The same defiance that had kept him studying when others said magic was beyond him after the illness. The same fire that had made him push forward when his body wouldn't work. The same stubborn light that had kept him fighting long after hope had died.
The spark that, even after everything, had never quite gone out.
"Yes," she said, satisfaction in her voice. "That is exactly what you need to feel."
Nero confirmed then that she was indeed reading his thoughts. Though... he had no actual head anymore, so she was reading his... what exactly?
The metaphysical implications were starting to give him a metaphysical headache.
She rose to her feet, and Nero found himself looking up, and up, and up. She seemed to stretch into infinity, her robes merging with the darkening sky, stars dancing in their folds. She extended her hand down to him - a hand that somehow remained elegant and human-sized despite her cosmic proportions.
"Accept the deal," she said, her voice now echoing all over the space. "Fight for the world you would like to live in."
Her voice grew softer, gentler. "And when it's all over, when all is said and done, and you have completed a hopefully long, satisfying life..." She paused, her star-filled eyes warm. "Then I will take you."
Being promised collection by this entity, even one who looked like a beautiful lady, should not have felt reassuring. Yet somehow, it only made Nero more determined to make that meeting as distant as possible.
He smiled and reached for her hand. It felt like touching starlight and shadow at once, warm and cool, solid and ethereal, impossibly ancient and perfectly present.
"Deal."
The moment their hands clasped, everything - the beach, the sunset, his corpse, even Death herself - simply... ceased. No fade to white, no dramatic flash. Just sudden, complete nothingness. No up or down, no light or dark, no sound or silence. Not even the concept of empty space. Just...
Nothing.
Through the nothingness, her voice came one last time:
"Make it count, Nero Sylla."
*****
Nero floated in the nothingness, formless and senseless.
Time lost all meaning. He couldn't tell if seconds or eons had passed. The emptiness was absolute, oppressive.
Then, a flicker. A pinprick of awareness in the endless. It grew, expanding like a bubble in the void. Suddenly, glowing blue text materialized before him:
[System Initializing...]
The words hung there, impossibly bright in what was now darkness. More text appeared, each line bringing a surge of sensation back to Nero's formless consciousness:
[Name: Nero Sylla]
[Race: Human]
[Life Force: 100/100]
[Class: Mage]
[Date: 5th of Sapin, 847 AR]
As the last line faded, reality crashed back into existence around him.
The first thing that came back was sensation - a dull throb that seemed to exist everywhere and nowhere at once. Then pressure, the weight of his own body, real and solid and impossibly heavy. His lungs burned as they remembered how to breathe, each heartbeat thundering in his ears like a drum.
Consciousness trickled in like water through a cracked dam.
"...dead?"
"...poke him with a stick..."
"...your wand away before..."
The voices faded in and out, mixing with the ringing in his ears.
"Mr. Sylla?"
Everything felt too much - the cold wetness on his face, the taste of blood in his mouth, the hard ground beneath him, the scratch of rough fabric against his skin. His nerve endings fired all at once, relearning what it meant to be alive.
"...dom? Nero?"
"Leave him..."
"...should we get the..."
"...breathing, look..."
His eyelids flickered, impossibly heavy. Light stabbed at his retinas, making the world swim in blurry patches of color. Something shifted nearby - shadows moving against brightness.
"Mr. Sylla? Can you hear me?"
The world slowly began to arrange itself into recognizable shapes, like a painting coming into focus. The ringing in his ears faded to a distant hum, replaced by the clear voices of...
The world swam in and out of focus, faces hovering above him. Faces he'd forgotten he once knew. Faces that had haunted his dreams for decades. This was like watching a memory play out, except...
[Attribute Unlocked: Regressor's Memory]
The memories crashed into Nero like a tidal wave. The beach. Death. Her star-filled eyes. The deal... THE DEAL!
"AH!" He jolted upright, earning a chorus of startled gasps from the crowd around him.
"I think you broke him, Damus."
Damus? His head whipped left, then right, taking in the sea of young faces staring at him like he'd grown a second head. They all looked so... small. So unbearably young.
Strong hands gripped his shoulders, steadying him. "Easy there, Mr. Sylla. You need to breathe. That was quite the hit you took during the duel." The adult voice paused, hardening slightly. "For which you will come and see me in my office, Mr. Lightbringer."
Nero heard a tsk somewhere in the crowd.
It worked. It really worked! He was-
Wait. He squinted at the man holding his shoulders. Who was... ah, The stern face, the scarred face that could only come from battle, the silver-streaked beard...
...Crowley? Professor Crowley!
His heart hammered against his ribs. There was Damus Lightbringer, standing awkwardly to the side, looking so young it hurt. No scar carved into his face, no hollow darkness in his eyes. Just a boy who'd cast a spell too powerful for a practice duel.
The fifth of Sapin. The day he'd spent a day in the infirmary because little Damus couldn't control his temper. Look at him, that little-
"Nero?"
Nero's eyes widened. That voice. That impossible voice.
He turned slowly, looking past Crowley, and there...
There was Sam.
Alive. Whole. Young. Stupid, wonderful Sam, with his crooked grin and worried eyes, his ginger hair catching the sunlight like copper wire.
Nero's trembling fingers found his own face - smooth, impossibly elastic skin, the sharp sting where Damus's spell had hit him, cool water droplets still clinging to his cheeks. He felt the roundness there, the absence of decades of worry lines. Young. He was young.
A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside him, wild and uncontrolled, bordering on hysterical.
"Did he hit his head?"
"Should we get the healer?"
"He's gone mental..."
"Nero?" Sam's voice cut through the whispers, concerned. "Are you alright?"
Nero threw his head back and shouted to the sky, not caring how crazy he looked, not caring about anything except the air in his young lungs and the beating of his restored heart:
"I'M BACK!"
"Yeah. You definitely broke him, Damus."