel's rather uncharacteristic behavior, not exactly comfortable with the close proximity but not disliking it altogether. He was about to question her actions but was halted in mid-thought when he heard the female exhale a grave sigh.
"No Roger, I'm not mad; it's just…"Nel trailed off, not sure how to go about explaining her situation to him. Roger squirmed slightly in her grip; something was definitely not right.
A stagnant pause punctuated the still afternoon air, the only sounds being the resounding flow of water and the chirping of crickets. Nel cleared her throat, deciding to address the matter from a different angle.
"Well, what makes you say that?"
"Nel, what's going on?" Roger began, thinking things through before regarding the Aquarian with a determined expression.
"You've been behaving awfully strange, since last week actually--- it's not like you to be so…cold."
Now, this revelation greatly surprised Nel , so she chose to remain silent, interested in Roger's views and ability to somewhat grasp the current situation, to sense that something was not quite right. Roger picked up from where he left off.
"Nel, ya kinda stopped laughing; when we're usually on our adventures, you'd always laugh and tease us earnestly, poke fun at our antics, and you'd always seem so relaxed and at one with yourself, one of us, but… I noticed that ya stopped doing so."
Roger paused to pick at a blade of grass. Bringing it up to his lips, he blew gently against it, producing the faintest of whistles, before lowering his hand. He sighed, heart heavy.
"Oh, you smile and participate in our fun and games, our countless of dares and extremities, but that's about it. You don't really seem so into it anymore and the guys and I kinda feel that we're starting to bore you."
"Roger…"
Nel gazed down at the boy, remorse and disinclination shooting through her veins, tugging relentlessly at her heart-strings. This wasn't it, wasn't her reason at all; not by a long-shot. She only wished she could explain, relay to him the dire situation at hand, but was all the more unwilling. She didn't want him involved; she didn't want the boys involved, but she knew that keeping the truth from them had its consequences and more often than not, those consequences had their repercussions.
It seemed that Roger wasn't quite done with his comments, persisting on.
"And it's not just that either; you've been distant, 'specially ta' me, what with ya' breathing down my neck and all. Whatever I do just doesn't seem to be good enough, but whatever the others do –especially Lucien- is always better than whatever I can accomplish. It's just that you have so much faith and trust in Melt and the others, but not me--- why?"
Nel gathered the small child in her arms, hugging him close as she thought over her subsequent words. She patted his back in a silent lull, debating before finally giving into the inevitable. Oh well, no time like the present she guessed.
"Roger, I have to tell you something and… I can't guarantee that you'd like what you're about to hear."
Roger shifted in her arms.
"I'm sure you're well aware of the dispute raging on between Airyglyph and Aquaria, as well as their strained relationship. The countless of discussions, the idea of negotiation, were all long ago abandoned as they were deemed futile, leaving us with little choice but to engage them in our own terms."
"Apparently, Airyglyph had been preparing their conquest over Aquaria for some time now, readying their fleet of men and beasts alike. Airyglyph's cavalry, the Storm Brigade, their heavy cavalry, the Black Brigade, and even the fearsome and ruthless Dragon Brigade--- all units would be participating in this… international dispute."
"You mean--- No, Nel, you don't mean…" Roger trailed off, disbelieving, but upon the older woman's silence, knew that he had little choice but to believe.
"Yes, that's what it means, exactly. With such strong militia threatening the peace of Aquarian borders, under the command of her majesty, Aquarian troops have been dispatched as well to see to this war's end, with our side emerging victorious of course. I was issued the task of being Aquaria's eyes and ears in Glyphian territory; her majesty's official spy."
"But that's a risk barely anyone would wish to take upon themselves," Roger exclaimed, desperately trying to talk some sense into the hard-willed Aquarian.
"It's dangerous relaying information back and forth between the two regions! What if you get caught? I'm pretty sure Airyglyph terms would resort to anything but leniency--- Nel, not to sound pessimistic but you may never make it… back—unless…" Roger gasped when Nel nodded her head slowly.
"You can't be serious?! Nel, you can't just throw away your life like that; it's suicide! Everyone's entitled to their own life; you can't just throw away something as valuable as that!"
"I'm not going to do that, Roger!" Nel shouted, surprising them both from her sudden outburst.
"I'm not…"
She bit her lip, eyebrows narrowing as she clenched and unclenched her fists. She diverted her gaze away from the prying eyes of vivacious amber.
"Do you think I don't regret this war, the uncontrollable suffering that would eventually follow?! Would you rather we surrender to the enemy like lambs to a slaughter? I don't want to die as much as the next person, but it's not something I can ignore! I'm doing this for my people, her majesty, my subordinates, my friends, and especially for you children."
"You, all of you, have a future to look forward to and who am I to deprive you of such opportunities? Throwing my life away that I may be doing, but throwing my life away for the cause of saving countless of others is in itself, something worth living for."
"But—" Roger cut in, but was silenced by a single finger placed on his lips. Nel smiled one of those smiles, the kind that spoke of volumes and endless compassion which words itself couldn't seem to express. She hushed Roger gently.
"As for the answer to your next question, it's simple enough: I love you. I want the best in you Roger, along with the rest of your friends. I push you, push you harder and beyond your current abilities, but that's because I can see so much more potential hidden within you, more than you're letting on. I'm less hard on Melt and Lezard since there's clearly nothing left for me to educate them on -they're that superior- however, I've yet to see the true capability of your skills, Roger."
"Your combat skills rival that of Lucien's, your decisive and out-going nature far surpasses that of any other, that I can assure you -I'm not comparing your healing capabilities to that of Melt's- but I'm still waiting. I want to see you truly grow and surpass the shadow of your past self, to gradually develop into a real man… Roger, do you know what really makes a man, a real man?"
