99 | swords; of everlasting end

A woman stood alone in the silent train carriage, her slim shoulders rising and falling with her heaving breath. It was undetermined how long she remained, trapped in the moving prison of time and battle.

How long she remained kneeling on the ground, clutching a limp body that wouldn't come back. A child she'd watched die twice, once by her hands.

The Teller, moving his sister over his back with careful movements, walked to stand behind her. He turned his chin to the windows, watching the passing scenes of similar tragedies, indifference in his cold eyes.

The train rattled, moving endlessly to an unknown destination.

"We'll be arriving to our destination soon." said the boy quietly. "If you choose, you can remain on this train. Perhaps you'll see him again."

"...what is this?"

"I cannot say, I do not know. In fact, I would've preferred death to being trapped here, but it can't be helped. So long as my sister remains by my side, I'll be able to endure. Even if she never speaks to me again."

"What do you think this is?"

"I would call it, a place where the pathways split for the living. Do you want to remain in this delusion, where your brother lives in the fragments that remains of him, or return to the reality that is harsh, cruel but real?"

Many wanted to remain in the fantasy of being powerful, of being strong. Of being with those already gone.

There was no wrong answer for a choice that somebody made.

Do one thing, regret the other. Do the other, and regret another. One shouldn't make a choice they won't regret, but a choice they'd regret the least.

Nora didn't respond. Gently, she closed the horrified, beautiful eyes of her brother, and wiped the splatter of blood that had gotten onto his skin. Her fingers trembled.

She scooped her arms around him, carrying over to one of the seats as she carefully laid him on the side.

If not for the blood, he would appear to be sleeping.

This was their reunion, and their second farewell.

"If Lucas succeeds, if he can save this world from crumbling apart, what will happen?"

The boy regarded her. "I don't know. I never lived in a world that saw success."

"What will happen to you?"

"I'll remain here." He scoffed, pouting slightly in annoyance. "Do you think that with your world's success, there won't be others repeating the same tale? I am bound to the End's Delusion, and it will continue, even if you manage to escape it."

"All Tellers will remain in the End's Delusion? It's too late for them to be granted the opportunity to live as a human again?"

"...not all. I would assume most. Why would we, humans that have experienced true hell and failure, and have lost anything worth saving, choose to return to the mundane reality? At least here, we can remain with our ghosts of past."

The boy waited by the door, waiting for her decision. The woman's profile was shadowed, obscured by a lock of hair that had escaped its spot behind her ear.

A question rang out in the air, a spoken wonder that the boy said out loud without thinking. "Are you tempted to claim the Forsaken Throne? To make a wish to be with him?"

Nora's shoulders stiffened, and she tilted her chin back as the flickering flights gentled her features. She smiled softly, as if nothing were wrong.

"I won't say that I'm not, but I know that having my wish granted would be more of a curse than a blessing." As she spoke, her eyes trailed subtly to the limp girl that the boy carried.

He followed her gaze and gave a resigned smile.

Nora quickly said, "I'm sorry for—"

"Don't be. I made my choices, and I'll live with them. I won't pretend otherwise."

It was a little unnerving, hearing the child speak like an adult, although she supposed that time had likely been long for the boy, despite his youthful appearance.

"Anyway. I don't want to rush you, but the Delusion has never been patient. It'd be best to make your choice soon, before they toss another task our way." There was a complaint in his tone that made Nora laugh.

In a way, he reminded her a little of Lucas. Though really, people were made of other parts of other people. The thought made her dizzy.

In another world, could the boy have reached salvation? Saved the world and become an unlikely hero, much like Lucas might become? But those were all possibilities, that perhaps somewhere, in some time, happened.

She was only human. And she'd finally made a choice.

Nora hugged the dead body of her brother one last time, brushing her fingers through the tangles of his soft hair. She whispered something, a low promise that made the Teller frown.

Despite it, he didn't make any comments.

He offered out his hand, a small, gaunt hand. When she glanced down at it, he honestly said, "I'm not sure when I'll feel human warmth again. Please grant me this."

To the boy that grew up too soon, Nora laughed and took his hand.

"Let's go then. Back to my reality."

"Is that your final choice?"

She gazed back at the train, at the quiet boy laid across the seats, and smiled. "You heard what I said, didn't you?"

"...I did."

"You won't tell me it's impossible?"

"I won't." He stared ahead, and then turned to look at her with deep eyes. "Because it's not. But there'll be no going back, Nora Nilsen."

"Then I suppose, I'll just have to live with it."

She smiled at his solemn stare, her words that were similar to his own declaration earlier. If a child chose to live with his own choices instead of mourning, then she couldn't complain either.

She clenched her fists that hung, motivating herself in her mind.

The carriage door slid open, and this time nobody entered. Instead, two people exited, hand in hand.

——xxx——

Nora held the ticket slip between her fingers, though it had no ability anymore.

