Ain's Friends.
First went Ain.
Years of unrestricted power eventually caught up to him, the power of El consuming his body. Veins of glowing magic pulsated through his weakened body, his fading soul and fluttering heart held together by frail bonds ready to snap at a moment's notice. Ain liked to think of himself as a tree, his branches becoming more prevalent with every passing day. It hadn't been an issue in the beginning. Once the El was restored, his purpose was finished, after all. There was no need for him to remain in this world, thus he should return to the earthen soil. In his passing moments, his friends and the likes came to visit him.
Long has he spent being the keeper of Elsword, and guardian of the gang. That all was over. Many paid respects to him, a member with as much importance to the team as any other. Ain, who had been the elusive wanderer rarely seen, let himself be pampered for once, allowing whatever menial duties were left to be taken care of by the others. After all, they were trustworthy. Were they not people banded together under a common goal? Throughout everything, they alleviated his concerns, his worries, and everything in between.
Rose, who he could relate to, had also been a straggler of the party, thus they shared an unspoken bond of camaraderie. Lu played with him when he was bedridden, while Ciel tended to his basic needs like a change of clothes or providing a meal. The unruly Add occasionally came by under the pretense of doing research on his biological make up, when, in reality, he simply wished to watch over him. Elesis would always bring a flower, depositing it in a vase already filled with plenty of blooming flowers from her past visits, and Ara would change the wet towel on his forehead daily, exchanging small talk and giving him her tiny smiles. Eve would profusely thank Ain for all his efforts and update him on her progress towards reviving her race. Raven and Rena would purchase some expensive wine to partake in with him. Lastly, Chung and Elsword always recounted the grand adventures they shared whenever they stopped by, mirth and laughter filling the room.
Even in his dying days, he never felt alone. He never felt afraid. In fact, this was supposed to be the moment he dreaded so much. Ishmael certainly wasn't benevolent enough to spare him time once he fulfilled the quest. Not only would it upset the order of things, it would also be abusive of the powers bestowed upon him. He did not blame nor curse her, this was the way life should go. Everything that is born must die. He, who has been given as much reign over godlike powers that boast of infinite possibilities, has certainly lived long past his life expectancy.
When he finally did move on, there was not a single dry eye. Everybody cried for the loss, for the passing on of a friend, a comrade, a brother.
"Am I dead?" asked Ain. Though, this was merely rhetorical. Because number one, nobody could hear him, and number two, he was staring at his lifeless body. His ethereal spirit hung over the forlorn gang, a mystical shroud that nobody could see. His cold, lifeless face seemed so...At peace. Truly, he passed on without any regrets. It's not like he had any overwhelming ambition...Only to follow his master's will to the bitter end. Past that, he saw nothing...Or did he?
He never got to try out that carousel that the gang always looked at him strangely for asking. Nor did he ever try to sneak into a woman's bath. Simple things like that seemed to cause sorrow to well up within him.
It's truly a shame, he thought, as he felt himself be raised into the air. It seemed he was to be returned into the cradle of the gods, embraced for his endeavors. They'll all join him there, won't they? He was sure of it. The heroics and trails each of them have gone through has earned them a spot on that pedestal. Oh well, he was put at peace somewhat knowing that they'll at least be able to experience the things he didn't. After all, the material world below was so vast...And always so novel. There was always something to fight for, something to die for, something to love for.
His final thoughts were humble prayers of thanks...
Thank you.
