82 | coward; ghosting laughter

Adelaide sat cross-legged, somehow managing to elegantly place her cloak to spread around her in a neat circle around her body. She waved at Lucas to come sit by him, aware of his lazy tendencies.

Julian also greeted Lucas nervously, bowing deep and then waving, before reaching out for a handshake and then pulling his hand back to settle for a shaky, "Hello! Long time no see!"

Lucas passed him, nodding. "Good job staying alive."

"T-thank you! I tried hard!"

Lucas didn't know what to say to that, and ended up nodding again. He plopped beside Adelaide, in the center of the streets, and asked, "Cam0811?"

"At your service, my most favourite author."

Adelaide was often calm; she was calm approaching the group of strangers, calm when she was cast into the hell of killing and death. But now, her palms felt sweaty and the jitters in her body were unbecoming.

How could she stop it? It was like meeting one's favourite singer or actor in person. A person who moulded a part of her small world, giving illustration to freedom and adventure.

She adapted the cheerful attitude from her texts—though it was easier to be happy over a device than in person.

Too polite, and she would seem distant and aloof. It'd never bothered her before, the way others walked around her and only stared from afar, but this was her favourite author. Naturally, she had to be polite! But she didn't want to seem distant!

Her knee was shaking with excitement, and really, it was unflattering but it couldn't be helped. From the day Adelaide had opened Lucas' story, she had devoted herself to it. And sure, she wasn't that loyal and read many other novels, all great and wonderful, but it was his that stuck to her.

His words, his writing and deepest thoughts, that clung to her like a second shadow. It was his story she thought of after hearing a random song, or staring at the night sky from her balcony.

"You're younger than I thought." Lucas started the conversation.

Adelaide grinned, a smile worth a hundred blooming flowers. "You're lying, author. You asked me how my studies were once, and several times alluded to my youth—your guess was accurate, wasn't it?"

Lucas was a little amused by her analysis. It was something he would do as he wrote, and while he didn't remember the specifics, she often sent him long paragraphs guessing what might happen, drifting off into her own imagination. They had always been enjoyable to read.

There was something in the way that somebody's story could be molded and shaped, that if it followed even the slightest different path, it could becoming something entirely new.

"Let's introduce ourselves properly, author!"

Lucas tilted his head. "Will you continue referring me as 'author'?"

The girl smiled, her curls bouncing as she shook her head. In this world of debauchary and gore, she almost seemed like a normal high school student. "No, but if I have your permission, can I call you by a nickname? You can call me by a nickname too! Don't be distant with me!"

She was so cheerful that Lucas felt compelled to agree. He nodded. "My name is Lucas. And yours, I'm guessing, isn't Cam?"

"No, I wanted a name completely unrelated to my own." She cleared her throat, smoothening out her cloak as she straightened her back like a child waiting for praise. "My name is Adelaide Walkers. But you can call me Lai—all my friends do. Can I call you Lu?"

Lucas nodded. "Call me whatever."

"Alright!" She clenched her fist under her cloak, pumping it slightly in the air. Her ancestors would be rolling in their grave at her inelegance and casualness, but it was too late in the game to care. Anyway, her entire bloodline was probably dead.

"Did you travel here alone?" Lucas didn't mention her family, already distinctly aware of her poor relationship.

Expectedly, the girl nodded. "My family, or at least as far as I know, are dead. My mother died in the first Story, and my father in his second. I have no siblings that I know of either."

Her voice remained flat, without any hitches of sorrow or guilt. Elias, who'd been listening from behind Lucas, and despite being mostly ignored by both girl and man, raised his eyebrows. Although he couldn't care less about family relationships, he wanted to intrude on their conversation.

"You sound awfully indifferent to have a dead family in your past."

She glanced over, and he felt the cold sweep of her gaze, the sharpness in every clearly spoken word. "It's of no buisness of yours. However, I have no blame to myself for the death of my family. They were people I lived under the same roof of, but I don't blame myself for not loving them."

Lucas' airy voice that could either be mistaken for softness, or tiredness, spoke. "There's nothing wrong with not loving your family."

Adelaide swung her head around and beamed. "Right? I knew you'd understand, Lu! Please, don't be mistaken. I tried my best to be a good daughter, and I tried to save them too."

"I believe you."

Adelaide's smile stretched from cheek to cheek, an innocent curve of her eyes and Elias couldn't help but think about the difference in her treatment to him, compared to Lucas. Was that sponge really so lovable, that he would turn a rich heiress into a cheerful child?

Then again, he supposed he had no right to comment on it. Considering that he was one of the fools that was pining after that 'lovable' sponge.

"Do you have any Titles? You don't need to tell me, but the next Ranking is coming."

Lucas wasn't sure how informed or strong the girl was, but he wouldn't pry into the extent of her abilities either. He only needed to know the basics of information she was informed with, and would fill her in with the rest.

"Oh," Adelaide clapped her hands together. "I don't mind sharing my Titles—I presently have two. The Catalyst Slayer, and the King of Hearts."