The boy had handed it back to her—a reminder of her resolve, he had said as she stepped into empty space, his figure growing smaller in the distance. A lonely figure, with a eternally sleeping companion at his side.

She kept walking, somehow knowing that she would eventually arrive back in reality. Back to her companions that waited, to the world she wanted to abandon.

The Teller had spoken about many things, and her brain was taking its time to separate and organize the information.

Right now, none of that mattered.

The edges of Nora's gaze softened at the pure relief that washed through Lucas' entire body, loosening the stiffness of his limbs, the rigidness of his movements.

It was like a man that had been wandering in the dark for so long had finally seen light. Uncertain and confused, but extremely relieved.

"I think you can count this as a win, right?" she said, breaking the stagnant silence between them.

She glanced sideways at the gaping mouth of Julian, his jaw practically unhinged and dropped to the ground. Then to the startled but contemplating gaze of Adelaide, and a look of surprise from Kane.

She'd sworn that she saw Rome for a brief second, but he seemed to have been whisked away again. Likely returned to the safety of the hospital during the battle, in case he was caught up in misfortune.

In their own ways, everybody doted on the child who relied on them.

Then, beside the man, a woman dressed in a long coat with purple tinging the ends of her raven hair stared at Nora quietly.

Cloaked in darkness, her appearance seemed gloomy and despondent among the shattered ruins she stood upon.

Nora parted her lips to smile and call out, but the words crept up her throat and remained there, refusing to escape. "Wren," she mouthed finally, a message for just two. "I'm back."

Wren slumped, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. "You're back." She said, dumbfounded, and for the first time in a while, speechless. "You're back, but—"

Nora raised a finger to her lips, a silent plea, and Wren's words cut off with hesitation.

The mist that had clouded and dulled Lucas' clear white gaze had been lifted, a smog dispersed by the stubborn rays of light that was Nora's revival.

Darkness still tainted the skies, promising nothing but misfortune.

Yet, Lucas looked up, past the fog that came from the gloomy air, and decided that if he squinted hard enough, he could make out the illusion of stars.

It was still the same skies he'd known all his years, even if the sun no longer rose.

He was rooted to the spot, and though he has a suspicious throughout their fight, at the stern yet gentle movements of his opponent, bewilderment wrote over his expression.

Elias lowered his gaze to the slip of paper held in his hand, brushing a finger over the fading letters.

The stubbornness of a weak woman, was it?

His fingers loosened slightly, and the paper slipped out of his hold, trailing to the ground. He wouldn't need it. Even if he weren't a Catalyst, he wouldn't need it.

His chin raised, the rocks around him shuffling.

Was this...

"...finally the end?" muttered the man who'd witnessed many endings.

Nora held a sword gingerly, a clover engraved in its hilt, and an edge that seemed sharpened to slice through stone. Behind Lucas, the Forsaken Throne sat waiting for a ruler to claim its seat.

She gazed at the Throne for several beats, the flicker of wonder passing her thoughts, before she turned the sword sideways and placed it in Lucas' hands.

"You..."

"If I were to make a wish, I think I'll make one I'd regret." smiled Nora kindly, pausing before she pressed the three fingers over the hilt.

The moment his hands wrapped around it, the three swords that had been plunged into the ground trembled, the metal thrumming with power. Lucas glanced once back at Nora, who nodded reassuringly.

"I trust you, Lucas. I've trusted you this entire time. And even if you can't trust yourself, trust in the me that gave up my life for you."

Their gazes interlocked for a beat more before Lucas turned around. He walked over to the three crossed swords, and plunged the forth into the ruins. It slid through stone as if cutting through putty.

All eyes were on him. The eyes of his companions, of those who'd been watching the battles for days with fearful gazes.

But it wasn't only fear that remained prominent.

Anticipation.

He stepped back, waiting. And nothing happened. Until something did.

A surge of power pulsed from the swords, slow waves that surged through Lucas' body, a soothing warmth. He fell back in surprise, the sensation as if something had reached inside him.

With every pulse that bet from the connected swords, it grew hotter and hotter.

In a faraway hospital, Rome suddenly turned his head to the windows, clutching the hem of his shirt as his heartbeat quickened.

He had wanted to remain there, on the battlefield. But there, he was a liability.

The boy bit down on his lip nervously, furrowing his brows.

There was a clatter, and he spun around to see the dragon-boy, Shen, clutching the scattered chairs as he stared, wide-eyed outside. Elliot who was messing with Berry, glanced over with a frown.

"What's up, dragon kid? Looking for your master? He's probably gone wandering again, y'know? He won't take you when you look like that."

Shen didn't answer.

Rome interjected instead. "There's... something strange. I... when I was there before, they were fighting, but it was still normal."

"What? I don't feel anything."

"Yeah... but you're you."

"Hey, hey, what's that supposed to imply exactly?"

In the midst of their bickering, Shen had slipped to the side, face pressed against the glass. His breath made the plane fog, fingers pressing further and further.

