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The first time, he was rash and believed the answer to everything was to just get more strength.
It was a decision entirely by his own, too. All he had in his mind was to restore the El. Restore the El, bring peace back to the land, then go on his way and maybe try to find his sister. Treading the forests of Ruben, his eye catching a gleam of promising power, he seized it with no second thoughts. His gut told him to retrieve the El at all costs, and, well, he did sense the El from that seal, albeit it felt a little different than before.
But everything would be fine, right? As soon as they got the El and all that. His scabbard identified itself as Conwell, the spirit of the second blade he had picked up in the forest. It whispers of new powers that can make him two times, four times, sixteen times stronger than his current ability in an instant, materializing an endless supply of a dance of blades.
Elsword may have been a little too eager in accepting the offer. Power was power, wasn’t it? Didn’t really matter where it came from as long as you had it under your reins. But he didn’t care. He could get stronger with this? Then he would take it. Hell, Rena herself had picked up a sword, and Aisha had started working out to swing that staff of hers with the force of a sword if Aisha coming up to him for pointers were anything to go by.
She clearly had some pride to swallow. Elsword wouldn’t dare let her live it down, but he humors her request and teaches her the basics. Stance, posture, etcetera. They do this between the empty spaces of their journey, bringing each other up, guiding, as Elsword practiced with two blades accordingly to the whisper of the sheath. They fight tyrants, lizardmen, Nasods, demons, all while making a couple of select allies along the way.
Which, no shit, means he’s not a crippled dumbass when it comes to people things. He met and recruited more than a couple of new allies before it happened, but one particular boy that stood out to him happened to be the strategy brains of the group, Tactical Trooper.
By the time they had reached Hamel, Elsword, now Infinity Sword, had grown a nice reputation of having a temperamental nature and a fierce attitude, toying with enemies and treating each fight as a mere game challenge to rack up more kills in faster times and summon more swords than the last. Infinity Sword didn’t mind; he enjoyed the fight, enjoyed watching himself get stronger, and so what if no one has been able to match him yet? As of recent developments, he needs more power to take down his sister as well.
(Take the power of the Dark El, Conwell goaded that night, gesturing to the growing black aura that permeated the realm inside the sheathing. Infinity Sword almost grasped it from only the volumes of hurt and anger he felt.)
Then Hamel occurred. Tactical Trooper certainly isn’t ‘no one’, to say the least.
He smirks, he grins, he’s smug, he’s confident, and has a freaky infatuation with Hamel military weapons as well as a bunch of old research papers that were apparently from his dad. Infinity Sword doesn’t blame him initially, remembering his sister’s letter before he discovered the tragedy that was his batshit crazy elder sibling at the Southern Gate.
“So you plan on helping out?”
“We’re here to kill demons,” Infinity Sword scoffs, “protecting everyone’s a plus.”
“So,” Tactical Trooper’s lip quirks upward, “you’re helping out.”
He likes this guy and hates him at the same time. They jab at each other frequently, Infinity Sword’s sharp and blunt, easily angered tongue against the witticisms and sarcastic remarks of Tactical Trooper becoming so habitual that the line between them starts to blur. It’s thrilling to talk to him, try to outwit him or find the next thing that may give him some kind of advantage in Tactical Trooper’s home base, even if his brazen attitude left flaws in his speech every time.
(What’s this? Did someone get your fancy? Conwell laughed mockingly, tells him how much these sorts of things always ended in tragedy. Infinity Sword tells him to shut up. Conwell tells him he won’t ever be rid of him.)
Still, he can’t deny as they dive into Resiam that Tactical Trooper may be more than a little interesting, which was an honor in its own right. Or maybe Conwell had a point. He’d never let it show because strong people never show weakness, but that shit hurt. Seeing his sister wearing… whatever the hell she was wearing, laughing like a deranged teenage actress who had her cup of milk spilled on set while hacking around a scissor-looking blade into her enemies. Infinity Sword stepped past the blood, tried calling out to his sister, got her to stay at the inn with them. Vanessa looked beyond frightened when they re-entered town with her in tow, Dimension Witch told him carefully. Infinity Sword ignored her in favor of tending to his sister.
