*hehe, back with a new chapter. Tomorrow I might not post since I have some stuff to do, but we'll see how it goes. For now enjoy. Peace out and Deus vult.*
In the bustling section of the Alchemy Commission where the wounded were still under heavy treatment, a man looking perhaps worse than the wounded strode through the doctors, walking to the worst wounded soldiers. He said nothing, leaving but an air of cold detachment lingering in the air with each step he took, sliding along the ground with careful steps. The wounded soldiers were pained, some of them closer to death than others.
Medics and disciples alike just looked at him, seeing as he's the man that had come a while back with The Merlin's Claw in tow, handing her over to Linghsa and Bailu. He crouched besides a heavily wounded Cloud Knight, whose eyes were closed as his teeth were griding against one another to try and overcome the pain.
With a wisp of light and a firm touch, he began healing the man, focusing on the heavy wounds as much as possible. He was still at the start of his journey in using this art, which took more than just energy control. It took actual knowledge into the being, understanding what had to be fixed. He could look into the schematics that appeared in his mind and glue together whatever information they presented, yet the process was slower thanks to that. Still, he didn't give up and just kept healing.
The Cloud Knight's eyes opened, revealing a pair of simple brownish eyes, a touch blurry from his own pain. His own blood was slowly seeping into the bandages, taking away bits of his life with each strand of sand that fell from time's hourglass. In a weak voice, he chuckled, speaking with a grunt.
"To think you'd save me again," said the man, and Mark instantly knew who it was.
"It's you from back then, I take it. I didn't get a name and didn't offer one. I'm Mark," he answered coldly, switching his full attention to the healing process.
The mean, albeit weakly, could still speak and discern what was going on around him. His stomach was heavily wounded, the traces of claws left in his flesh covered by bandages and other ointments that were supposed to help—or at least relieve him of some pain—before the final sleep would come.
"Mark, the one who had helped me from being mara-struck back then... I'm Qiang Yi..."
With a swift nod, Mark committed the name to memory, saying nothing more as he focused on the man's wounds. It was a long process, one that had the doctors in awe as the dim light kept traveling across Yi's body, closing up the wounds. It took a total of half an hour, but the man had been healed.
"Rest for now. I'll keep working. We have time to talk," heaved Mark before heading off to work on others. The ones with the worst wounds came first in order, bit by bit taking less time to heal. Some who were at death's door were dragged out by his own hands, piling up fatigue on his back. He didn't care about it at all, despite his own being telling him to rest, to take a moment to breathe. He refused, fueling his body with energy to force it to work.
The time it took him to heal was slowly shortening—not by much, but it meant a lot in the grand scheme of things. After a while, the doctors decided to focus more on the ones with heavy wounds, to try and keep them alive even a few moments longer just so Mark could get to them and save one more. It was a joint effort born from a silent sense of companionship, with their duties aiming for the same goal.
Hours went by, and finally, after what felt like an entire day of work, Mark could take a moment to breathe and sit down. His eyes closed, the cold expression on his face growing softer from tiredness, the dark circles under his eyes a nuance more pronounced. From the side, something cold was pressed to his face. He snapped awake, almost ready to strike, only to see Qiang Yi holding out a cold can of soda his way. The man looked better by a lot, and life had returned to his brown eyes, their spark back unlike ever before.
"Here you go, Mark. You've worked hard, and this is my little way to thank you. I guess I owe you again, right?"
Mark scoffed slightly, taking the drink with a slow movement, listening to the fizz as his finger opened it. The cold liquid went down his throat instantly in a few big gulps, reminding him of the thirst that plagued him after a day's worth of intense mental work.
"Thank you. I need no favors. I just do my duty," came Mark's answer, cold and to the point.
Yi could only stare at him, then at the large sword on his back, recognizing where it's from. He said nothing of it but instead commented on the changes seen.
"You've grown a lot stronger, haven't you?"
Mark nodded, offering no more details on the entire thing, instead leaving it at a simple gesture of confirmation. The two enjoyed their drinks in silence, while the other soldiers who had been healed by Mark were under constant check-ups from the medics. He himself had said nothing when questioned about the abilities used, dismissing everyone with a cold shoulder and a lack of words.
"Are you here for the Luminary Wardance?" asked Yi, to which Mark nodded and let out a sigh.
"Yes and no. I'll take part, but I didn't come specifically for it."
The Cloud Knight finished the drink and put the can aside for a moment, letting himself relax for a bit before switching to the things he wished to discuss. Mark's fatigue was visible, but it went beyond just one day of work. His gaze was empty, lacking the emotions seen back when he had saved Tingyun.
"I'm sorry if I'm prying into something sensitive, but... what exactly happened to you? You seem like you've seen the worst battlefields."
It was a good question that even Mark tried to figure out, since he failed in understanding his own feelings. He knew about his faith, his duty, and the things he had to do, but at the same time everyone felt so distant that he only saw himself even in the largest groups. His eyes went up, staring blankly at the ceiling before speaking in a calm voice, remembering his adventures.
