Author's note:
Originally, I wanted to post everything I am writing now as Chapter 17—as a matter of fact, I'm about ¾ done with what I have in my outline. I really, really want to end this story arc on the 18th chapter. But... this chapter just got sooooo long! It is currently about 14K in length (WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING WHENEVER I WRITE!? OTL) and I'm not even done writing out the new material, not to mention that I'm still redoing a huge chunk of what's already been written after receiving some feedback from badasslizard's beta reading. (Ugh... =_=)
Since, I don't want a repeat of The Interloper and put up 10K to 15K monsters I normally produce for that story, I am putting up the first few thousand words of the next chapter. :D Granted, my alternative is to simply hold off and keep on writing 'til the whole thing's done, then post it all in one Brobdingagian update, but from experience, I believe I'll turn off less people if I just, well, splice this crap, even though lengthy beasts wouldn't be a common feature for Aimless. :3
Hope you like the chapter!
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Chapter 17: Resolve
"Look in your disappointments for the resolve to transform your experiences into solutions."
- Bryant McGill
Joshua Renalia dug through the video games he's played over the years.
He remembered cautiously navigating Sebastian Castellanos through the Victoriano Manor, trying to conserve ammunition. With a controller, he shot down rifle-toting goons in the Lost Kingdom of Yamatai, armed with nothing but a bow, several arrows, and lightning-fast reflexes honed by countless deaths. There was also that time he sluggishly moved through a dying Space Station, jury-rigging a plasma cutter in his hand to mow down hordes of undead.
Oh yes, there he was, in his happy place. He retreated further into himself, driven further inward by the deep desire to forget whatever happened out there, in the harsh cruelty of real life. Joshua fondly recalled the warmth of thick comforters wrapped around him, while he directed a Norse Valkyrie through a sorcerer's tower. Seeing Daniel Radcliffe bring Harry Potter to life reminded him of that character. Even stirred the thought of Lord Voldemort shitting himself if that madman had replaced the Potter Boy completely.
And then there was his favorite game of all. A platformer game with a smug, cocky, purple dragon, solving problems wherever he went and making friends around his world. Slight grief swelled in the gamer when he recalled how corporate meddling forced its developer to ditch the franchise he loved so much. It certainly did not stop the men in suits from resurrecting the franchise from its grave, producing a reboot for the PlayStation 2.
Unlike several fans at the time, Joshua did not reject the new series and accepted the change. He often looked back at his experiences—his memories playing this game with just as much fondness as the classic trilogy. With a controller in hand, he followed a nervous young dragon courageously searching for his past, only to stumble into a most epic destiny. A cute, innocent child who believed in the good of all things and either looked at you with a smile or, at worst, a confused expression—
A vicious muzzle.
A pair of hateful eyes.
"I won't let you hurt anyone else. You're not getting near that child again. She's free now."
The raw, unparalleled power surging beneath those gold and purple scales.
"And I'm making sure it stays that way."
The dragon's maw loomed above him. It lumbered down, wide open, as though ready to swallow him alive. Each tooth looked prepared to brutally murder him as they had mauled his own fingers.
Joshua Renalia recoiled, gasping at the vivid nightmare. But instead of his room—instead of the warm, comforting hum of his air-conditioner, instead of his TV polluting the air with that annoying high-pitched sound, clear, blue skies reflected back in his green eyes and the sturdy build of a wooden rail supported his back.
The Dragon Realms.
But it was not the fantasized place he played pretend in as a child, acting out entire scenes as Keyblader Matt. Believed himself a comrade of the famous hero, fighting monsters upon monsters with a sword shaped like a key and elements of his own.
Nor was it Alec's idyllic utopia, which told of a good life, accepted by the people, respected by the Guardians, and with dear, beloved friends among the Saviors and their kin.
No.
He found himself in the real Dragon Realms.
Where its people hate him.
Where the sole power he owns terrified him.
WHERE HIS OWN HEROES TRIED TO KILL HIM!
