Valor of the Defeated
By: Angelus Erreare
A/N: Disclaimer: I own nothing; all characters mentioned below belong to ATLUS USA.
WARNING: OOC for Serph's non-existent sense of inquisitiveness. CRUDE LANGUAGE, MINOR AND MAJOR SPOILERS for both DDS1 and DDS2.
Chapter 1: Fear of Harley
The silver-haired AI looked around him and saw only the endless desert before him. They had ascended to their most sought-after Nirvana…
Ah yes… the Promised Land.
He blinked.
Their Nirvana had turned out to be nothing but a dream…
The Nirvana that they had fought hard for was nothing but the figment of their imaginations. The Nirvana that they had all bled for was nothing more than an illusion…And the Nirvana that his comrades had died for was nothing more than a blatant, shameless lie.
He blinked once more.
'Comrades…' he trailed off.
At that point, a thought passed through him like a speeding bullet and life as he knew it in that reality seemed to have faded, only to birth a completely separate one.
He opened his eyes and saw only the home, the only home that he and his team had ever known.
He blinked once more as he felt something grace the skin on his pale cheek.
Bringing his hand to his face, he realized that it was…
'Water.'
He looked up and saw the dull and lazy grey skies.
'The Junkyard…'
Could it be that all he had experienced, such as the fight with Angel, the revelation of Nirvana and his battles to find Sera in "paradise" had been nothing but dreams inside his head…? Had it been that nothing as such had ever taken place…?
"The defeat of the Brutes has been our greatest victory."
He stilled himself as he had heard another of his comrades speak from afar. The defeat of the Brutes…
Ah, so it had been a reality after all. Everything really had happened; even their ascension upon their false Nirvana.
He closed his eyes, 'Then I suppose I am dreaming.' he thought to himself, attempting to erase the illusion of being in the Junkyard.
At that point in time though, again another word seemed to have come afloat in his mind…
'Comrades…'
And another still…
'Nirvana…'
His steely silver eyes suddenly narrowed as he thought of it; as he thought of them. Them…they who had all fought, suffered and finally succumbed to the Embryon tribe, relinquishing their claim on Nirvana.
They; the leaders of the other tribes.
He closed his eyes again and a flash of green and auburn fleeted through his mind.
Harley.
He remembered him. He remembered the way the auburn-haired man begged for mercy; begged for his life.
At that time, as he recalled, as Heat had grabbed Harley by the neck and hurled him through the room, he had been feeling nothing but blind indifference.
But in the midst of that, he wondered, why he felt what he felt…and why Harley said what he said and did what he did. Why did he beg? Why did he not fight…? Why did he fidget so much? And why did he run…?
Serph's eyes suddenly became cold.
Why did Harley exhibit such prey-like behavior?
'Because he was one.' he finally concurred within himself.
But then again; what was it that they called as "prey"? He wasn't completely certain but as he experienced as being the one who devoured others and not being devoured, as he felt strength surge through his body while they, his helpless victims had none…then, at that point, the word "prey" to be used for the ones that he had killed and eaten seemed…right.
And seeing that Harley had been their very first…his very first victim…it would be right and just to say that he was…their very first prey…
So, what was it that danced within the caged animal's eyes? What was it that lingered oh so prevalently within their prey's eyes?
Ah, it all came back to him now…
He recalled the very emotion that danced within those bright hazel eyes of his…
'Fear.'
Serph closed his eyes once more and there felt a tingle in his gut. What was that…? Ah yes, were those his body's reactions to what humans say they "feel"?
He nodded; yes. They were what were called as…emotions.
Curious, really, within his own mind, as to how thoughts and recollection of certain things and events in the past can trigger such reactions from him…
This "fear", as they called it, wasn't a flight of fancy…It had been all too real. He had seen it; they had all seen it…They all had seen it in the Junkyard and they all had seen it once more in their false Nirvana.
People killed their own kind in order to survive. Naturally, those who were weak perished while the strong prevailed and lived. And like prey that he now was certain was Harley, he saw the very same emotion that danced within his eyes, within the eyes of the small life-forms that these humans called as "children".
Fear.
It was a disease.
It was a disease in the Junkyard and it was a disease in their false Nirvana.
And to that disease, as natural as breathing, he, as the ultimate victor of the Junkyard's war, had a reaction to it. No; the word "reaction" seemed too general…
No.
He felt something with regards to fear.