When Roger shook his head in response to her question, Nel leaned her back against the trunk of the tree, bringing Roger along with her. They sat there completely at ease, enjoying each other's presence. She patted his back affectionately.
"A real man is not judged by the skills of combat, experience, clothes, background, age, or even their physique. A real man is not just a figure-head, or someone who constantly orders others around to do their bidding, having people or underlings at their beck and call. It's not the muscles or the constant need to prove oneself that makes one a real man, but the inner reality of your character, what you stand for."
"What I stand for…?" Roger echoed, not entirely comprehending.
"Yes, what you stand for," Nel repeated.
"A real man would be willing to put aside his goals for the sake of aiding those in need; passing up temporary glory for eternal glory. A real man would always be true to his companions and to himself. A real man wouldn't run in the face of danger but face it head on, despite the probable consequences which may follow. Not all battles can be won, but to conquer the fear of defeat and 'not trying' is in itself a battle already valiantly won."
"A real man is not considered weak to have feelings of care and concern towards others; in fact, these feelings would only make him stronger because he has someone to protect, someone worth fighting for to the bitter end. This is what makes a man a real man… Do you understand now, Roger?"
Roger paused, allowing his brain to process this new-found knowledge. Nel had passed on her wisdom to him –not the others- indirectly hinting the challenges he'd have to face in the long-run, preparing him for change. Nel wouldn't be around to pick up after them anymore and like it or not, he admitted that there was some truth in Lucien's statement on 'growing up' but…
'A real man would always be true to his companions and to himself,' Nel had said, so changing now for the sake of it all would just be betraying his own moral up-bringing. Besides, if Nel wanted him to change, she would have said so earlier. She liked him just the way he was; he liked him just the way he was.
"Yeah, I do. Thanks, Nel, and… I'm really gonna miss ya, and so would the others."
"As I you, Roger, as I you…"
Nel released Roger and rose, dusting herself off. They regarded each other for a moment, before the usual mischievous grin was back on the young boy's face. Roger crossed his arms as he nodded in the direction of the Passage from Parch to Plenty.
"We'd best hurry and make our move! The guys' ought to be there by now!" He turned to Nel and smiled softly.
"Ready for one last mission, Nel?"
Nel laughed and saluted in a playful fashion.
"Lieutenant Nel reporting for duty, sir!"
-0-0-0-
"Heh, took ya long enough," said Lucien, his hand positioned at the hilt of his sword, at ready.
The group of young humanoids turned to stare at the duo who were currently approaching the cave's entrance. Roger waved enthusiastically at his friends as he jogged over, being as loud and jubilant as ever, much to Lucien and Lezard's annoyance.
"Ah, Roger, it is nice to see that you have finally made it to partake in our latest challenge," Melt greeted his best friend, tone soothing and mysterious all the same. In his hands gripped his choice weapon: a broomstick.
Roger returned the greeting as Lezard began distributing the elixirs around.
"Melt and I have managed to compound only a small amount of Fruity Potions in our given time frame, so I strongly advise you guys to use them wisely."
Lezard pushed up his glasses before handing Roger his axe, expression smug.
"I've also created a few Mythril Stones and synthesized them with your weapons. This should give them the desirable increased attacking factor."
Nel's eyes sparkled, wholly impressed. Lezard had indeed come a long way; he had really outdone himself this time. Offering Lezard a casual thanks in return, Roger accepted his newly beefed up weapon with great zeal, before making a mad dash towards the depths of the cavern.
Dribe sighed and shook his head in exasperation. His friend ought to do something about his impulsive behavior. If Roger wasn't careful, that very behavior could eventually lead to undesirable outcomes in the future, that he was certain. It was never a good thing to throw caution and logical sense to the wind.
The remaining members were about to enter, but were stopped by Nel. Her eyes shifted ever so slightly. The boys gave her inquisitive stares.
"What is it, Nel? Is something bothering you?" Vellion ventured, speaking everyone's minds.
That was all Nel could take before she launched into her tale once more, with waves upon waves of turmoil and sorrow crashing mercilessly against her already pained heart. The boys were crest-fallen, not knowing what to say much less make out of this. It was Lucien who broke the silence.
"We're all gonna miss ya, Nel, and… our time is short."
He reached out and grabbed Nel's wrist as he grinned up at her, his smile full of genuine sincerity.
"So, let's make this last mission the best one you've ever had, one which you'd always remember!"
Lucien tugged the Crimson Blade operative towards the gaping hole of the cave's entrance, laughing along with the others. As Nel allowed herself to be dragged in, she couldn't help but put her two fols worth of laughter in as well.
This was yet another reason to end this war because by the love of Apris, she was going to do all it took to end this senseless violence, to return home alive.
-0-0-0-
Upon entering the midnight caverns, Nel had split the party into two groups, commencing an entirely new challenge which did nothing but leave the young boys tingling with excitement. She had termed it as a "Real Man" contest, a competition pitting individual strengths and proficiencies of each group against the other. The rules were simple enough: There was to be two teams and each team would appoint a leader, which in this case was Lucien for his team consisting of Lezard and Vellion, and Roger for his team consisting of Melt and Dribe. The teams would be given a challenge and they were to complete the task within the given time frame. There was to be no foul-play otherwise that team would be disqualified and since it was a competition, the team who completes the given task first, wins. Nel had the role of being the two team's liaison, checking up on them once in a while to see if any required her assistance.
"Alright, boys, got the rules so far?" Nel clarified, crossing her arms. The children nodded their heads vigorously.