He whimpered, crumpling down further on his knees. Joshua gazed lazily at the sky. He held his viridian eyes up, and ogled the enraged dragons circling the air. Abhorrence and fury alike swirled in their hateful eyes. They glowered down at him—
.
.
Spyro's purple eyes wished death on the young man as they stared back into his, crowned in an aura of flames, his presence announced by the boom of Dragon Time.
.
.
—and did nothing despite it. Not one of their signatures had the characteristic spike that preceded each and every offensive maneuver. Still, their spheres of life shook violently. Trembling. Like bombs ready to explode. He couldn't look any of the dragons in the eye, and he didn't dare bring his gaze down, lest he risked glimpsing even one of the many bodies lying around dead, much more processing the fact he and he alone had massacred them all. It was bad enough his Element let him know their life signatures have all fallen still. Black, gaping voids of oblivion, each conjuring a discomfort impossible to vocalize, let alone delineate.
But he had no choice!
Why couldn't any one of those idiots understand he had no f*cking choice in this?
Who in their right mind accepted death with open arms? Joshua Renalia wanted to live. TO LIVE! That's all he ever wanted. Even more so after Cynder blasted his face with her Fear breath. The crimson Element brought the faces of Jefferson and Erika Renalia out before his eyes. Thoughts of his younger brother and sister, of his friends, of his significant other and the entire life he left behind rushed out.
He didn't want to die there in the Dragon Realms.
He couldn't die there.
Because he had to get back home.
Because he wanted to see them again.
Because the people he grew up with—the people he loved would spend several years—several decades believing he vanished, presumed killed by some conspiracy that left them without a body to mourn over and bury. They would never have closure; the thought of all his loved ones in lifelong disarray while he lived out his childish fantasies in an entirely different world would slowly, subtly kill him over the years.
Joshua Renalia barely remembered what happened while he was under the initial influence of Phantom Fright. Surviving had become his sole focus. Everything he said—everything he chose—everything he did was a deliberate gambit to preserve his own life, one after another. Joshua did not question why his Element responded to his every whim. Forgetting everything but the drive to live on, he used his power. No, he abused it like the tool it really was. If he wanted something gone, it vanished. If he wanted to stop, it stopped. If he needed to heal, then it healed. He could care less what his Element did if he got away from this, free to live another day and find his way back home, away from this madness.
It in fact took what miniscule willpower he had left—and all of it—to stop the White Breath from killing Spyro's beloved mate when she went at him.
Yet despite everything he's done, none of them stopped.
Even after he stabilized Spyro himself, literally seconds before he would've passed on, they still attacked. Jesus Christ, they wouldn't f*cking stop! A ferocious anger colored his eyes. Rimeer's stubbornness clouded his focus, and those goddamn archers—goddammit, do not get him started on those bloody—
A shrill scream shook Joshua Renalia out of his private thoughts. His frustrations momentarily forgotten, he whipped his head towards the source.
Cynder.
Rimeer on top of Cynder.
Rimeer's foot crushing Cynder's face.
No, no, no, no, no, NO!
"CYNDER!" Joshua yelled. Why was God punishing him this much? First he OHKO'd Spyro, then he almost killed Cynder. After that he actually killed scores of civilians and city soldiers. Now some sick, opportunistic bastard was executing some silly Xanatos Gambit to murder the Heroine?
The same son-of-a-bitch who couldn't relinquish his grudges? Mother of f*cking God, if Rimeer succeeded, he could easily pin the blame on him! "Get, g-get away," the teenager said. Knees quivered as he rose to his feet. He charged the Ice Dragon, only for fatigue to attack him. His legs cramped, and he staggered—he stumbled his way to Rimeer. "Shit!" Joshua gritted his teeth, eyes fixed on the black dragoness. The screeching loudened. Cynder's life pulse convulsed violently, like crystal on the brink of shattering.