Well, she wasn’t with them trekking through Hamel right now. Probably still out there killing every demon she sets her eyes on even though they were doing the same on a different front. Something about never wanting allies again after what happened to the Red Knights, shattered teacups and cold glares in passing, and a final warning for Infinity Sword to get rid of that scabbard and go back home. Infinity Sword took offense at his own sister saying such a thing. He could handle Conwell! Sure, he’s slowly absorbing more and more Dark El, but he hasn’t let it control him! What was wrong with it?! Tactical Trooper was perhaps the first in a while that had shown only true interest.
They set up tents and Infinity Sword realizes he is missing one, to which Tactical Trooper cheerfully announces they would be sharing like he could decide everything.
“Excuse me?!” Infinity Sword retorts, rounding on him.
Tactical Trooper smiles easily. “We’ll share. It’s more sufficient on our carrying load this way,” and when he leans forward, close within range, their noses just barely brushing, he asks, in a lower tone, “or are you worried people are gonna talk?”
A goddamn challenge. He was issuing a fucking challenge. Asshole.
…He may or may not like that. “Of course not,” Infinity scoffs back, lets his breath flutter against Tactical Trooper’s face as he crosses his arms, “ you should be more worried about that. I’m just a guy, and you’re the revered guardian of Hamel.”
“Maybe I’m not as revered as you think,” Tactical Trooper responds with fluttering, half-lidded eyes, pressing their foreheads together in his dare, “maybe I just think you’re interesting. But you? Your name is all across the plains, deserts, and cities of Rurensia, has crossed the seas through Velder flame to Pluone, where even I hear your name and it continues to scatter throughout the land."
Infinity Sword grits his teeth in a low-throated growl, pushing back with his head to where their noses brush and meets those clear blue eyes with ferocity because damn, how dare this new guy try to challenge the leader of the team, “You get that from your playwright?”
Tactical Trooper presses his index and middle fingers to his own lips, smirks, then presses those fingers against Infinity Sword’s own mouth, “Nah. Just my head,” he says with a searingly goading wink, denying that Infinity Sword was the leader before he makes a distance between them again and smiles normal and cheery. Infinity Sword is left gaping and feeling high offense. Did that fucktwat really just do that? Did he really? He swears he can see Dimension Witch behind the guardian with wide eyes.
“Let’s get that tent set up.”
A furtive dance that feels like it’ll never end was what Dimension Witch described them as. She watches them often, making predictions to herself and trying to pry bets out of Rena, who denies it and calls it childish banter that was unnecessary. Somehow, Infinity Sword feels a little bad when she does her best to hang around Tactical Trooper and Infinity Sword often, and he can’t deny he seeks those two out first before anything as well. Night Watcher was too stiff, too business-like, and Veteran Commander stuck by her side. Code Battle Seraph had vanished into wherever the hell, and though they were always searching for her presence unconsciously, they knew that she was not going to come back.
(“Reviving the Nasod race will be impossible at this pace. My systems say it will be more efficient to revive it alone,” she had told him when he found her at the cusp of town. Infinity Sword frowns, not expecting to have to deal with leaving party members, but lets her go and says to the team she has decided to leave the El Search Party for her own goals.)
Tactical Trooper knits his brows into downwards-pressed lines when Infinity Sword tells him what happened to her one night. He understands it, follows her logic, but brings up that according to what Infinity Sword had told him, she sealed her emotion circuit, invalidating any benefits being in the El Search Party would’ve been to her. Infinity Sword isn’t used to the kind of look on his face and asks him what the hell was he making that mopey face for when Infinity Sword was the one who suffered hurt from her.
“I’m hurting because you’re hurt,” Tactical Trooper had responded easily and honestly.
“Why the hell do you need to feel hurt just because I’m still licking my stupid wounds?” Infinity Sword glowers, leans with his hands to prop himself up, and lolls his head to the side.
“Because I care about you. Easy logic to follow, right? I want to help my best friend and...”
The implications behind the way Tactical Trooper suddenly shuts up, Infinity Sword doesn’t dare ask, and he doesn’t dare question it when Tactical Trooper gently runs his fingers through red locks, brings him in to rest his head on his shoulder and quietly starts talking about his own story prior to Hamel’s downfall.
(He thinks Tactical Trooper might feel the same way he does, but he doesn’t want to break the bubble they’re in at this point.)
Either way, he never asked, and never got to ask this time. Why was that? Infinity Sword was cool, badass, and strong, yet he couldn’t spit his feelings out in front of his best friend. Not like there was a chance to when it happened.
