Return of the Tower Conqueror

  Hearts of Desolation (I)

Cain landed amidst the castle walls, looking around gingerly at the fading mist. It was diabolically silent, as though the wordless void was taunting him and mocking him. Yet, he didn't dare venture forward; whatever waited beyond the mist... he was too afraid to find out. Fear, something that eluded him for a long while now, had returned like a storm and trapped him, chained him like the river's bedrock.

A mere moment, one which felt eternal, passed before he spotted a dark-woven silhouette stumbling forward, dripping out of the mist and falling onto the ground. As though he had suddenly gotten ridden of a headache that had been tearing at him for years, he smiled and raced over, rapidly crouching next to her; she was bloodied, one of her arms ripped clean off at her shoulder, a clean cut ripping through the side of her head, her left ear cut off, a hole look to inside her mouth visible.

She looked like a morbid ghost, but, at least, she was alive. Broken, beaten, more dispirited than Cain had ever seen before... but alive. She opened her eyes and, flinching, looked up.

"C---Cain...? Heh, you... look... you look so real..." Emma mumbled, clutching at his arm with hers, trying to pull herself up. "And feel... so real..."

"Em'--you're okay... you're okay..." shaking, Cain reached down and pulled her into his arms, reaching into his inventory and taking out whatever remedies he had, force-feeding her with them. She managed to stay conscious for a few moments longer, soon after passing out in his arms. Right then, the mist began to clear, and Cain braved himself to look up. The sight... broke him.

Detached limbs, flung out organs, pools of blood, motionless corpses... decorations of the infernal hell abound the hall, causing even him to nearly step back and gag. Gritting his teeth, he gingerly spread out his Mana, slowly washing over the entire battlefield. When he reached the end, he felt his heart break -- five. Aside from Emma... five more were alive. Less than half of the people that entered here.

"Fuckin' hell..." he mumbled, crouching as his fingers began to shake. He felt lost, truly lost... and he did what he does best -- forced it down. Yet, like a coffer stuffed with one-item-too-many... he couldn't. He was forced to look forward, at the once-gray tiles and face the dreadful, heartbreaking reality. However, his eyes were dry. He'd shed all the tears he had to shed many, many years ago and it left him hollow.

Lighting up a cigarette, he quickly went over to the still-breathing ones and performed the same, rapid-first-aid he did to Emma. Whilst going to the last source of Mana, he paused suddenly as a face caught his attention. It was a picture of regret, pain, and fear frozen in time, underneath a thick mask of blood.

"... no..." he mumbled lowly and fell to his knees next to top half of a cleaved body. Diya lay still, her blood pooling under hear alongside the spilling organs. The stench was remarkable, yet Cain didn't even notice. His eyes fixated onto the young girl's face. It was a face of someone who wasn't ready to die. Death... it came abruptly, suddenly, and it struck her like a bolt of thunder. He reached over gently and closed her eyes, biting his lower lip.

Waves didn't wash over him anymore, but rather belted against his back like armies. Each death was crueler than the last, each face more disfigured and deformed. Though it eluded him thus far, he realized that most of them... were kids. At most in their mid-twenties, still a whole life ahead of them. Yet, they would never get to live it out.

He picked Diya up gently and used Mana to hold the rest of her together as he brought her back to the front, with the rest. He recognized most from Kramer's group, even if he couldn't name them. One, though, he could -- Lukas. Young lad had joined their ranks with a head-sized hole in his chest, his heart missing.

Emma, Senna, Daniel, Jamal, Kramer, and Sigmund -- the six who survived. He stared at them hollowly, with even the punch of the alcohol not being enough to dull the pain. He was wordless, like a ghost phasing through the reality, vainly attempting to pretend it had nothing to do with him.

Eyes up, he sighed and pinched his eyes close; twice, now, he'd felt it. This time... it hurt much, much, much worse. However, he knew that of everyone here, at least once they awoke, he'd be by far the best off. Emma... will blame herself for everything. So will Senna, and whatever mask she decides to put on. Jamal... will probably go back to drinking. As for Daniel... this may as well become the stain that turns him into an actual nihilist.

As for Kramer and Sigmund... though he hardly knew the two men, he can't imagine they would wake up smiling and continuing on as though nothing happened.

His eyes inadvertently veered back to Diya again; the young girl who adored him for some reason, looked up to him, and was far more talented than he was. He killed her, for all intents and purposes. If he had left her alone... she would have grown into a worldwide-famous superstar, a household name among the Conquerors. And yet, there she lays, cold, covered in blood, half her body missing, a nameless doll vanished in the sands of time. How many more would still be alive if he didn't meddle? Would Lukas be? Would Kramer's crew? Would Justin?