No time for healing or mana crystals. If he had to help, he had to do it now. He raised his hand as he approached, palm outstretched and facing the Manipulative Bastard. Sweat rained down his forehead. "Leave her alone!" he shouted. He expanded his consciousness, feeling his senses embrace and become one with the surroundings. Joshua sought the two pulses of life in front of him. Focused on the one on top, the only one that didn't wane and fluctuate. The one that quivered madly from anticipation, from satisfaction.
A ferocious ire stoked, Joshua wished strongly for the dense clouds to come and consume the Ice Dragon. He couldn't rely on any of his senses. That much he knew; for intent powered his Element and immense concentration channeled it. Anger at the dragon that exploited her weakness and complete shame at putting Cynder in such a vulnerable position swirled within.
Joshua Renalia willed the White Nebula to shoot out of his palm and engulf the motherf—
Nothing came out.
And Cynder cried. Her voice became a deafening trill, whining in his ears along with an equally disturbing tinnitus. The Savior's life pulse flickered from strong to weak and back.
"F*CK!" Joshua cursed. Why? Why now? Why again? "You f*cking piece of shit Element! Don't do this to me. Work, damn it. Work! GOD F*CKING DAMMIT, WHY WON'T YOU—
CRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAACK.
The slender dragoness flailed underneath the adult's paw. "Thaaaat's it," Rimeer nodded, probably sporting a wide grin on his muzzle. "Scream for me, Terror of the Skies. This is justice for everyone you killed. Now scream. Writhe in agony!"
And she wailed, shrieking like Joshua had never heard before. Cynder whined, Cynder squealed, and none of the dragons observing them bothered to help one of the Dragon Realms' two heroes. All of them were either p*ssies or colluding with this damn city guard. It was torturous to hear—
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.
All of Joshua's efforts to reproduce his Element received in reward the agony of a little girl. A yellow dragoness, squirming on the grass with a grotesque stump for a left wing.
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—and it pained Joshua to hear her and do nothing. He only had a few seconds before her skull gave way, and despite all the things he could do with his Element, replacing lost limbs and resurrecting the dead were completely beyond his ability.
But if he couldn't rely on his only power, if he couldn't use the ashen clouds to stop the bastard from murdering a heroine in cold blood, then there was absolutely nothing he could do but watch the vengeful dragon execute an innocent. Because if he did something—if he did anything, he might just die—
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.
Joshua Renalia left Explodon, Lani, and Kilat all to their fate. Abandoned all three of them to the mercy of the Apes. Not once did he tell Kilat how he felt about her. How his heart ached every time he so much as looked at her grinning up at him, happy to be alive.
He didn't deserve the child's love. His eyes always fell on her only wing whenever they slept, a constant reminder of his failure. Even if Kilat never held it against him, even if he believed he should be happy, knowing he enabled her the life her friends sacrificed themselves for, a tiny part of him was still far too eager to take responsibility for everything, to blame himself. To slip in the subtle, insidious thought: What if he'd been able to save Lani, too, if Joshua only had the balls—
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The human was disgusted with himself. Did he seriously just consider fleeing? And leave Cynder to this? Simply because he couldn't get his Element to work, like last time? What sort of gratitude was it, to repay with desertion the only person who offered him ears rather than teeth and claws? If one of his idols died because of something he caused, Joshua would never be able to live with himself.
.
.
But Joshua was no hero. He was just like Explodon: an adolescent in over his head. Even with his unique Element, it was clear as day that the human did not belong in—
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"I don't care." He wasn't running again. "I don't care," he uttered to himself and steeled his quaking hands. The shaking refused to stop, yet Joshua reached for a fallen mole's sword. He wouldn't need that anymore, the adolescent noted grimly. One hand picked it up and immediately the other supported it. The weapon was heavier than it seemed. It proved to be a tremendous weight his biceps almost failed to bear.
Never again.
Yet the gamer drew strength from his self-loathing—from his very shame—and kept the blade above the ground. He dashed towards Rimeer and ignored the intensifying cramps as much as he overcame the fear for his own life. He didn't care if he held the blade in a wrong grip or if the enemy heard him coming. He didn't care if his own stupidity killed him in the end. He didn't even give two shits about the fact he couldn't bring out the power reliably on his own.
