Dusk was arriving.
What remained bled through the broken wall, the last sunset draining into blue. The room was a wreck. Furniture reduced to kindling. Dust coating the air dulled the iron stink of blood.
His blood.
Hope stumbled slightly.
He caught himself, fixed his gaze forward, and locked his body in place. The pain, that had been ever so patient up till now, waited for permission to overwhelm.
Hope refused to give it any. He held it back.
Instead, he stared at the Awakened whose pose remained braced, sword leveled. He hadn't attacked yet. Maybe it mattered that Hope looked broken. That he looked lost. Pitiful. He felt terrible. His arm beat like a second heartbeat with a fever.
"So…the hell's your problem?"
The Awakened was taken aback.
Me? He said.
Or tried too, shaped more by lips than sound. Easy enough to understand. Huh. Maybe they weren't doomed to silence after all. They could talk. Somewhat.
"Yeah. Was me standing at the window that much of a threat to you?"
The Awakened frowned and shook his head. That's not… He huffed. You're the one– He started again, but the words tangled and spilled. Here, Hope caught. But and You. Round— No. Found?
"...."
He stopped.
It only took a few seconds for him to catch on Hope's silence. A habit, it seemed. Something that was supposed to be natural to converse but wasn't. His Flaw. The Awakened then looked around their feet and snatched up a piece of paper. He marched forward in which Hope instinctively stepped back.
Hope winced when the Awakened pressed the note against his chest, the one where the words 'I'm sorry' scrawled repeatedly like a confession. Hope had left that at the bottom of the stairs.
Dead. The Awakened said.
DEAD. He jabbed a finger again. DEAD.
Then he pointed to the staircase, toward the room where Hope knew a mother and daughter lay. Both limp, coated in red. He then pointed toward the ledge behind Hope where, at its drop, a father had chosen despair. But from where Hope stood, it also looked like he was pushed off.
What. Did he think Hope confessed on a piece of paper?
Hope exhaled through his nose.
He supposed his suspicions were reasonable. A family was supposed to be here. And he remained standing, untouched by grief yet present in the ruins of it. A whole conflicting nature. So, maybe the Awakened did have a Utility Aspect. He sensed absence.
Hope looked off to the side.
"They were already dead when I got here. As unfortunate as it is, it was already too late." Hope said.
The words landed thin.
Weak. Smaller than he'd intended, especially in front of this man—or boy. Seemed only a couple years older.
Hope wouldn't have particularly cared in defending himself. He let them believe what they wanted. He would have followed through with their assumptions, let their threats pile up. Let the blade come if it had to.
But now, he had to care.
Despite in his nature of wanting to dismiss him.
And consequently, his words or expression earned another pause from the Awakened, jaw tightening a little as if in restraint.
Hope was holding back as well. Within those moments, he tried to cage in the rippling tide, but the mercy his mind gave his body was burning out, leaving only the cost. Pain.
Small doses were fine, manageable even. A combat to his curse.
But this crept back piece by piece, endless and deliberate.
It was as if he were shriveling into a hardened shell, brittle enough that a single crack would split him in agony. He couldn't have that. The fight with the Awakened cost more than he'd thought. Or was his name Prince? His teammate called him as such.
Hope recalled twice times.
An odd name.
Hope had an odd name himself, but most lower-class—most—people had such simple names. It reflected their status, or environments, or their beliefs.
The Awakened seemed anything but simple.
For all the emotion that rode in his attacks, his movements had been clean. Practiced. The kind of movement drilled into bone for years.
'I should scab over the cut…"
Warmth ran down his arm. He was reluctant to use [Pearls of the Moon], he already used some of it surviving the Fallen. But he could spare a little more.
With his body about to crack, every movement felt stiff. He would need a trigger, sharp enough to burn away fatigue and leave enough motion.
He summoned the earring.
The Memory responded, light coiling around his ear. A soft, pale glow—
Shhng!
But the mute exploded.
'Fuck–!'
The world snapped into brutal clarity.
Hope jerked back. Blade pierced where his throat was moments ago. A pinch pulled on his spine for it.
"Hold on. It's not–" Not a weapon.
Step.Slash.
"Can you just—"
Slash!
"Stop—"
Shnng!
Hope stumbled back half a step.
'Hahaha! You know you won't be able to stay in your grumpy silence forever, darling. People like to talk talk. And a lot.' His mother's voice echoed, uninvited and clear. 'And I talk a lot with you, enough for the both of us.'
'I can't do that. I can't talk for two people.' He heard himself say.
'You don't need to.' There was a faint chuckle as she teased. 'You need to just talk sometimes. Be yourself. A little quiet. And maybe a liiittle friendly.'
Hope let out a pained grunt as he parried a strike.
Friendly? With this uncompromising Awakened?
Forget about Utility Aspect. Something else had called him for a 'slain' appraisal. For his soul. This Awakened's Aspect, or Attribute, made him see in black and white. Good and evil.
What was it?
What did he see? Did he bleed the scent of scourge?
A hit slammed into Hope's stomach, and his feet slid back. Debris kicked into the drop behind him.
