The man encircled the table, left fist pounding repeatedly into the old hard wood, the knocks resounding throughout the otherwise silent room. Each hit shook the table, which in turn shook the lantern on it and disturbed the flame within. Eight others stood around the set, their shadows dancing across the walking in flicks and flickers through booms, including the young man named Pausa Alvet. The pacing man stopped before the archway that lead into the area, setting both hands on the flat surface, letting out a sigh.

He relented, “I don't see a way out of this.”

Pausa replied, “That's what I said when I first tried a condom. Turns out I was wrong back then as well.” A woman laughed in the corner and Pausa winked back. “Gal knows what I'm talking about.”

“Gallena!” the man yelled in frustration.

She replied, “What? It's funny.” She composed herself before continuing, “Look, Luviet, we have to remain composed on this. We can think it through together.”

But he ignored her. Instead, he turned to Pausa and reprimanded, “This is not the time for you wise-ass remarks.”

“On the contrary,” Pausa stepped up to table. “I think it's the perfect time for jokes. Everyone's stressed, the world's coming to an end, and we either become rulers of the universe or die in a suicide attack within the next few hours.”

The room fell silent. Pausa felt disappointed. He thought he had teed up the joke with well placed wit and sarcasm. An explosion rang through the night, puffing dusts up from the cracks within the walls. Outside the broken window, fire raged across the landscape in the distance. Wind whistled through the shelled building. Not a single one of them reacted to the fighting outside. They were used to it. It was their everyday.

Luviet broke the silence. “Let's take a vote. Who's still in the fight?”

Gallena and three others raised their hands. She added, “Who thinks we should take the deal?” Luviet and another three agreed. “Pulse?”

The room turned to Pausa, who had yet to pass his ballot. The young man noted, “It doesn't seem right.”

“Which side?” Luviet asked.

“Both,” Pausa replied. “Fighting makes no sense here. With what we know, there's no guarantee continuing on would stop the war. But taking up the offer...”

“Sacrifice one life to save the world.”

Pausa continued, “I have no doubt everyone in this room would volunteer if it came to that. But it does seem too good to be true.”

“Why?” Luviet pushed.

“My guts.”

The man's laugh hid an underlying tone of frustration. “No offence, my friend. But you're not a precog. Your instincts don't mean much to me.” Luviet headed for the exit. “I'll be outside if you need me. Let me know when you've made your decision.”

Gallena attempted to go after him, only for Pausa to stop her. “I'll go,” he said.

“Okay,” she replied without resistance. Leaning in, she gave him a kiss which he reciprocated deeply. She smelled of the sweat from the day. One day, he would miss those small moments of peace within the raging battlefield. One day, he would forget her. They parted and Gallena added, “I trust you.”

He smiled to her before following Luviet out. The structure they hid in had been shelled by artillery earlier in the day and the floors above had collapsed onto the apartments opposite him. Miraculously, the room he had came out from had avoided the damages from the attacks and settled like a cave within the rubble. He stepped out of the destroyed building and out in the open.

Luviet stood at what might have once been a balconied pathway with a beautiful view. Now, most of the railings had been torn from the battle, and the ledge over had crumbled into a slope of debris. Beyond Luviet, out across the landscape, flashes of gunfire littered the smog filled night. Blood red sky gleamed the horizon like a sunset greeting from hell.

Pausa stepped up to his friend and the latter began talking. “We're almost there,” he said, staring at a tower made of protruding scraps of metal. “Just a little more.”

Pausa asked, “We all want to end this war. But you've always seemed a little more... eager than the rest of us. Why?”

“My grandfather was born the day the war started,” Luviet explained. My whole had been this. The screaming, the running, the firefights. Not a single day went by where I knew what true peace was.” The man let out a sigh.

He was not even in his mid twenties, his face still holding tightly with muscles from the teenage years. A young boyish charm to the light skin. A look of life in his luscious bright hair. Yet, Pausa always felt Luviet was on the verge of becoming a senior citizen.

Luviet continued, “What little information I have of peace time, I learned through books that were left unburned. Through words of mouths not too dead to speak. Many times, through the tales of dying soldiers who wanted my help in listening to their last stories.” His eyes sparkled as tears welled, but never felled. “I want this war to end. Not a single generation after me should ever go through this. This war, this endless war, will be the last of the wars. No more fighting, not more dying. I'll make sure of it.”

Pausa did not have a reply for he had no consoling words. He was an outsider, a man out of time, thrown into a battle he had never heard of. Because of his situation, he looked up to Luviet. As far as he knew, the two of them were polar opposite in their raising. But somehow, through series of events that happened thousands of years apart, they were brought together in a turning point of time.

