Chapter 7
Endure
Sigma's Note: HA HA! You all thought they were dead! HAHAHAHAHA!
Let me make one thing clear. This story will end when I decide it will. And I already have it planned out from start to finish. You'll know when it is over.
Now.....
This chapter is heavily inspired by a fantastic Pokemon fanfic I read long before I started writing. In fact, it was so long ago that I forgot both the author and the name. But it moved me with its passion and emotion, and it will be stuck in my mind forever. And by the way...
Lutia pass.....
Marche writhed on the ground, his throat gurgling as it began to fill with bile from deep within his agony wrenched body. A cloud of blackness blocked his vision, and only the occasional flashes of light passed through, torturing him with its blinding luminescence. The Life Crisis had permeated through every tissue in his body, spreading its agony through his body like a water filling a tub.
In between his violent spasms, Marche attempted to stand, but his muscles failed him and he collapsed to the snowy ground in pain. His entire body was a quivering mass of physical anguish. He strained to reach into his pouch to retrieve a potion, hoping to alleviate his suffering. He managed to bring the vial to his lips and he gulp the bitter fluid quickly. To his surprise, some of the pain had subsided, but it still felt as though every inch of his body was engulfed in all encompassing flame. He struggled to his feet slowly and opened his eyes. Though hazy and aching, the potion seemed to have returned some of his sight, at least for a while. He had a feeling that it wouldn't be that easy to be rid of the Life Crisis.
Through the howling winds, Marche head a soft, feminine moan. It was Ritz. He had momentarily forgotten that she had been struck head on by the same attack that felled him. His body still in screaming torture, he limped over to her shaking crimson body.
"R-Ritz?" he said, his voice stammered by pain. Ritz moaned again, this time louder and more tortured. Marche stumbled towards her body that lay shivering in the arctic air. Quickly, he removed the second of his three emergency potions and poured it between Ritz's quivering lips. She coughed roughly and let out another banshee like moan. Clearly, her case was much more severe. As the potion began to take effect, Ritz tried to speak.
"Marche?" she whispered. Her arm twitched as she tried to move, but the Life Crisis had taken its toll on her body.
"Don't strain yourself," Marche said as he removed his animal fur coat and enshrouded her body in it. He felt the cruel bite of the arctic mountains cut into his skin, but he was more concerned with Ritz's survival than his own. Slowly, he lifted her body into his arms, which seemed to cry out in pain. The Life Crisis had weakened him, and it was taking all his strength just to move. Trying to carry the fallen girl in his arms was an almost unbearable strain. Yet he soldiered on, trying to find some sort of protection from the unforgiving tundra.
Ritz slowly became aware of her new surroundings. It was dark, but not the same kind of darkness that she had been overtaken by under the Plague Castor's virus. A small source of light and heat was in the center of her new world. The ground was hard, as were the walls. Hard and rough. A cave.
"Where...where are we?" She asked quietly. In the distance, beyond her faded vision, Marche replied.
"I found a cave in the mountain side. You're weren't exactly lucid, so I carried you here and started a fire with my Dante attack."
"Not exactly an Inn Suite," Ritz said. Marche laughed. Ritz could sense his pain behind the pitiful facade.
"What happened to us?" She asked.
"That Plague Castor hit us both with some sort of Viral Magic. I used my potions to try and fight the disease. They sort of work, but they're no solution. The Life Crisis, I think he called it, seems to attack in waves so your body doesn't get numb to it. It looks like we're both in between waves," Marche answered.
"Marche, why can't I see?" she asked. He sighed.
"You too? Hmm. That seems to be the only constant symptom."
"Probably to incapacitate enemies who are hit by it but can fight against the pain itself. Good strategy," Ritz said. They both had now come to realize why Strife had hoped that they would never meet a Plague Castor.
Ritz shivered. Despite wearing both her and Marche's cloak, her body still felt as though it was fully exposed to the elements outside the Cave.
"We're going to die here, aren't we?" Ritz said.
"Of course not. Once the storm settles down, Ivan will come up here with help. They'll find us and bring us to Muscadet for treatment," Marche assured Ritz. She laughed cynically.
"That's one thing I admire about you. You're so relentlessly upbeat."
"It's not optimism. It's fact. Trust me." Ritz chuckled again, this time without the pessimistic edge to it.
"Allright. I trust you." .....
Ritz had just fallen asleep when a horrible, gut wrenching pain shot through her body like a bolt of lightning striking a tree. Her limbs spasmed as she through herself against the stone wall unintentionally, like she was possessed by some sort of self-destructive demon. She let out a blood curtling scream as Marche stumbled over to her, following her cries of agony in his darkened world. He grabbed her firmly and brought her away from the wall, lowering her thrashing body to the ground. He took out his last potion. With his severely limited vision, he poured half of it into her mouth and saved the other half. The green fluid ran down her throat in an attempt to soothe the pain brought on by the Life Crisis attack. Slowly but surely, her seizure began to subside until she was left panting on the hard ground.
