96 | return; the final king

Before Lucas could rise, Elias grabbed his arm—the arm of a man always running away. It was frustrating, knowing that not a word he could say would change Lucas' resolve.

Lucas glared coldly. "What?"

"No kiss? No tearful hug? You just confessed to me darling, have some more emotion?" replied Elias through the curve of his lips.

"My love isn't enough for you? Needy."

"Are you saying you love me?"

"......"

Elias chuckled, breathless and amused as he fell limply back onto the cold, jagged stones. His limbs spread around him, save for the hand grasping onto a certain escaping sponge.

Lucas glared at the hand, as if a sharp look could force it to release. Finally, he sighed, adjusting his position over Elias' waist to be more comfortable.

Battle and blood thrummed in the air, and Lucas was sure that Wren was watching with her exceedingly sharp eyesight, that the others were wondering, and he decided that none of it mattered at all.

"You lost." breathed Lucas, a little bewildered.

"I lost." agreed Elias, closing his eyes in relief.

It was not the face of a man who lost the battle, but the satisfaction of one that had endured for years, if not decades, finally finding satisfaction.

"What now?" muttered Elias, uninterested in teasing as his hands moved, pressing against the legs pinning him down. "You've won. All you need is the last sword—how long will you keep fighting, for the possibility of a sword that might never come?"

"They will come. And I will make my wish."

There was no hesitation in Lucas' voice, unwavering, unyielding. Had he spoken those words before, Elias would've sneered, seeking words that would cut through the fool.

But there was a re-kindled flame, not the dull sheen that had existed, and Elias smiled. "So you already know what wish you plan to make. Then, darling, I no longer have any right to stop you."

Even as Elias tried to look past the scattered corpses, the stench of rotting flesh and blood, he couldn't help but be doubtful.

Lucas had shown him many things, miraculous things.

But could he change the fate of the world?

Lucas' face told him that he understood Elias' hesitation, his doubts, and that he didn't give a damn if Elias wasn't certain of his ability.

He swung his legs over, but not before lowering his head to press a fleeting kiss on the man's bloodied lips. Elias' gaze widened, and a flicker of arrogance crossed Lucas' pale stare.

But as Lucas stood, something flashed through the smoke, flying at him.

Julian and Adelaide rushed ahead, deflecting the rounded bullet, standing side by side like guardians. Adelaide frowned as she peered into the fog, feeling familiarity with the shadowed figure that approached.

"I challenge you, Clown King." said the figure softly, a hint of sorrow in the light voice. It was obscured, as if undefined. A voice that didn't belong anywhere, or to anyone.

"The winner will claim the Forsaken Throne, it seems." The shadow lifted their delicate neck, glancing at the gloomy throne, sitting in wait. "I'm a little reluctant though, so I'll pray for your success."

They tilted their head, and Lucas had a feeling that they were smiling.

Why, he couldn't say for certain, but there was nothing oppressive about the person before them, even as they calmly challenged him. In fact, they seemed a little unwilling to fight, lacking the determination or desperation those before.

All the energy of pretending to be mad, a delusional king seeking slaughter, drained from Lucas' body in an instant.

He wasn't sure what possessed him in the moment, but he opened his mouth and wondered, "What will you wish for?"

Their face still hidden by the fog that seemed manipulated to twist and make their appearance waver, seemed to be taken aback. A light laugh escaped their lips. "What would I wish for? Truthfully? Nothing honest or wonderful, I'll admit."

"What is it?"

"...if it must be my truest wish, then it would be to bring my dead brother back to life. That's all I've thought of wanting, all I could be tempted by." A pause. "And you?"

Lucas' eyes glazed over, a darkness looming underneath the pure white. "I thought I would make a wish for everybody to come back."

"And make the same mistake others did? Clown King, the key to the wish is something more, it's acceptance. It's to face reality. People have died, that is the truth of this world that should not be reversed."

"Don't you plan to make the same wish?"

"I do. The requirement for that is to win this fight first, isn't it?"

"And under what identity or rights do you have to lecture me?"

Fingers tapped lightly on the dual guns hanging on their belt, and a soft sigh escaped their lips. They smiled, moving their hands to swipe it through the fog.

When they retracted their hand, it was curled around the hilt of a delicate but firm sword that vibrated with power.

"It's not my ideal weapon, but I believe fighting with these suit this battle best?"

Lucas stalked over to the swords, three crossed over each other, planted firmly into the stone. Swiftly, he pried one out and raised it in the air. "This isn't my ideal weapon either."