Because Joshua Renalia would rather thrust the sword in his own throat than let someone else suffer again from his own incompetence, not when he still could've done something. NEVER F*CKING AGAIN!
Targeting the city guard's rump, the adolescent pushed himself harder. Forced himself to move faster.
Left.
Right.
Left. Right.
Left-right-left-right-left-right.
He counted down, one step at a time, both hands clenching the mole's weapon tightly, like a bastard sword.
Two of the life signatures circling them above made their move. One of them—one of the dragons swooped down from the sky. Joshua's sixth sense prickled from whatever Element sheathed the claws and the bladed tips of the wings. Rimeer's accomplice roared defiantly, aspiring to take down the human and dismember him in one move.
Joshua Renalia twisted moments before the attack landed. The momentum of his charge and the sheer weight of the sword forced him to gyrate heavily, much more than he intended… and inadvertently swing the sword at the dragon. Human ears heard the blade penetrate the skin, slicing cleanly through juvenile dragon scales. He heard it release a guttural cry and a pair of viridian eyes glimpsed the bleeding wound, running along its left flank—
A feminine screech pushed his focus on an Earth dragoness freefalling towards him, her wings taut around her body. Her muzzle was agape, the green hue of her Element bright and distracting. Joshua Renalia grimaced. His attention flickered to Rimeer's and Cynder's spheres. He couldn't fall now. No. Not now. He had to—he needed to save the Heroine from this unjust, unfair execution.
The teenager stopped and moved the sword upward in an attempt to cut the dragoness open the second she passed right above him. A gamer's mind insisted he made the right decision. Dante Sparda manipulated his sword like a master swordsman, dancing in the battlefield and easily, easily attacking one side and the other in split-seconds. Bruce Wayne and Ezio Auditore could literally counter and takedown any and all their enemies, even if the attacks came from behind.
Yet the fact Joshua possessed a gamer's mind bore no difference at all when he had a gamer's body as well.
He was unconditioned.
He was out of shape.
And he lacked stamina as much as he lacked strength.
Years of a sedentary lifestyle had cursed the human with this body. Several days of trekking in the fringes of the Apes' territory and the treacherous Dry Canyon did nothing for him except improve his endurance and the amount of time he could spend carrying a dragon-child with the weight of a Labrador.
Joshua looked absolutely pathetic, struggling to raise a weapon he could barely carry in both hands at once. The dragoness might have successfully killed him on the spot, if she didn't choose to abort her assault after watching Joshua stop and whip out the weapon. If her eyes failed to zoom in on the faint, white hue enveloping the sharpened edge.
The inexperienced human, ignorant and unperceptive, neglected this little detail and chose this opportunity not to assess what happened, not to even glance at his scavenged sword, but to persist—to continue his ignoble attack from behind.
"Stop it." Joshua was upon the Ice Dragon. "Cynder doesn't deserve this!" Propelled by the lingering momentum, the young man raised the weapon—raised the blade until it pointed skyward. "I said stop it!" Joshua Renalia bellowed—vented all his doubts, all his confidence and desire in a battle cry he would've never expected from his own mouth split seconds before he arced the weapon down, letting gravity assist his work.
Every desire to spare Cynder from suffering a humiliating and painful death plunged down with the weapon. Joshua's ardent outrage at Rimeer and the bitterness of his past failure and self-loathing accompanied his intent to slice the adult dragon open with a single, felling strike.
Joshua Renalia put a hundred and ten percent of his effort—his focus—his heartfelt emotions into bringing down this abominable travesty of a guard. He envisioned Rimeer's fall. He imagined the blood spurting out of his flank, even the guts that would undoubtedly fall out of the wound.
And despite all these, Joshua Renalia still missed.
"F*ck…"
All of Joshua's hopes, all of his vigor, all of his anticipation at seeing the extemporized strategy he came up with on the spot bear fruit died the second his would-be victim jerked out of the way at the last possible second.