"Right, here's the challenge; listen carefully because I won't repeat it: Deep within the caverns of the Passage from Parch to Plenty lies the beast known as the 'Dark Hunter', a human-like bird creature of great majesty. This bird rests at the hour of sunset. You have until the sun completely sets beneath the horizon to take a single tail feather and hand it to me. You may either wait until the bird is totally asleep or fight it head-on in means of obtaining that feather, but remember this: you are competing for the position of 'winner', which means that you have to be fast or your efforts would be meaningless."
Lucien snorted and eyed Roger from the corner of his eye. This would seriously be too easy! He along with everyone else knew exactly how impatient the young Menodix was, what with his spontaneous mannerisms and inability to access the situation well enough before going in for the kill. To put it simply, Roger was the kind of guy who would follow his emotions before using his head. He on the other hand, had his brother and Vellion on his side –the thinkers- so he was mighty confident he could figure something out. He would not lose to Roger , sorry excuse of a man, and prove to everyone especially Nel, that he, Lucien, was the better man.
"'That's all? Hah, mere child's play!" Lucien snorted, drawing his sword. Lezard snickered along with him.
"This should prove simple enough," said Lezard, all confident.
"Everyone knows that the 'Dark Hunter' is a dangerous creature and definitely not one to be trifled with. Going against it in battle would be mere suicide, so the best option is to of course knock it out when it's drowsy from fatigue, and then claim the tail feather." He paused to smirk at the opposing team.
"Even Melt knows this, but with Roger as his captain and Dribe as a party member, they're doomed. Melt's too soft and would always hold Roger in high regard for reasons I fail to comprehend. It's safe to say that they'll follow his plan, which would consist of full-out assault; the probability of that is a good 93.78%."
Vellion watched his teammates criticize the others' short-comings, twiddling his fingers. Somehow, he had a bad feeling about this whole competition. He was never the aggressive type; strong, yes, but he preferred engaging himself in intellectual pastimes than physical challenges like this. So, he wondered what exactly possessed him into agreeing to this in the first place… it was probably peer pressure.
"Aren't you going to make your move?" Nel questioned the three of them, as she indicated towards Roger's team who had already proceeded deep within the cave.
Vellion shrugged.
"I don't know… Lucien told us to wait here and see what happens, so… we wait."
"You're giving up?"
Lucien shook his head, smirking. He inclined his head to regard the female Aquarian.
"On the contrary, Nel, we're just waiting for the right moment. We're not idiots and even you know that none of us would be able to defeat even one of those Dark Hunters, what with our current level of experience. Lezard had this cave speculated way before the start of this competition and we already know the location of those creatures, so all we have to do is wait a little closer to sunset and we've got this one in the bag!"
"And Roger…?"
Lezard chuckled, haughty.
"Heh, that fool's probably thinking that if he gets to the feather first, he wins, but we're practical people; we do our best to avoid all possible means of a hassle."
Nel diverted her gaze down the path in the direction Roger, Dribe and Melt left in and couldn't help but feel gravely concerned. She had to give Lucien's team some credit; they'd certainly come prepared and knew exactly what to do, planned every waking minute to claim their victory. Lezard's evaluation of the situation and Roger's character couldn't have been more accurate, and that was what worried her.
-0-0-0-
"Hey, Roger, are ya sure you know where we're going?"
Dribe called out in the darkness, his little ears twitching every now and then as he picked up the faintest traces of noise from the gaping abyss about them. Being humanoids, their senses were highly potent thus giving them an advantage over such situations. The lack of light didn't bother them much, not unless you were a little fox humanoid with a whiny and cowardly nature, also known as Dribe; the poor boy was utterly terrified of the dark.
"R-Roger?!"
"Aw, shut up ya moron," came said boy's impatient drawl.
"Real men aren't afraid of nothing, 'especially not the dark! So, quit being such a chicken and suck it in man!"
Dribe pouted, glaring daggers at the back of Roger's head as the young one proceeded on, oblivious. Melt sighed and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing it in assurance. He urged Dribe on.
"Dribe, Roger has a point you know? If you continue to speak so loudly, you may just attract unwanted company. The guys, Nel and us, aren't the only ones here as I'm sure you're well aware of. Remember, our plan was to be as silent as possible, so we can sneak up on the beast and obtain the feather without any unnecessary disturbances."
Dribe groaned and slumped over, ears flattening against his skull in defeat.
"Yeah, yeah, I know… sorry."
The trio trudged on, fending off nocturnal species and dodging falling boulders, until they chanced upon a split road. There, they halted, pondering over their next move. Were they to go through the straight and narrow left, or the wide and winding right?
"So, what do you think, Melt? Which way should we go?" Roger asked as he turned to face his best friend, arms crossed behind his head in a casual stance.
The wise one pondered; he closed his eyes, meditating, foreseeing, sensing, and feeling. He opened them once more. With the aid of his broomstick, he indicated towards the right.
"Down the winding corridor of darkness lie treacherous obstacles ahead, paved with peril and smoothened with rough. Amidst the shadows, there dwells the sacred beast, guarded and safe out of harm's reach."
He pointed to the path on the left.
"Deep within the seemingly uneventful tunnel, rests the creature of darkness and despair, blithe and ultimately unaware. If it is instant glory which you seek, then follow this path of the straight and narrow to reach its peak."
"Hmm…" Roger hummed, contemplating.
This was an ultimately difficult decision to make, not to mention wholly oxymoronic. Who'd ever heard of obtaining 'instant glory' from merely doing the right thing by going down the 'path of the straight and narrow'? Nothing could ever be 'instant' in this world, even if one did a thousand and one good deeds in their lifetime. In addition, Melt said 'seemingly uneventful' which meant that the journey ahead would probably be indistinct; who knew what sorts of danger lay ahead? At least a clearer picture was depicted by the pathway on the right. Roger nodded his head, affirmative; it was decided.