"Wha..." she said as she began to recover he faculties. Ritz rubbed her temples as her head filled with a throbbing migraine.
"Another attack," Marche informed her. "I used half of the last potion on you. With any luck it should last until Ivan gets here."
"How long to you think that will be?" Ritz asked as her breathing began to slow to its regular pace.
"I think the storm might be slowing down. I know as soon as it stops Ivan will be up here with a rescue team." The two here silent for several moments, until Marche spoke again. But it was not in his typically reassuring voice. Rather, it was in a much more grave tone.
"Ritz, I want you to promise me something," he said. She looked in his direction curiously. "I don't want you to use the rest of the potion on me." She was shocked.
"But you'll die!" she said.
"I can handle the virus. But your case is much more advanced than mine is. Without the potion, I don't think you're going to survive the next attack." Ritz shook her head.
"You expect me to-"
"Promise me!" Marche said fiercely. Ritz was taken aback by his conviction. She hung her head.
"I promise," she said solemnly.
"G-good," Marche sputtered he finally gave into the Life Crisis that was welling up within him. He howled loudly as he arched his back in agony. And without the potion, he knew that it would be a trial for him that he may not recover from. Ritz knew it too. As she looked painfully at the person that she cared about more than anyone else in Ivalice, she made an executive decision.
.....
Marche awoke to find that he head was in Ritz's lap. She had arranged it so that the dual animal skins could cover them both sufficiently. Marche looked towards the fire and saw, through his dim vision, an empty vial lying on the ground.
"You promised," he said raspy.
"Shhh," she said calmly, as she brushed her soft hand against his cheek. "I wasn't going to let you die. I decided that either we're both getting out or neither of us is."
"You realize that the chances of the latter are now far more likely," Marche said. Ritz smiled. Marche shivered. The previous attack had been the most intense yet. He figure that if Ritz hadn't acted, he probably would've died. But now both of their lives had moved even closer to the precipice of death than before.
Marche rose from the ground and noted too how Ritz was shivering as well. Though the storm had begun to subside, the temperature had dropped dramatically as well. Hypothermia would begin to set in soon in both of them.
Marche sat next to Ritz and wrapped his arms around her, much to her surprise.
"We need to keep warm," he said as he tightly wrapped the skins around both of them. "Out body heat should provide enough warmth for both of us. But we have to stay close." Ritz blushed but complied, embracing Marche as well. Just like he said, she felt the heat from his body enshrouding her like a warm fire. Her heat fluttered as the intimacy of the moment set in. Very odd, she thought, for such a thing to happen when both of them were so close to cold oblivion.
"I have a confession to make," Marche said. Ritz's heat skipped a beat. "I'm...afraid."
"Afraid?" she asked. That was something she didn't see coming. "Of what?"
"Of...myself."
"What do you mean?" Marche took a deep breath.
"Of what I've become. During that last battle, I felt something inside of me that frightened me. A power that didn't seem natural. You saw how many people I killed. Dozens. And yet... I felt nothing. It was like I was cutting through air. I didn't even notice the body count rising, or the sea of blood that I was standing in. I was a machine. And that scares the hell out of me." Marche was now shaking, not from the cold, but from some mental agony the likes of which the pain caused by the Life Crisis couldn't even approach. Ritz felt her eyes watering. Never before had Marche or anyone else confided in her like that before. She was left speechless.
"I don't want to be a machine! I don't want this! I'm afraid Ritz. I'm afraid that I may someday hurt you in that state. And...I couldn't live with myself if that happened." Marche buried his head in her chest, and she wrapped her arms around it. She had no idea that Marche was dealing with that kind of stress.
"I don't know what to say," she managed to whisper.
"Don't say anything. Just don't leave me. Ever."
Several hours later....
Marche's eyes fluttered open under a bright orb of magic. He was lying undressed on a medical table. He looked at his scarred chest, and noted the red pin pricks where he had been injected with some sort of needle. He looked around, slightly confused.
"Don't strain yourself, Sir Radiuju. You are allright. You're in the Muscat Hospital," said a slender Viera nurse who was sanitizing some needles.
"Where's Ritz?" he said.
"The girl is in another room. She is allright as well. You are both very lucky that those Monks found you when you did. You were both unconscious and near death, both from hypothermia and the Life Crisis. Fortunately, we had the experimental vaccine on hand and used it on you both. Thankfully, it worked."
"So, we're going to survive?" Marche asked. The Nurse nodded.
"Indeed, you can expect a full recovery in a few days," said the nurse cheerfully. Marche exhaled slowly, and fell into the first relaxed sleep he had had in several days.