The girl's words were spoken with such casualness that Lucas had to repeat the sentence in his head thrice before it properly settled in his head. Neither Titles were simple things, but the girl smiled, more interested in talking to Lucas than discussing her abilities.

The Catalyst Slayer.

Lucas had heard the rumour of the death of a Catalyst, and had wondered who had the capabilities of completing that feat early in the apocalypse.

It wasn't as early anymore, but it meant Adelaide was a force to be reckoned with. She was likely more powerful than the entire group, an ability either honed and sharpened with a painful drive, or blessed to her by luck.

Well, the entire group except for Elias.

He was an abnormaility in every case or thought that Lucas could conjure up. A weirdo, in simpler terms.

"Sorry, Lu. Are you disillusioned? I..." She felt panic rouse in her chest at the thought of being hated by the one person who allowed her to be herself. "I didn't mean for it—I didn't mean to kill, or to, ah... I didn't want any of it."

Lucas shook his head, and while he quietly watched as he always did, Adelaide felt as if his gaze were gentle. Reassuring. "I know. I'm not judging you, it's an accomplishment to have gained those two Titles."

Adelaide smiled—she seemed to do it often in his presence, and he wondered if she was as happy of a child in her normal life, as she presented herself to be. He was always curious about his young online friend, his reader who spoke with such enthuiasm it sometimes felt forced.

Looking up at the odd pairing of Julian, a man built like a soldier with the cowardliness of a human, and Adelaide, dressed in the skin of a princess with the courage of a King, he found that they were a compatible pairing.

In these times, it was always important to find a companion to trust and rely on.

With the air of a fatherly figure, he nodded in approval.

For a second, they could pretend that they were meeting in some cozy cafe in the city, or in a library filled to the brim with books. A normal meeting between an excited reader and a solemn author.

Then, a dainty giggle rang in his hears like a distant bell. Lucas straightned and twisted his body, but there wasn't anything in sight, save for the bone-carved houses and the bloody streets. Not a person nor a ghost waiting to be seen.

Adelaide peeked her head over with worry. "What's the matter? Did you see something?"

Lucas stared for a second longer before shaking his head. "An illusion, probably. Another one of Tartarus' tricks."

"Ah, yes I've been hearing all sorts of stuff, and seeing wonderful, horrifying things. It's really terrible, and sometimes I don't know if it's a nightmare or reality." laughed Adelaide, though her words were much gloomier.

Kane hovered near them, his arms crossed. He'd lifted his head to follow Lucas' gaze—concerned with all things to do with Lucas—and after confirming there was nothing, he asked,

"Adelaide. Do you know how long we have until the next Ranking?"

The girl frowned, pursing her lips in thought. She'd been in Tartarus for what felt like a day now, since the duration she'd spent in the Stories were short. Perhaps a little over? She wanted to help, she really did, but it was hard to estimate.

"I'm assuming there's less than a week—but seven days outside can be as little as three days here. The flow of time doesn't keep to a steady ratio. Seven days may be three days, three hours or three weeks. I'm sorry I can't help more."

Kane grimaced, the skin creasing on his forehead. He cast a look at Nora, who smiled knowingly, a brewing nausea in her chest. She realized that she could accept death, the moment Sylvia held the blade to her throat.

That didn't mean she wanted to die.

But even more so, she didn't want to die miserably crying and sobbing over a life that couldn't be saved. She didn't want that memory of herself to be imprinted in her companions' minds.

They'd completed two Stories, and needed to accomplish three more in order to escape. It had been less than a day, and if they kept pushing without any long breaks, they might be able to make it.

Lucas felt the atmosphere darken with forebodding, and looked at the girl, watching with confusion at the change of mood. "How many more Stories do you need to complete to leave?"

"The minimum is 5, correct? Julian and I should be on our last one."

The sound of heeled boots clattered on the ground behind them, and a figure emerged from the shadow between two houses. Wren appeared, chewing another apple, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Hello children, one that I know and one that I don't." grinned the woman, flashing her white teeth. "On your last Story already? You were pretty quick in finishing the other 4."

Adelaide and Julian were surprised at Wren's appearance, sharing a look as their expressions turned grim in memory. Their survival had been a combination of senseless killings, and extreme luck—alongside the abilities gained.

The monsters that they'd seen, taking both grotesque and human forms, and the slaughter and betrayal that they'd been witness to, or had carried about themselves.

A genuine discomfort settled over Adelaide's elegant posture, and she lowered her gaze and picked at her rounded, clean nails. "We've done many awful things to survive until now. Even if we're young, we shouldn't be underestimated."

"C'mon kid, I'm not underestimating you. I'm just a little curious, and hey, shouldn't we get to know each other a little?"

Wren approached, eating through the core of the apple before patting her stomach in satisfaction. She flashed a thankful smile at Nora, who couldn't help but smile back.

Thank goodness Nora survived, thought Wren with a bitter laugh. She might not know how to prevent herself from lashing out, or destroying a few houses and whatever lives were inside, if Nora died. Hundreds died daily, nowadays, and she knew that.