"We're going to the one on the right."
"WHAT?!"
All eyes turned to regard the startled Foxtail, brows quirked in a questionable fashion. Roger and Melt remained silent, awaiting the ever familiar complaints from their heroically-challenged companion. Dribe grasped the material of his shirt, tight, and toed the ground; his stance faltered.
"Are ya crazy?! Didn't you hear what Melt prophesized?! He said 'treacherous obstacles'… no, I'm not going. You two can handle this one by yourselves. I'm outta' here---!"
"For crying out loud, Dribe, where's your sense of adventure?!" Roger cut in, making a grab for Dribe's shoulder, tugging the older boy back just when he was about to flee from utter terror.
"Look, all we have to do is get that feather and we're as good as gone. Melt said that there would be a few roughs ahead but at least we know what to expect right? If we go down the other pathway, who knows what kind of danger lurks within! Besides, we're trained fighters and we have each other, so what's there to fear?"
Roger punched Dribe playfully in the arm.
"Don't worry Dribe, I always got your back!"
Dribe couldn't help but smile at that. Up until this very moment, Roger hadn't given up on him and continued to urge him on, giving him a hundred and ten percent of his unrelenting support. It never ceased to amaze him, touch him that the boy hadn't lost patience with him and just throw him aside without so much as any regard towards him. No, Roger wasn't like that. He never realized how fortunate it was for him to have such a loyal comrade.
"Oh, alright," he gave in, "But if I don't like it, we're leaving ya hear?"
Melt smiled as Roger laughed and waved him off.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever--- now hurry up would ya? You guys are such slow pokes!"
With their weapons at ready, the party of three experienced no problems in challenging the cavern's deathly booby-traps of natural adversities. Apart from a few accomplished young mages who dwelled deep within the caverns, the rest of their adversaries had been mainly small-fry. Rounds of spell-casting, slaying, and trouncing, found the trio in the middle of the Dark Hunters' nesting grounds.
Roger, Melt and Dribe stood stark rigid, daring not to so much as breathe within the stifling confines of this monster-inhibited territory.
Great tufts of dully tinted feathers rose and fell as the creatures slept on, oblivious to the arrival of the three newcomers. Melt and Dribe wasted no time in shoving their leader forward, directly towards the biggest nest of this empire; it was undoubtedly alpha male quarters. Roger held back a startled cry as he whirled around to glare at his so-called friends. That only earned him wide grins and enthusiastic waves on their part.
"Fear not, Roger," whispered Melt.
"Yeah, we're right behind you," added Dribe.
Roger pouted when he distinctively spied them backing away ever so discretely. He rolled his eyes and pushed forward.
'Thanks a lot you guys,' he thought sarcastically.
Maneuvering his way through the sea of feathers, Roger ignored the lesser members of the clan and instead, set his sights on the slumbering ruler. Upon realizing what the younger male was up to, Melt's eyes widened, immediately stepping forward.
"Roger, what in the world are you doing?!" he hissed.
"Just pick the tail feather from one of these closer to the cave's exit! That way, it'll be easier for us to make a run for it if they awaken. Haven't we already discussed this?"
"Relax, Melt," Roger brushed him off, leaning over the nest's edge as he reached for the Dark Hunter's tail.
"I'll just quickly pluck a feather and we'll be out of here before this dumb bird knows what hit him. Plus, I wanna beat Lucien! This dumb bird's the king of the lot so it's only logical that its feather is bigger and better than the rest!"
"R-Roger, maybe you shouldn't…"
"Watcha' talking about, Dribe? Of course I should! I'm not gonna let mister high-and-mighty win this one, not in a long shot!"
Roger plucked a feather and pocketed it, blissfully unaware of the shifting mass of feathers behind him.
'Hah! Take that, Lucien!' he thought smugly to himself.
"R-R-Roger…?!"
"What now, Dribe?"
"B-B-B-B-… B-B-B-Be-…"
Roger frowned, twitching his ears.
"Sorry, pal, but ya gotta speak louder than that. I can't hear a thing you're say-"
"Thunder Flare!"
Before the great beast could strike, static electricity crackled from the ends of Melt's broomstick, before shooting forward to engulf its target. Roger gasped and leapt off his perch, getting into a fighting stance alongside Dribe who had already drawn his sword. Melt raised his broomstick high above his head; alluring blue spectrums of light danced around him as the winds picked up.
"Down, feast on roaring thunder; trapped in my lightning prison!"
The Dark Hunter screeched in agony as wave after wave of electric pulses surged through its being. Soon, the spell had begun to wear off, dissipating and reducing the poor creature to a motionless mass of feathers, twitching muscles, ruptured bones.
"Thanks for the back up, Melt," said Roger. "I owe you one."
"No thanks is needed, my friend," came Melt's hushed reply, as he panted slightly, regaining his strength. "However, that was the least of our worries. We best get going before--"
"Guys, I hate to be a party-pooper, but I think we have a problem…"
Fury-induced screeches pervaded the air, reverberating throughout the still silence of the monster's lair. Nests rustled, wings and feathers beat, and piercing orbs of vermilion shot open as the entire tribe of vicious human-bird hybrids roused from their slumber. With an effortless beat of their wings, they took flight, circling the three foreign entities, disapproving. Roger, Dribe and Melt got into their defensive positions, back to back.
"Great going, Roger; now you've gone and made them mad," Dribe hissed, glaring daggers at his leader.
"Shut up, Dribe! Now's not the time to be pointing fingers at each other! We can worry about faults later; right now, we've gotta take care of these pests!"
