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018 - A Tear for the Departed
🕑 Added 2024-12-28 23:30:04 +0000 UTCEthan's vision began to blur as his blood slowly fell from his various wounds, yet the pain in his arm was the only thing keeping him lucid. It was deep and sharp, but it came and went with each motion of the shadow boring into his skin.
He felt slender tendrils slowly rip his flesh apart, urging him to scream, yet he muffled it in the depths of his throat by biting on a wooden branch, almost snapping it in half. His eyes became bloodshot as he resolved himself.
He unsheathed his hidden knife. The metallic silver blade shone under the moonlight but was stained red as he shoved its point into the mass of shadow, carving it out of the wound.
The pain was atrocious, worse than he had ever felt before. He bordered on the cusp of unconsciousness several times, yet the adrenaline finally kicked in, numbing the pain somewhat. Still, this was far from enough to stop a cry of anguish to emerge from his mouth. Despite it all, he persevered, for he knew this was his only chance of survival.
The knife dug deep, carving away at the shadow. Each cut stripped a trace of its essence away, slowly dissipating into the night. Sensing its impending doom, the shadow fought back, wrapping its tendrils around the blade, seeking to stop its advance, yet Ethan was determined to end it.
He wasn’t thinking straight, lost to the madness of survival, yet the idea was sound. He only did what needed to be done, but time was short. He didn’t know when his opponent would strike once more.
Surprisingly, the mass of shadow remained immobile, almost as if its concentration was pooled onto the mass of tendrils. Still, there seemed to be a disconnect between its blackened exterior and the mass hidden between, as though their connection was unstable.
Yet, Ethan sensed none of it, too absorbed in his task. Soon, the black tendrils departed, leaving a large gash on the side of his arm. The knife fell to the soft ground as he began to pant, his mouth dry, exhaustion finally catching up to him. Still, his struggles weren't at an end just yet.
The limb dangled from his shoulder, blood dripping from the wound; the slightest motion caused him indescribable pain. However, the bleeding was much less than he anticipated, almost as though the shadow had cauterized it shut as it departed. He didn't understand the mechanisms behind such a phenomenon, yet he didn't have time to care.
Using his one remaining arm, he ripped a part of his robe into a long strip and made a makeshift bandage. He wrapped the open wound tightly, holding one side of it with his teeth, and pulled until tight enough that he felt the limb grow numb. However, such pressure only worsened the pain, but he only bit harder.
After this ordeal, he almost collapsed forward, holding himself up with his palm. His heart was pumping, yet he felt light-headed; he could barely think clearly anymore. He could only shake his head to clear his thoughts.
Hidden behind a tree, a bloody knife held between his teeth, Ethan glanced at the mass of shadow yet could only frown. It hadn't taken a single step toward his position. Was it waiting for him to come out? Ethan wasn't sure. He had never seen such a bizarre behaviour.
What is it waiting for? He could have killed me ten times over by now...
Ethan took this slight reprieve to take a deep breath, calming himself, yet even this simple act brought him great pain, but much less than he expected. His wounds were growing numb, and slowly, he wouldn't be able to feel his limbs. While this was by no means a good thing, Ethan couldn't help but be grateful for the pain slowly fading. As he didn't have to battle the pain, his thoughts became much clearer.
Time isn’t on my side. While the bleeding isn’t as bad as it was, it will kill me eventually. I need to end this now. I have only one shot at this.
Ethan had a plan—a desperate one. He couldn't help but laugh, as it seemed well-suited to his current predicament. He felt the soft breeze caress his skin and somehow felt at peace. He felt he would be able to accept any result, no matter what the ending was.
Ethan rummaged through the soft forest ground using his only good hand and found two small pebbles. He held them in the crux of his hand before closing it around them tightly. He also closed his eyes and emptied his mind.
He now stood where only darkness remained but the distant stars high above. There was no forest, soft breeze on his skin, nor pain assaulting his every nerve. He was calm and serene, standing straight in a void of his own making, with but a single symbol slowly appearing before him.
Lines of light sprouted from the darkness one by one, forming a complex and cryptic design. The process was long and arduous, yet Ethan persevered, ensuring the final product was flawless, the hidden meaning clear in his mind.
Soon, the lines began to dance; light filled the whole of this illusory space, pushing the darkness away. All that remained was the character bathed in light and the countless stars above.
Although his body slowly grew colder, Ethan felt a warmth course through it. While he hadn't felt it so strongly before, he knew what this sensation was: mana. Mana was slowly filling his body, giving power to the character in his mind.
Once the character was but a single stroke from perfection, Ethan rose to his feet. Somehow, the character was much more stable than his first attempt. Was this due to his heightened senses as he stood on the verge of death or simply from the experience he had already acquired? Ethan didn't know, and frankly, he didn't care. His mind was entirely focused on this task, ignoring all external factors. He only had victory in his mind, and now he could see the path to reach it.
