CHAPTER 415

FOR TOMORROW

Silence dominated the open field for a long while after Lino’s voice phased out into the destitute wind. Nobody moved, nobody spoke, nobody attacked; thousands of eyes peered into the temporary abyss, seemingly at odds with themselves. It wasn’t merely a choice for today to make – but one that would come to define the rest of their lives. If they took a step back today, they would never be able to return, and would forever remain marked as the people who bent to the Empyrean.

Lino didn't seem impatient, standing still by Hannah's side in silence and waiting. He also knew that it wasn't an easy choice to make, which is why he didn't push for it. In the end, it didn't matter to him; he did not doubt that if just a few fell, others would follow as the fear of death far eclipsed the fear of authority.

“… can you swear to protect us?” a voice hollered out of the masses, its bearer hiding away behind the others, unwilling to step forward.

“I’ll swear to do my best,” Lino replied. “And not to use you as paper-thin shields like he did today.”

“…” there was no reply, but Lino realized he had won – at least however much of a victory this was.

The first splinter soon occurred as those in front of him withdrew their weapons, lowered their heads and slithered sideways, opening up a path. Lino could see bounds of shame and guilt in their eyes and in their expressions. There was no need to question why; after all, every single soul had its own shred of dignity and pride. Selling over from fear of dying was never easy, and it came with its own cost.

It was like the sea splitting open, as though a massive sword descended from heavens and cleaned open a path in the ocean of people. One by one, they began moving sideways, stretching. It was a deafening scene, one that left even Lino somewhat flabbergasted; after all, he was beyond certain there’d still be an occasional drifter, someone unwilling to bend over and surrender. Yet… there was no one. Of the thousands still alive, no one stepped forward to meet him as he and Hannah began walking through the open path.

He dragged the Slayer over the ground, leaving behind a tepid trail, strands of his still-wet hair fluttering in the faintly cold wind. Looking left and right, he searched for the defiant eyes, for the defiant soul to step forward and attack him – but all he got in reply were thousands of hung heads looking at the floor, their bodies quivering. He had no doubt in his mind that some perhaps wished to step forward, to elevate themselves above the tired junction, but, in the end, they didn’t. What held them back, he couldn’t quite say; fear, perhaps, or guilt, or simply unwillingness to be the first… whatever it was, the path from where he took off to Eight was clear. Empty. Soulless.

Stepping in front of the man, he spotted that he was surrounded by four figures that ascended with him to the sky to meet Lino and Hannah. They all had ugly expressions, their eyes casting gazes of judgment over the masses. Eight, however, didn’t. His eyes never left Lino, meeting the latter’s gaze squarely. They were oddly hollow, Lino mused; dull, empty, emotionless.

“… you won.” Eight said after a short silence, suddenly taking his mask off. A young, boyish face peered through, a pair of jovial, twilight-eyes seemingly mourning the loss of a beloved one. He held the mask tightly for a moment before letting it go as it fell and crashed onto the ground, cracking and breaking into hundreds of pieces. “Happy?”

“… happy?” Lino crackled oddly for a moment, pulling the Slayer over and heaving it over his shoulder. "I'm only happy they came to their senses, rather than upholding the thin veil of loyalty to their graves."

“So you’d be fine with your own doing the same if the situation is reversed?” Eight asked.

“Whatever flag you uphold, and whatever dream you fight for… in the end, it doesn’t matter. You do. Your life does. I can only hope those fighting in my name right now would have made the same choice, rather than throw their life away for an empty cause.”

“… you’re a vile creature, Lyonel," Eight suddenly said, sighing lowly. "There's no one more dangerous than you, the ascertained soul of chaos emboldened by the fact that the entire world is against him, and everyone is plotting against him, and all the while you only want to coexist peacefully. There's nothing more dangerous than a paranoid mind thinking everything and everyone orbits it."

“… of course I’m vile.” Lino said emptily. “I just mowed my way through a herd of innocent to come face to face with you. I could have arrived here just the same without hurting anyone, but I made a conscious choice to vent on them. What does that tell you about me, huh?”

“….” Eight remained silent, his expression growing somewhat angrier.

