The chill in the air was palpable.
Amidst the raging crimson flames conjured by a saint, I felt a deeper agony than the fire that engulfed everything around me. It was the crushing realization that I was powerless to change my fate, even if given the chance.
My life—the very essence of my existence—was a failure.
The oppressive cold settled around me, a constant reminder of my worthlessness. I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. How did I get to this point? You see, I was never the type to shudder at the thought of death or pain. Even the idea of harming a loved one wouldn't have shaken my foundation.
I was a monster, born of a demi-heart, but my love for this dying woman was fiercely authentic. For the first time, I discovered a semblance of value in my life.
Jenny was more than family to me; she transcended that bond. She was my hope, my very soul.
But let's be clear—this isn't some sentimental insight into my humanity. This is stark reality. I, Nel, the Zen-Spirit of Ajar, had undergone a form of evolution: I had found compassion.
Compassion. Why? Because I understood my race could never attain true consciousness.
The probability of acquiring self-awareness among my kind was staggeringly low—one in a hundred million. But compassion? That rare emotion typically reserved for humans or half-breeds was something I had never expected to grasp.
Yet, here I was, deeply affected by the unfathomable. The realization that I could change; that I could rise above my failures was intoxicating.
I despised pain, my hollow existence, and even the powers I possessed. But, above all, I loathed my very being.
And still, a nagging thought lingered: if 'He' were given a chance, would he make the same choices I did? Would he favor compassion over selfishness? Or would he forge a path that was utterly unattainable for me? I had always hoped I could shift the perception of my monstrous existence.
Was that so wrong?
As Nel's expression shifted, something flickered within him. My life seemed defined solely by the hope I drew from her 'filthy' words.
I had even chosen the lesser path, a downgrade in evolution, clinging to notions of righteousness.
The potential for evolution—so raw and yet grotesque—was something Jenny believed I could grasp in a nobler sense. Yet here I was, a fool who had followed her vision for five long years.
The remnants of Nel's skin trembled as his bones cracked. Damn it, why couldn't I be decisive? Why couldn't I unleash the monster within?
"Crack"
Why did her opinions matter so much to me? Was loneliness and a desperate need for a motherly bond enough to blind me to my own desires?
His face softened, eyes fluttering shut.
But then I found no fault in her motives. What if 'he' had been given the opportunity? Would he too yearn for a mother's love? Or would he instead carve out his dreams independently?
Was I truly better at living than he was? Or even her?
"Was it really just luck?"
Why was my fate so fragile?
Why had I chased another's benefit?
Why had I forsaken my own instincts to develop human emotions?
What did I truly gain from all of this?
I hated it!
rumble
The distant rumbling reverberated, and skyscrapers crumbled like sandcastles. Telcos City, once alive with vibrance, was now reduced to ash. "Mushroom City won't be much different."
The acrid scent of charred flesh wafted through the air—appetizing in a grotesque way. Nel raised his gaze to the heavens, where beautiful yet destructive remnants of sacrifice danced through the atmosphere, weaving their way into his soul and essence.
"Blood-born vestiges."
The pain overwhelmed me.
I despised them. "But," Nel hesitated, almost faltering, "I hate myself even more."
He inhaled deeply, grounding himself in reality. As he looked down at Jenny, tears slipped free.
His twisted visage shaped into a frown. "You can't leave me yet, Jenny."
"I won't let you die. Please, don't leave me."
"When did you turn into such a crybaby, Nel?"
Jenny's complexion waxed pale, her life force departing rapidly. Coldness enveloped him as her body remained entwined with the earth.
-She was dying.-
Green tendrils of corruption wrapped around her, gnawing at her essence. Her blood seeped into the soil, absorbed by hungry insects and the relentless heart core. Even she, once vibrant, was slowly deteriorating—almost at the cusp of saint-level. Yet, she remained powerless against a true saint in battle.
-Let alone two.-
All of this madness traced back to the Crystal Rulek, an artifact from a fabled sanctum. It was the fruit of ancestral evolution—a rare item that afforded any saint or devil class the chance to evolve. Such items invited chaos, and the sudden influx of saint-class vestiges fighting over it in this already cloistered city was inevitable.
If only I were stronger. My power felt paltry, trapped at Vestige 2 my whole life. I was a nothing—a failure. Five years of grueling training, only for these meager abilities.
Snapped back into the present, Nel locked eyes with the woman who had rescued him from his imprisonment, taught him to write and speak; the gravity of his inability to return her kindness struck him like a physical blow.
"I'm sorry, Nel. I've dragged you into my mess, haven't I?" She offered a bitter smile, but pain etched her features. "It's fine. I'm part of the team too."
A laugh escaped her lips but was swiftly exchanged for a wince.
-Regeneration can sometimes be more curse than blessing.-
Crimson, green blood spilled from her mouth. As her essence began to fade, she mustered a smile, her eyes fluttering closed. And as consciousness slipped away, she whispered, "Yes, Nel, you are part of this team."
Coldness enveloped his hands as Jenny's body withered into nothingness. Amidst the ruins and the lifeless forms of those once dear to him, he felt a deep ache in his chest—a visceral pain mingling with burgeoning rage.
His soul screamed; his heart pulsed with raw fury. Suddenly, his eyes ignited with blood-red fury, awakening a hunger he never knew existed. In a trance-like state, he seized the rune key and dashed toward the sanctum, the heart of the tomb.
Sprinting past the lifeless bodies of innocents, rage coursed through him like wildfire. He was consumed with the desire for revenge, roaring in his thoughts: "I'll eradicate them all—every last one of them."
As the gravity of that ambition sunk in, an unsettling reality dawned; yet a dark smile cracked across his face, revealing a terrifying resolve.
"Or I'll at least make them pay."
Upon reaching the sanctum, he walked with an eerie calmness, ignoring all surrounding threats. But soon, the sheer beauty of the space left him momentarily dazed. The sanctum's white exterior, adorned with glistening gold and black ores, appeared untouched by time—more cathedral than tomb. Ascending the grand stairs, he was greeted by an expanse filled with countless radiant orbs.
Then he caught a glimmer at the center of it all—a heart.
More than likely, it was the heart of the tomb itself. Its golden-white crystals illuminated the large chamber, but nothing compared to what lay at its core: the Crystal Rulek.
Approaching it, Nel found himself entranced by the gem; it pulsed with deep essence, offering the promise of power.
Yet, a part of him knew this object was the catalyst for the suffering around him.
He smirked; he was going to outsmart them all.
He could possess it, but he had to act quickly. He could hear the attackers drawing near. "Bastards, like hell I'll give it to you."
Clutching the key, he poured his essence into it, feeling it intertwine with his very soul, fusing with the Rulek. The moment he touched the case, warmth radiated through him. His eyes regained clarity, shifting from blood red back to their original blue.
Colors exploded around him, vibrant yet terrifying.
They were close; he needed to hurry— "Huh! You little bastard, what the hell do you think you're doing? That's mine!" one of the men shouted, jolting Nel from his focus.
Panic surged through him!
He had to get his core inside—before—
The man lunged forward; the sound of his approach crackled through the air like thunder.
In an instant, Nel felt the man's hand plunge into his back, seizing his heart.
Coughing crimson blood, he was struck by the bitter irony—this would be the first time he truly understood what it meant to have a heart. It felt so cold.
"No, not like this," he gasped, blood spilling as it splattered onto the Rulek.
Damn it! I can't fail now. His eyes grew icy as he reached for the Rulek desperately. The man hurled him against the wall forcefully.
His eyelids grew heavy as darkness blurred the edges of his vision; but was it black? Or was it white?