Chapter 325

Roar of a King (VIII)

Cain sat in heavy silence, his legs hanging over the edge of a cliff that expanded into a misted and fogged abyss, occasionally pierced by the tip of the trees. The dark midnight loomed over the world, the faint shine of the moon hardly enough to illuminate anything enough. The haziness of it all was reflective; after all, his mind was just as hazy as the world, just as dark, just as misshapen, just as confused.

The little gnome’s words still hung on Cain’s chest like a heavy anvil pressing down onto his lungs, making it harder to breathe. Yet again, a choice was given to him. It was a binary choice, a yes or no choice, a choice so simple even a child could play the game. And yet, it was a choice with enough power to alter the timeline of the universe itself.

Though grand and if others heard they’d joke he was the best fit for it, deep down, Cain was uncomfortable. He was jittery. Uncertain. Through his veins, besides blood, he began to feel cowardice creep up. It wasn’t the kind of cowardice that crept up before a battle, or before a date, or before anything of the human nature--it was the kind that turned into existential horror, one that spawned nightmares that drew people mad.

He stood on a precipice and there were only two choices--track back... or jump. But down below wasn’t the cushioning sea--in fact, it was only darkness, trackless abyss that stretched into infinity, its maws gaping to swallow the unsuspecting.

Though he was curious from the onset and wanted to learn and understand the Towers, this choice went past that--it would steep him into a conflict that had lasted for a number of years that only he of anyone on the Earth could even come to fathom. And because he could fathom such a number of years, he was that more worried.

These were the hatreds, the conflicts, and the wars that could not be undone. He understood, deep down, that either the entirety of Divine Order would perish from the cosmic histories... or everyone opposing them would. There was no reconciliation, no silver linings, no middle ground--just a straight, speedy nosedive toward either of the corpse-laden endings.

The worst of it all was that he didn’t actually understand anything. For all he knew, he was being goaded into a violent revolution with a purposeless cause in which he’d die a martyr, an icon for the grander purpose. He reached into the inventory and took out a bottle of whisky, not even bothering to pour it into a glass, drinking a few gulps directly.

He was alone, now, he also realized. He didn’t have Emma with him to confide in, to ask, anyone else to discuss and debate. Whatever choice he made would be his own, alongside all the consequences that followed.

“... are you scared?” a voice coiled around him as he looked down, not knowing when Te’gha wound up on his lap.

“Terrified,” Cain replied honestly. “What about you?”

“Humph, great Te’gha is not scared of anything!”

“I envy you,” Cain said, taking a sip. “Care to share some of that courage with me?”

“Find your own courage,” Te’gha said.

“... kinda difficult for a major pussy, you know?” Cain chuckled. “I remember, back in high school, there was this one guy that was constantly buzzing around Em’. This was before we started dating, so I did nothing. Or, well, that’s how I excused myself anyway. One day, though, he grabbed her ass in front of the entire classroom. And before Em’ could knock his teeth out, I rammed into his back with all my strength and sent him rollin’. He broke a finger I think. I got suspended for weeks, my dad... well.

“All else aside, I wound up mortified most of the time, worrying what the dude would do to me the next time we met. I was so anxious I didn’t want to leave for school. It turned out, the dude circumnavigated the globe just to avoid me. He was more terrified of me than I was of him.”

“...”

“I was never a brave man, I don’t think,” he continued, his fingers gently grazing Te’gha’s body. “If anything, I was insecure, cowardly, undecided. I swore I would change this time around, and I thought I did... but looks like that little weepy boy was still somewhere in me.”

“... everyone--except great Te’gha, of course!!!--would be scared,” the kitten said. “It is a big decision. But... but you are not a coward. If it were just you and me, you would do it. I know it.”

“You think so?” Cain chuckled, looking down whereupon the feline looked up at him.

“I know so. You are a weak, stupid human... but you are stronger and smarter than other stupid and weak humans. I... I believe in you.”

