A.N.: Do not read this until you have read Chapter 6 of Collage Diaries.

A permeating smell fouled up the air sending Emil's lungs on fire with every strained breath he took. It was like walking on a sea of glass: one wrong step and he would be sent reeling forward in a bed of blood and crystalline nails of glazed sand.

His partner wasn't faring any better. The last wave had left his physical abilities at a disadvantage. While possessing great strength and vigor, he lacked in endurance, and as a result, his health was starting to dwindle. To make matters worse, both of them had potentially fatal wounds if not attended to properly. This was about it.

"Ice…" his partner breathed, giving him a look of encouragement. "We'll pull through this, right? We're going to live until the next day, aren't we?" He didn't sound sure of himself. It was as though he needed the affirmation and reassurance of his friend to believe the sounds coming out of his very mouth.

This wasn't like him. It wasn't right. It shouldn't have been like this.

What had happened, he wondered? Where had they gone wrong to end up in this kind of position at death's door?

There were still so many things to tell his friend, about how he enjoyed having someone to talk when he was too caught up in thought, or about the terrible jokes he cracked—some so horrible that they ended up being funny on another level.

Or about the fact that they became friends at all.

Emil swallowed, the rustic sting of his warm blood choking his throat with a bitter, iron taste. He wanted to believe his friend. He wanted to believe himself. This would not be the end. They would live another day. From there, there had to be something out there for them, something greater than what was hoarding in front of their eyes at this very instant.

Black masses of what appeared to be sludge and coal dust clumped together on the jagged grounds and piled on top of one another, getting higher and thicker until the masses became one solid, physical entity. An army of these monstrosities had assembled, forming groups as far as the naked eye could see until the entire area was a sea of shadows.

The second wave had arrived.

Another gulp of blood later, Emil knew his answers to his dear friend's questions. Yes. They would survive. No. They would live. They would see through this to the end together.

"Leon," he breathed, his lungs already heavy and his armor drenched with blood and sweat, "whatever happens, I'll stay with you until the end."

He didn't need to say any more than that. He understood him as clear as crystal untouched by the foul taint of human hands.

"Let's do this, then," he smirked, throwing aside a smudge of blood long dried up from the heat and parched air.

Without warning, the first of the demons came flanking in from the back, their forces already accumulating into a surrounding circle. Sensing a familiar pattern from the previous attack, the young mage quickly recited a spell, his tongue never slipping up on a syllable. The incantation finished, it manifested into a burst of fire that encircled him from any surrounding onslaught. It would mean his partner wouldn't be able to approach him, but at the very least he was safe for a decent amount of time.

"Can you throw a few shields this way?" Leon shouted over at him as he dispatched of a monster trying to claw at his arm. While many in number, these types of monsters put up little resistance to the weathered warriors. Their intelligence lacked in sophisticated arrangements, and the demons only attack in sheer numbers rather than with tactics. With enough luck and skill thrown their way, the two seasoned friends would be able to survive this wave.

On his friend's command, Emil began reciting the proper incantations for physical shields. Since these demons lacked the ability to speak, there was no need to put up any magical shields. That would save time and energy on his part.

"Got it, Leon!" Emil threw back and sent an illuminating translucent sphere of blue his way. A resonating hum began to sound out in their ears signifying the shield's relay and success. That would keep the demons at bay for a little while longer.

Next, the mage set up a shield for himself. With the two of them surrounded by the blessings of the gods, they would last a little longer without fear of getting damaged.

As the forces drew nearer, Leon threw them back with his seemingly endless supply of weapons. Everything from knives to daggers and spears were tucked and concealed away in hidden pockets and harnesses. Only when the demons discovered the identity of the monk's weapons was it too late to react. They would usually find a blade in between their eyes, draining their life away until their vision darkened and sputtered out of existence.

On the opposing side, Emil was reeling spells and attack left and right. Even as a battle mage, he was nowhere near as skilled as his partner was, but he was able to hold on his own for an adequate amount of time. Hack, recite, relay, and shield up. Rinse and repeat until the forces whittled away. It wasn't the most efficient or fastest method, but it was the safest. That was all that mattered to Emil right now.

We might be able to do this he thought as he hacked through the torso of a developing shadow. His health wasn't in the condition, but not so much that it was a concern. His breathing was still capable as his arms were. Even if he got tired, he would be able to recite a quick healing spell to stave off the enemies. Leon would be able to take care of the rest. Stay calm, stay calm.

