CHAPTER 504

WILL OF THE SPEAR

Ion muffled a cry, ducking so quickly he snapped one of his knees, stirring dirt beneath his feet. A curtain of darkness folded above him, passing like a storm, as he slid onward, grinding the spear he held tightly against the ravaged ground. Snapping it twice over, he used the burst of energy to lift himself up and turn, spinning a full circle before thrusting the spear in a downward angle, toward the ground, with all the force he’d managed to accumulate.

The thrust splintered the spacetime around the spear, ripping through it and striking at Erebus who stepped back into the shadows, vanishing. The shadows arose violently from the earth like a man-sized grass, looming in concentric circles at whose heart Ion fell. He shoved the shaft of the spear under his armpit, grabbing at it with his hand and spinning a full circle again, stirring the winds and the earth in a single bout. Earthly pillars shot out of the ground, cleaved cleanly in half and sent flying like the burning boulders across the sky.

He gasped, stumbling for a moment, setting the spear against the ground and holding onto it. Glancing to the side, he saw the slither of shadows shaped like a soul-devouring blade trace toward his throat; his focus sharpened, eyes billowing jets of transparent smoke, as he gripped the shaft tightly, rounding it back over his shoulder and swiping in a crescent, downward motion, swatting away the incoming attack. His legs alight, he bolted toward the source of the blade, cutting through the all-encompassing darkness, and reaching the black-clad figure in it.

Just as his thrust was about to pierce Erebus' shoulder, his spear seemed to crackle and crack, like the glassed bowl thrown against the wall. Startled, he pulled back, realizing it was still whole, unharmed; however, the crackling continued, like the booming calls of thunder. He felt as though he was standing in the high-skies during the monumental storm, surrounded by nature's carnage, yet not seeing any of it.

He pulled back instinctively, ramming his spear repeatedly at odd angles around him; his eyes couldn’t see that creature of nihility, the creature beyond compare. The crackling continued, consuming his world; he could nary hear the sounds of the distant battles, the cries of friends and foes alike, or the deafening blasts of world-consuming arts.

Focusing all his senses on the source of the crackling, he was still unable to pinpoint it, forcing him to enter a defensive stance; he stepped into it, focusing Qi into his senses, lifting the spear perpendicularly to his body.

A lighting-quick thrust to the left followed, his eyes shimmering as the tip of the spear pierced through the membrane of reality. What followed was a monumental cry of pain and the succeeding roar of anger. Darkness descended en-mass, like the toppling of the day by the starless, moonless night. All his senses closed, his body feeling strangely disoriented. However, he still held onto the spear, held onto the feeling of piercing someone's flesh; entering the push-and-pull game, he overcame the opposition, in the end, dragging the humanoid creature from the eerie nothingness.

It hardly registered with him that she looked like a young girl, as he immediately curled his fingers into a fist, blasting away at her face. Blood sprayed out in droves as he felt a painful stab into the back of his spine; grunting and gritting his teeth, he used his free hand to reach toward the waist-strapped belt and take out a dagger, shoving it back. He, once again, cut through the flesh, reaching the bone itself.

The pressure, however, didn’t vanish; if anything, he could feel the blade of darkness crawling deeper into him, sizzling through the Qi-reinforced bones.

“Oh, fuck of!!!” he roared at the top of his lungs, bending sideways and snapping the blade -- part of it gushed out, alongside his blood, while the other part remained lodged in his spine. The pain, he felt, was beyond the capacity of explanation; it felt as though each one of his nerves was on fire, as though each of his bones was being ground by a massive hammer, as though each one of his muscles was being ripped apart with bare hands at the same time.

Yet, he endured; like a creature pushed into a corner, drove to the serenity of madness, he gritted his teeth, blood spraying out of his gums, and drove closer to the creature of nihility. He grabbed her by the throat and pulled her toward him, gripping it with as much force as he could muster. He wouldn’t let her crawl back into the nothingness. He couldn’t.

“NO!!!!” a hurried, panicked cry came from behind him as his grip tightened further alongside the spear he dug out of her flesh and pointed at in-between her eyes. The horror and fear in them, in the lucidly black swirls of elementary nothing, didn’t give him a pause; he’d long since forgotten to care for the terrified faces of those he killed, be they seasoned veterans or boys and girls sent to the war for the first time.

He shoved the spear right through her skull, in-between her eyes, driving the entire tip through till it burst on the other side. A cry was stifled quickly, the ends of her body spasming madly for but a second before they turned dull and dumb. He still held tightly on the throat he could curl his fingers around easily, gasping for breath, as he watched the world around him rapture -- nothing became everything, and everything became nothing.

Bends and clauses of reality flipped unto themselves, the darkness turning to the ever-consuming light, the tangible Qi vanishing and reappearing millions of times within the span of a single breath. The earth beneath his feet crumbled as he began to fall into an abyss, only to splash into a massive body of black water which, in turn, swallowed him like a tunnel, belting him out into a blood-dyed skyline. He began falling through the sky, the sensation of grating wind irritating his wounds.