The pain seemed to fade as his eyes narrowed, judging the distance from his opponent. He stormed out of his tree-shaped shelter and threw the two now-joined pebbles straight into the mass of shadow. However, just before they left his hand, Ethan purposefully cut the character in his mind in two, using the knife he always kept on his body as if an extension of his limbs.
The character split, becoming unstable. The world inside his mind began to shake as the character exploded, dispersing its light into all recesses of his psyche. It flooded this imaginary world, even blotting out the sea of stars shining overhead until all that remained was this piercing incandescent light.
Mid-flight, the two pebbles began to crack, light spilling out from within. Ethan pushed himself against the soft ground, leaving a deep footprint as he quickly followed after them, his knife firmly held within his only able hand.
Just as the pebbles were to reach the shadow, tendrils sprouted from the mass, enveloping them in their dark embrace, forming something like a cage just a metre away. The pebbles stopped within the encroaching shadows until they completely disappeared, yet Ethan's charge grew in intensity, blood lust spilling from his eyes.
A war cry arose from Ethan's throat, shattering the peaceful silence of the forest, only for many more tendrils to sprout from the blob, seeking to pierce right through him. However, just as they were about to collide, light began to pierce through the dark cage, destroying any shadows in its wake.
Ethan could see the impending explosion, yet his eyes were resolved; death was but an afterthought. He maintained his pace, holding his knife in a reverse grip as he ran with all the might he could muster. He only had a few meters to cross, yet it felt like an eternity.
Feeling the force of the explosion contained within, the tendrils aimed at Ethan suddenly changed direction, seeking to reinforce the cage as if by instinct. However, they hesitated slightly, almost as if distracted by Ethan's spilling killing intent.
As such, they arrived but a fraction too late. The light spilled from the cage, shattering it. Ethan felt the heat of the explosion on his skin, and the wind produced slowed his advance. The light was blinding yet ephemeral as more shadows pounced onto it, trying to resist its deathly existence. However, they were much too few to resist its spread.
Soon, the mass of the shadow disintegrated, leaving nothing behind but a mass of mana. Ethan’s eyes were narrowed, unable to distinguish anything but the shape that now stood before him.
With the shadow spirit gone, only its contractor remained, disoriented by the blast and the strain of his spirit's demise. Still, Ethan knew this alone wouldn't be enough to permanently obliterate this immaterial spirit. It would only seek shelter where its concept resided, where it could await its resurrection: the now-dim black earring dangling from the now-uncovered individual.
Ethan knew he hadn't a moment to waste. Despite his near-blindness, he leapt, knife high above his head, only to let it fall downward as he tackled his victim. They both fell to the muddy ground; Ethan's body pressed onto the man as he plunged his blade straight into his chest but missed his heart by a small margin. Nevertheless, the wound would be fatal. Ethan had won.
However, something was wrong.
The body beneath him was much too small.
After a few seconds, Ethan finally opened his eyes, only to dread what he saw. His blood lust faded almost immediately, replaced with disgust—not at his opponent but at himself—for the body beneath him wasn't that of a man—as his voice seemed to suggest—but of one much younger.
A child... How can this be?
Ethan recoiled, loosening his grip on his knife as nausea assaulted him. The knife remained firmly planted in the boy's chest, reaping his life by the second. Blood flowed profusely from the wound but also from the boy's mouth as he tried to speak, his eyes filled with fear and denial, but also regret. Various sounds escaped the boy's mouth, yet nothing decipherable, only the last, desperate struggles of a dying man.
Ethan watched in shock as the last sliver of life departed the small body lying on the forest floor. His end was not by any means quick and painless, but instead a long, slow agony as he drowned in his own blood, unable to even turn his head to the side to drain his mouth. His gaze remained fixed on Ethan, showering him with the last embers of his resentment.
Until his last moment, the boy neither cried nor begged, stoic to the very end. Very few could claim to such a dignified end, if not for the fact that his death was pointless—just another promising talent lost to an absurd reality.
He couldn’t have been more than fifteen, just a child. That explains his strange behaviour. He couldn’t even control his own spirit yet, Ethan thought, repressing the vomit threatening to rise from his stomach.
He felt pity—pity that such a young life had been thrown away—but also guilt that he had been the one to sever it. Although he rationalized that one of them had to die, if only for the other to survive, he hadn't been prepared to kill a child, and reality pressed hard on him.
His injuries were already brutal, and added to the consequences of this act, Ethan felt his mind on the verge of collapse. This was the first life he ever took, and it would be one he could never escape from.
He collapsed to his knees, feeling the weight of it all, standing over the lifeless corpse of a boy who once could have been him if his fate had been slightly different: a world that could have been. His mind was in shambles, barely able to accept what he had done. He felt many emotions welling up from the bottom of his heart, unable to keep them contained, until they finally burst forth.
He couldn’t help but shed a tear for the departed.