Now what was that emotion…? What was it that fear triggered within him…? What was it that seeing fear within his victims' eyes propelled him to feel…?
He shook his head as he concentrated on how to decipher such an emotion; more appropriately, the emotion that he had associated with Harley and his display of fear.
He thought for a moment but nothing came.
"…"
But like another revelation, it suddenly seemed so clear to him…
Again, his eyes became cold as he believed himself to have grasped the explanation.
"…"
Disgust.
As the realization had come to him, the man closed his eyes and opened them to find himself within the false Nirvana once more.
Wanting to return to HQ, Serph turned his back from the sandy desert and walked away, all the while having the thought in his head.
Disgust.
Disgust for Harley and disgust for his lack of pride as a warrior…
Harley's actions made him prey to Embryon…and as prey they deserved only to be hunted and to be killed.
That thought, he reckoned, had been reinforced by the harsh environment that he had seen in this false Nirvana. Within it, violence and carnage was the only way to survive…
And for that, there would be the hunter…and the hunted.
From that perspective, he supposed he could understand and even sympathize with Harley's behavior.
It had been simple really; he had been fair game while his team was the huntsmen.
xxxx
The world around him seemed hazy…
The surroundings seemed to fade only to focus and become vivid…only to fade into absolute and irreconcilable oblivion.
Where was he?
Was he dead…?
Was he alive…?
Or was he somewhere in between…?
He had just heard the words of Schröedinger…Or was that a dream as well?
His eyes became half-lidded as his mind tried to focus and attempted to leave that blasted realm where reality and unreality seemed to collide.
He closed his eyes once more and calmed himself. He forced his heartbeat to slow down…and commanded his muscles to relax. Perhaps it was Schröedinger's words that would serve as his guide so that he could leave that vortex. And even if he had heard such words from the divine feline only minutes prior, to him, such words seemed so fleeting…
It seemed that it had been forever since he had last heard them.
Hence, he forced himself to recall God's conduit's words once more.
What was it that he had seen? What was it that he had heard…?
His furrowed his eyebrows together as his lips set themselves upon a grim line while he continued to shut his eyes as tightly as he could.
He had seen Sera. He had seen how she had suffered under "his" hands. He had seen how she had loved "him"…and how "he" had betrayed her.
He had seen the faces of his comrades…Of how trust and compassion seemed to strike forth from their eyes.
Belief.
Sympathy.
Loyalty.
Strength.
As though he had been stricken by God's staff, the silver-haired man suddenly opened his eyes, great truth realized.
He looked around himself and saw that he was in his false Nirvana once more. The dream was over and again reality knocked upon his doorstep, asking him to face it…and to conquer it.
He sat up and saw that he was within a chamber that he realized to be the remnants of a monster's belly. He remembered now.
He stood up and started towards the belly's wall but stopped as he saw another brilliant flash within his mind.
Auburn.
His heart then stopped.
Disgust.
Yes; he remembered. That was what he had felt whenever he would think of the auburn-haired tribe leader. In his eyes, the cowardly man had no place in the world. He lacked everything that was necessary to survive…and such, had deserved his fate.
But was that still true…?
Serph looked at his boots, staring at them through the ankle-deep bloody liquid that he found that filled the belly of the monster.
Blood.
Blood.
That was the root of it all.
They took blood from others so that they could sustain their own…
At that point, he recalled how Harley had run from him. Cowardly…? Perhaps.
But he didn't think so; at least, not anymore.
Harley's behavior, how he had run, how he shook upon his toes, how he begged for mercy…and how he fought desperately as a last resort…
Those things, those acts…they weren't cowardly.
'No. Not at all.' thought the Embryon leader at last.
He understood now.
Fear neither discriminates nor chooses its victims. Man or woman, young or old, sane or insane…fear would find you.
Harley had been one of the first to release their powers. From that point of view, he would know nothing of it…He would feel confused, perplexed…and lost.
'Like a child seeking comfort from a parent.'
Young Sera's smile suddenly flashed through his mind and he comprehended all the more.
There was no difference between Harley and Sera. The fear that they had both exhibited were normal…expected, and human.
They were all God's children. And they now knew the existence of God to be absolute…And they all feared God.
Fear wasn't to be condemned.
Fear was to be understood…
Serph looked from his boots to his hands. They were bloody too.
Perhaps he had been mistaken with his assessment of Harley's actions. His flight and his desperate attempts at life weren't cowardly.
