"...Who are you?"
After waiting in silence for a while, the first thing Caelum heard from them was this question. The voice contained fear and vigilance that made Caelum feel a strange gloom within him.
He looked at the faces of the people, the Chosen, that had gathered. Each of their faces reflected the same emotions as the one who spoke.
He sighed weakly as his head drooped down, the heat in his body from the battle finally cooling down, replaced by numbing cold that pricked at his skin. He somehow felt isolated, an alien in his own land.
He had returned from an eternity of solitude, yet here he stands, still alone amidst all the chaos. Perhaps he was being too sensitive, but he at least hoped for a bit of gratitude first before all the suspicion. So he turned around and walked away.
"Ah… wait!"
The man called out after realising their mistake, but Caelum had already spread his wings once again. This time, he had enough strength to push himself off the ground and fly unlike when he first used his wings. The wind that blew from a single flap pushed the crowd back slightly.
In a matter of seconds, Caelum could no longer be seen. The crowd fell silent once again, still ignoring the voice coming from their comms nagging them to respond. That was until three men appeared equipped with high ranked gears. Despite looking stronger than most of the Chosen gathered in the park, they looked extremely flustered and pale. The one in front spoke impatiently.
"Has anyone seen a man with slightly dark brown hair and blue eyes?"
"Yeah… he was just here."
The impatient man looked at the one who spoke and recognized him immediately. He strode toward him with an expression of both hope and annoyance mixed together. On the other hand, the man who answered, Liam Smithson, realised that something was off about the situation. He grew suspicious of these men despite thinking that their equipment looked familiar.
"You're the master of Titans, correct? Good. Where is he?"
"What do you want from him?"
"Just answer the question, please!"
As the man suddenly raised his voice, Liam's team took formation. The other two men brought out their weapons as well. As the tension was rising rapidly, Liam decided to get straight to the heart of the issue rather than delaying.
"First, tell me who you are and what business you have with that man. As the guild in charge of this area, I can't allow hostilities between Chosen. If I think your motives are inappropriate at a time when a gate has just appeared, I will subdue you."
"Fine. I admit that I'm rather impatient right now, but we don't have time to discuss. That man is-"
"Reynor! Where is he?!"
As the man was about to explain, a loud voice interrupted. It was Ceres. She was running toward them while breathing roughly. Her eyes were still red from crying contrasting her pale face that was painted with panic.
More Chosen wearing the same high ranked gears were escorting her with heightened vigilance. Liam and the other Chosen recognised her immediately. The current head of the House of Grace, Ceres Ilina Grace.
The House of Grace was a family descended from an ancient queendom that lived in obscurity for the longest time. They also have distant ties with the royal family, but their power and influence never once diminished.
In fact, they were one of the few remaining powers in the world since the founding of the Global Alliance. And their reach only grew as Chosen gathered toward them loyally. Naturally, as the head of such a family, Ceres could not escape being involved with the Global Alliance despite not being a member.
"My lady, why are you here? It could be dangerous, please return with the others."
"No! The monsters have already been cleared! Just tell me where he is?"
At her insistence, the man called Reynor inadvertently looked at Liam. That seemed to have given her an idea as Ceres walked to Liam and grabbed his shoulder tightly. Her trembling blue eyes that reflected his face looked beautiful to Liam. But he was woken from his daze when she asked him in a pleading tone as though she was about to cry.
"Where is he? Please… Where is my brother?"
"That man was… your brother?"
"You saw him?! Where is he?! Please, tell me he's alive!"
"He's alive. Rather… it's unbelievable what he did here. But I can only tell you the direction he flew in."
"What...? Flew?"
Meanwhile, Caelum soared weakly across the sky. His altitude was not that high, but he was exhausted. He may have gained more energy from draining the troll, but he didn't have enough to maintain his flight.
In the first place, he ran on the ground during battle because he could not yet fly. This time was just an exception as he wanted to escape from the gazes of the crowd. He knew his body was not quite ready yet. He had been unconscious for three years. His body was definitely lacking in many ways despite the nourishment of mana.
So he landed on the road nearby. He was not too far from the park, but there were no people here. They all fled once the monsters appeared, leaving behind their vehicles that had been stuck in traffic.
He easily found a car with the door left open and decided to just take a rest inside. He was truly exhausted that the moment he reclined the passenger seat, he felt his consciousness drifting away. He lay there defenselessly not even minding the bloodstained tattered clothes he was wearing.
Everything was dark. The pulsing emptiness seemed to grow with every passing moment. It threatened to devour him... or perhaps it already had. Caelum did not know. He just felt like he was floating in an empty space.
It was different from the Imaginary Space which was more like a world of its own, filled with all the things the mind could conceive in creation. This place, however, was just emptiness. It was an infinite abyss. He wondered if he was dreaming, but soon shook his head. He had not been able to dream for a long time. He could not even remember what it felt like to dream.
So what is this then? He tried closing his eyes, but nothing changed. The blackness within was just as piercing as what lay beyond. He tried opening his eyes again, but found that he could not. Or could he? He could no longer tell.
The darkness was the same and his senses were no longer working properly. Was he floating vertically or horizontally? Was he able to move from his position? Was his body even moving? He could not tell.
He had lost everything about himself. It was as though only his mind was left. Fear slowly crept in from the farthest reaches of his consciousness. It was black as well. And slowly, it dyed his mind just as black.
"RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!"
He roared not in resistance, but in surrender. The fear that dyed his mind black had brought back a ghost that haunted him for as long as he could remember, madness. The unending roar was no longer coming from his throat, but was echoing in his mind.
There was laughter as well as whimpers and screams of sorrow and pain. In this abyss where his senses had all died, they were resurrected in the most hellish ways possible. He could feel the madness crawling through every cell of his skin as it burned in hellfire.
His muscles twisted uncontrollably until they snapped, every strand breaking like irreconcilable cords. His bones cracked under the pressure and ground itself to dust. His blood boiled like molten lava waiting to burst out. Their sounds echoed in his mind, painting it a deeper black. They grew louder and louder as more and more pain were stacked onto them.
"..."
Then there was silence. The roar that escaped his mouth had lost its power, but more than that, his mind had become like a gleaming orb of pure obsidian, black as black could be.
The realization came swiftly, but the torture seemed to have lasted another eternity. He was alone, always had been. As such, no matter how much he screamed, no one would even hear. Acceptance was the greatest enlightenment he had ever obtained. It was the greatest gift that the Imaginary Tree had given him.
He embraced the hell that only he knew. And soon, the pain subsided. His blood flowed as smoothly as a stream. His bones reformed, gleaming like metals beneath his flesh. His muscles have grown thick and taut like countless ropes coiled together in an unbending mass. And his skin was like a pristine coat that decreed of purity alone.
It was harmony, the beauty of peace that lay hidden behind the curtains of madness—the very curse of existence.
"O Serenity, long have I waited..."
His mind gave voice to the words that had been deeply carved into his being. They echoed out in the emptiness, reflecting back to him like a chorus of the faithful. But as soon as they rang out, a great force pulled him out of the darkness. He slowly opened his eyes and spoke in a low weary voice.
"Yet Chaos comes so swiftly still."
Disappointment and exasperation filled his voice. Yet none of them could win against the anger he felt toward the injustice he had received. It was not the isolation he felt from the other Chosen who looked at him in fear.
It was because he was pulled back into the chaos just as he had achieved Serenity once more. Serenity and Chaos, to Caelum, these two were inseparable. And it was his curse to be forever bound to their cycle.