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Nyx closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath.
One, two, three, four, five, he counted in his head as he hid behind a collapsed wall, seeking temporary refuge from the manic behemoth and a herd of daemons on the loose. He heard his own heartbeat amidst the sound of gunfire, explosions, and voices of his dying comrades. He even heard Selena’s voice blaring over and over. Save mother, help her, she called out, and his own mind would punish him, replaying the precise moment that he lost his sister in vivid detail. He had that moment memorized, the conversation of bullets that ripped his home and family apart, and he had it stamped and inked permanently in the thresholds of his mind.
His head throbbed. He squeezed his eyes shut again, and Nyx could see the crystal blue of the sky of what could have been a clear summer’s morning, the very same from his young, halcyon days in Galahd. But Nyx was aware, too hyper aware even, that if he opened his eyes, he would see the billowing smoke that smeared the summer sky into a dusty palette of red and gray.
One, two, three, four, five—shit!
Nyx’s mind was racing in the palpable tension of fear and danger. He needed to concentrate. He needed a proper minute to process everything happening around him and plan his next course of action.
But his mind offered him little solace and more snippets of his old life, the face of his sister, and the sound of his mother’s voice. Nyx gathered all his might to stop the overwhelming desire to cry.
“Not here, goddamnit,” he whispered under his breath. Of all the things he could think of in the middle of this battleground that swelled the stench of death, Nyx thought of the life he desperately wanted to return to, the one thing he wanted so bad to cling and latch onto until his bones turn to dust. But at this rate, Nyx knew his old life was nothing more than a pipe dream, and hanging onto it would be his own demise.
Six, seven, eight, nine—
Fucking impeccable timing, Nyx wistfully smiled to himself, and thought how it was ridiculous for his memories to have such a sick sense of humour. Before he could even reach ten, he was suddenly reminded of the first time in his life he whirled himself into trouble.
Nyx was ten when he first got into a fistfight.
It was a clear summer’s morning, and the pristine blue waters of the Galahd River shimmered like sapphires in the bright blaze of sunshine. It was the perfect day for swimming, and not the perfect day to be wasted on punching other children square in the face. It was the last day of summer, Nyx knew he had to spend it wisely. His dark buzz-cut hair and sharp blue eyes may make him seem like a rambunctious kid, but scrawny as he was, Nyx never had any intention of causing any stress for anyone, both adults and children alike. He had only planned to dedicate the rest of the scorching day teaching Selena how to swim, and he had spent the night prior convincing his little sister that the river was absolutely nothing to be scared of.
Much to Nyx’s dismay, Selena became deathly afraid of water after that one time she almost drowned along the beach just right outside their house. Nyx saved her just in time, but he was willing to go a mile at this point; he was more than adamant to help his sister conquer her fears. Their mother didn’t even argue; Nyx properly insisted that anyone living on the isles of Galahd must know how to swim, and considered it as a valuable life skill. As such, he offered Selena a firm assurance, and finally, a sweet promise of sea salt ice cream should she ever accept the daunting challenge before her. Nyx did not need to say anything else after that; it was more than enough to make his sister say yes. Though young, spirited, and clever as she was, Selena was still too easily charmed and bribed by her brother; she loved it when Nyx spoiled her rotten, and she loved him for it most dearly.
What Nyx had in mind was simple: get his sister to learn how to float at the very least, and again, not to cause any sort of trouble, else he would never hear the end of it from their mother. He even asked Libertus to tag along for moral support, which proved to be less than helpful when Libertus headed straight into their favourite jumping spot—a huge, washed out boulder sitting comfortably at the edge of the river, and plunged head first into the water.
“Selena, look!” Libertus bellowed as he resurfaced, and he tried to demonstrate several floating motions for Selena, one in which he appeared to be chubby-looking starfish. “It’s not that deep!”
“It looks very deep to me, Libby. You’re not even standing anymore.” Selena rolled her eyes, stooped down, and hugged her knees. She watched Libertus float on his back, carefree and most ardently enjoying the crisp and cold water, his blithe, smiling face becoming the subject of Selena’s fiery curiosity. It was a look that carried a strong determination and resolve, betraying the usual gentleness behind her hazel eyes.
“Nyx." She turned to her brother and pointed at Libertus. “I want—I need to learn how to do that.”
Every word Selena stressed felt like an answered prayer that Nyx grinned with utmost satisfaction. Albeit inadvertently, Libertus might have helped in this effort after all.
“Let’s start somewhere shallow first, alright?” Nyx eagerly proposed, giving her shoulder a nudge.