"Right!"
Roger ghosted the tips of his fingers over his blade's edge.
"Fiery Axe," he whispered, feeling his skin prickle with the barest of heat. The blade of his axe began to glow an angry red with traces of hot stream emitting from it. He raised it above his head and cried out his attack, lunging forward.
"I'm gonna cut ya down!"
There was a loud explosion, sending shockwaves throughout the premises, loosening rocky structures and sending a small group of Dark Hunters crashing head first into the ground. Before they could recover from the attack, Dribe charged forward, plunging his sword deep into the ground, and twisting it in a motion of a key unlocking a lock.
"Earthly Ripple!"
The floor split open, the crack stretching, growing in length as the rocks and soil parted, and leaving a gaping hellhole in its wake. The creatures shrieked, caught unaware and unable to retaliate as they plummeted into the seemingly endless pit-fall.
Enraged by the sight of their entourage getting slaughtered by numbers, the remaining monsters called for reinforcements, throwing their heads back and singing for all they were worth.
More screeching followed after that, echoing, seemingly doubled. The winds in the cave picked up once more, twice as more powerful as dust and debris rose in clouds, temporarily blinding the young heroes. The boys coughed and gasped, rubbing at their eyes and fighting to reclaim the amount of oxygen they had lost in that split second.
"This is bad, guys," spoke Roger, quickly accessing the situation.
They were out-numbered by about a hundred to three; no matter how they looked at it, the chances of them coming out of this battle unscathed were about close to nothing. They didn't need luck in such hectic circumstances; they needed a miracle.
"Ya think?!" Dribe bit out, fending off an oncoming monster by striking it on the cranium.
"Argh, it's no use! They just keep on coming!"
"If you can hear this voice from the depths of the underworld, then come; come forth and aid your master!" Melt thrust his broomstick outwards, eyes narrowed in concentration as he focused on his summon.
"I release you from your fiery prison! Rise, rise, rise! I summon you, Efreet!"
The flaming warrior materialized before their eyes, leaping into the air and bringing down its blade of fiery inferno onto its unsuspecting victims. Melt's attack managed to knock them out momentarily, but it was far from enough. With the party of three split up and currently preoccupied with defending their own territories, no one was left to accommodate for the position of defense. Melt's summon left him wide open for attack, and attack the enemy did, charging forwards and smashing the young boy's skull hard against rocky, jagged walls.
"Gah!" Melt gasped, having the wind knocked out of him from the sudden and brutal force. The amount of spell-casting and summons finally took its toll on him and he slowly slid down the wall, unconscious.
"Melt!"
Distracted, Roger failed to sense the looming presence behind him until it was too late. Something clawed harshly at his back, ripping fabric and tender skin, the blood coming out in rivulets as it slowly began to stain the material of his deep green shirt. Another one of the monsters had managed to knock his axe out of his grasp, sending it flying towards the other end of the battle ground. Soon, Roger found himself being shoved backwards, crying out as his wounds made contact with the uneven stone flooring beneath, digging rocks.
Dribe had been pinned down, Dark Hunters were advancing on the unconscious Melt and in his current futile position, Roger did the only thing he was capable of pulling off: he screamed.
-0-0-0-
"Hey, did you hear something?"
"Hear what?"
Lucien's ears twitched once more, confirming his suspicions. His eyes widened from the sheer incredulity of it all. It couldn't be; that little brat couldn't be in danger, could he? He wouldn't permit himself to believe so, but there was no doubt that that pained cry came from none other than Roger himself. His hand traveled to the hilt of his sword; he had a bad feeling about this.
Lezard was growing impatient.
"Lucien, what in the world's up with you?"
"He's in trouble."
"I beg your pardon?"
Lucien ignored his brother and turned to face Nel, who only nodded in response. Soon, she was off, dashing towards the path Roger and his group took with Lucien following closely behind. Vellion and Lezard looked at each other, confused expressions donning their features as they shrugged.
"L-Lezard, I don't like this… What's going on?"
Lezard frowned, eyes narrowing.
"It looks like we have little choice but to see for ourselves."
The duo took off and it didn't take them long to catch up to the others. Lezard turned to glare irritably at his brother.
"Lucien, you better tell me what's going on this instant or so help me, I'll---"
His words were cut off when they arrived at the battle ground. The party of four gazed out in horrific silence as they took in the scene before them. The blood of humanoid children splayed over the ground, dying the soil and rocky walls a shade of crimson bloom. In the far corner of the area crouched Dribe and Roger, shielding their fallen comrade from the entities which surrounded them. Melt was unconscious, Dribe was beyond exhausted, and Roger struggled to maintain consciousness but it wasn't easy. The blood that covered the land was his, the cuts he never bothered to conceal were his, and the crimson essence which mingled with beads of perspiration were representatives of his inner turmoil and anguish.
"Melt!" Lezard cried, throwing caution to the wind as he raced forward upon the sight of his battered friend, trickles of red slowing making their way down the side of his face. Nel, Lucien and Vellion weren't far behind.
"Roger, what happened here?!" Nel demanded, watching with a hard expression on her face as Roger struggled to form a decent sentence.
"I-I-… that is- well--"
"Guys, we got company!" Lucien drew his blade and shouted over his shoulder. Nel immediately ran to his side and shoved him backwards, hard and resolute.
"Never mind, Roger, just forget it! And Lucien, now's not the time to play hero! You can't handle these things, not with your current level of experience!" No one said anything. Nel drew her daggers.
"Roger, heal Melt."
"But I--"
"For the love of Apris, Roger, just do it!"