Then, the window shattered.

Will ran out of his room, sprinting down the hallway as he huffed, keeling over. Rome rushed to his side, holding him steady as Will gasped. "The... barrier? It's... broken. What happened?"

"Broken? Shen—where did he go? He... did he go to Lucas' side?"

Will wheezed, furrowing his eyebrows. "What's... happening on their... side?"

The eldest of them, Elliot, stood and turned to stare at the endless dark skies outside as if realizing something. He chuckled, shaking his head as he turned down the hallway. "Well, well. Perhaps we'll all be enjoying a lovely death together, soon."

"Death? What do you mean?"

"I mean," smiled Elliot a little lazily, though his eyes had dimmed. "It looks like the end approaches. What a shame, I've hardly been able to mess around."

Rome and Will exchanged startled looks.

Back at the ruins of the Forsaken Throne, the pulsing heat had grown unbearable. Sweat beaded Lucas' forehead with a sweltering heat, and even those behind him were affected.

He collapsed to one knee, the scorching heat all too familiar.

Then, a shadow fell before his eyes. A fluttering cloak, blacker than black, brushed his vision as he squinted ahead.

Elias cocked his head with a sly smile. "What? Is this love at first sight?"

"I'd appreciate you more if you shut up." said Lucas between rasps.

"If you help me seal my mouth, I wouldn't mind doing so?" Elias tapped his lips with one finger. "I can think of a few ways you could do it."

Lucas opened his mouth to retort, but the heat was too much, and he could only swallow back his words uselessly. Was this it? A pathetic ending, a pointless death right at the foot of success?

A flash of light burst through the skies, shattering the darkness for a second as a blinding light illuminated overhead.

Lucas closed his eyes instinctively, and only when the sight under his eyelids returned to pure darkness, did he slowly open them again. Where the four swords once stood remained a gigantic, beautiful and white...

...egg.

"....." He turned to Elias accusingly. "What did you do?"

"What? I didn't lay that, if that's what you're asking, darling. I'm afraid that's a little out of my biology, even if you requested it of me."

The light pulsed once more as a figure bathed in pure white descended from the dark skies, hands spread to either side of the egg. A pair of pure white eyelashes fluttered, and Shen gradually opened his eyes.

Lucas frowned, turning back at Nora. He'd expected surprise or worry to flicker over her face as it once did, but her expression remained eerily calm.

As if she'd completely disassociated this appearance of her younger brother with the one in her memories. It was a good thing but...

...something felt out of place.

When Nora met Lucas' gaze, she smiled and returned to her normal appearance.

Cracks splintered over the egg, each sliver embedded with a silvery light. Piece by piece, the shell scattered to the ground, revealing a single, standing blade.

The onyx sword, dyed the darkest inks, it's end jagged and broken. It curved, bent into a sloping crescent that reminded Lucas of a reaper's scythe. It stood waiting for its King to claim its hilt, to take it in their own hands.

Lucas paused. "It's thanks to Shen that the merging of the blades didn't kill us. Was gaining that dragon as a reward a mere coincidence?"

"If not that dragon, there would've been another way." Elias wasn't suspicious, nonchalantly explaining. "A person capable of reaching the Throne would likely have received at least one legendary reward, or another means of survival."

Then, he added with a slight to his tone. "I suppose you can also consider it as our child saving our lives?"

"I have no kids with you."

"Ah, so you're playing the role of the father who left to get milk?"

"...yes, and I'll be more than happy not to return."

"What about our child?"

Lucas fell silent, deciding that the conversation wasn't going to go anywhere. However, the ridiculousness of their talk had soothed his strung nerves, loosening the tension in his shoulders.

He took another step, and Elias' hand snapped out to stop him.

He looked back. "What?"

"I suddenly thought that I didn't want to let you go." Elias released his grip, taking a step back. The man smiled, resigned. "But I don't think I have any say in that matter."

"You don't." came the heartless response.

"Now, you'll truly hurt my feelings—"

"This is not the end."

Elias swallowed his words, the deep blue gaze widening slightly at the confident words. Then, his expression softened at its sharp edges, nodding firmly. "I know."

Lucas nodded and turned away again, and this time Elias didn't stop him. His fingers curled around the hilt, a piercing pain that scorched into his palms as a shot of electricity shot up his arms.

He gritted his teeth, a vein pulsing at his neck as he stood steady, planting his feet firmly into the uneven grounds.

Then, in a single stroke, he yanked the blade out.

The Clown King had finally achieved his goal. He solemnly turned the blade over in his palms, and raised his chin to the ominous Forsaken Throne.

Without looking back, he took his first step—a final conclusion that would forever remain in their memory—to their everlasting end.

———xxx———

Message from Lukiyo.

Thank you for remaining here with me. Next Wednesday, there'll be a double update that concludes Of Everlasting End. I appreciate and adore you all ceaselessly. Thank you so very much, and I'll see you next week! ^^