“Okay.” Selena nodded and beamed. “But can I jump from here once I get the hang of it?”
“Yes, you can.” Nyx laughed, and even Libertus excitedly hollered at the distance.
It was all Nyx had wanted: to marinate under this beautiful weather, soaking on every drop of freshwater with his sister and his best friend in peace.
But as Nyx and Selena were about to climb down from the top of the boulder, a brown-haired, pale-faced boy sneaked behind them and shoved Selena towards the river. Nyx watched in horror as he witnessed his sister plummeting face first, shattering a loud splash. He didn’t even spare a second to take a good look at the culprit’s face, nor did he even acknowledge the seething anger and crippling dread that bubbled at the pit of his stomach. It was without any conscious thought that Nyx instantly dived right into his sister’s rescue. Libertus followed suit from where he was, and they both swam to follow Selena, whose body was helplessly thrashing and struggling to keep herself afloat. Nyx swam as hard as he could, his lanky arms sweeping through the current, until he finally managed to scoop her along and dragged her back on land.
Nyx and Libertus stayed by Selena’s side and tended to her as she suffered fits of coughing, choking and wheezing all the water out of her lungs. The other boy made his approach without even a hint of remorse on his pallid face; there was only a mischievous glint of amusement present in his cold, blue eyes, the twitch of his lips forming into a delighted smile, as if he had just orchestrated such an entertaining show. But neither Nyx nor Libertus were entertained, and quite far from it. Nyx welcomed the violent return of the boiling rage that churned every flesh and bone in his body; he did not wait to get an explanation, and immediately, he greeted the brown-haired boy with a piece of his mind and fist.
“Why the hell did you do that, Luche?!” Nyx’s knuckles winced at the heavy blow, and the boy’s—Luche’s—gaunt face instantly bruised, the corner of his mouth trickling with blood. Luche was also his friend, but Nyx recognized no friendship nor any form of acquaintance if his sister’s safety was compromised.
What was once a look of amusement was replaced by a look of both contempt and hostility that Luche tackled Nyx to the ground, returning the favour with his own fist. They traded blows and punches, hurling all the nastiest insults that their young minds could ever create, wrestling and toppling on each other. When Nyx got the upperhand, he focused on snuffing the life out of Luche when he straddled him in the dirt. He was too focused that he didn’t even notice both Libertus and Selena were already on their feet, helplessly trying to wrench them apart.
”Nyx, stop it!” Selena screamed, desperately yanking Nyx’s shirt just to get him off Luche. Libertus, in turn, was severely confused on who he should pry off from who, so he settled on summoning all his strength on pulling both the Ulric siblings.
Luche, who was still struggling and wriggling under Nyx’s weight, managed to choke out, “Get off me! It was just a prank, idiot!”
“You’re the idiot! My sister can’t swim!” Nyx harshly clenched on the collar of Luche’s shirt to drive his point. “She coulda died! Have you ever thought about that, huh!?”
Luche’s eyes faltered in surprise. “What, I—”
“Do you have anything to say for yourself, you son of a bitch—”
Nyx was about to deliver another round of bashing when Luche raised his hands and cried, “Wait, I’m sorry, alright! I didn’t know!”
Luche’s apology allowed Nyx to finally loosen his grip. Selena took this opportunity to seize his brother and pull him up, while Luche squirmed his way on the ground to get back on his feet. Libertus was quick to stop him from bolting away.
“Apologize to the lady. Now.” Libertus growled, roughly snatching Luche at the back of his shirt. Libertus and Luche were around the same age, but with Libertus’ round and burly figure, he can intimidate any kid if he wanted to. But Libertus preferred kindness over violence, and used the latter only when a grave situation called for it. This particular one met that exception.
“I’m sorry, Selena,” Luche croaked in what could be mistaken as fear. He looked at Selena with nothing but sincere regret over a prank he realized had gone way too wrong. The boy was even on the verge of tears.
“Apology accepted.” Selena smiled weakly in response, slightly hiding behind Nyx, clutching the hem of her brother’s shirt. “Here—” she reached for the pocket of her sopping, wet dress, and dug out a small, tin can. She flicked it open, picked one strip of her pink-coloured bandages, and handed it to Luche. “You need one. I’m using all of this on my brother’s face thanks to your handiwork, but I’m sharing one with you.”
“Uh, I—thanks.” Luche timidly took the band-aid. He looked at Selena again, and then quickly glanced at Nyx and Libertus, who both stood on guard if he ever tried something funny again, and then back at Selena. Luche suddenly burst out crying, and then ran off towards the other side of the river.