“Believe me enough to make me an icon of rebellion against what are effectively gods?” Cain’s chuckle turned bitter. “I ain’t Kratos, Prometheus, and the other steel-balled lads who flipped the sky off. This takes more than strength and talent. It takes conviction beyond the fear of death. And I... I don’t think I have it. I’m afraid to die, truly. It scares me, the thought of never drawing another breath. Never hearin’ Em’s or Lana’s or Senna’s voice again,” he took another sip with his free hand, fingering the tip of the bottle. “I don’t wanna die, T’. And if I mantle this cape... I feel like my death would become an inevitability.”

“... then don’t,” Te’gha said suddenly. “Go back. Nobody can force you. Turn around and go home. We’ll return and stay and live out the rest of our days simply. Is that what you want?”

“...”

“This is the last hurdle, Cain,” Cain’s eyebrows twitched for a moment since he couldn’t recall when was the last time Te’gha called him by his name, if ever. “The last true choice. The rest of the story will write itself.”

“Haaaah,” Cain sighed, lying down, clouds above swirling. “I only wish the hurdle was a bit smaller, y’know?”

“...”

The world turned silent yet again, though Te’gha didn’t return into the inventory. Instead, the cat remained sitting on his belly, purring lowly, while Cain’s hand gently made passes over his tiny head. Cain knew that he was right; the truth was that he didn’t want to go back, erase all his hard work and retire into nowhere. The pause he took was, in large part, him exorcising those demons that tempted him into retirement.

In a way, it was his last hurrah before tossing himself into the perennial fires of the Tower. He watched both Senna and Lana grow up, spent as much time as he could with them, but that didn’t mean he was going to permanently leave them in reaching for the stars. In fact, he expected decades to pass before he was to make a meaningful choice that could impact them.

The decades were condensed, however, and he now stood at the doors. It wouldn’t just be his life that changed--if anything, his would change the least among them. He’d already lived a life of an outlaw, someone skirting the edge, living in the shadows. He could see himself easily dipping back into that role. What about them, however?

It was a toss-up, he knew. If they were here, Cain had no doubt in his mind that everyone, from Emma to even Ricky, would tell him to make the choice, and whatever the choice was, they would follow him. He’s won their hearts, but indecisiveness still roamed within his.

Sighing, he sat up and continued drinking. Somewhere deep down, though shallowly as well, he’d already made a choice. It was simply a matter of convincing himself to take that leap. To jump off the cliff into the abyss and inherit whatever may come with the decision. He knew that his eyes would be opened to a completely new world and that the secrets of the Towers would slowly be peeled back like layers until he was staring into their naked hearts, knowable.

There was a caveat, however, that he elected to pursue--he’d dive at his own time. He would be given the fruit, but it didn’t mean he’d have to eat it immediately. He’d go back and talk and talk and talk ‘till his throat burned. And only when he was done talking would he eat it.

Even if he knew he was being groomed into a soldier, bred to be an icon of rebellion, it was too tempting--the knowledge, the strength, the potential. There was a limit to human lifespan, Mana-enhanced or not, and no matter how many Awakenings he and others underwent, that wouldn’t change. But in this choice lay a possibility that he could change those outcomes, forcibly. Carve out a long-lasting fortune for those he loved and break the consequences against his back.

Taking the last sip of the bottle, he tossed it into the misted abyss down below and stood up, perching Te’gha onto his shoulder. He’d become a titular herald of mankind. And though not a hero by any stretch of imagination, there wasn’t a better candidate, he knew, that was likely approachable. After all, he peeked at the truth of it all, back in the trial, when she helped him survive the last ring.

That singular nanosecond enamored him in knowledge of singular infinity. Looking at his hand, he closed it into a fist and took a deep breath. Mana surged from within him like fire and coalesced into a tiny kindle of fire that burned away swiftly in the cold. He wasn’t ready, but was prepared. Whatever may come, he’ll embrace it. He wouldn’t run any longer.