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Chapter 121: Day of Reckoning: Noon
🕑 Added 2023-04-10 23:36:50 +0000 UTCChapter 121: Day of Reckoning: Noon
/Stalking was fun to the young Hunter. Tracking good prey down, then watching its habits and movements, finding the right time to pounce, was thrilling. The danger of being discovered was sometimes more challenging and fun to them than simply having a match of speed and endurance.
As the days ticked by, the young one continued to grow their proficiency in it and every other aspect of living in the wild. The call was still there, drawing them ever forward, its grip strengthening and weakening at times, like ebb and flood. Sometimes, it was even powerful enough to distract them from the hunt itself, then they moved a little closer, and journeyed.
It was all like that, travelling, then stopping and preparing for the next section. During those times, the Hunter always thought about themselves and their fate. Were there others with a similar calling? What truly were they headed towards? Sometimes, the mystery of it enticed them as much as the destination, while other times, they partook in the joy of the journey more.
Every time they stopped, the intervals got shorter, the preparation for the next stretch took less time, until eventually, there were no more preparations needed. They required no jerky, knowing they could find prey or plants to eat every evening. They didn't need a good spot to sleep, being able to put together accomodations on the fly.
The young Hunter had every tool they could need, fully prepared, and thus they sped up. Just in time, it seemed, as the more they travelled, the stronger the call got this time. Did it grow with their skill? It almost felt like it, like their very instincts, as they honed them, became the thing to draw them forwards.
Undoubtably, they loved the journey. It was what they had always wanted, to be out in the wild on their own, not reliant on anyone else. They caught their own food, tread their own path, and were as free as could be.
Which is when the draw started bothering them. They began chasing it, rather than simply travelling where it drew them. Was it really their own instinct to want to do this, or was there something there that had selected them specifically? What was the purpose of this draw? Why did they especially feel it?
Eventually, the answer came, when the Hunter finally stumbled upon whatever seemed to draw them. An old cottage, made from rotting wood, overgrown with moss and halfway to falling apart fully. The young Hunter's eyes were filled with surprise when the draw vanished, the hook released from their soul.
This was their destination?
They held the thought for only a moment, before the hair on the back of their head rose up, and they dropped to the floor reflexively, a sharp projectile hissing through the air where their head had just been.
Rather than feeling a draw, their instincts now screamed, as the young one's body was suddenly flooded with adrenaline. No more than a moment passed before they were clear of the circumstances and burst into a sprint. They were, as of right now, being hunted./
(Legends: The Hunter - 2; Seeking Freedom)
- - - - - -
When the sun approached its Zenith, and word still hadn't come, Zyl resigned himself. He knew Ragnarok had found Alexander, but there was nothing on whether or not he had reached Mercury and dealt with the issues he faced. Waiting for any longer would be gambling with the life of his boyfriend, and that was a concession Zyl was unwilling to make.
Almost as if he knew, Berthorn entered the room a second after Zyl had made up his mind. When he saw the sleazy traitor, it made him want to reconsider, and for a moment, he felt his anger at the situation almost boil over, but Zyl refused to give in. This was not the time to place himself first.
"I see you're close to finishing," Berthorn said calmly, checking a watch he carried on himself.
By now, the room was more than uncomfortably hot, in fact, it was hot enough to almost boil the sweat off of skin. To Zyl, it wasn't much of an issue at all, but he'd hoped Berthorn would be uncomfortable at least. Sadly, that hope went unfulfilled.
Unable to speak from the pain, Zyl simply grunted in reply, staring up at the other man with fury.
"Well, you've got another half hour or so to finish, brother," Berthorn said casually. He'd reached out to pat Zyl's shoulder, and stopped mid-motion, a rather good choice to preserve his skin. "Would you mind if I waited in here?"
As a matter of fact, Zyl did mind. These last few moments would hurt the most, and he needed to maintain near perfect focus throughout them. Having to listen to Berthorn's ramblings in the background would make it a whole new level of terrible.
"I'll take that as a yes," the man in question replied, wearing a thin smile as he stood there and watched.
Once again, Zyl forced down his anger. He could not afford a mistake at this stage. Even if Berthorn saw him writhe in pain, he'd have to take that indignity over the other option. Gritting his teeth, Zyl finally set upon finalizing the process.
"You know, brother, I really have been enjoying my stay here. The view is just stunning," Berthorn said, taking his eyes from the window, facing towards Zyl. "I've been so excited for this moment for a while, too. Thank you very much for letting me experience it alongside you." The smile on his face grew a little wider.
Zyl really wished that the pain he felt would block out background noise, but sadly, it didn't. Honestly, if anything, it felt like everything was clearer, every second ticking by so slowly. Every moment was torture, but Zyl resisted it, gritting his teeth hard enough to them to almost crack and trying his best to ignore the words of his once-friend.
"Truly, I don't even know what I wish for more right now. I need the spark, obviously, I've made that more than clear, and yet, this last page had been one of the calmest in my life. I almost want this to last forever," Berthorn continued, running a hand through his hair as his smile turned sinister.
"People really are quite strange, aren't they? For me to be so split on something... What would you do in my situation?"