“It tells me one thing,” Lino continued, slowly beginning to walk forward. “And it’s that I’m willing to do anything and everything, consequences be damned, if I feel like it. I’ve abandoned my moral inhibitions a long time ago, Eight,” he added as he stopped in front Eight, merely a few inches away. “I’ve merely upheld a façade so long as it brought people over to my side. But, well, that can no longer happen, now can it?” he cracked a smile, placing his free hand over onto Eight’s shoulder, pressing it tightly till the bone cracked. Eight cried lowly for a moment, yet remained standing. “If I were you, I’d die smiling. After all, at the very least you won’t have to die witnessing me carving out this world’s innards and creating a mountain of corpses while at it.”

“… you had so much potential,” Eight said, smiling lightly. “You could have brought us all into a new world, Lyonel. Yet, you chose to take us further back than we’ve ever been.”

“—all the potential I may have had…” Lino mumbled, lifting the Slayer and suddenly dragging it through the Eight’s guts. “You’ve sucked out decades ago. I am no one’s pawn or puppet,” he leaned in closer to Eight’s ear and whispered coldly. “I am my own self. And all be damned who try to take that away from me.”

Lino dragged the sword out as blood sprayed, Eight falling to his knees soon after, his eyes open widely like saucers. He glanced at Lino from below once last time before falling sideways, drawing his last breath. The illusion of the reality broke right then, as Lino found himself next to the crumbled mountain ring. Glancing around, he saw thousands of souls falling to their knees, most of them crying, too ashamed to look at each other.

It was a horrid scene that caused him to bite his lower lip; a moment later, he felt a gentle hand grasp at him as he turned sideways, meeting Hannah's smiling eyes.

“Let’s go back home,” she said, pulling his arm into hers. “And get really, really fucking drunk.”

“Haaii… you and your drinking woman,” Lino chuckled. “You’ve got a problem.”

“Aye, aye, I have a problem. Whatever.”

“Will you take us with you?” a young boy, barely fourteen by Lino’s estimates, suddenly walked up to the two and asked.

“I’m usually not into kidnapping children—ai, ai, that fuckin’ hurt, woman!” Lino growled at Hannah before shifting his focus back onto the boy. “Whoever wants to come is welcome to join us. If anyone wishes to make their own way out in the world, they are free to do that as well.”

Hannah held onto the shaky hand tightly. No one else here realized it, but she knew from the start how difficult it was. There was no pleasure to be found in taking a life, not to her, and especially not for him. Yet, despite that, he embraced the role. He embraced the shawl that the world cast upon him, as he simply had no other choice – at least not anymore. Today would spark a retaliation, which would in return spark an even greater one, creating a vicious cycle that will probably take years, if not decades, to unravel.

Yet, he dove straight into it without hesitation. Some choices simply had to be made, she mused, as he turned around and met her eyes once more. They were dark, yet honest and lovely. In them, she found a reflection of herself, an honest one of all the possibilities. His lips curled up into a faint smile, one of hurt and guilt. There was nothing more beautiful, as there was nothing more harrowing, than that smile, one she’d witnessed countless times before. A smile of a soul wrung out of its comfort, a pathetic attempt to dress up the brewing storm inside.

However, it was his way of coping; to smile, to drink, and to emptily stare into the dull walls until the pain simply fades. He faced his demons however he could, and if he couldn't, he'd stretch his arm and ask for a hand in return. He knew many more would have to fall beneath his blade, but she saw no fear of the future inside his gaze. He embraced it wholly, accepting it as a reality he cast unto himself. All she saw was guilt, shame, and traces of pain. But not the fear of repeating it all.

“You know, I think I can improve your mood.” Hannah said as the two climbed on top of Grim, slowly leading the mass toward a nearby elevation where they’ll board them all into the fortress.

“Oh? I thought you’d be shy ‘cause there are so many people here… but, eh, sure.” Lino said, grabbing toward her chest.

“Oh, fuck you,” she swatted his arm away, rolling her eyes. “No, something else.”

“What?” he asked.

“Promise me you won’t spiral, however.”

“… it’s like you don’t even know me… at all. Actually, I’m genuinely kind of hurt that you would even suggest for a second—“

“I’m pregnant.”

“HOLY MOTHER OF THE EVER-LOVING FUCK!!!”