"…my…"
The adolescent's mind took a long time—a very long time to process the fact his eleventh-hour assault just struck air, swinging far from Rimeer's cerulean scales.
"…life."
He was still registering this great misfortune when the adult batted the sword out of Joshua's hands. The city guard ripped the weapon away violently; its coarse hilt scraped the skin right off his fingers. Stings of pain flared from the raw, bleeding flesh of both purlicues, yet God had given Joshua only a couple seconds to realize how much he failed until the Ice Dragon's tail—a thick, corpulent, and undeniably strong tail—rammed Joshua's side.
Ribs fractured, splintered from the attack. Joshua blinked away the tears and squealed, suppressing every urge to cry out in agony. He hissed instead, and hollered one volley of curses after another in his head. Goddammit all! Even after all he's been through, he still couldn't do things right! Christ, was his best not enough? Was he truly this inept, so hopeless he couldn't save his own heroes?
God, just why was he here? Why—
"You shan't deny my revenge, monkey!" Rimeer thundered. The adult brought one of his paws to Joshua's chest, pounding it once—subjecting it to the force of multiple sledgehammers before pinning the human in place. More of his ribs cracked, and the boy convulsed from a sharp pain near his heart. Blood spluttered out his mouth in a cough. It stopped for a split-second, ramifying into a paralyzing nausea. Completely enfeebled, Joshua almost didn't hear Rimeer utter, "And I won't take chances with you again."
As he recovered, Joshua stared at Rimeer in horror. Emerald eyes dilated at the sight of his massive maw engulfing his right arm, from the upper arm down. The human felt sick at the disgusting sliminess of Rimeer's saliva. It was worse than Kilat's brand of "bathing", for sure! With a grimace, Joshua began to pull it out—
Only for the adult dragon to suck it right back in. Rimeer shut his mouth right on top of the limb and—Oh God.
Joshua let out a perturbed gasp, feeling the city guard's jagged teeth poking the bare skin. "F*CK!" He tugged. "I-I, I'm not lo—I'm not losing a goddamn limb!" He heaved, strained to yank his right arm—his main arm out of the firm muzzle. Mother of God, he was right-handed! If he lost it to this opportunistic asshole, he would be so damn f*cked for the rest of his life in this twisted screw-up of a video game world.
"Goddammit!" he growled. Joshua flexed his spine—rotated his hips and jerked. Shit, that did nothing! He tried again. "God, f*cking, dammit!" And again.
And agai—
Teeth broke skin, and gnashed upon their descent. Muscles were ripped apart. Nerves, torn right through.
Joshua Renalia moaned. A long, painful cry, appended by distraught sobbing. Blood gushed out of the wounded arteries. The human felt Rimeer's fangs touch his bone, touch the three major nerves running along it. Neuroelectricity hammered him into a whirling pandemonium of agony, completely destroying his ability to think. Yet, in his hysteria, he realized the Ice Dragon was moments away from crunching down, from truly severing his right arm.
"ARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!" Joshua shrieked as loudly as Cynder screamed moments earlier and, moving from sheer reflex alone, punched Rimeer's rugged snout. His left fist bounced right off the rough scales, and the teenager flinched. His skin was too soft, too fragile to even endure one solid blow to the muzzle. Had Joshua directed his blow to a concrete slab topped with broken glass, the effect wouldn't have been any different.
Joshua's Element failed to react, even to his distress—even to his frenzied instincts aimed at wrenching his arm free at all costs as soon as possible. He panicked more in reaction; he squirmed harder when he saw the blood—his blood—flood the dragon's maw and stain the grass beneath it. Jesus-Mary-Joseph! Why wasn't his power working? Where were those white clouds? Where were the beams of death? Weren't they supposed to come to his aid, like what happened with Infernus? Wasn't this a Deus Ex Machina set to activate every time someone jeopardized his li—
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.
A stark understanding struck him, its timing merciless.
The imminent loss of his life was a far cry from the imminent loss of a limb. Adrenaline and terror kept Joshua grounded on the present. Focused on the things happening right in front of him, rather than the outcome he desired above all.