Roger turned to stare at the motionless figure that was his best friend and grimaced. The sides of the boy's face were caked with blood and his breathing was growing shallower as every second ticked by; there wasn't much time. Roger raised his arm but did nothing more; no magical glow, no swirling lights and mysterious spectrums, only the mere action itself; nothing. The poor boy just froze there, rigid as a board and although he willed and screamed bloody murder for something, anything to happen, his body failed to process the given information, scared stiff from the sight of his friend dying before his very eyes.
"Roger!"
"What are ya waiting for, Roger?!"
"Roger, snap out of it!"
"Roger!"
"Shove over, you pathetic numskull!"
Lezard pushed Roger forcefully aside, not caring if he had aggravated any one of said boy's appendages. Melt was in a critical stage and he wasn't going to let him die, damnit, especially not if he had a say in it! He dug into his robe pocket and fished out a thin vial of purple liquid, popped the cork and shoved its contents down Melt's throat, forcing him to swallow. It was a potion he had been trying to perfect for quite some time now. It was still in the works, but now wasn't the time to worry about possible setbacks; this was an emergency.
"Wha-what did ya give him, Lezard?" Dribe whispered, noticing the potion take effect. The pained expression on Melt's face was now gone, replaced with that of peace and serenity.
"Verdurous Potion: A potion that's supposed to have a 100% healing effect on its user, but since I've yet to perfect it, it only has a 40% healing effect. Nevertheless, it should be good enough to aid in Melt's healing process."
"Will he be ok?" Vellion asked, fearing the worst. Lezard lowered his gaze, brushing aside the deep chocolate bangs which shielded Melt's eyes. He sighed heavily.
"I hope so, Vellion. I hope so…"
Roger couldn't bear the sight much longer and willed himself to look away. He bit his lip, drawing blood.
What was this feeling? He felt so useless, so implausibly pathetic; where had he been when Melt needed him most? Oh right, standing there like an idiot, watching him die slowly. It was his chance to prove himself, to show Nel and the others the real man he was, prove to them that he was as capable as the others, but he was wrong. He proved nothing; he saw nothing, nothing in himself that was worth complimenting. He blew his chance; he forfeited that trust, and crushed his chances of ever being recognized as something more than a loud show-off, and possibly signed the declaration of shattered friendship with the first ever person who liked him for who he was.
Nel stood guard before the crouched children, getting into a defensive stance as she called forth their attention. The enemy was closing in; she had to deal with this problem before they all died here in this damned cave.
"Lucien!"
"Yes, m'am?"
"You go on first and clear a path for the rest; get Dribe to help you. Lezard and Vellion?"
"Right here, m'am."
"Take Melt and follow a little ways behind Lucien and Dribe. You best get Melt to a doctor quick! Roger, you bring up the rear."
"But--" His protest fell on deaf ears when Nel did nothing but lunge at the Dark Hunters, calling out her "Shock Wave" attack as she battled them with the grace and dexterity that would make any fighter jealous.
"That was an order, boy, not a suggestion."
Nel's words stung, penetrating his already numb heart to the very core. She had never called him 'boy' before, much less talked down to him, and that realization hurt, hurt him more than any insults Lucien or Lezard could ever come up with. Nel had said she trusted him, saw more in him, believed in him, but in that split second of hesitation, Roger knew that he had thrown it all away. He knew no one could ever trust him now, depend on him anymore, and the fact that Nel was included in this cold circle, only enforced deeper dejection in his heart.
With a bow, he turned his back to his brave Lieutenant and did as he was instructed: he brought up the rear end.
-0-0-0-
"How is he, Vellion?"
The stubbly boy shook his head slowly, shoulders slumped over from fatigue.
"Not too good, Lucien… Melt's condition has pretty much stabilized but he's not waking up. Lezard's still in there; said he'd be staying a little longer."
"Grr, this is all ya' fault you moron!" Lucien shouted and jabbed an accusing finger in Roger's general direction.
The youngest of the group said nothing, lowering his gaze, refusing to meet his rival in the eye. Lucien didn't have to rub it in, he was already well aware of the full impact of the situation and the fault which lay undeniably in him. It was like rubbing salt onto an open wound; it hurt, stung with an unbearable sensation. However, no matter how hard he tried, or how long he waited, the tears never came; it was like he was unable to cry, to feel the slightest bit of remorse for his friend who had walked along the lines of death but an hour ago. On the contrary, he did, but he was hurting inside, far more than he led others to believe. Instead, he permitted the outright slander; after all he did deserve it no matter how one looked at it.
Although it was apparent that Roger didn't mind this treatment of admonishment, Dribe wouldn't have it. The little fox-boy jumped to his friend's aid, inserting himself in-between the two rivals.
"Lucien, give it a rest would ya? Quit lecturing Roger; I'm sure he already feels as bad as it is. Besides, he already said he was sorry, so let's just put this matter aside--"
"What, do you have rocks for brains or something?!" Lucien interrupted harshly.
"You saw what happened back there! That idiot just stood there when he had the ability to actually change Melt's fate! So who's the bigger coward, you or him?!"
"That's not fair, Lucien! Roger probably froze from shock! That's what usually happens when someone you care about gets hurt!" Dribe defended.
"Then what would you make of my brother's actions?! You know how close those two are, but I don't see Lezard freezing from shock."
"But--" Lucien held up his hand, not wishing to hear anymore.
"Look Dribe, if you wish to continue defending the fool then be my guest, but leave me, Lezard and Vellion out of it. I have no idea what Melt feels, but if you want to remain on Roger's side, then so be it, 'cuz neither the three of us want any part of this… friendship any longer."
Lucien's proclamation seemed to have gotten Roger's attention as the young boy's head shot up to stare at him with wide, appalled eyes. Were his ears deceiving him, or did he just hear what he thought he just heard?