'Come on. Come on come on come on.'
He had to bet it on chance then.
If he saw black and white, then Hope just had to switch sides. The Awakened had exploited his stumble, then Hope had to exploit him. Forgo good and evil. There was also the threat and the vulnerable. If he could pause at Hope's pitiful state, then, now face to face, would he dare strike an unarmed opponent? Surrender. Full surrender was what he probably wanted.
So, instead of bracing for another attack, Hope straightened, uncurling himself from the blow, and discarded both [Ashen Shield] and [Pearls of the Moon].
He raised his hands even as he saw the swing of the blade.
"…wait."
His voice cut between the beats.
"..!"
The Awakened's dark eyes widened, the same stunned expression. Blade wavered as both Memories dissolved and left him with nothing. It was a beat of choked silence. But at the next, he pulled back his attack.
Hope had stepped aside to avoid the late swing—
And found air.
He miscalculated his steps. For a heartbeat, there was no fear. Only surprise. The world tilted off-axis, and his stomach dropped. With his weight tipped, the broken edge of the building yawned with wind howling up like laughter.
"Urk!"
A hand clamped his collar.
The force jerked his head back.
Half-leaning over the ledge, Hope was suspended by Prince's grip.
Prince's arm was locked, and it was then that Hope noticed a stitched mark from where the Night Hound had clawed, a reminder of their last encounter. He used his Aspect then. But now Hope didn't have the advantage to use it, not at this angle.
He eyed the grip.
Then met his eyes.
Up close, they were not cruel. They were not bloodthirsty or drunk as he had assumed. But they were calculating.
Deciding perhaps if mercy was worth the risk. Hope supposed it was risky. Maybe in the future, he'd kill the man. It didn't matter—and shouldn't matter—if he was some ghost in the past. But for now, first thing's first: Survive. He missed the opportunity of neutralizing the Awakened, but he still had a responsibility to his teammates. His comrades. To remain mostly in one piece.
Hope's fingers clawed at the arm for better purchase, pressing random buttons on the Awakened's tech gauntlet.
"I…urk…did not kill anyone."
Prince's frown deepened. His gaze swept over Hope's bloodied attire. It had seen better days, granted before the corpse that Hope stripped it from. Dirty as it was, some fresh blood were not from his own.
Hope paused.
Well. He didn't kill anyone here.
He had killed eight of those men earlier. One simply left to broken bones. But saying 'they were bad people' would sound a fickle excuse. He supposed he should be honest. But which words truly mattered?
Hope sighed and hung his head back.
Right. Talk.
He couldn't force emotion. Couldn't fake tears, fake sympathy. He endured this long because his mind outpaced his heart. The latter had always lagged behind. Hope didn't know much about inspiration, but he doubted he was one. And at the moment, nothing softened the Awakened's resolve.
He stared absentmindedly up at the leaning towers pulled towards the clouds.
Then let his arms drop to his sides.
"Look…I'm not an Awakened. Not some stray. I'm a simple Dreamer. A Reservist soldier from the separated convoy."
"…?!"
"And," the words pushed against the grip, "I'm looking for the tech Awakened. Sets up traps guy. The supposed scaredy cat. Paranoid." Smelled like one too, according to Master Leda. "I need answers."
"...."
"About the convoy. About my teammates. Sector 5."
Blood trickled down Prince's brow from where Hope had clipped his mask. His grip tightened slightly. There, Hope saw. Confliction. Doubt.
'Progress.'
"If you know where he is…" Hope closed his eyes. Hating the words even as he spoke them. "…take….me to him. If I try to kill him, then you can try to kill me." A bold claim. Reckless, even, given how the time had gone. But now meeting face to face, there should be some final conclusion. His [Chimera] Attribute would help decide that.
Peril or promise?
Silence stretched.
Long enough that Hope thought the Awakened had lost track of time.
Hope opened his eyes.
Prince's face remained serious, brown eyes steady. Like the knight's. Dark as turned soil. He didn't flinch or recoil the way others did when they met Hope's gaze, but there was a shift in them.
Hope opened his mouth to speak.
But the tech gauntlet began crackling static.
They both blinked.
A voice scratched through the interference. "P…p..Prince?! Who t—e hell…a..e…you wi…? Wh…killed who now??"
The connection was strained, no doubt it was the other cohort member.
How much did he hear?
"…"
"…"
Prince sighed.
Then, with reluctance, he stepped back and pulled Hope from the ledge. Solid ground returned, and his nose drank in again the blood and dust of the room. Prince himself straightened, shoulders squared. He looked over at Hope cautiously before fiddling with his gauntlet to relay his response.
'Sigh…well then.' He didn't die after all.
Hope wiped his collar as if to erase the contact.
Then paused. He had said Prince could lead him, but what if the other Awakened came?
'The little girl mentioned she saw them coming this way.'
Hope didn't glance at how many.
But only one…and not two, right?
If it were more, that meant more people to explain to.
To talk to.
To deal with.
Not just anyone, Brave Arm Special units.
"…"
Hope made a flat expression. A bitterness filled his mouth.