‘It’ is that the world shattered around them. Literally, mind you.
Fragments to ashes, buildings to dust, and the screams of the civilians as they perished underneath debris as a figure, possibly two, stood a ways apart from each other towards the same goal of destruction.
He recognizes the grey hair, breathes, “Ain?” before a scythe’s swing sends another group of buildings toppling. White hair fluttering in black and purple-accented clothing laughs in manners similar to his sister, breaks everything with a mere outstretch of his hand, and keeps screaming one word.
“Mother.”
Mother, mother.
Mother, I want my mother.
Infinity Sword couldn’t relate. He never knew his mother. Trying to get a good look at the person, he swears he’s seen him somewhere before like the Ancient Waterway or something.
(Blackened sclera and amethyst eyes scan the group, scoffs, then leaves as easily as he had saved them from a terrible fall.)
Tactical Trooper grips his hand, pushes them both past another wave of that black energy from the one in grey with empty eyes, and Infinity Sword summons a flurry of blades towards the man.
Ain’s skin suddenly goes pure white and he reveals a… third eye? On his forehead? Many eyes. They parry blows together, forced out into the square and both eyes looking for any sign of any of their teammates. So far, they had only found each other. Infinity Sword finds his memories waking up as he sees him in his wholesome, of desperation and silent prayers every night until he stopped sticking around in Feita, yet for some reason, he didn’t remember at all—
“Ain!” He tries again. Tactical Trooper looks at him in shock. Apostasia does little to acknowledge him, lips moving but words unhearable.
“Elsword, you know him?!” He asks urgently, grunts when he raises his cannon to brace against a particularly large chunk of cement and pushes it aside.
“Yeah. I should try to talk to him!” Infinity Sword starts running towards him. Tactical Trooper goes after him without second thoughts, and that alone reassures him more than anything.
“Wait, I think it’s too late— ELSWORD!! ”
Infinity Sword was stupid. In fact, the way everything ended was kind of stupid, but…
Tactical Trooper rushes in next to him, grabs him by the shoulders and tries to put himself between Infinity Sword and Diabolic Esper, but the shower of stars above them sure was a way to go out.
The last thing he sees before the world goes black is Tactical Trooper’s expression furrowed again, and he thinks,
Shit.
So when he does that, is he worried about me?
The second time, he had woken up in cold sweat, and realized right off his weaknesses and his flawed leadership that inevitably led to world-shattering collapse at the hands of Apostasia and Diabolic Esper. He realizes he has much to worry about, and needed to do everything carefully, and that he was not going anywhere remotely close to where he found Conwell, and that he had to be more mindful of everything down to the detail.
His leadership was sloppy. Eve left, Ain left and he never even knew for some reason, Rena was closed off from them and Raven kind of just sat there with her, and Elsword himself did little about it besides ignore it and pretend it was fine. It wasn’t just him, either. Conwell wouldn’t do the trick. He had to rely on his own power this time. In the end, all he was doing was borrowing Conwell’s power, and that was inevitably not enough to stop the tragedy, the way the world shattered and collapsed in on itself, a galaxy’s end at the hands of two powerful people falling berserk.
Only then did he realize he was back in his bed, in Ruben, and he felt a couple inches shorter than before, so when he stares in the mirror? Is it just him, or did he look years younger, and much flabbier? Where were his hard-worked abs, first of all?! A rippling scream is something within the reasonable reaction, and the birds flutter away from trees in a panic as Elsword rushes out and...
...trains with the sword the boring traditional way, in the same place he found Berthe, then runs into Aisha and Rena again.
He cuts to the chase this time around, says they have to go after the El, and he realizes midway that they are working a lot quicker than before. Maybe it’s because he still has his memories, or maybe it’s because he doesn’t feel the urge to bicker with Aisha a second time as his mind tries to work through it. He’s back at thirteen, it seems like time itself has reversed as well, how in the world did this happen? Elsword clearly remembers stars and Tactical Trooper.
The memories go from being mere thoughts to genuine, solid recollections and Elsword suddenly shrieks in the middle of their walk. Aisha calls him weird, Rena gives him a concerned look, Elsword doesn’t let it bother him because he remembers everything with his heart instead of his brain now. Tactical Trooper had tried to save him and they both instead were part of the universal destruction. Tactical Trooper had gone and done that because of his blatant stupidity. What kind of leader was Elsword? What kind of friend did that?