"Wha-what…?" Roger whispered, fearfully, confused. "Lucien… I thought we were friends."
"We were friends, but can I seriously trust someone who doesn't even trust himself? The point is, Roger, you have the power to change a person's fate, but you simply chose not to. No form of excuse can compensate for that. Besides, do you have any idea how badly Lezard was affected by all of this?! You know how much he cares for Melt!"
"Lucien…"
The older boy silenced him.
"Look Roger, I'm going to make this transparently clear to you: I won't forgive anyone who hurts my brother."
Roger felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes and allowed them to cascade down his cheeks. He didn't even bother to hide them; much less deny Lucien's words. His words had some truth in them, and he was beginning to see the outcome of Lucien's growth. Perhaps Lucien really was the better man.
"Goodbye, Roger."
With a final bid of farewell, Lucien and Vellion brushed past him, retiring to their homes for the night, leaving Roger and Dribe to figure out the sudden turn of events and where that left them. The boys' ears pricked when they picked out the sound of approaching footsteps. The sounds ceased and before them stood Nel, arms crossed and expression unreadable. She met Roger's gaze with unwavering determination and Roger couldn't help but shrink from her stare, wholly intimidated and apprehensive.
Sensing the oppressively strained atmosphere, Dribe decided to leave the two alone to sort whatever issues they had, out.
"Hey, erm, I'm gonna go check on Melt so--- see ya!"
He made a break for Melt's house.
Once Dribe was out of ear-shot, Nel turned her back to Roger and spoke, her voice even and commanding.
"Follow me, Roger; we need to talk."
Not needing to be told twice, Roger shuffled obediently after her, eyes not daring to look up and never so much as uttering a single word.
Day had steadily crept into night. Stars painted across Elysian Field's canvas, its constellations mapping out the inevitable metamorphosis, the vicissitude of being. The sounds of daytime fell gravely still, from a nauseating crawl to a stop altogether. Wherever the wind went, the coverlet of muted twilight followed, slowly slipping into night; spurred on by the gripping forces of the strange and unorthodox, an unseen and unidentifiable power manipulating the course of its chronological tide.
Something nudged at his consciousness, nagging at him that he was due for dinner back home, but strangely found himself unable to abide to his stomach's request. Furious or not, today was Nel's last time in the village and possibly in their lives and he'd much like to spend his time accompanying her last few hours here. She meant at least that much to him.
When Nel had led him back to the spot where they had conversed earlier in the afternoon, Roger could say that he wasn't in the least bit surprised. This spot was his favorite place in all Surferio, as well as Nel's. Once seated, Nel wasted no time in getting to her point.
"Roger, about what I said earlier… I apologize for my curtness."
"It's alright--"
"No, it's not," Nel interjected. She brought her knees up to her chest and sighed thoughtfully.
"I was scared, shaken by the unexpected turn of events. I never meant for you children to get hurt, especially you, Roger."
"Me?" Roger exclaimed, stunned. "Wasn't Melt the one injured badly, not me?"
"That's not what I meant, Roger, and you know it. You were affected by today's events, and unlike Melt's, your wounds won't be able to heal as easily."
She reached out to wipe away Roger's tears with tenderness akin to a mother's care.
"Am I right to say so, Roger?"
Roger asked her how she had known. Nel told him she had heard everything or the main gist of it anyway. Roger fell silent. Really, what was he supposed to say? Nel had pretty much summarized his feelings up to this point already. She wasn't disappointed in him, nor did she approve of Lucien's gang's treatment towards him, but her words did little to compensate for the despair which was slowly clouding the young one's mind. Roger still felt guilty, doubted himself, and blamed himself for the cruelties of the day's happenings.
Nel decided to approach this from a different angle.
"Roger, are you familiar with someone by the name of Albel Nox? You remind me a lot of him."
"Albel Nox? Who's that, a friend of yours?" Roger asked with wide, innocent eyes, curious. Nel made a face and shook her head vehemently.
"Hardly—He's the captain of the Black Brigade, one of Airyglyph's three military branches and the best swordsman in the country. Due to his cruelty and proficiency in one-on-one combat, he's also known as Albel the Wicked."
"And you're comparing me to that?!" Roger exclaimed, aghast.
"No, no, Roger, I didn't mean it like that at all!"
Nel chuckled as she inclined her head to gaze at the shimmering nighttime sky. You could see the stars more clearly in Surferio than in Aquaria. Nel shifted her gaze to smile at the young Menodix, sincere and loving as always, especially when they were meant for the children.
"I think you'd understand better once you hear that man's life story… would you care to?"
When Roger snuggled up closer against her, Nel took it as her cue to begin.
"Albel's the son of Lord Glou Nox, one of Airyglyph military's past leaders, respected and definitely someone not to be trifled with, so it came to be quite a grievance when he died by the claws of a dragon. It all began with the "Accession of the Flame" ceremony, a procession to make partnership with a dragon, as per custom in their nation."
"Unfortunately, failure held Albel in high regard that day; the dragon rejected him. Glou Nox had saved his son from death, but at the cost of his own life. As a result, Albel managed to survive, but his left arm was severely burnt, but look where he is now--- Captain of the malicious Black Brigade."
"Nel…?"
Nel smiled and patted Roger on the back. She could more or less sense his confusion.
"What I'm trying to say is, there would always be an event in a person's life that would make them stronger; to mature, to grow. Sometimes losing something important might just be the key to unlocking that door of hidden potential. So there's no point sitting here and moping about the past; you should concentrate on what you can do here and now."