Joshua Renalia could never tap the only gift God graced him with in this forsaken trip to the Dragon Realms.
Not like this.
Yet he refused to give up. He refused to yield his arm to the bastard chewing down on it. With his right arm fully pinned between Rimeer's jaws, he clenched his other hand into a hammer fist and socked the Ice Dragon's large nose multiple times in rapid succession. Tears cascaded his eyes as the skin split open and compounded the stress he struggled to endure.
A snarl interrupted him. The city guard grated his teeth across the gamer's sensitive nerves. Joshua gasped as the world blurred and lightning shot up his arm. His shoulders. His entire body. Then with a loud, bellowing grunt, Rimeer twisted his heavy, muscular neck and—
The single pulse of life beneath Rimeer exploded.
Scarlet light illuminated the cerulean dragon from below. Then Cynder yelled.
A concussive blast lifted Rimeer up. The air beneath him moved with the force of a hurricane, toppling the adult, upending the adult dragon before he could dismember the teenage gamer. Joshua heaved a sigh of relief, feeling the cool breeze lapping at his moist arm.
The Savior's life signature still gyrated at a snail's pace, sluggish. No less close to death than Cynder had been under the Manipulative Bastard's paw. Even so, it quaked. It shuddered intensely. It told Joshua of all the Elements at her disposal, and Cynder deployed all of them with all her wrath and indignation.
A foot away from his reach, a crystal winked at him. The Dragon Realms' sun brought out its crimson sparkles, which contrasted the faded gray of what was once the green Spirit Gem next to it. Realizing his opportunity, Joshua Renalia lunged. He wrapped his hands around the blessing of the Ancestors and snapped the brittle thing off its base. Its healing energies coursed throughout his body, repairing what it could.
And because he had abused this wonderful boon to the Dragons far too many times in this short but chaotic encounter with Warfang's people, it didn't do much. Fractured ribs moved on their own accord, reconnecting and slightly mending the damage. Blood ceased flowing out his arm, yet the punctures remained. The primary nerves running across his arm fired painful, agonizing bolts of electricity as the Spirit Gem did its work.
Joshua's world floundered. His consciousness fluttered in and out, but nonetheless he managed to witness the black, slender dragoness somersault in the air. Gusts of wind surged around the Savior's body, propelling her, supporting her. With his own viridian eyes, Joshua watched Cynder gracefully run the blade of her tail clean across the asshole's throat, slicing right past the blue, hardened scales.
Rimeer the Ice Dragon collapsed. His forepaws clutched helplessly at his neck, desperate to staunch the steady gush of scarlet blood. His sphere of life, which once swirled and trembled from auburn rage, azure contentment, and gilt purpose, quickly dulled into an unmoving, insensate gray.
Joshua put his hands on the ground and pushed, gradually rising to his feet. Standing upright hurt. His chest ached. His right arm shook. The hand Spyro himself crushed earlier still twitched from phantom pain. Joshua's body jittered. A Spirit Gem, or even his apparent ability to drain life, would never be a proper substitute for delicious meals and well-deserved R&R.
A soft whump on the ground drew his gaze to the black dragoness, hunched over Rimeer's blood-drenched corpse. Cynder's sphere of life spun sluggishly, her physical form wilted and drooping. Ichor dripped from her broken face and Joshua found her deformed muzzle ghastly. Too fugly to even gawk at. Unaware of his gaze, she forced herself to her feet. She swayed, but in spite of her wobbling Spyro's mate still projected a powerful and resilient presence.
She had to.
Because Rimeer's untimely death agitated the handful of dragons circling the skies. Having experienced speciesism firsthand, not to mention the reactions of surpassing each and every expectation lumped on his person, Joshua Renalia did not need to focus on their pulses of life to recognize astonishment and the subsequent rage or dread that followed it.
"She, s-s-she killed Rimeer!"
"Damn her! Damn the Terror of the Skies!"
"Let's kill her!"
"Yeah!"
"Great Ancestors, fasten your wings! What if she's—
"Don't you understand? She's weak. Get her while we still have the chance!"