"Let's just say that I thought I had found something... but it was fake and I lost even what I had."
The cryptic answer wasn't satisfactory, and yet pressing for more was not the right move under any circumstances. With a sigh, Yi nodded, running a hand over his short, dark hair.
"I see. You've had your fair share of trouble. Battles are something fearsome, and yet we've no choice but to do it. That's how we can protect those we care for, right?"
'Those we care for' were the words that made his heart ache. Silent and unmoving like a rock, that was Mark in that moment. No answer, no reaction, not even a flicker of his gaze, just a purely frozen image of a man that had done all he could.
"It's never enough to try. I must succeed. Failure means I'm done for. Results—that's the sad reality assigned to me. I make or break."
Mark downed the rest of the drink and put the can down on his chair as he sat up, looking down at Yi.
"Keep training and get strong. I'm sure you can do it. Protect that which you love."
That was Mark's last advice before walking outside into the night, the large sword still on his back, like he was afraid to let go of it. The sound of Hoolay's ribs cracking still rang out in his ears, but there was no regret. Not even an ounce of it, which did bother him slightly. He knew and was more than aware that, bit by bit, he seemed to be losing his humanity. From his mental age technically being more than his actual one, to his new body being an oddity with a morphing arm, to his fading feelings and emotions.
"God," he whispered, looking up to the sky, fake as it may be on the Luofu. "Please grant me strength. I'm scared of what I might do in the future..."
Silence in the night, followed by a soft gust of wind that slid along his exposed skin. The coldness was barely felt, almost as if it weren't there. With no clue in mind on where to sleep, he wandered the night, looking for a spot on a rooftop. It was far from comfortable, but with how tired he was, sleep came to him in an instant, knocking him out cold. Only the morning light awoke him the next day, hitting his closed eyelids as it urged him to stand and get ready. It was time for the Wardance, and so he made his way over, but only after passing by the Alchemy Commission to grab something to use as a coat.
For him, an old, plain blanket was enough. It covered him well, and with a piece of rope, he tied it around his middle. Thus, he hid himself in plain sight, keeping it over his face a good chunk, using some more ice on the inside to further keep it secure.
The people were staring weirdly at him as he signed up, but no one dared comment. Swarmed by whispers, the foxian lady tried to check out for a face beneath the hood. Thinking that not many know him, he got a bit closer and showed it to ensure that no other security problems would come. He was a normal human in the way he looked. Reassured, she asked for a name, to which he dropped a familiar one that was tied to him.
"Five."
She wrote down the name, then motioned for him to wait in a specific area. The smaller matches were to take place below the main deck until they were qualified to enter the main battles. No one familiar happened to cross his path, so he simply decimated each battle with minimal movements, not even using his arms. It was all just kicks since his arms were underneath the large blanket. Murmurs and whispers floated all around about his identity, but he said nothing. After enough battles carried out, he was allowed to face off against foes on the main arena, where the entire public would see him. On his way out, he happened to pass by Luka and Stelle, whom he could recognize just from their feet, which were visible. His face was hidden too well, and no foe he had come across was enough of a threat that he needed to see them.
Just as he passed, she turned around to look at him, a familiar feeling hitting her, yet she simply shrugged it off.
"Who is that?" asked Luka, glancing over his shoulder as well.
"I don't know. Maybe it's him, maybe not. We haven't found Mark yet. It's like he's avoiding us on purpose. Wherever we asked for him, no one could give an exact location."
Her face dropped slightly, yet she offered the young man a tiny smile as she focused once more on her duty as his coach.
Mark made his way to the arena in the meantime, bracing himself for an interesting battle, but instead found that he was to bout against a duo of IPC mechas, which were more than ready for battle.
"This is going to be so boring," he whispered, waiting for Owlbert to start.
"Welcome, everyone, to this new match in the Wardance's knockout stage!"
The crowd roared and cheered, excited to witness the battles, while Mark was about to cover his ears because the noise annoyed him too much. Owlbert went on, doing his job as the commentator.
"As you can probably see, the match-up is an interesting mix of unknown being and machines. The duo of mechas from the IPC, the 'Security Guards' ready for battle, against the mysterious 'Five' who betrays nothing, keeping his own underneath the hood. Who will emerge victorious?!"
Both sides got ready for battle, and Mark just used a flicker of ice beneath the hood to lift it a tiny bit so he could see the mechas. It was going to be easy.
The second the gong rang out, he flexed his legs and lunged forward, striking one mecha with so much force that it instantly flew outside of the ring. The other couldn't even try to swing its weapon at him before it met the same fate.
Silence, heavy, and eerie. Owlbert himself was stunned at the sheer display of power. Mark just turned around and prepared to walk off as the bird's puppet spoke up into the microphone.
"What a resounding victory! Perhaps the name Five comes from their ability to finish any battle under five seconds! What a shocking performance, everyone!"
The crowd was too stunned but soon roared out as Five was nowhere to be seen, already waiting for the next match.