She spared a glance at Melt's house, before swiftly rising to her feet. She dusted her skirt off. Roger watched her with an expression of outmost longing. He contemplated her words and smiled softly in spite of it all. Yes, he believed that Nel was right. There was no point lingering on past regrets and just move forward; time waited for no man after all.
"Well, my time's up. I best be off," Nel spoke in her usual business-like tone.
"Say goodbye to the guys for me."
Roger nodded, but just when the red haired was about to take her leave, he remembered something, something he had been dying to say since he heard the dreadful news.
"Nel, wait!" He cried out.
"Yes?"
"You must survive; you must win this war!"
Nel offered him a mysterious smile.
"Oh, I plan to."
-0-0-0-
Roger knocked hesitantly on the door to Melt's house, scared and uncertain. He had no idea whether Melt knew about the events in the cave after he had lost consciousness, but considering that Lezard had stayed with him all this time, he wouldn't be surprised if he knew. Would Melt forgive him, defend his honor and remain his friend, if not his best friend, or filter on to Lucien's side, the side which would eventually continue to mock his existence?
Roger sighed. His head hurt from simply thinking too much.
"Come in," came Melt's quiet beckoning from within.
Roger sucked it in; it was now or never. He just wanted to get this over with. He grabbed the knob, bracing himself before pushing the wooden barrier open. A nervous smile spread itself across his lips as he refused to meet his friend in the eyes.
"Hey Melt, how's it going?"
The wolf-boy smiled gratefully at Roger's concern and slowly sat up with the aid of said boy, of course.
Roger supported Melt's back and used his other hand to fluff up the pillow against the headboard, before laying him carefully, gently against the malleable backing. He pulled the covers over and up to Melt's stomach, making sure that the boy was comfortable before seating himself comfortably on the mattress as well. Melt smiled in thanks and Roger returned it, if not a tad bit shyly.
"Good," Melt replied.
"Lezard's potion worked like a charm, although he told me to stay in bed for at least a day longer until I fully recuperate…"
Melt trailed off when he realized that his friend wasn't listening, and instead seemed to be incredibly fascinated with the fabric of his blanket, twisting and clutching the material every now and then. He frowned slightly, knowing the reason behind Roger's apparent awkwardness.
"I know all about the events which ensued within the cave, Roger."
Melt knew he hit home when he spied Roger stiffen visibly, before releasing his hold on the blanket, only to reach into his pocket to pull out a bag of Palmira flowers and some thread. He began to thread the blossoms through, never once saying anything. Melt simply let him be and continued.
"Lezard told me… and I wanted to tell you that I'm not mad."
Roger paused and regarded Melt with a look of incredulity, disbelieving.
'Is he saying this 'cuz he means it, or just for the sake of it?' Roger thought to himself, not knowing what to believe now.
"And if you're thinking that I'm saying this just because it was the polite thing to do, then you're clearly a trillion light years away. I think I can understand how you feel, Roger. I know it's not exactly easy to bear the sight of a close friend struggling for survival--"
"That's not it!" Roger yelled all of a sudden, throwing the garland carelessly on the bed.
"That's not it… That shouldn't be an excuse! I couldn't save you, I couldn't even move! I didn't just let you down, Melt, but the others too! Now, Lucien, Lezard and Vellion want nothing more to do with me thanks to my blunder!"
He slammed his fists on the cushiony mattress, sobbing bitterly.
"In just a single day, I lost not just my pride, but my friends as well, and worst still, I nearly lost you, Melt! Thankfully, Dribe's still on my side, but other than him, no one's willing. I won't even blame you if you decide that it was a total waste of time to mix with the likes of me. Melt, you're my best friend in the whole world, and I let you down."
"Roger," Melt whispered gently. He handed Roger a handkerchief, watching as he blew into it.
"Like I said, I'm not mad at you, and because we're best friends, I don't plan on leaving your side anytime soon. Aren't you forgetting you were the first person who dared to strike up a conversation with me, despite how ludicrous it was?"
Roger smiled slightly from that memory. His enthusiasm on making friends almost startled the strange wolf-boy back then when they were younger.
"In addition to that, best friends don't expect anything from each other, apart from trust. You trusted me enough to socialize with me, offer me companionship in the past, so shouldn't I trust your words too?"
Roger smiled behind the cover of the handkerchief, a new wave of tears brimming in his eyes. Melt understood, believed in him, trusted him, and that was all it mattered.
"Thanks Melt, you're the best."
Melt laughed, before indicating towards the unfinished garland of flowers on his bedspread. His face was laced with inquisitive amusement.
"Care to enlighten me on what you're doing?"
"Oh, this?" Roger rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
"I'm trying my hand at making the Palmira Wishing Charm! My mom taught me. They say that if you succeed in tying together a thousand flowers without breaking the thread, the moon goddess Palmira would grant your wish. I'm hoping for Nel's safe return…"
Melt smiled and shook his head.
"Nel's a grown woman, Roger. I'm sure she can take care of herself."
"Oh, I know! But that doesn't change the fact that I still wanna wish her all the best!" Roger pouted as Melt merely laughed.
"You need not fret, my friend."
"Oh yeah? And why's that?"
Melt turned to stare out the window, out at the nighttime coverlet of darkness and shimmering stars. Roger followed his gaze.
"The stars; they speak, tell of strange, eventful things yet to come."
"Really?" Roger piped in, interested, tail swishing from side to side enthusiastically.
"How so?"
"Wait and see Roger, wait and see…"
"And how'd you know all this, Melt?"
Melt's eyes twinkled with mirth, those intense golden irises swirling with perceptive wisdom.
"You can learn a great number of things from the stars, Roger; after all, the universe is a phenomenal entity. Who knows? Perhaps now is not the time to worry yet…"
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