Nyx and Libertus shared a glance of confusion. They didn’t know what shocked them: Luche’s easy admission of his mistake, or Selena’s dauntless display of kindness. It was probably both. The boys were both aware of Luche’s reputation of being a topnotch troublemaker, and it amazed them how Selena’s guileless generosity made Luche scamper away with his tail between his legs. The boys could not help themselves; they broke into a loud, boisterous laughter, and it was only a moment later that they took notice of Selena, who was breaking into tears.
“Hey, Selena.” Nyx knelt down and held her sister by her small arms. “What’s the matter?”
“You shouldn’t have done that to Luche. You were scary.” Selena sniffed. “And you said a lot of really bad words. You said son of a—”
“Alright, I know—” Nyx interrupted and shot Libertus a worried look. Libertus only snorted at him, completely amused. “Don’t tell mom, please,” Nyx pleaded. “And I’m sorry, it’s just—I got real worried about you.”
“I know.” Selena sniffed again. “Big brother instinct.”
Nyx smiled. “Right.”
Selena quickly added, “But swear not to get into fights again, or I’m telling Mom.”
“Okay, I promise.” Nyx grinned and raised his pinky finger, and Libertus could only shake his head.
Nyx immediately broke that promise the next day.
The first morning of his sixth grade, Nyx rushed into the back of the campus to meet Libertus at their usual hangout spot, only to catch him being bullied by a couple of eighth graders. The other kids were trying to get his lunch money, but Libertus stood his ground and tried to fend them off with a show of his meaty fists. They laughed. Quick on his feet, Nyx grabbed a nearby baseball bat and chased them off with it; funnily enough, they walked away, only spewing empty threats at them.
“I owe you,” Libertus exhaled in relief.
Nyx patted him on the back and smiled. “You sure do. Better list it down so you'll never forget.”
“We should probably join the judo club or something. You know, for self-defense,” Libertus proposed as they walked back inside to their classroom. “Especially you. You seem to be getting yourself into a lot of trouble these days. To think you promised Selena yesterday—what a bunch of bogus.”
“Shut up.” Nyx rolled his eyes; he knew Libertus was right. “And I dunno, Libertus. Trouble just can’t get its hands off me, I guess.”
True enough, as the years came and went, the older Nyx got, the more trouble he attracted in his direction. It arrived at a tumultuous momentum by the time he was eighteen. May it be with the ladies or just life in general, the phenomenon was beyond Nyx’s explanation. Selena often joked that he only had his pretty face to blame; adolescence crafted a handsome face and sculpted lean muscle out of the young and lanky Nyx that even anyone within his circle of acquaintances found it difficult to repel his natural charm. The same could be said of Selena, who blossomed into a quiet and gentle beauty of her own, yet still brazenly shielded by her razor-sharp wit. Much to his relief, Nyx did not find any sort of trouble that involved his sister as of late—Selena was good enough warding off unworthy men who tried to win her attention and affection.
However, in Nyx’s case, the sort of trouble he attracted most of the time, the one that he added into his unwanted arsenal of mischief, was getting into heated arguments with adults. As opposed to fistfights, he figured this one was something he could fairly control, and would need every ounce of his wealthy resource of shrewdness and sarcasm. In his defense, he did not have a penchant of starting arguments. Ever since Nyx and Libertus started their little bar at the busy outskirts of their hometown, they had drawn a wide range of customers, and with it, its own array of interactions that bordered on either meaningful conversations or a shitty squabble. Nevertheless, Nyx enjoyed tending to their simple space; this laidback bar was all born out of their crucial need to scrape a living for university, all fueled by Nyx’s surprising business acumen and Libertus’ culinary expertise. Nyx relished on getting to know people, and he had believed that he was a good judge of character, until a tall man, possibly in his late twenties, stumbled upon their little place.
“Excuse me,” the man called Nyx’s attention. “Would you know if there are any other places good enough to eat around here?”
The question was asked kindly, but something about it just grinded Nyx’s proud Galahdian gears. There was a certain air of utmost propriety in the man’s austere face, and that brown crop of hair and stern blue eyes suggested that he was not someone Nyx should even dare to mess with.
But Nyx couldn’t help it, so he smugly answered: “You’re already standing in one.”
“Yes, we heard—but we prefer something that’s… not skewers. If possible,” the man said. Immediately, Nyx itched to defend the honour of Galahdian food to this foreigner. He wanted to call Libertus from the kitchen, but decided against it.
“Are you telling me that skewers are not good enough to eat?” Nyx held his ground and countered, and the annoyance in his voice was more evident.
