ELDRANT

Seven years old and he had blood on his hands. Seven years old and the promise of a saved world rested on his shoulders. Seven years and they were about to be over.

Luke didn't want to die. Ever since Akzeriuth fell by his hand, ending so many lives and futures, he wondered why he had been born. He was just one resented name in Auldrant's Score, a replica who had managed to mess up a considerable amount of things despite how little time he had been in the world.

His heart throbbed out sadness with every second he watched his companions walk away. They cared. Did that mean he was important? Perhaps what he had done made him a hero after all, just like Van had said he would be. That felt like eternities ago. Now that he knew the truth, he and his companions fought Van to the death, unbalancing the Score that dictated the world. He had faced death several times on the journey, but this one felt like it counted.

I would die for it. They used to be empty words. Now sacrifice was his reality. The tightness in his chest was the same he'd felt when he first protected himself in battle, when he nearly sacrificed himself among gray-wearing replicas. But nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of being at the end of the road. A final look back would never be enough to capture all the things he still wanted to do. Would it be better if he actually wanted to die?

Luke imagined how pitiful he looked, cramming all his questions into his last moments. He could almost hear Asch's voice in his head: "You pathetic dreck! Didn't you see it coming?" But he couldn't afford to think like that now.

He refused to be "foolish replica Luke" again.

There were reasons to hold on, like his promise to survive. He doubted any words could save him, and his companions probably thought the same, but their goodbyes were more than just a hollow game of pretend. Making the promise was the least Luke could do for them, that and meeting his fate with a calm face; had this happened earlier in their journey, he would have been a child trapped in a seventeen-year-old's body, whining, "No, I won't do it, I don't want to die!" Thankfully that side of him had been gradually changed by words, by a swift blade cutting off his red locks.

He imagined Asch's voice again. Maybe hearing it in his head so many times had started a cycle. "Any regrets, dreck?"

Most of all, he regretted how many lives he had taken- he swore that Van's would be the last. Leaving Tear, leaving everyone, was right up with it on the list, but the time he spent with them wasn't.

Luke allowed himself one more indulgence, looking back (he'd caught one of them doing the same). There was Guy, his best friend. Anise, her usual bouncy skip replaced by slow steps. Natalia, who still kept going even after losing him and Asch in one day. Mieu, his cheagle guardian, white-tufted ears drooping. Jade, whose cold heart he had managed to touch- No way, he thought. The Necromancer would casually blast him with divine lightning if he heard the overstatement. And...

And Tear. The girl he loved and had never been able to tell. Her words rang in his head: "I'll be waiting for you! Always!" She was definitely a reason to live for, but since the doctor informed him of his fonons deteriorating, and with the battle with Van approaching, he knew he might not have much time. Telling her would only hurt her more once he was gone.

Were his eyes wet now?

Exhaustion weighed him down. Just do this, Luke, he told himself. It might feel like a long nap...

He walked past white pillars scraping the sky, plain stone beneath him. He didn't think about disappearing from the world. Just the promise. Just a few words: I am Luke Fon Fabre. I exist.

Luke plunged the Key of Lorelei into the ground beneath him, the world beginning to crumble. Eldrant would soon be gone, all of Van's wishes driven to ruin- that was worth every little sacrifice. Luke fell, bathed in a warm glow. He passed through the room where he had fought Asch. The body of his original plummeted among chunks of rock, and Luke caught him, watching dark red hair fan out over his arms. Asch's face was pale and battered but uncharacteristically serene, his skin laced with blood. Luke's heart sped up as Lorelei whispered its thanks, engulfing them.