Attempting to shift the conversation to something less grim, Pausa asked, “Do you remember when we first me?”

“Yeah,” Luviet replied with a much needed chuckle. “I nearly shot you.”

He laughed at the memory. “Well, you remember that hill with the tree?”

“Of course. The Tree of Crossroads.”

“Do you know why it's called that?”

Luviet shook his head. “Ever since the war began, all our knowledge and information of lores and legends had been shovelled into the fire.”

“Well,” Pausa began. “Where I come from, The Tree of Crossroads is said to be where people meet. Legend has it that the tree exists throughout all of history, on every world, every universe. All of time and space. Wherever and whenever, a tree like it exists.”

“That sounds like a fairytale.”

“It is. But it sounds nice, doesn't it? A tree that can bring people together. The legend further says that those who first meet under the tree are bound together by fate itself.”

“I'm calling bullshit on that one.”

“I know,” Pausa ended. They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the ambient of war. Finally, Pausa announced, “I'm going to ask Gallena to marry me.”

“I know.”

“I want you to be my best man?”

“What's a best man?”

“It's usually a person close to the groom. It's like a sidekick for lifetime commitment. You hold the ring, or whatever you use to propose here, and give it to me. You're also my back-slap commissioner.”

“So, if I think you're messing with Gal, I can slap you?”

“Until I die.”

“That's a nice thought.” They both laughed, their voice carrying off into the echoes of gunfire. Luviet squinted at the horizon and his tone changed. “We should move out soon.”

“Why?”

“I see rovers.”

Pausa scanned the landscape but could not make out the supposed vehicles. Luviet passed him a binocular and pointed in a seemingly far grey part of the distance. Through the lenses, Pausa could see faint clouds of dust being kicked up by the familiar outline of the small buggy-like vehicles.

“Wow,” Pausa said, impressed. “How did you see that?”

“I have good eyesight.”

“Similar to how I have good instincts?”

“You have terrible instincts,” Luviet jabbed.

“I'm going to warn the others,” Pausa said, turning to head back into the ruins.

As he walked, he could have sworn he heard Luviet muttering, “Soon, peace will come.”

***

Tier set a cup of tea down on the table. Embedded sequin made the surface of the furniture reflect a dizzying array of light from the afternoon Solar. He slid a plate of cake over to his brother opposite, who took the small fork provided and dug in with hastened glee.

“Chill, man,” Tier berated. “You'll choke yourself to death, eating like that.”

The brother slowed his pacing with a muffled laugh. He swallowed the sponge that was in his mouth and washed it down with water from a bottle. “Can't help it. Haven't eaten all day today.”

“That's because this is breakfast. Nobody eats before breakfast.”

“I do,” the brother replied. “Night shift work is killing my body clock.”

“Anyway, have you heard? The F.A.C is calling for all Hymns to report in for registration.” Tier poured some milk into his tea. A group of bustling morning commuters rushed by the street of the diner in tandem with the changing traffic lights. A car honked far down the road. “Sounds like they're rounding them and tagging them.”

“Sucks, that. But I think being a Hymn could be a cool thing.”

“Why?”

“Superpowers, man!” he raised his voice slightly in excitement. “Can you imagine? Shooting laser beams. Flying. Stopping bad guys and saving the day?”

“Those are comic books, brother. This is reality.”

“Can't hurt to dream. I mean, I know people are generally selfish, but I can see some people doing good with their powers.”

“They're more likely to use them to earn money first.”

He snorted derisively. “You're too much a pessimist. Mark my words, one day, someone with powers will don a cape and save the world.”

“Maybe the 'world saving' part,” Tier reluctantly agreed, sipping his tea. “The cape? Not so much.”

***

The Watcher woke to the sudden rush of noise back into his ears. The time bubble had expired and he could sense with the sudden dip in temperature that the times had changed. He had arrived in the future. To his right, Nadier and Adelaide were still stuck in cryo-freeze, both in mid-action of readying their equipments. They would have to spend a while longer with their preparations. Double checking, The Watcher made sure the time bubble surrounding his two companions would last another hour. It should give him time to confront Light and end things while giving the two elves sufficient leeway to escape.

The smell of rust and blood floated to him. Getting to his feet, he carefully edged over the ledge, peeking over to make sure no one else was in the chamber with them. Beneath him, the Lusus Naturae had been broken apart and the damage was akin to the wreckage of a plane crash.

With dried blood surrounding it, the metal casing that held Renasque Isvael was cracked opened like the shell of an egg. The body of the Overseer was unmoving within it.