Eventually, the monsters' numbers began to dwindle until the area was free of black masses. A little more, and they would be done. The masses were vanishing. At long last, they could afford to go a little easier on their attacks.

But…

"Ice! Behind you!"

Just as Emil lowered his scythe, the shield around his body vanished, and a ghostly hand extended out towards him. His eyes widened. His legs froze. What was this? This was different. Unfamiliar. Why had this thing come out and all of a sudden? The very bombardment of thoughts and questions overwhelming him ensnared him in a petrified state of fear. He was looking at death in its eyes.

The sudden jolt of motion and gaping introduction of body-temperature fluids showered and sprayed him through and through with the color of madness, of love, of life, and of death.

A weight fell upon his rigid chest, the feeling surprisingly familiar. However, when he finally managed to blink, he saw that the weight bore arms, legs, a familiar face, and a missing heart. The wound left in the cavity of the mass remained steaming and drenched with entrails and blood. Beyond the reddening mass, he could see clearly through the other side where the jagged grounds lay. The bones in between were not starch white as he might have imagined. Rather, they were pink from the tissue and blood holding the skeletal structure together. This weight, this thing, was what remained of Leon.

The sound that came out of his mouth was not human. Wrought with confusion, undirected hatred, and despair, he could have mistaken his own voice for that of a monster's. He might as well have been. He should not have let something like this happen.

His eardrums nearly popped from the continuous cacophony of screams and howls. Yell as he did, no amount of vibrations in the air were powerful enough to bring someone back from the dead. Leon was gone. It was reality. This was the fate that had been brought onto him. It was inescapable.

No sound came out of his lungs. He was suffocating, seeking precious oxygen after emptying the delicate sponge-like sacks tucked in his ribcage. His head was going to explode. A pounding agony never experienced before struck him over again with every beat of his heart.

This.

Is.

Real.

It's.

Your.

Fault.

Why?

Why had this…?

Why had this happened?

The answer was in front of him, towering over him like an ominous sentient of the darkness. All hatred, fear, and sin could be directed to this one source, the very essence of all that was malice and evil.

"What a shame," the demon master laughed, his voice dry and icy as the coldest ice in the darkest depths. "I thought he would prove to be more of a threat than that."

Emil dared to look up at his friend's murderer. Rising high above him on a sea of legs and arms, shadows intertwining in his very garments, was the mastermind behind it all.

His voice quivered. "You…How could you…? Why?"

His brother, hair as fair as the sun but with eyes as dark as the most tainted of deep waters, floated down to his level, even so much as bothering to kneel at his pathetic eye level. Even without seeing his face, he knew he was smiling at the artistic murder he had just committed. His hand was still steaming red and sticky from having taken out Leon's heart. He was as cruel and as cold as they came, a killer without any remorse or regret.

"Do you really want to know why, dear brother?" he cooed, a toxic taste dripping down his tongue with that concealing velvety voice of his. "I'll tell you why."

Did he? Did it matter? What difference did it make if Leon couldn't be brought back?

He wanted to ponder, to even go as far as begging if that meant the mercy of his friend's life. He wanted to continue and fight, to live—

And then, a searing pain. Like fire entering his belly, a smoldering hot sensation stabbed clean through his stomach, the insides cooking into an unbearable stench. A hot iron rod could have been passing through him. It contracted within his insides, drew out his blood, bones, tissue, and muscle, destroying and eating him until his spine twisted. Tears welled up in his eyes as he could feel his very backbone shattering under the poignant force of his brother's relentless hand sinking all the way through.

He could no longer speak. Speech had left his mind. The only electrifying nerves that could bear to be sent to his brain were the ones telling him to keep himself alive, and that meant conserving as much oxygen as possible.

But it was no use. There was no amount of care or magic that could fix the gaping wound that was passing air through the crater in his stomach. He dared not look down for the sight of his innards would completely send him down the one-way spiral of madness. Oxygen once again escaped him, but this time, he knew there was no redemption. He might never take another breath again. This was his last. As his vision darkened into a numbing plea for it all to end, the poisonous voice of his brother's voice slithered into his ear, teasing his around the shell of his ear.