The man looked suddenly rattled. “No, I didn’t mean it that way, kid—what I’m saying is that my company and I need something else—”
“I apologize for my friend’s picky palate, he didn’t mean to be rude.”
A raven-haired man in a sharply-fashioned suit and tie interrupted Nyx’s nearly brewing dispute. Apparently, the serious-looking, brown-haired man was accompanied by a ragtag band of outsiders. Apart from the dashing, black-haired fellow, there was a grumpy man beside him who looked too surly and couldn’t care less about what was going on. The two others who trailed behind them were men who seemed to be in their early thirties: one was a monocled man in a vest-and-shirt ensemble, whose manners were too courteous for Nyx’s taste; the other was a hulking figure of a man with a striking bird tattoo, who Nyx imagined could break every bone in his body.
“We’ll order whatever’s best on your menu, uh—” the raven-haired man quickly squinted at the name tag attached to Nyx's apron— “Nyx Ulric.”
“Alright, sir.” Nyx warily eyed the group of men as they took their seats at the table right across the bar. He called out for Libertus, “Five orders of serum skewers!”
“On it!” Libertus immediately answered behind the kitchen doors.
Nyx shuffled along and grabbed a couple of beer bottles from the cooler. “We only serve alcohol around here so would you like to—”
“So Reggie, I’m the one with the picky palate now?” the brown-haired man argued with his companion. Nyx abruptly paused and watched cautiously, only because the man’s tone was far from friendly.
The raven-haired fellow only cheekily smiled; he carried himself in a grace and formality that Nyx couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Well, Cor, it is sort of true—“
“What’s the problem with skewers, anyway?” The tattooed man asked with a shit-eating grin on his rugged face. “Cor, look at you—you need more meat!“
“No, Clarus—what I need is more patience.”
“And what I need now is a drink,” the monocled man added in jest, and he beckoned Nyx to come over with a simple jerk of his head.
Nyx single-handedly brought the booze with him and was merely watching their outrageous banter and discussion unfold when he suddenly realized something of incredible and of obvious importance. He grinded into a screeching halt, his eyes widening at his own ignorance. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t spill a drop of beer from the tray he was carrying. “Wait a second. You’re all—“ he bewilderedly pointed at all of them, and he stopped at the black-haired man— “You’re… are you—nope, you’re… King Regis.”
The five men exchanged tensed and worried looks. The black-haired man’s mouth opened and closed, tentatively calculating what he should respond, until the eldest and the grumpiest in the group let out a loud, exasperated sigh.
“You lot shoulda kept yer traps shut,” the grumpy man addressed his companions, finally crushing the anxious silence. “Anyhoo—nice to meet ya, Nyx Ulric. Name’s Cid. And yes, this slack-jawed idiot right here is your king. Don’t bother with the others. And yes, I would love to have that bottle of beer now, if yer pretty face won’t mind.”
Nyx mindlessly set the tray down the table and handed one over to Cid. He looked again at Regis—the King Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII, incumbent ruler of Lucis—and gingerly slid a bottle over to him.
King Regis nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Nyx. Please forgive Cid, he tends to forget his manners from time to time.”
Cid only rolled his eyes as he took a swig. Nyx smiled timidly and tried to keep his cool, serving the remaining bottles to the other men. In truth, he still stewed the astounding fact that King Regis and his royal retainers just showed up to eat at his bar, and it baffled him how men of their importance would settle eating something like street food.
“Oh, I’m sorry—I suppose I’m the one who forgot my manners,” King Regis straightened on his seat as he continued. “So, my name’s Regis—pleasure to meet you. And this is Clarus, Weskham, and Cor.” He gestured at the tattooed giant, the monocled gentleman, and the serious-looking fellow respectively.
Nyx sheepishly glanced at Cor when another realization hit him like a bus. “Shit, then you must be the Cor Leonis.”
“That, I am.” Cor raises his bottle in kind confirmation and acknowledgement.
Nyx couldn’t believe it. He had heard of the moniker The Immortal all over the news, and how his exploits in battle have cemented him as a stuff of legend. It surprised him how he could even meet such a man of caliber in his lifetime.
Nyx nodded, almost too awkwardly eager. “Right. Okay. Cool, cool, cool—“
Libertus interrupted Nyx’s short-circuiting moment when he went swung out of the door, plates of skewers in hand. “Here’s your order of—holy fucking shit.”