Sigma's Note: HA HA! You all thought they were dead! HAHAHAHAHA!
Let me make one thing clear. This story will end when I decide it will. And I already have it planned out from start to finish. You'll know when it is over.
Now.....
This chapter is heavily inspired by a fantastic Pokemon fanfic I read long before I started writing. In fact, it was so long ago that I forgot both the author and the name. But it moved me with its passion and emotion, and it will be stuck in my mind forever. And by the way...
Lutia pass.....
Marche writhed on the ground, his throat gurgling as it began to fill with bile from deep within his agony wrenched body. A cloud of blackness blocked his vision, and only the occasional flashes of light passed through, torturing him with its blinding luminescence. The Life Crisis had permeated through every tissue in his body, spreading its agony through his body like a water filling a tub.
In between his violent spasms, Marche attempted to stand, but his muscles failed him and he collapsed to the snowy ground in pain. His entire body was a quivering mass of physical anguish. He strained to reach into his pouch to retrieve a potion, hoping to alleviate his suffering. He managed to bring the vial to his lips and he gulp the bitter fluid quickly. To his surprise, some of the pain had subsided, but it still felt as though every inch of his body was engulfed in all encompassing flame. He struggled to his feet slowly and opened his eyes. Though hazy and aching, the potion seemed to have returned some of his sight, at least for a while. He had a feeling that it wouldn't be that easy to be rid of the Life Crisis.
Through the howling winds, Marche head a soft, feminine moan. It was Ritz. He had momentarily forgotten that she had been struck head on by the same attack that felled him. His body still in screaming torture, he limped over to her shaking crimson body.
"R-Ritz?" he said, his voice stammered by pain. Ritz moaned again, this time louder and more tortured. Marche stumbled towards her body that lay shivering in the arctic air. Quickly, he removed the second of his three emergency potions and poured it between Ritz's quivering lips. She coughed roughly and let out another banshee like moan. Clearly, her case was much more severe. As the potion began to take effect, Ritz tried to speak.
"Marche?" she whispered. Her arm twitched as she tried to move, but the Life Crisis had taken its toll on her body.
"Don't strain yourself," Marche said as he removed his animal fur coat and enshrouded her body in it. He felt the cruel bite of the arctic mountains cut into his skin, but he was more concerned with Ritz's survival than his own. Slowly, he lifted her body into his arms, which seemed to cry out in pain. The Life Crisis had weakened him, and it was taking all his strength just to move. Trying to carry the fallen girl in his arms was an almost unbearable strain. Yet he soldiered on, trying to find some sort of protection from the unforgiving tundra.
Ritz slowly became aware of her new surroundings. It was dark, but not the same kind of darkness that she had been overtaken by under the Plague Castor's virus. A small source of light and heat was in the center of her new world. The ground was hard, as were the walls. Hard and rough. A cave.
"Where...where are we?" She asked quietly. In the distance, beyond her faded vision, Marche replied.
"I found a cave in the mountain side. You're weren't exactly lucid, so I carried you here and started a fire with my Dante attack."
"Not exactly an Inn Suite," Ritz said. Marche laughed. Ritz could sense his pain behind the pitiful facade.
"What happened to us?" She asked.
"That Plague Castor hit us both with some sort of Viral Magic. I used my potions to try and fight the disease. They sort of work, but they're no solution. The Life Crisis, I think he called it, seems to attack in waves so your body doesn't get numb to it. It looks like we're both in between waves," Marche answered.
"Marche, why can't I see?" she asked. He sighed.
"You too? Hmm. That seems to be the only constant symptom."
"Probably to incapacitate enemies who are hit by it but can fight against the pain itself. Good strategy," Ritz said. They both had now come to realize why Strife had hoped that they would never meet a Plague Castor.
Ritz shivered. Despite wearing both her and Marche's cloak, her body still felt as though it was fully exposed to the elements outside the Cave.
"We're going to die here, aren't we?" Ritz said.
"Of course not. Once the storm settles down, Ivan will come up here with help. They'll find us and bring us to Muscadet for treatment," Marche assured Ritz. She laughed cynically.
"That's one thing I admire about you. You're so relentlessly upbeat."
"It's not optimism. It's fact. Trust me." Ritz chuckled again, this time without the pessimistic edge to it.
"Allright. I trust you." .....
Ritz had just fallen asleep when a horrible, gut wrenching pain shot through her body like a bolt of lightning striking a tree. Her limbs spasmed as she through herself against the stone wall unintentionally, like she was possessed by some sort of self-destructive demon. She let out a blood curtling scream as Marche stumbled over to her, following her cries of agony in his darkened world. He grabbed her firmly and brought her away from the wall, lowering her thrashing body to the ground. He took out his last potion. With his severely limited vision, he poured half of it into her mouth and saved the other half. The green fluid ran down her throat in an attempt to soothe the pain brought on by the Life Crisis attack. Slowly but surely, her seizure began to subside until she was left panting on the hard ground.