"It seems we're both at a disadvantage then."

Lucas swayed as he slowly walked over to them, each step trailing like a ghost against the ground. He gazed at the other calmly through the slits of his mask, the happy, crying clown.

There was discomfort stirring in his chest, and at the same time the ease of familiarity. But he was too used to the End's Delusions tricks and nonsense.

He couldn't hesitate.

His arms trembled, but he stood firm among the rubble.

The fight with Kane had been the most mentally tiring, and then the fight with Elias had sapped away whatever physical strength pulsed in his bones. But even if he had to claw his way to victory, he would not lose.

He couldn't now, after abandoning too much. Half his morals, his hope. The precious time he had left with those who entered his life.

Elias had risen from his position, slumping against the slab of cement protruding from the ground. He groaned, feeling the bruises and wounds blooming over his body—his darling really hadn't held back.

It was only fair, he supposed, since he hadn't held back either.

In the tattered pocket hidden within the shadows that danced and flickered around his body, his hand thumbed a smooth piece of paper thoughtfully.

He slipped it out, briefly lowering his gaze to read the neat words scribbled across elegantly. 'Please wait for me, Elias. Thank you.'

He chuckled to himself, folding the paper and slipping it back into his pocket.

Then, he lifted the dark blues of his eyes again, fixated firmly on the Clown King and the mysterious Clover King. A battle between Kings, seeking to claim a throne. What a dramatic tale it made.

But stories, simple as they seemed on the surface, were riddled with secret plot twists, betrayals and mysteries that could only be discovered in between lines.

"How will you react to this twist, darling?" Elias muttered to himself, a faint smile creeping onto his face. Even at the end of everything, after his struggles for an endless amount of years, could he find Lucas' actions, in the present and future, satisfying.

The swords clashed, a sharp and piercing sound echoing through the skies. Sparks grated off the swords, pieces and fragments of stories left unheard, unknown.

Lucas glanced at the letters that bounced off their collision, the odd, floating black letters that fell away with every strike. In the second his attention was distracted, he turned his head slightly and found a bright pair of eyes peering at him.

"Fall back." A magnetic voice whispered, crawling into Lucas' ear.

He jerked back in surprise, feeling a strange compulsion to obey with his wandering mind. He snapped out of the command the next moment, just as the sword glided towards his neck.

His back bent backwards, the blade narrowly sliding over the tip of his nose.

The ground rumbled, and the broken stone moved as if animated. However, it wasn't the pieces that were controlled, but small, rotten heads of rats crawling out of their underground graves.

A half-eaten bird yanked its wings out from where it laid, one wing bent painfully in the middle, and scurried over.

The Clover King grimaced, sweeping their sword over the horde of corpses that lunged to nibble at their legs. They flipped nimbly into the air, forming an arc with their body as the sword disappeared in their hands, and they swept out their guns.

Bang—! Bang—!

Each shot was made with precision as they landed lightly on their feet. Lucas' pupils shrank at the bullets approaching, and in a moment, his entire body disappeared.

[Coward's Salvation]

To escape a single time, the ability of the dead. His lips twisted in displeasure, a stab of memories throbbing at the back of his mind—of the cowardly boy who soiled his bed moments before a lonely death.

Every time he used one of their abilities, a power granted only with the loss of another, he was brought back into the memories of their death, burning in his own mind.

The Clover King was prepared, pivoting and lunging where Lucas reappeared, the point of their sword directed at his chest.

He swung the blade up, deflecting the blow with the flat surface of his sword.

Laughter spilled from the airy voice.

"You've gotten stronger." said the Clover King with some bewilderment and awe in their voice, and also a following of sorrow. "In such little time."

Lucas furrowed his eyebrow, slamming the blade down with more force. Through his aching muscles and tense jaw, he gritted, "Who the hell are you?"

Their blades collided with a metallic screech, rebounding as it sent both of them flying backwards, one tumbling against the hill of ruins, and the other against the harsh pavement of the streets.

Lucas propped himself up with his sword, and the other staggered to stand up, struggling twice before coughing. They gazed up at the throne longingly, then at the hilt of the sword that rested in their palm.

"...I'm really not suited to wield a sword." It was a tone that seemed to lament on its weakness.

Lucas faltered, closing his eyes. When he opened it again, he tossed the sword—in all its might and glory—to the side, like a scattered, useless object.

When he moved again, silver covered his knuckles and a bat rested lightly on his shoulders. He wasn't suited for a sword either; he wasn't suited for anything grand or noble.