"It's past your bedtime, Ice."

"A-Ah…"

…

.

GAME OVER

You have died.

Emil cursed and shut his laptop, hurling it on the bed. Leon, who had been watching ever since his character had died, burst into laughter and leaned against his friend's shoulder.

"Ah ha ha ha!" he wheezed. "Oh, man, Ice. He got us good. I knew he was tough, but I didn't think he was that tough. Still…" He sighed and slung his arm around Emil's shoulder. "That was pretty fun. I kind of figured you wouldn't last more than a minute without me. Guess I was right, huh?"

"Shut up," he grumbled, ducking underneath Leon and backing against the wall. "I—I thought you'd just let me die. All I did was put up support shields and charms."

"Heh. Yeah. It wasn't fun babysitting you."

Emil scrunched his face as though into a tight stress ball. He was hoping Leon would say something supportive or toss a little praise his way. It didn't hurt, did it?

"That was stupid. Now all our stuff and data's gone."

"Mm-hmm," Leon nodded. He yawned and took a few seconds to stretch. "My eyes and back hurt. You?"

"Everywhere."

"Really?" he looked his way. "You know, when I was over in my old man's place, I picked up a few things about Chinese massages—"

"Pass. I'm going to sleep, Leon."

Leon blinked incredulously. Apparently he couldn't fathom why his friend would pass up on an opportunity like that, but, hey, it was his loss.

"Okay," he shrugged. "If you say so. G'night, Ice."

"Night," came his reply.

As the two settled in their bunks for the night, Leon's eyes remained wide open.

"Hey, Ice…? You still awake?"

"Now I am," an irritated response threw back.

A smile tugged at Leon's lips. "I was just thinking about how funny it would have been if we somehow managed to kill Lukas." Emil didn't say anything so he continued to talk. "I mean, what if we did it? Would you feel bad?"

"I'd feel bad for my phone plan," he muttered. Lukas was the one who had paid for his phone. If there was one threat that his brother was serious about, it was shutting off his phone plan.

"But, like, you wouldn't feel bad for killing your brother's character?"

Emil had to think about that. He had felt something when Leon had taken the blow for him. He didn't have to do that. By logic, if he had died instead of his friend, he might have had a chance of killing Lukas—it was a small chance, but it was as good as any other.

"I don't think so," he finally said. "That was pretty dickish of him to just kill us just because we were staying up late. Anyway, it's not like it was real." He heard a chuckle from below.

"Right. Well, okay, then. I'm really going to sleep now. Night, Ice."

"Uh-huh."

It wasn't as satisfying as Lukas had imagined it to be. He finally managed to kill that bratty Asian kid who was always hanging out this his brother, but he felt oddly empty and unfulfilled.

Is it because I didn't kill Ice first? he wondered. He had to press the question away. It was wrong of him to kill his brother even in a game. There was something disturbing about the entire ordeal.

"Or maybe I've been studying too much," he groaned and rubbed his forehead. School hadn't started, but he had already hit the books for the past few hours. Imagine his surprise when he saw Emil and Leon both playing on the same server as he was. The opportunity was just too golden to pass up.

And he had claimed both of their lives.

Now what?

He paused for a moment, tapping his fingers on the cover of his physiology book when a burst of rattling, explosions, and noise intruded into his abode.

"Lukas!"

Gods damn it all, it was Mathias.

"Lukas, ol' buddy, let's go drinking! My colleagues wanna go out!" He placed a large and annoyingly heavy hand on his thin shoulder. "Come on, buddy. It's not even a school night yet. Live once in grad school, wouldya?"

Lukas scowled and narrowed his eyes into thin snake-like slits. "It's people like you who prevent me from living at all." He promptly shut his laptop. "Get out or I'll report you to housing—again."

Mathias completely ignored his threat. "Let's go drinking!"

He could only roll his eyes and sigh. On a night like this where he was already developing a headache, a hangover was the last thing he needed.

"Pass," he flatly declined. "Go with someone else. A girl, maybe. People like you need to hang out with the opposite sex. It'll get your—Ugh. Never mind. People like you don't deserve to breed."

"I'll bring back some bread, then!" And just like that, Mathias had exited the same way he came—through a symphonic hurricane.

Lukas hopelessly shook his head. "How he manages to avoid the dorm monitors, I'll never know."