Nyx turned around and he beamed nervously at Libertus. “Hey, Lib—“
“Nyx.” Libertus blinked. He spoke in a low and serious tone. “Please tell me that I’m not seeing the king and his retainers in our bar—“
“Actually, they’re really here and I didn’t realize sooner—“
“You fool! How can you not recognize the fucking king of Lucis, Nyx? Gods be good to you!” Libertus sneered and waltzed away from Nyx, proceeding straight to the table. “On behalf of my friend, I apologize for his extreme obliviousness. Anyway, here are the… um, skewers you ordered—“ he carefully placed the plate in the middle— “uh, are you really sure it’s okay for you to eat something like this—“
“I assure you, it’s quite fine. Thank you,” King Regis offered with a sincere smile.
“Why, look at all of this—“ Clarus beamed at both the sight and scent of the food before him. “You Galadhians know how to treat your meat right. This smells amazing.”
Libertus and Nyx were about to walk away to leave the king’s group in peace when Weskham chimed in.
“Join us, please,” Weskham amiably requested, and both Libertus and Nyx froze in their feet. Considering Nyx’s ability to make small talk with his patrons, this one was a particularly new territory. He had never met people of nobility before. “Galahd sure is a charming place, and we would be delighted to learn the lay of the land from such passionate young locals such as yourselves.”
Libertus and Nyx nervously glanced at each other, but in the end, they both rose out of their hesitation and timidly obliged. Weskham and Cid both asked about the local delicacies, while Regis and Clarus sought information about any hunts available. Cor remained quiet on the other side of the table, nursing his bottle of beer. Libertus and Nyx were generous enough to share everything they know, and gradually, their conversation with the group shifted from trading helpful information to exchanging hilarious anecdotes and unsolicited advice on women. Eventually, with the contagious laughter and energy led by Clarus’s oozing charm, the two of them forgot any sort of hierarchical wall that stood between them and the royal group.
A plateful of meat and few bottles of beer later, Nyx had gathered confidence to shift the conversation to a different direction.
“Your Majesty, may I ask you a question?”
King Regis nodded. “By all means.”
“If I daresay ask—what makes you devote your life fighting this war?”
Libertus almost choked on his beer. “Nyx!”
An immediate silence followed. Everyone watched and waited expectantly how this exchange between the king and this bold, young commoner would turn out. There was already a certain unease that thickly permeated among the king’s companions that they flicked each other knowing looks. But King Regis only solemnly smiled at Nyx; the smile that graced the king’s face veiled a hint of sadness, but somehow, it resonated a strong sense of hope.
“It’s for young people like you, Nyx Ulric,” King Regis finally answered, and in his voice, one could hear the echo of his resolve. “I know it seems like all is lost… but if there’s something I learned in this journey is that my life is nothing.” He slowly admitted, and he looked at all of them, his gaze remained unwavering. “But to have even the smallest hope, a fighting chance to give a future to my people... To me, that is everything.”
Nyx saw King Regis’s green eyes aflame with wildfire passion. And in that moment, he felt like a moth, so small and so drawn to King Regis’s light. He suddenly wondered if this unbridled passion would ever be enough to win the war against an enemy who claimed the odds at their favor from the very beginning.
Nyx wanted to believe, and believe he did.
“Nyx Ulric, pull your head out of your ass and go out there!”
Drautos’ voice snapped Nyx out of his mindless reverie. Nyx didn’t even notice Drautos coming to his aid, or the fact that he had been shaking Nyx out of his troubled mind for what could have been an infinite minute.
Save mother, help her.
Nyx only nodded absentmindedly in response. Drautos had to harshly haul him up by the shoulders for good measure. “I’ll order for a medic—“
“Captain, there’s no need—I can…”
My life is nothing. The pair of kukris in his hands suddenly felt heavier. Nyx knew he was never meant to be a fighter, but the war and his circumstances forged a warrior tempered by grief and anger out of him, his memories merely fuel to the fire that raged at the very core of his soul.
Drautos asked him again: “Are you sure you can still fight?”
A small hope, a fighting chance to give a future to the people. King Regis’s voice resounded again, beating some sense into his head. He thought he had understood it, but as he stood in this wasteland ravaged by war, he realized that the answer had been there all along.
He was that small glimmer of hope. He was that fighting chance. And so were the rest of his comrades.
“I still have strength in my body, sir,” Nyx answered and he pulled his mouth into a smile, one that buried all the remaining doubts and fears that gripped every bone and muscle of his being. Nyx may never outrun his demons, but he sure as hell can’t let them get the best of him and win. Not now, not ever.
He clenched his fists on his weapons as he warped out of Drautos’s sight, rejoining the fray.