It was worthy of respect.
Life, no matter how small, was still significant to protect.
Circumstances, no matter how hopeless, were still worth fighting for…to the bitter end.
There was no shame in acting the way he did. Harley was a child within the land of endless rain, just as he and his comrades had been.
His defeat, though it had been foreseen, wasn't of laughing matter.
Harley had defended what remained of his life the only way he knew how. And if anyone would dare think of his actions as cowardly, how differently, then, he wondered, would anyone act given Harley's predisposition and his position…?
Being alone within his room…terrified at all the blood and gore that spilled themselves outside his city's walls while his followers had lost all their humanities, devouring all those that lay before them; friend or foe, ally or enemy, all were the same…Loyalty had been lost, control forgotten and all that remained was the unending hunger and lust for flesh, while an enemy tribe had hunted for him and only him.
He heard nothing but the agonizing screams of his people right outside his door. He smelled nothing but the foul stench of blood and flesh and the repugnant aroma of the breaths of beasts and monsters that filled the air and clung to the walls. And what made his blood run cold was the fact that the very individuals brutalizing his people…were his own.
He wanted to help them…and he did; but he couldn't deter the great evil that swept through his tribe like a hurricane for long. He knew not how to stop it…He knew not how to stop himself. He could feel power within him; power that he neither understood nor controlled.
Would he be able to control it…? Or would it control him…?
Horrified at what he had seen, he wondered whether or not he himself was capable of such untold carnage.
He huddled upon the darkest corner of his dark room, his bright eyes darting within wildly, his heart racing at such a rate that he feared it would burst.
They were coming for him…
Weren't they…?
But who was this "they"? Was it the other tribes…? Or his very own tribesmen…? If it had been the latter, how was he to face them…?
There was no answer to that.
His end was nigh. He knew it but chose to delay it as much as he could. But he couldn't help but wonder…
How was his end to come?
Would he suffer as much as he imagined he would as he heard those screams…? Would the pain be overwhelming that he would die a thousand times over until he would find eternal repose…?
What would it feel like to be eaten alive…?
'D-don't eat me…'
Would he kill himself just before so that he wouldn't suffer…?
'No I…I can't.'
He couldn't.
And so, he shut himself within that room, thinking that it would all go away and all the pain would be healed…He shut himself off and covered his ears with his palms as he muffled out all of his people's screams, hoping against hope that all of this had just been a bad dream…
Finally though, after a while, the screams seemed to have died down…
They were all gone, weren't they?
He was the only one left, wasn't he?
Now, he had no one.
He had no one else…
He had no one left but himself within his dark, dark room…
All alone…
Knowing that his death was to come, he embraced himself, his eyes wide with fear, his form shaking to the core with untold fright, his soul frozen with blind terror…with each second bringing death closer and closer…
He shuddered…
How then, would anyone else have acted …?
'…'
Serph dared not answer that question. He couldn't because he also knew what it was like to be afraid. He had been afraid for Sera ever since they had been forcefully parted.
He had been afraid for his comrades every time that they would head out for their missions.
Fear was everywhere. It will take many shapes, faces and forms. It will come in different situations and circumstances, but fear was fear. It chooses everyone and no one and discriminates against everyone and no one.
Everyone was fair game.
And as for Harley…
'He could've ended it himself.'
But he didn't.
Harley didn't kill himself when that had been the easiest and most cowardly act of all. Instead, he defended his life to the very end, fighting them with all of what he had.
Serph shook his head.
Such thoughts would remain as they were; merely thoughts. They weren't beyond conjecture…And seeing that Harley was gone, he supposed that he really would never know of the auburn-haired man's feelings.
Maybe he really was a coward and was a lousy excuse of a human being.
Or maybe not.
However, with all things being equal, without putting emotion to his assessment of Harley's acts, he did, finally, after much thought, come to a conclusion. He had recognized a pattern for Harley's cowardly act.
Harley, pitted at the very edge of life and upon the jaws of death, clung to life with one weapon in hand; desperation. Like a cornered beast, Harley lashed out with whatever he could find to fend his team off and took his last stand. And everyone knew that the most dangerous beast was always the desperate one…
Fear fuelled desperation and desperation created strength.
And with that thought, he dared think that Harley was also worthy of respect.
At least, respect from a fellow tribe leader.
Respect from an enemy.
Respect from the victor.
Respect from the hunter.
No more, and no less.
xxxx
FIN