Chapter 88 - Bonfire in the Darkness
Being pulled up with the help of Alice and Anna, Luke was finally safe.
Coughing as much as he could, he expelled a mixture of water and blood.
"Boy, you're a wreck..."
Luke glared at the eccentric figure of the captain.
"You should've seen the other guy..." He coughed again and reflected on what he said. "No, on second thought... you really shouldn't look at the other guy..."
"Luke!" The little redhead jumped on him, hugging him, and he felt the warm, comforting touch of the light emitted from her hands.
Luke pushed her away from the direction of the cliff.
"No! Don't look at where I came from, don't look up!" He shouted.
Everyone agreed, and the boat started to move away.
Feeling the blood still flowing, he discarded the cloak.
The white shirt he wore underneath was now a vivid red.
"Holy Tempests!" the man exclaimed, seeing Luke's blood-soaked shirt.
"W-what happened to you?" the little redhead was growing pale.
Alice swallowed hard, looking at the state of the boy.
Luke's eyes had bled, as had his mouth and nose. His entire body was covered in blood, and it continued to pour from his wound.
"Anna!" He coughed. "Can you heal this?"
The girl trembled and was as pale as she could be.
"I-I can only..."
As she spoke, Luke removed his shirt. A ghastly wound was right above the region of his heart. A blood-soaked hole that constantly leaked blood—it was a horrifying sight.
"Holy shit! Kid! How are you still alive?" Flyn exclaimed in shock.
"What happened, Luke? How are you alive? Are you dying? What happened?" Alice fired off a series of nervous questions.
"Can you heal it, Anna?" He couldn't answer any of the questions; he needed to take advantage of the time he had left conscious. If not, he'd have to try to use the flower in his pocket somehow.
"I-I can only heal wounds, not restore organs..." The girl looked down with a sad expression, but she placed her hands over the wound anyway.
"Great! My heart is fine, so just help me close my chest."
Luke collapsed into a sitting position.
Sleep was beginning to creep in.
"Captain, is your ship close by?" he asked, feeling his consciousness slipping away, but he needed to confirm.
"What are you talking about? We're on my ship," he said, laughing.
In the small boat, four people were aboard.
"I'm too tired to argue... I'm... going to sleep."
His eyes were getting heavy, and he lay down, seeing the blurred image of two worried girls. Feeling a warm hand on his chest, Luke gave in to all the accumulated exhaustion.
I hope nearly dying and then being carried unconscious isn't becoming a habit...
Luke slept or passed out; he didn't care to analyze which. The amount of blood he had lost left the boy, who was already pale, looking like a corpse.
Wherever one looked on the boy, there was only blood.
In the midst of the darkness, the world shattered like mirrors.
Luke stood still for a moment, analyzing what was happening. A massive wall of glass was cracking. Behind this wall, something was pounding, trying to break free.
There was no one else beside him; Luke didn't know where he was. The only thing he remembered was passing out as his mind faded away. In that endless darkness, the ground was covered in water. Glass shards were breaking from all directions.
"Very clever..." said a distant voice.
Luke tried to move, but he had to stay away from the falling shards. It was as if reality itself was shattering around him. He remained motionless in the only spot where the glass wasn't falling like rain.
He tried to glimpse the figure far away, distant in the middle of the rain of broken glass and cracked mirrors.
"For a rat!"
The distant figure reflected in the shards. Luke couldn't see clearly, as the glass and mirrors fell at an alarming speed, reflecting countless unknown scenes.
The entire world disappeared, and the words echoed in every direction.
Luke's consciousness faded, and he vanished.
A vast desert stretched below, its towering dunes swallowing up buildings and structures. The dunes seemed alive, with fine sand swirling in the whispering wind.
A figure dressed in black tied a strange cloth over their face to shield themselves from the sandstorm.
Taking slow steps in the middle of the sandstorm, the figure was walking down what was once an avenue. Using a long piece of wood as a staff, the figure leaned on it to keep moving forward. The wind was incredibly strong, pushing everything backward. The figure planted the staff firmly into the ground and gathered strength to continue forward.
The wind grew stronger, and when he looked back, he saw the massive storm and a sand tornado approaching in the distance along the long avenue of sand and dunes.
Clutching a necklace with care, the figure sighed, returning their focus to the harsh reality ahead.
Trying to run as fast as he could, he had to push against the strong wind that was throwing him backward. He couldn't understand how there was a wind blowing in the opposite direction of such a powerful storm coming toward him, but logic didn't apply to those things.
Desperately searching for a safe place, the buildings were in ruins, and even the sheltered ones weren't safe. The covered buildings were filled with strange things.
The figure ran, desperately searching for a place to hide. All he could see were dangerous buildings. Sprinting toward a bus, he leaped through the window to take cover from the storm. He seriously wondered if he could survive the things that came with it.
Inside the bus, a bunch of marble statues occupied the seats. He looked at them and then back at the massive storm, wondering if he could hide under the seats. But the fear of those things finding him was overwhelming.
The figure jumped out of the bus, frantically looking in every possible direction. He needed shelter. Checking the leather strap across his back to make sure the metal case was still secure, the figure began running as fast as he could.
He needed to find a trunk or some compartment he could crawl into and pray that those things wouldn't decide to investigate.
Running with his staff braced against the wind, he came to a halt, staring at a hole in the ground.
'Subway,' read the sign.
The figure in black knew those things in the buildings only inhabited the surface, but it was still a risk to encounter an anomaly. Looking back, the sandstorm was closing in. Taking a deep breath, the figure descended the subway stairs. Their only weapon was a strange black knife and the staff.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he saw a metal door. The subway was closed. He drew his knife and hurriedly searched for a lock—fortunately, there wasn't one. He slightly lifted the metal door and peeked inside to see if there was anything there.
The storm arrived.
With no time to think, he threw himself inside, and the metal door slammed shut behind him.
Moving quickly, the figure opened his metal case, and a torch that never stopped burning emerged from it.
He lowered the strange cloth covering his face and took a deep breath.
With the knife in hand and leaving the staff aside, he walked through the place, holding the torch.
Water droplets fell from somewhere, and the figure rushed to drink them.
There was a dirty puddle on the floor. The figure shuddered with happiness as he sucked up all the water from that puddle. After tossing the torch on the ground, he checked his pockets and pulled out what seemed to be a piece of old meat. Sitting where the puddle had been, he took a bite of the old piece of food and tilted his head back to swallow the droplets falling from the ceiling, knowing they would soon stop.
"Bonfire in the Darkness! The only one left! It exists!"
The figure stood up, drawing his knife toward the voice.
In the darkness, two dirty children emerged—a boy and a girl with ragged clothes and messy hair.
"M-my sister k-knows where there's more water. Do you have any extra food?" one of the children asked.
The figure shook his head to say no.
"I see…" The child lowered their head.
The figure threw his only food to them.
"T-thank you."
"What's your name?" one of them asked.
"Luke," the figure in black replied.
The two children took the small piece of meat and shared it.
"Mister, are you an Inner God?"
Luke stared at the two children and sighed. Turning to them, he replied:
"The Gods are dead!"