act18mini

Just passed out, no serious injuries. He was left here by himself, but he didn't fall here directly...

Looks like I made it in time.

Clovisia could be nearby. She put Ollie here—

Clovisia! Are you there?

If you hear me, knock on something hard—

Clovisia?

Can you...

He takes a few steps, and comes face-to-face with the truth.

The young Self-Salvation Corps leader is half-buried in rubble, not stirring in the slightest.

Her eyelids are shut gently, naturally, as though she is only sleeping. Will she sleep here forever, underground?

A moment of pain in a fall that lasted seconds at most, leaving behind only peace. Nowell could not help but think—

'If I could die, would I die with the same expression on my face?'

Clovisia!

—Argh!

The aftershock sends gravel flying, like a fowlbeast shaking off water after a rain. It is quick, scattered, and unpredictable.

Nowell did not even have time to check Clovisia for signs of life.

No...

As the place threatens to shake itself apart, he bends over and protects the child from falling rocks with his own body. The sharper pieces easily pierce his clothes and skin, digging deep into flesh and bone.

He remains unmoving, clenching his teeth, waiting for the tremors to cease.

*sob*...

He is awakened from his pained trance by the sound of crying.

The boy had awoken to find himself in a dark, unfamiliar underground space. Following his instincts, he began to cry helplessly.

Good morning, Ollie.

It'll be okay. Everything will be okay. I'm here... it's Nowell.

*cough*, *cough*...

We've met before, remember?

The aftershocks cease. Carrying Ollie with one hand and supporting himself with the other, he forces himself to sit up, pushing the weight off his back.

Fortunately, it is broken fragments of rock rather than a single, heavy slab, but he can still taste blood in his mouth as he moves.

In his arms, the child shakes his head helplessly in the darkness, hardly able to see anything.

...Clovisia.

She saved your life... I'll get you out safely.

Then I'll come back... to bring her back. This is no resting place for her.

Nowell sits down, puts the trembling boy on the ground, and reaches behind to pull the fragments out from his own back.

The boy grabs Nowell's clothes.

Don't worry, I'm not leaving you behind.

(Shakes head)

It's okay. It won't kill me.

Nothing can.

A smile, understood only by him, appears on his lips. Meanwhile, his fingers locate the final fragment, lodged between his scapula.

He grits his teeth and pulls it out.

Argh...

Did I spook you, Ollie? Sorry.

Don't worry. Come with me, and I'll get you out. Whatever it takes.

Enduring pain had become a habit. Nowell lifts the child again and searches his memory for a path that will take them to safety.

I came from... this way.

Hang in there, Ollie. We'll get you out soon. Your parents are waiting—

(Shakes head)

What is it?

(Struggles)

Uh—

You want to get down? It's quicker and safer if I carry you. Don't you want to see your mum sooner?

(Jumps down)

...Alright. Stick close to me, and don't let go.

The child nods and grabs the corner of Nowell's clothes. He even wraps it around his palm tightly without being told, indicating that he understands Nowell.

Alright. Let's—

...You have walked a long path...

...Poor soul...

Suddenly, he hears an ethereal voice echoing in every direction.

A mist spreads in the darkness, surrounding him.

Why have you come?

Nowell can recognize that voice anywhere.

He cannot move. A sudden, cold fury buffets his reason, nailing him to the spot.

What do you want?

Stop.

He does not know why the voice chose this moment to appear. Instinctive mistrust overcomes all judgment.

Stop your parlor tricks.

I thought you wanted to meet me.

What are you talking about?!

Who are you? Where are you?

I am here. You came for me, and I came for you.

All you need to do... is open your eyes.

Nowell has never seen the owner of the voice, nor gathered any clues about their appearance. Over the long years, all he could do was to piece together rumor after rumor, letting questions simmer into hatred.

If this voice is real and not his imagination, then it must...

Is that so? Then I'm sure you can tell me...

Are you the wish-granting fairy? Or the powerful 'Nation's Sentinel'?

The unicorn, hidden in the shadows of history, is both benefactor and villain.

I am all that, and none of that.

I am merely here now to promise reparation to you, poor soul.

You don't even know my name. What I went through must have been insignificant, hardly a footnote to a legend like you, compared to the affairs you've meddled with.

That is untrue.

You harbored a possibility that I placed hope in. How would one little weed of unknown breed grow if it never wilts? And how will it affect the lands around it?

That was my thought when I bestowed immortality upon you. What should have been a blessing.

Blessing. Pft.

Your arrogant 'blessing' has brought me nothing but an eternity of pain.

...That was not my intention.

But that's what it became. Death by a thousand cuts, except you wouldn't even let me die!

It's nothing but a curse!

I understand your anger.

Tell me. What will make you feel better?

...Hah.

What, will you 'bestow' another 'blessing' upon me?

Nowell can feel the child grab his clothes even tighter.

Can you hear me, Ollie?

(Nods)

This voice is a liar. Don't listen to it. Don't think about it.

I'll take you out of here.

Whoever you are, you can ask those legendary heroes who dance with you. Me, I'm leaving.

Few are those who hold the helm in the tides of history.

Are you complaining? To me?

...If you consider my blessing a curse, I might offer you reparations.