A few dragons plummeted from the sky, their own spheres betraying their intention to exact vengeance at a most enticing opportunity. Cynder tensed. Her paws tightened, wings going rigid. Joshua's augmented hearing even brought her frail but vicious growls to his ears.
The teenager didn't want this insanity to go on any longer. Kilat was probably hurt and barely awake. Spyro needed medical help, and a great many had already died. It didn't help that so many disliked—detested Cynder enough to actually disregard the Purple Dragon's needs.
How could hate, no, how could the desire for revenge be so damn strong?
He had to stop them.
He had to stop them now.
He also had to dissuade them from going on the offense. Neutralize any method of attack they mustered, and from any direction.
Like a coat.
A 360° shroud of protection.
Joshua Renalia vaguely remembered managing something like that under the influence of Cynder's Fear Breath. As he sprinted towards the black dragoness, he envisioned the ashen clouds materializing around them both. He concentrated on the image of an impenetrable shawl, impossible to break through or disperse, absorbing any elemental assault and harming every enemy who dared to brave the twizzling haze.
Cynder's trepidation grabbed hold of Joshua the moment he expanded his consciousness and draped it over Spyro's beloved. His legs shuddered, reeling from her intolerable weakness. She was on the verge of falling over, and it took substantial mental grit to remind himself that he did not inhabit her body. That he still stood. That he could still run. That every bone on his face were still whole, unbroken, and definitely not throbbing in pain.
"Enough!" he shouted at them. Joshua poured all of his concentration on stopping this, on deterring the vengeful dragons from following through on God knew what. After everything that's happened today, he concluded his power partly operated on intent.
On willful, deliberate thought.
Joshua ground to a halt between Cynder and the three dragons, arms spread as wide as humanly possible. "Enough, damn it! For the love of God, no more fighting!" And for once, the young man's conscious and measured decision entified the White Cloak around him and the dragoness. An amazing feat, given how little he knew of his own Element. It would take weeks of effort and frustration before Joshua could pull off something like this on his own again.
Cynder froze, finding herself in the midst of the dense haze that instantly turned anything alive into rotting cadavers. Joshua sensed her life signature contract from anxiety and dread, but he paid her no attention, instead directing his outrage at the three above them. All have stopped at the sudden materialization of Joshua's Element.
He did not know if they could see him and the Savior underneath this misty shroud, or if Cynder could see anything beyond its borders, but for Joshua, sight and hearing were irrelevant. He only needed his voice. "You're all a bunch of f*cking assholes! Did you forget Cynder worked with the Purple Dragon to f*cking save your asses?
"I don't care if she killed thousands, if she orphaned hundreds, or if she f*cking messed up the entire world! Those goddamned Apes raised her, forced her to work for Malefor. Cynder had completely no control over her damn life for twelve years. Twelve years, you ungrateful dragon shits. TWELVE, F*CKING, YEARS! Jesus-Mary-Joseph, she deserves a good life as much as she deserves to be with Spyro."
Tears came out of his eyes. Joshua wiped his face, despite knowing nobody could see them behind the White Cloak. "And this!" He gestured at the entire scene outside the city's eastern gates. "You all think this is my fault? That, t-that I actually wanted to see these people dead? I, I have next to no control over my own power! I didn't even know I could do all that!" He took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry they died, okay? Jesus f*cking Christ, I'm really—I'm truly sorry they all died, but you f*cking did this to yourselves. Hell, you all attacked me FIRST!"
Emerald eyes stared upwards, in the general direction of the life signatures flying—hovering above them. The gamer couldn't figure out if they heard him or not. But he didn't care. He didn't give a damn. He only wanted to vent. "Just let it end," he begged them. "Drop this. Let it end, please."
Time stretched for God knew how long. Joshua Renalia felt like he had been sucked into a horrible Inaction Sequence, waiting for that one pivotal moment. Every second ticked alongside the drumming of his heart, and the apprehension gripping him strengthened in each beat. The White Cloak churned slowly around them, and Joshua exerted as much control—as much willpower as he could, keeping it from dispersing into the air and leaving them both vulnerable to the others' retaliation.