"Wha..." she said as she began to recover he faculties. Ritz rubbed her temples as her head filled with a throbbing migraine.
"Another attack," Marche informed her. "I used half of the last potion on you. With any luck it should last until Ivan gets here."
"How long to you think that will be?" Ritz asked as her breathing began to slow to its regular pace.
"I think the storm might be slowing down. I know as soon as it stops Ivan will be up here with a rescue team." The two here silent for several moments, until Marche spoke again. But it was not in his typically reassuring voice. Rather, it was in a much more grave tone.
"Ritz, I want you to promise me something," he said. She looked in his direction curiously. "I don't want you to use the rest of the potion on me." She was shocked.
"But you'll die!" she said.
"I can handle the virus. But your case is much more advanced than mine is. Without the potion, I don't think you're going to survive the next attack." Ritz shook her head.
"You expect me to-"
"Promise me!" Marche said fiercely. Ritz was taken aback by his conviction. She hung her head.
"I promise," she said solemnly.
"G-good," Marche sputtered he finally gave into the Life Crisis that was welling up within him. He howled loudly as he arched his back in agony. And without the potion, he knew that it would be a trial for him that he may not recover from. Ritz knew it too. As she looked painfully at the person that she cared about more than anyone else in Ivalice, she made an executive decision.
.....
Marche awoke to find that he head was in Ritz's lap. She had arranged it so that the dual animal skins could cover them both sufficiently. Marche looked towards the fire and saw, through his dim vision, an empty vial lying on the ground.
"You promised," he said raspy.
"Shhh," she said calmly, as she brushed her soft hand against his cheek. "I wasn't going to let you die. I decided that either we're both getting out or neither of us is."
"You realize that the chances of the latter are now far more likely," Marche said. Ritz smiled. Marche shivered. The previous attack had been the most intense yet. He figure that if Ritz hadn't acted, he probably would've died. But now both of their lives had moved even closer to the precipice of death than before.
Marche rose from the ground and noted too how Ritz was shivering as well. Though the storm had begun to subside, the temperature had dropped dramatically as well. Hypothermia would begin to set in soon in both of them.
Marche sat next to Ritz and wrapped his arms around her, much to her surprise.
"We need to keep warm," he said as he tightly wrapped the skins around both of them. "Out body heat should provide enough warmth for both of us. But we have to stay close." Ritz blushed but complied, embracing Marche as well. Just like he said, she felt the heat from his body enshrouding her like a warm fire. Her heat fluttered as the intimacy of the moment set in. Very odd, she thought, for such a thing to happen when both of them were so close to cold oblivion.
"I have a confession to make," Marche said. Ritz's heat skipped a beat. "I'm...afraid."
"Afraid?" she asked. That was something she didn't see coming. "Of what?"
"Of...myself."
"What do you mean?" Marche took a deep breath.
"Of what I've become. During that last battle, I felt something inside of me that frightened me. A power that didn't seem natural. You saw how many people I killed. Dozens. And yet... I felt nothing. It was like I was cutting through air. I didn't even notice the body count rising, or the sea of blood that I was standing in. I was a machine. And that scares the hell out of me." Marche was now shaking, not from the cold, but from some mental agony the likes of which the pain caused by the Life Crisis couldn't even approach. Ritz felt her eyes watering. Never before had Marche or anyone else confided in her like that before. She was left speechless.
"I don't want to be a machine! I don't want this! I'm afraid Ritz. I'm afraid that I may someday hurt you in that state. And...I couldn't live with myself if that happened." Marche buried his head in her chest, and she wrapped her arms around it. She had no idea that Marche was dealing with that kind of stress.
"I don't know what to say," she managed to whisper.
"Don't say anything. Just don't leave me. Ever."
Several hours later....
Marche's eyes fluttered open under a bright orb of magic. He was lying undressed on a medical table. He looked at his scarred chest, and noted the red pin pricks where he had been injected with some sort of needle. He looked around, slightly confused.
"Don't strain yourself, Sir Radiuju. You are allright. You're in the Muscat Hospital," said a slender Viera nurse who was sanitizing some needles.
"Where's Ritz?" he said.
"The girl is in another room. She is allright as well. You are both very lucky that those Monks found you when you did. You were both unconscious and near death, both from hypothermia and the Life Crisis. Fortunately, we had the experimental vaccine on hand and used it on you both. Thankfully, it worked."
"So, we're going to survive?" Marche asked. The Nurse nodded.
"Indeed, you can expect a full recovery in a few days," said the nurse cheerfully. Marche exhaled slowly, and fell into the first relaxed sleep he had had in several days.