In the beginning, before, he had been a delinquent.

Crude, violent and living a meaningless life. He lived with no purpose.

In the end, now, he would die a delinquent.

But this time, he wasn't alone, even in his violence. He lived with a purpose.

The Clover King regarded him quietly, thoughtfully before they too discarded their sword, a weight lifted on their shoulders.

"There's another wish I considered making."

They pulled the guns from their belt, spinning it skillfully around their slender fingers as they stood at the bottom of the rubble, the Forsaken Throne a mere backdrop to their presence.

"I wondered if I could wish for everything to return to as it was. The life before I knew how to shoot a gun, when I panicked over a little scratch. Where I mourned my precious sibling every night, and wondered when my life began."

They raised their guns, and Lucas pressed his foot into the ground.

"I decided, would there be any point in going back? The End's Delusion is a tragedy, but what was the life I had been living?"

Lucas lunged, and in a flicker, he disappeared again.

[Ghost].

His hand twitched as he recalled the young girl who was scared at being seen, displayed hanging at her death. He felt the illusion of a burning heat tightening around his throat, but didn't falter.

The Clover King fired their guns, startled but not blind. They aimed carefully for where dirt kicked up, where the stones rumbled.

"I think I understand why nobody has wished for things to return to the way it was. They instead wished to revive those most precious. Because they can imagine living in this chaos, more than they've ever lived in normalcy."

Blood skidded past Lucas legs and arms, the bullet penetrating the side of his skin. Pain had long become a dull thing, a distant ache in his mind.

"But they cannot live alone."

Lucas leaped high into the air, raising his metal bat high. The invisibility wore off, and tendrils of shadows followed the sharp arc of the bat.

The Clover King jerked their head up, swinging their arm hurriedly to fire into the air. There was panic, Lucas could barely discern, but they were still smiling. Closer, he could see the black mask that the person wore, but their entire being was still vague.

He didn't block the shots, gritting his teeth as he felt the bullets past through his shoulder, through his thigh.

The bat swept downwards.

But it didn't reach the target. Or at least, the Clover King wondered in confusion at the man who knelt at their feet, slowly raising their head to gaze solemnly at the other. The white pupils in the slits of the clown mask, cold and seeing.

And then, the Clover King heard a slight crack.

A delicate and thin crack that appeared down the line of their mask. They raised their hands to grasp it in shock, but as it crumbled between their fingers, split in half, a smile formed on the gentle pinks of their lips.

Underneath, a beautiful woman held the broken pieces of her mask with slight surprise, shaking her head with a hint of amusement in her gaze.

Her eyes were full of affection as they lowered to meet the other's.

"When did you realize?"

Lucas took her into his view in disbelief, wonder spreading over the sharp lines of his face, softening the corners of his gaze. Light seeped back into his eyes, like a sunlight after heavy rain.

"From the moment you told me your wish."

He had a hypothesis. An impossible, unlikely theory that he couldn't fully trust in after doubting his own ability in reading others.

But the End's Delusion was made of impossibilities.

His shoulders sagged, and the woman raised a hand out, an offer, a draw.

"It hasn't been that long, has it? The concept of time is strange, it's like reading a story. A few chapters can either be a lifetime, or mere moments."

Lucas reached out his hand, holding onto the solid, firm hand of the woman's. It was real. This wasn't another illusion, another desperate wish.

"Thank you." He said finally in a hoarse voice.

The Clover King was surprised again, being thanked when it was she who should've thanked the other. For everything he was, for saving and protecting her this entire time in her weakness.

"What for?"

And Lucas smiled softly, of a man finally freed from heavy shackles. Or at least, the burdens that weighed him down, were lifted just a little.

"Thank you for returning alive..."

Tears welled in the woman's kind gaze, and she smiled.

"...Nora."

———XXX———

From Lukiyo:

REUNION! I love Nora, and she was never meant to be as prominent of a character as she ended up being. A normal woman, a student, who was neither cool or had awesome fighting skills, neither talented or overly kind. I love the beauty of being 'regular', of being 'common'. Because even if you aren't particularly skilled in anything, you can still become something.

In fact, of all of them, I think she was one of the most scared of death. Of taking risks, because of that. Lucas and Kane fought to protect, rather than to survive, Elias out of amusement, Wren because she had no choice. Rome, out of admiration for Lucas, and so forth.

Anyway! It really about the end, perhaps less than 10 chapters left?!

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I will be taking the following Wednsday off from uploading Everlasting (just a bit burned out lately!) Thanks for your understanding! <3