Cynder, on the other hand, did nothing. She neither spoke nor gasped, for she was whipping her head back and forth instead. Teal eyes darted around and across this sallow realm, her sphere of life staunch and steadfast. But Joshua sensed the ripples garbling her pulse's smooth surface, the confusion she tried to hide through the illusion of strength.
The adolescent shoved his awareness—his ego boundaries past the White Cloak. He reached for the last few dragons above them, studied their spheres of life. All had gone blue from uncertainty, stunned by the sudden appearance of Joshua's power. They all shrunk and contracted, perhaps truly discouraged from pursuing the attack and dooming themselves to the very end that took Infernape and scores of guards and some civilians into whatever passed for afterlife in the Dragon Realms.
Then, after several, painstakingly long minutes, they left.
Every single pulse of life beyond the protection of the White Cloak abandoned the battlefield, leaving behind bodies of comrades and beloved civilians alike.
They did not even bother picking up Kilat or Spyro, taking only with them stories of a furless ape, a fearsome power that sent the Purple Dragon of Legend and his mate to a state of near-death, and the massacre he orchestrated just outside Warfang's Eastern Gate.
Author's Notes:
All right! That shaved off a good 5.5K from my current draft. Wonderful!
We are now approaching the end of the story arc. Once I put up the next two chapters, this stupid story arc should be finally over.
Ahhh, just little more, TSI. You're almost there…
Okay! Some replies to my readers. I can't respond to everyone because I don't want this to be too long, but I'd like to thank you all for your reviews, comments, and support. Criticism and encouragement are both highly and equally welcome, and I hope to live up to your expectations or even inspire you to write. I look forward to any feedback you can give me for my work this chapter. Thanks again! It's because of you all that I'm starting to shower Aimless with some love. :D
Soooo here goes:
Djax80, you got your wish. Cynder is now deformed… for the time being.
Kingveemon, Well, Chris is much different from Joshua. Christopher Van Numen has perfect knowledge and mastery over his powers, keeps said powers close to his chest and reveals very little at a time, has ulterior motives in many of the things he does, and is sociopathic enough to do what he needs to do. A perfect spice to add to a long and complex epic. Joshua? Meh. He's just an immature, naive kid who's in over his head. Chris wouldn't be impressed with him. He'd have far less patience for Joshua than he did with Veemon.
Eris Clio, thank you! I hope you did continue reading the story after your review. I would like to know what you think of the direction Aimless took after the 5th chapter. Yeah, I understand that putting my own characters in a fanfic is a great risk. That's what happened with my main story, honestly. Of course, the major differences between this and The Interloper are that Aimless is shorter, is less complex, exploits the fact the "human fics" are unusually common in this fandom, and will later on spread its focus on the world that's slowly being built here. Thankfully, that worked. :)
Draykat, thanks for that and also, thank you for the comment on my writing. Immersion is always something I strive for, whether the chapters are long or short. (Though it means I can't really write pure comedy LOL)
Lastly, Mikey Kudo. Sorry, dude, but as I replied to you in my PM, I cannot accept any of those OCs. They are way too omnipotent / god-tier to make a good story with, not with what I have on the table. Their names don't exactly jive with the Legendverse, either. Not to mention many of them have Elements that won't exist in Aimless canon, let alone actual canon. However, I can accept some of your OCs for worldbuilding. For Dragonkind's Mythology. After all, with all the "Ancestors" crap the Dragons tote around, it makes you wonder who among the Ancestors are most prominent, what they have accomplished, and whether they are worthy of being named by dragons who are aware of their cultural / religious heritage (such as the Guardians, specifically Cyril. Why wouldn't he? He has the perfect opportunity to color young immigrants' minds with lies, embellishments, and half-truths lol). We can privately discuss some of the particulars at a later time if you're interested.
04/29/2019 Update: Fixed Author's Notes. Removed most spoilers/hints.