Zyl slammed his fist against the floor, sending cracks through it. He didn't dare to speak, but his eyes remained open, fixed upon Berthorn, who'd flinched back for just a second, but soon regained his composure. Still, the momentary lapse made Zyl somewhat satisfied as revenge for that last sentence.
For a moment, it made Berthorn frown. "Oh, right, yes, how dare I assume the great Zylnareth would ever end himself up in my position. Truly, I have disgraced you with my words," he gave a mocking bow, "and yet you are the one on the floor."
Just when Zyl considered moving again, the process entered its final state, and he had to use every bit of willpower to simply hang onto any train of thought at all. The pain was bad enough to make him release a hoarse cough, spitting out whatever air he still had in his lungs as he toppled over from his meditative pose and began writhing on the floor instead.
"Right, yes, this would be the most painful part, I suppose," Berthorn nodded, stroking his chin. "You know, you really look pitiful."
Even now, Zyl could still hear the bastard talk, and it made his anger flare up even higher. Why couldn't he just shut up?! Was it that fucking hard to keep those lips together?
If he had any energy left, Zyl would have screamed, but there was nothing within him. He laid on the floor, twitching occasionally as he held on, grabbing the spark and dragging it out, step by step, moment by moment.
Watching it, Berthorn's face was expressionless. He didn't really even know how to feel. Surely, there was some entertainment he could glean from this, from seeing the traitor reduced to this state, but if there was, he hardly saw it. Now, that the end of this whole thing drew closer, he saw it for what it was to him. A tool. A means to an end.
Yet, somehow, he still kept mocking. "You know, sometimes I wonder if you saw this coming," he said, "if somehow, you thought to yourself that yes, this is what you wanted your future to be like. Was there ever a moment like that? One where you stopped to think about the consequences of your actions?!"
As Berthorn spoke and got angrier, Zyl's face grimaced ever more. Maybe, if he had a thought to spare, he would consider all the question he was asked, but he did not. Instead, he locked down on the rising heat within him and pulled, with all his strength, as though he was shifting a mountain.
Every moment that passed, he wrestled his exhaustion, fought himself to a standstill. He shoved aside his emotions, then pulled, repeating it over and over again, walking a tightrope between losing his focus or losing progress as the heat retreated back. It felt like he would fall any second, but he held on, gritting his teeth and trying his hardest as everything neared its end.
"A proud dragon refused to wrestle himself on the floor. You're a dog, brother, a dog undeserving of your name. I might just spit on you right now if I didn't know it would disappear mid air," Berthorn cursed. Seeing someone he'd once looked up to reduced to something like this was infuriatingly disappointing.
But only a moment after Berthorn spoke, the anger receded from his face. He took a deep breath of the scalding air, his anger subsiding. The person he had idolized was in the past, this wasn't worth his anger. It was simply a means to an end, as it always was. A tool to fulfill a desire for himself.
Taking a second deep breath, Berthorn finally rested his tongue, not speaking anymore and simply watching as Zyl writhed, uncaring. He was calm now, and it was all but a matter of time.
Zyl, on the other hand, did not seem nearly as calm. The struggle was not getting any easier as time passed on, and he fought for every passing second, until the scorching heat finally reached his skin.
That moment, the pain seemed to let off just a hair, and he took a few seconds to rest before he threw himself right back into the thick of it, dragging, and pulling against the resistance, careful not to let it slip out of his fingers. Slowly, he burnt a hole through his chest, and something surfaced from in there, a small glimmer of light, a tiny ember glowing within a translucent crystal.
When it finally showed on the surface, Zyl kept it there with his mind, then grabbed it, tearing his skin with his hand and pulling it out. With a final scream, now that he could draw breath again, he held his spark. Panting, he looked up at Berthorn, pushed his hands onto the floor and rose up shakily.
He refused to be looked down upon if he could help it, and he finally was in a position where he could again, if just for a few seconds. His mind was muddled, but he remembered the agreement.
"A spark for Mercury's safety," he ground out between breaths, his chest heaving.
Slowly, Berthorn took his crossed arms apart, and reached out with one hand. "A spark for its safety, yes," he nodded.
Zyl gazed into those eyes thick with desire, then at the clock, and saw that there were just ten minutes left. Was there anything else?
After being through a whole page of torture, he couldn't think anymore. He just wanted Mercury to be safe, just wanted his sacrifice to be worth it for once. Slowly, yet as fast as he could manage, he raised up his arm, and dropped the spark, still dripping with his blood, into Berthorn's hand.
Smiling, the other man put it in his inventory, having the object vanish into thin air.
"With that, our deal is done," Berthorn said. "Thank you very much for your cooperation. I'll be taking my leave before you take too much offense at my very presence."
Something about that smile was off to Zyl, but he just couldn't pinpoint it. As he was still thinking, Berthorn's body began to vanish into nothingness, fading away.
"Brother, do you remember your broken promise?" Berthorn asked when he was already mostly gone.
Zyl's eyes widened immediately. "No," he whispered, immediately trying to grab onto the phantom in the air, only to stumble and fall.
"It seems as though betrayal runs in the family," Berthorn said calmly. "I hope this makes you suffer."
And with that, he vanished.
Zyl was left with nothing but despair, and fatigue so heavy he fell unconscious on the spot.