He crashed into a sword-shaped mountain, yet it was hardly a crash. Rather, he molded into it, like a finger stuck into jelly, swallowed whole and spat back out into the realm of darkness. The journey was short-lived, barely a few seconds, yet it shook him down to his core. It was only then that he realized he’d killed the Bearer of Nihility. He felled one of the most enigmatic figures to have ever lived.

“DAMN YOU TO HELL!!!” his mind was called back to reality by a roar and the startling sensation of bone-breaking pain. A series of bladed-lights pierced through him, cleaving open one wound after another as he fell forward, the body he was tightly holding onto turning into ash.

He fell and stumbled, rolling over the crescendo of thrusting sounds; he felt too weak to even turn back and look into the eye of darkness. He was drained, like a starving man looking at the table full of exotic foods, yet forever unable to reach it. Yet, he smiled. He hated smiling; he hated feeling the content of joy, as it reminded him of the time of complacency, when he was too weak to protect those he loved. Now, however, he was no longer that man; he turned into someone who can lead others, who can fight for others, and who can protect others. He became what he looked up to his entire adult life -- a guardian, someone who can shoulder the death itself for others.

“DAMN YOU!!” the cries grew woeful as he felt his body spin by the strength of a vicious grip that left his ribs bruised. The man loomed over him, darkened shadows folding over the edges of his body. His face was distorted, a cross between anger and pain, eyes bloodshot-red, tears cradling his sunken cheeks. “WHY?!! WHY?!!”

"..." Ion didn't reply; rather, he couldn't. He felt as though there was a river of blood stuck in his throat, but even if he could, he wouldn't. He'd asked the 'why' portion of the acceptance plenty times before in his life. No answer will ever sate the bone-deep hunger. No reason, ever, will feel justified. He loved her, Ion realized; cleanly, purely, drowned in the affection. But, Ion himself had loved plenty who died. As had thousands and millions of others, and perhaps billions through the eons of time. Love is forever finite, Ion had come to realize; it comes and comes, healing the hundred-times broken heart, all the same, giving it new life.

"... why... why..." Erebus' weeps became low and somber, his energy depleting like a deflating balloon. His hand slowly inched closer to Ion's throat, the hand draped wholly in a thick masquerade of shadows.

Ion could feel death looming; for a trifling moment, a surge of regrets billowed into his heart. He had nothing leaving behind him; no family, no proper legacy. Just a single story of him swallowed in the curtain of darkness, and when the latter pulled back, laying there in the cold, dead. Yet, the regrets vanished quickly. He didn't care for the glory or the legacy of his name, but the imminent moments of life. For the struggles to overcome, to overwhelm. He may not ink his name into the writs of history, but he has inked it into the hearts of countless people. In them, he will live on, like a legend.

He felt the hard, trembling grip tighten around his neck as Erebus finally met his gaze squarely. The pain vanished in lieu of anger, the thirst for vengeance; Ion remembered, he was just the same. It was far easier to give in to the blood-boiling anger, to blame, to project, than it was to accept. It temporarily patches the breaking mind, gives it a faint glimmer of purpose; however, as with all things of people, it was temporary. The pain would return, like the surging waves washing over the blackened shores of the cracking mind.

Closing his eyes, Ion accepted it, welcoming the Bearer’s fury. He paid his dues, lived a full life, however short it may have been. He did something.

“DON’T YOU DARE!!!” a melodic voice broke out all of a sudden, burning through the membrane of the curtailing darkness that surrounded the two. It was terribly familiar, yet beyond distant; he’d heard Alison speak many times before, yet never with such fervor and anger. It was different, startling.

His eyes jolted open just in time to watch as the brilliant, resplendent, warm light burned through the surrounding realm of darkness, burned like the fire burns through the piece of parchment. It washed over the reality like the rolling thunder, blowing back the entire curtain in one, fell swoop. The light embraced him, as though it was a mother protecting her child; it filled every inch of him, unfolding a rebirth of his mind, body, and will.

The light was unstoppable; it backed against Erebus and sent the man flying, forcing him to unfurl his fingers from Ion’s neck, blowing him back like a broken kite through the sky. The night turned into the most beautiful, the most brilliant day Ion had ever seen. Cloudless. Warm. Ever-embracing. It gave him strength the likes of which he never experienced, the feeling that he cannot be killed. That he was eternal, just like the cosmic void. It healed him, strengthened him, grew him anew. He underwent such a startling metamorphosis that, for a moment, he believed this was all a fabrication of his splintered mind; that, in some deep ends, he was unwilling to accept death, and thus came up with such a fanatical story to excuse himself from it.

However, it was real. All of it was real. The men and women surging toward him in a circle with panicked yet relieved expressions. The folding and kneeling enemy lines that seemed to have met their God in person. The stuffed silence where the onslaught of war should be. It was all... real.