Chapter 32

When the Skies Weep (III)

Cain glanced hollowly at the horrified Jamal before spinning forward and walking toward the creature. His face remained expressionless, the look in his eyes dulling with each passing moment. It was therapeutic -- always has been -- conditioning his mind not to process any of it. He ignored the unmoving body to the side and slowly charged the remnants of his Mana into his barely-functioning left arm, walking up to the creature and swinging his arm in a downward arc, slashing out with a blade of fire that splintered into six bolts, each piercing one of the creature's six eyes, boring deeply into them.

The creature screeched and thrashed for a moment before coming to a stop, by which point Cain had already spun around and was nearing Jamal.

“Get up,” Cain spoke in a low tone, drawing the man’s eyes away from the dead boy. “You’ll need to carry him.”

“--w-what?” Jamal mumbled, nearly dropping back down in shock. “N-no, no way man! I--I can’t do that...”

“Do you want me to?" Cain frowned, pointing with his eyes at his broken arms, eye, and the bleeding forehead.

“N-no! But...”

“Fine,” Cain sighed, slowly walking past Jamal. “Let’s go. I’ll get healed first.”

Jamal glanced at the corpse and followed silently after Cain. The man was different, he realized; there was no sign of the joking, odd, somewhat extravagant personality that had slowly crept into their hearts. Instead, the man in front of him appeared cold, detached, unmoving.

By the time he and Cain rejoined the rest of the party, most were sitting, trying to catch their breaths, while Diya and Lamia were bottoming out their Mana pools repeatedly to heal them.

“Heal me next,” Cain’s voice dragged the numerous pairs eyes onto him, causing them to immediately sink in horror at the sight of his utterly broken body. Emma shot to her feet and ran over, her face turning snow-pale.

“W-what... are... oh my God! Are... are you okay?!” her arms reached out, yet she didn’t dare touch him, quickly pulling back instead as she continued to stare at the bones sticking out of his arms that were bent in ways unholy, and the dug-out eye.

“I’m fine,” Cain replied casually. “What about the rest of you?”

“We... we are fi--the hell you are fine!!” she exclaimed. “Fuckin’ Christ, you look like a fucking corpse!”

“...” just then, a wave of golden light washed over Cain -- but it barely even closed up the bleeding wounds, let alone restored the rest of him. “Don’t rush it. Recover until you can use Soul Recovery and Rebirth at the same time. Otherwise, you’ll just be patching me up pointlessly.”

“A-ah, yes...” Diya mumbled absentmindedly, too wrapped in the man’s nonchalant approach to the fact that he appeared to be on the fringe of dying.

"..." everyone fell silent temporarily, similarly caught off-guard at Cain's approach. However, to him, this was little worse-for-wear -- he'd long since lost the count of just how many times had he not only broken his arms and legs but had them cut off clean. Once, all that remained of him was half his torso and the head, and he managed to recover even from that.

While the pain was still there... it was numb. Similar to the annoying headache that is there, but isn’t painful enough to warrant a pill. Perhaps, to others, the sight of him might look to be straight out of a horror movie, but soon enough they’ll come to realize this would be the reality almost every time they ventured into the Tower.

This is beyond fucking bizarre, though, he pondered inwardly as everyone waited in heavy silence for Diya to restore her Mana. There's no way anyone could have cleared this place last time around... probably not even a whole year into this mess. Maybe... they didn't really lie and did only find the Molten Cove when this place was discovered. Either a random party or just one unlucky person likely stumbled into this hell on accident... and after failing it, this whole place disappeared.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. This was not the sort of a dungeon or a stage that ought to be on the first floor. In many ways, this place was even more difficult than the floor boss. At the very least, with the latter, they could bring however many people they wanted, and it was possible to just dip out and escape if things were going badly. What shit-rotten luck, he growled inwardly, gnashing his teeth invisibly. This will break most of them... fuck...

Taking a deep breath, he let go of the heavy mountain sitting on top of his shoulders. Diya seemed to recover just enough Mana as a shower of golden light cradled Cain in a bout of inexplicable warmth that dug deep into his soul. One by one, his wounds began to close up, and his bones began to mend and retreat back into their place. Though it was slightly painful, it was more so the sight and the sound of it -- which impacted others far more than him -- that made the whole process eerie.

Within a few seconds, he was back to normal -- as though hardly anything strange happened to him. Four? Eh, could have been worse... in cases like these, when the wounds would unanimously signal death were it not for the increased physicality of the stats, even after being healed, there are consequences -- in most cases, it’s dropped Vitality. While on occasion it wasn’t anything terrible, there were countless examples in his previous life of people abusing the fact that all wounds could be healed until their Vitality dropped to the point they didn’t even dare walk back into the Tower.

“Right,” Rick suddenly spoke out, a frown etched on his face. “Where’s Justin?” Jamal’s expression immediately dropped as he inadvertently glanced back.

“He’s dead,” Cain said, stretching out his arms as his bones began to crack. “Rest for ten minutes. We move out after.”

“--d-dead?! He’s... he’s dead too?!” Rick exclaimed in shock, everyone’s expressions immediately darkening.

Cain didn’t reply, instead turning around and walking over toward the unmoving body in the distance. Emma shot to her feet and followed after him, a mixture of pain, fear, and nervousness on her face. The two walked in silence, reaching the corpse within less than a minute.

Emma but glanced at the boy before being unable to handle it, turning around and tossing her innards out. Cain sighed lowly and crouched, moving the still-wet-from-blood hair from the boy’s face. Beneath, an expression of horror awaited, one frozen in time, eyes widened until they nearly popped out.