Nobody could know better than Wren, the survivor of several world lines.

But she didn't think she could bear it again, to lose somebody who'd molded themselves as a precious existence in her mind.

Nora's clock was ticking, and at any moment it would stop.

She knew that.

She wanted to refuse it.

In a poor mood, and in bad taste, she decided to vent out her frustrations in bullying the new children that had wandered into their group. She spun around, skipping closer to the youth whose eyes darted away, refusing to look at anybody.

Always so comedic, this muscular boy that had the courage of a rabbit.

She tilted her head, the swirl of red and lavender gleaming in her gaze. The tension and guilt that ran through Julian's broad shoulders, and the protective glare from the little girl. Well, teenager—but they were all younger than Wren, and therefore all basically children.

"Wait. Don't tell me, it's not that little girl that's been committing the crimes, is it? Even with her stack of Titles, the reason why you've been progressing so fast isn't because of her. Hm? Tell me, little coward?"

Lucas was about to tell her to stop provoking them, no matter how sour her mood was, when Julian snapped and shouted, "Don't call me that!"

Silence suffocated them, swirling around Julian's horror, and he ducked his head down and apologized profusely. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to snap—I'm really sorry, I-I didn't mean to—"

"Calm down, kid." Wren knew she'd taken it too far. "It's fine, that's on me."

He shook his head, a sheer white of terror hunching his back. "No, no, I'm sorry, forgive me—"

"Julian." Lucas always steady voice called out, and the boy trembled, turning slowly. "What's 5 + 5?"

"Ah?" His voice shook. "10?"

"7 + 8?"

"15?"

"37 + 48?"

"85?" Julian swallowed, thick eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Sorry, sir, is there some hidden meaning to these questions?"

"Have you calmed down?"

Julian blinked, inhaling slowly. He didn't realize it, but after replying to the math questions out of instinct, he'd stopped thinking about his rudeness, and the consequences that occured when he overreacted.

He plopped down to the ground with a heavy thud, and Lucas crouched down beside him, giving a short pat on the arm in reassurance. The man offered no other consolation, and instead waited, the pale white stare boring into Julian.

The youth, after calming down entirely, swallowed. "I-I..."

"It's your ability. A murderous one. And you can barely control it."

Julian grew pale at being found out, and admitted to it inbetween broken sobs. The fear he felt towards himself, bottled inside for so long, shattered at Lucas' seering gaze.

"I never wanted it, okay? It was, it was a joke, from a Teller. They laughed, sir. I panicked, and I was stressed, and there were all these people around me and, and the ability activated, and I don't even know how but—" Julian sucked in a breath, shuddering. "I heard the Teller giving me instructions, and then they were all dead."

"All?"

"36 people." Julian chewed on his lips, wanting to sink into the ground. "Hero of Cowardliness. The ablity is blood combustion. If... if I shoot somebody by raising my finger and saying 'bang', it'll make the person at the other end implode. They... they erupt in a mess of f-flesh and blood."

Julian cradled his face in his hands, wanting to curl up into his body. Admitting it was worse than simmering in his own self-hatred, because how would Lucas look at him after?

With disdain or terror?

"I can't control it, sir. Anybody near the target, within a meter radius, will also explore. It's... it's so disgusting, and bloody, and—and Lucas, sir, are you scared of me? Terrified? Because I am."

His voice cracked. "I'm really scared."

Adelaide was standing now, her white cloak lifting from the ground. She made no move to get closer—if Lucas denied Julian of empathy, then she would need to leave. Although Lucas, that author, was dearly important to her, Julian was the one she survived through life and death with.

Her eyes frosted with a sheen of cold.

Would Lucas betray her expectations too, as so many other adults did?

And she knew that it was wrong of her to burden Lucas with any expectations, and he certainly had no reason to satisfy the idolized version that she hoped him to be.

Even so, she hoped that Lucas wouldn't turn his back on Julian.

Lucas observed the curled up giant, the large, sobbing man who confided his fears in this pit of despair and sorrow. He lowered his head, crouching on the same level as Julian.

"Listen, kid. Whatever power you have, it's yours to shape. I don't think the ability lacks control, but you. Learn how to use it, and you'll save more lives than you steal. Julian, do you want to live?"

"I do." blubbered the youth. "I do, I really, really want to live. I don't want to die!"

"Then don't give a damn in doing whatever it takes to stay alive. As a human, you have every right to protect yourself. Just as others have the right to do the same."

The winners survived, and the losers would die.

There couldn't be a divide between bad and good in a horde of humanity whose sole purpose was to live another meaningless day of battle, who wanted to endure for as long as they could.

Julian was sobbing, loud and bubbling tears. He yanked Lucas in a bone-crushing hug, squeezing as if his life depended on it. At the beginning, Lucas indulged in Julian's hug of desperation, before he felt the air leave his lungs and tapped on the youth's large shoulders to free him.

His face was turning blue from the lack of oxygen. Wren snickered while watching, and Elias raised his eyebrows in amusement.

Lucas glared viciously.

And then, once more, the jingle of laughter ghosted past his ears.