Would the woman he supposedly loved need to be beaten and broken over and over again if he wasn't around? Would a sixteen-year-old girl who'd just escaped a grand hell only to enter an even worse one?

"H-hello...?" a young, melodic voice wrung him to reality. Cain swiftly glanced to the side where he spotted a young, short boy walking out from behind a fallen column. There was a blindfold over his eyes, and though his robes were bloodied, he appeared to be completely fine.

"... hello? Who are you?"

"Lek."

"Lek who?" Cain asked.

"You... you must be the one they were calling for." the boy said, walking up and crouching next to the corpses, 'observing' them. "Cain."

"..."

"You're late."

"Yes, tell me something new," Cain sighed. "Again, who are you?"

"Lek--I'm her companion." he pointed at Emma, causing Cain to look at the boy oddly.

"She's way too weak to accost a companion," he said. "And you're too weak to make that deal on your own."

"Hm," Lek nodded. "Big sis arranged it."

"Sheyla?"

"Nuh-uh," Lek shook his head.

"Who?"

"I'm not allowed to say."

"Of course not," Cain sighed. "How'd you make it out?"

"... Master told me to hide... and I did."

"..."

"Did you kill Master?"

"... I wish I did," Cain replied, taking a puff. "But... he'd have tucked my head into my ass within a second. Your Master... is really strong, kiddo."

"Then... how did you get in here?"

"... did... did they suffer?" Cain asked, glancing at the boy.

"... they struggled," Lek replied. "Fought for however long they could."

"So... they did." Cain chuckled bitterly, shaking his head.

"Do... do you think... my Master is evil?"

"Evil? No. A sociopath? Sure. But, then again, most of us here are. Those that aren't... die and suffer. Though it's all my fault," he added, looking at them, lying as though fast asleep. "They'll find a way, each and every one of them, to blame it on themselves. And it will eat them. Likely... even break them. Now... we can't have that, can we?" Cain's countenance abruptly changed, so much so that even Lek felt breathless for a moment as he took a step back.

Cain lifted his arm and conjured up a tiny Mana link that broke through the spacetime continuum. A moment later, a struggling shadow began to bleed out of a dimension beyond, struggling in vain to rip itself back. The fight lasted shortly, as the laws beyond imagination ushered the tattered and worn-out, yellow-eyed Shopkeeper in front of Cain, as though he were a criminal presented to a judge.

"How far did you get?" Cain asked. "For a fearless oaf, you certainly ran like a storm."

"Unchain me, Thief--and you may yet have a chance to live."

"... I've made a promise," Cain said. "But... it rings hollow. So many, so many... dead. Those that survived? Who knows how long it will take before they are even remotely back to normal. And while my due punishment awaits, I can't mantle the whole of the blame. You... you sent them here, knowingly. I just wonder... what was your angle? Did you think I'd have ignored it? Or wouldn't have noticed? Or was your imbecile brain too drunk with power to care?"

"My kin--"

"Your kin doesn't give an ounce of shit," Cain interrupted swiftly. "So long as you live, they'll turn their eyes away. Yet, the moment I cut your throat, they'll come hollering for justice from the woodworks. After all, with you dead, that's more profit for the rest of 'em, eh? So, here's how this will work -- you will open a portal back to the city and send everyone else there. Then, you will Absolve me of all the skills I've created. And, once we're done with that, I will kill you."

"... you are a hapless fledgling, Thief. Looks like an entire lifetime wasn't enough to teach you a lesson in compromise."

"Oh, I understand compromise very well; you see, I just... don't give a shit," he added. "You will die. I don't care even if every single king and queen of this hell comes to plead your case, I will gladly rip your throat in front of them, for all of the world to see. The question becomes, though, how easy we make it on each other; the less cooperative you are, the less skilled I become at the art of killing someone."

"You would forever entomb yourself an Alien over a few, insignificant worms? Perhaps... doing business with you was a mistake, indeed."

"You're also an insignificant worm, though," Cain grinned. "A pointless existence. A nobody. At best, your death will be used as a short-lived crusade for some profits. After, though, who will remember you? Nobody. For all intents and purposes, they are more important than you will ever be. You've overestimated your value, underestimated the lack of fucks that I give, and you've made the wrong bed. I can always just stay out of this place, live out my life simply yet happily enough. I still have that choice. You... you have no choice. Well, I misspoke a bit -- you do have a choice. A relatively-swift but still remarkably painful death... or one so extended you may still be alive to witness the birth of my grandchildren. So, I'll say it again," Cain added, tapping the Shopkeeper's forehead gently and seemingly playfully. "Open the portal, absolve me, and kindly bow so I can start killing you. Believe me when I say, it's more than a bag of shit like you deserves."

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