Step. Step—
It wasn't until Prince—without looking—jerked the back of Hope's chest rig that Hope realized he had been foolishly striding toward the ledge again for escape.
***
It didn't take long before the other Awakened appeared. A figure hunched over at the doorway—another young man, Prince's age—clinging to the frame like he'd nearly missed it. Same black bodysuit, but a black bandana holding his long hair back. Rifle in one hand.
He panted.
"Now what the hell is going on that I had to rush over here–" He stopped short.
Finding the two in the middle of the room.
Prince smiled. He smiled. A crooked smile.
He even waved.
'Whiplash….' Hope narrowed his eyes.
And in Prince's other hand, he still held Hope's chest rig like a leash.
The newcomer's eyes dragged from Prince's grin, to Hope, to the wreckage strewn across the space. Splintered floorboards. Slashes in walls.
A huge hole in one wall—
"The fuck happened?"
"..."
"..."
What should he say? That they fought like pitted Nightmares before one of them had an episode, then fought again? Prince could explain to him, it wasn't in Hope's place. So, he didn't answer. But then, neither did Prince.
Both of them looked away.
Snap!
"Oi." The man snapped his fingers, sharp and irritated. "You can't just say 'come here when you can' and expect me to be cool with this shit. Who the hell is he—"
Prince finally cut in.
But instead of words, he used his hands. His hands moved in clipped gestures. It was nothing like the precision of his fighting earlier.
His fingers lagged, hesitating, as if skipping shapes.
The man squinted.
"I'm not that fluent."
"Sigh…" Prince tried to think for a moment.
Kids. Girl. Boys. His lips moved exaggeratedly.
The man waved. "Yeah yeah they're fine. They can handle themselves." He shook his head. "Tied up one guy and everything. Can't believe you missed it if you hadn't just bolted off…Bossy, that one girl. Asked for one thing then, more or less, kicked me out."
Despite the casual tone, Prince's shoulders loosened.
The children were alright for now.
Chnk.
But then the rifle tensed up.
Hope's gaze flicked from gun to wrist, then face.
Prince flailed his arms. His expression said it all: Hold on! But the man didn't look at him, he advanced forward until the barrel pressed flat against Hope's chest.
Hope's hand twitched.
"You called me here for this prick, right?"
'Fucking hell…'
Brave Arm's Special unit. Another Awakened.
Coddled in praise after their first ascension. No doubt there was a necessity to them, but Awakened, moreso from Brave Arm, were idolized left and right. Fighting alongside was fine, but to converse with was a headache.
"This one of the stragglers? A stray?" He looked at Hope head to toe. "He kill the family, too?"
"I didn't. They were dead when I got here."
"Oh I'm convinced! You've won me over! Yes you and that dress up, all comfortable in blood. Really. Just look at you!"
The man sneered.
"Or is there another crime scene you're running from?"
"A failed Aspirant," Hope explained again. "A Profaned started this. You can see the mother yourself."
If only a closer glance, these two would have seen the fangs and the mother's alien snarl buried in the sheets.
And if it were back in the formidable cities, like West Bast or South Base, a situation like this had calls come in desperate and sudden. The world narrowed to one purpose for Hope's team and others to act. There was no panic, only speed with discipline as they sealed the chaos and pressed inward like wolves, becoming a single will moving through the chaos.
A Profaned could ruin a building. It was a sight to see the damage—worse if it were an Awakened—depending on its size. Small ones skittered like roaches and ripped heels. Big ones bothered through walls and heads instead.
But this city had no one at its call.
Survival of the fittest as they'd lived by.
"Oh sure. When my back's turned you'd just run off."
'Would be easier.'
"Funny thing. You two look like you already tried to kill each other. Care to explain why a Special Force operator and some stray looked like they settled something the hard way before I showed up?"
The barrel pressed harder.
He was close. Too close.
Hope caught a flicker of that Kurt guy from Sector Two, pulling the same thing. Thinking proximity meant control. At this distance, the rifle was a liability again. The Awakened had given up reach, reaction time, everything a rifle was good for. If Hope lunged, if he slapped the barrel aside, if he—
The rifle suddenly turned away.
The space grew as Prince slid in between, hand catching the barrel and guiding it aside. Hope half expected he would turn, scold the young man, maybe give a reprimanding glare. Instead, his eyes locked on Hope's, and gave him warning.
'Mm?'
How odd. Him?
A hollow pulse throbbed in his chest, like the cold night settling in. It was a welcoming shadow.
"Ah…do I still look like a threat to you?" Hope murmured, voice low.
Prince's gaze sharpened.
Hope lifted his hands then. Slow and measured, palms open. Giving the golden boy all the space he claimed. He dipped his chin as if resigned to their search and judgment. But even then, the Awakened burned into him. And Hope supposed he did the same.
"I'm just a simple soldier," he said evenly.
The hour had reached enough for the darkness to swallow them. How fitting. They shared that hollow pause where distance felt most unreliable.
"The name's Hope. A Reservist from the convoy that passed through here....And I need to get to Sector 5."