He let go of a rancid breath and swung his arm underneath the body, vaulting it up over his shoulder. It was as heavy as lead and nearly toppled Cain to the side. No matter how light people were when alive, he'd come to learn... in death, they all were as heavy as mountains of iron. He walked further and crouched to pick up the arm, stuffing it into his inventory for a moment.

He turned around and saw Emma standing there, tears streaming down her face, unable to tear her gaze away from the boy flung over his shoulders. Her lips trembled as though frosted, on the cusp of saying something, yet remaining silent.

"Let's go back," he said softly, yet with detached coldness still present in his voice.

“...” Emma dropped her head and follow in silence, appearing more and more like an unthinking corpse.

By the time they returned, everyone was on their feet, in a circle, Decker’s body lying underneath an already-bloodied blanket in front of them, their eyes perched on Justin’s body. Cain leveled their gazes for a moment and sighed, dropping the boy down and pushing him underneath the blanket.

The notifications signaling their success had long since begun to ring out, yet nobody -- not even Cain -- paid heed to them. They all found themselves wrapped inside the macabre reality that caught up to them. Though they knew people did die in here, it was always somewhere in the distance, in the back of their minds.

It was a wake-up call -- a harsh, cold, uncaring one that had them all stunned into silence.

Cain swept his eyes over their expressions, prompting yet another sigh. He'd been there -- everyone had been there or will be there. Anyone who wanted to climb the Tower, that is. And today... today was just the beginning.

“Sift through your rewards,” he reminded them. “And equip what you need. We’ll move out soon.”

“... come on, man,” Jamal said. “Give us... give us a minute.”

“What will that minute change?” Cain asked. He wanted to give them all the time in the world -- but it was dangerous. Even ten minutes is long enough to get them wrapped up in the dismal thoughts that could freeze them. No, it was definitely long enough. “We can’t waste time.”

“C’,” Emma said. “Don’t be a dick.”

"I'm not." Cain said, meeting her gaze squarely, not backing down. "I've told you, numerous times, that death here is a reality. It hurts, I know. It's terrifying. It makes you want to curl up and hide in the shadows. And, for all I care, you can do all that and even more -- once we're out of this place. Until then, we fight just as we fought until now."

“Just because you can deal with it doesn’t mean the rest of us can,” Rick joined in. “We need it, Cain.”

“He’s right, C’,” Emma echoed the sentiment. “Just an hour -- the same as before.”

“...” Cain stared at them emptily for a moment, knowing it was impossible. Their adrenaline was still somewhat churning -- if he allowed it to completely burn out, hey may as well go on all by himself and clear this place as they'd just become hindrances. "In five minutes, I'll walk through that gate," he said, pointing at the fire-laden vortex behind them. "With or without you. If I fail in the next stage, you'll be kicked out and can go back home. If I succeed, you can join me."

“What are you doing, C’?” Emma asked, stepping out. “You must know that it’s not like we can just fucking ignore what happened!”

“I don’t know anything,” he said, taking out a bottle of water and drinking half of it in one go. “Except what I just said.”

“You’re being an asshole,” Lamia sprung out. “Two of our friends just died! Died! And you want us to just move on and pretend like nothing’s wrong?! Fuck you!”

“She’s right, man,” Jamal said. “Come on... just sit with us, a’right?”

“Cain... please...” Emma said, nearly begging.

“... you’re useless,” he said, sighing and shaking his head, putting the water bottle back into his inventory as he spun around and headed toward the vortex. “See ya’, then. Hopefully.”

“Stop right-the-fuck-there!!” Emma screamed at him angrily and rushed over, yanking him by the shoulder and pulling him back till her nearly fell over. “Stop being a fucking asshole, and shut up!! A kid fucking died, C’! A kid for Christ’s sake!! This... this fuckin’ act, or whatever the hell it is -- this isn’t you! It’s... it’s scaring me...” she lowered her voice, tears once again dripping down her reddened cheeks. “You’re scaring me, C’...”

“...” Cain’s heart thumped loudly for a moment before he forced it silent. He realized this was one of those moments that could set the eternal tone. He knew what the right decision was -- to fire them up in anger, to stoke it and maintain it for as long as possible, to ensure their minds didn’t have time to think about the fact that the two people they knew had just died. But... he couldn’t explain that to them. At that point, it would lose its purpose. “Let go, Em’,” he said, jerking his arm back. “You... of everyone here should know,” he added, leaning into her ear and whispering. “That I know what I’m doing.”

“... that’s what’s scary, C’,” she whispered back, biting her lower lip and wiping her eyes dry. “That this... is the ‘right’ thing to do. What if it wasn’t Justin, but it was me? Would you still walk away?”

“It will never be you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he said firmly. “It will never be you, Em’.”

“Stay with us,” she said, grabbing his hand and looking up, meeting his eyes with the faintest of smiles. “Whether it’s the ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ thing to do... it doesn’t matter. Just... stay with us, C’. With me. Hold my hand in silence, and be my anchor. Just for today.”

“...” he felt her warmth trickle through his skin, her words like needles injected directly into his heart. He caved in, relenting with a sigh. Aah... whatever, he shrugged. I’ll figure something out... I guess...

“Thank you,” she whispered as she noted the changes in his expression, suddenly leaning in and kissing him softly on the cheek, nudging her head against his right after. “Thank you...”

“... whatever it is, Em’,” he said, wrapping his arm around her trembling body. “You don’t need to thank me for anything. Anything. Let’s go back,” he added. “And endure an hour of everyone staring at me hatefully. Eh... might be a good distraction...”