Thinking on it so much convinces Elsword that he has done too little for Chung. He vents out his feelings of frustration, of incompetence, with training. What if his sister were the same as last time? He would have to prepare for that, would he not? The only way he can properly stand before her in the case that she became evil were to be stronger than her for sure. Preparation was key this time. In order to not just restore the El, but protect the world from what comes in the future, then it wasn’t just a desire to become stronger as an individual, but a necessity.
Remembering all of the events, he leads the El Search Party with much more grace, compassion, and maturity than the timeline prior, and it seems to have taken far more appreciation. Aisha, Elemental Master, takes a habit of staring at him a lot, though she definitely seems to also be fond of hitting him a lot when he says something. Sometimes, Elsword, Lord Knight, even thinks she’d hit him for just breathing. He is granted status in Velder, yet when he asks about starting their approach with the Southern Gate in hopes of finding Elesis and getting it over with, Vanessa denies his request quickly and swiftly. She points out how jam-packed the demon forces were, and so much of war tactics and information that Lord Knight had never paid attention to until now that his head hurts by the time he leaves her tent. Ever since then, toiling over war maps and layouts until odd hours wasn’t a rarity anymore.
Reluctant, he acknowledges her point and works on fixing that flaw of his, and starts at the residential areas once again, anticipating his sister all the while. A month of fighting back demons occurs before Grand Archer asks about the faint circles under his eyes and the extreme alertness Lord Knight has suddenly taken to. Elemental Master smacks him until he agrees to go to sleep, while Reckless Fist makes strong recommendations of caffeine if it were mandatory for him to stay up. Says the caffeine will at least help his movements not be as sluggish, so Lord Knight makes sure to spend his own personal ED on buying coffee beans and learns easily to brew coffee on his own. It turns out he is unable to last against the demons in Southern Gate, decides ultimately to sacrifice himself so the team can make their getaway, and is instead saved by his sister who looks every definition of the knight that he aspired to be.
Somehow, he is both proud, happy, and hollow all at the same time.
The feeling makes him feel conflicted towards himself. His sister was fine, and even better yet, she was on his side. Yes, he was absolutely elated! Things were turning out multitudes better this time than before! So why should he feel like he just lost by a disastrous margin? If he concentrated on keeping this kind of flow, making sure everyone was happy, then ignoring that minor detail would be simple. So he focuses on the positive events that were bound to happen with his sister now on the team and the port readied for them to disembark for their sister continent, Pluone. Chung consequently ends up being the only thing that refrains Lord Knight from thinking about how strong Grand Master is compared to him too much. It lingers in the back of his head, but at the forefront is, as they ride the battleship towards Hamel’s port, finding Chung again. He figured out by now that everyone had developed differently this time around, and he should expect it for his best friend, especially when his sister is no longer a demon blood-luster and is instead every inch of the sister he remembers from childhood. This was just a random thought Lord Knight had on a mundane day, but it might have been possible that Elemental Master was testing his temper in the dining hall a couple times to see what was up with him. Lord Knight, the whole time, didn’t react as he apparently “normally reacted”.
Probably because he was thinking about Hamel’s guardian every passing second. The honest truth was just that he just wanted to see Chung again. He just wanted to have his presence again, the presence of someone who’d play along to him, but also keep him grounded.
(“Rena will get mad,” Tactical Trooper warns while popping the cap to a permanent marker, hovering over Night Watcher’s face. Infinity Sword cackles, opening up a bright red one. “You scared?” he provokes, which is more than enough to make Tactical Trooper look at him calmly while beginning to scribble a mustache just below her nose.)
Lord Knight’s wish is granted as early as the road to Resiam.
“Thank you… and you are?”
Lord Knight helps him up, unable to hide the ecstatic smile on his face, though he does stare curiously at the way long, cream locks drape like silk curtains over his head. Tactical Trooper had a thin ponytail, but this was a cake-taker guaranteed. Not to mention, he wasn’t getting any of those cocky vibes in the slightest from Chung this time, who had so much purity in his eyes this time around it was hard not to try to find himself in them. His relieved smile was no smirk, it was genuine and whole and chock-full of true gratitude expressed in its quintessence, and that alone is enough to tell Lord Knight that this was definitely a different path taken.
“We’re from the El Search Party. I’m Elsword,” he feigns innocence, “what happened?”
And with that, Iron Paladin joins the team to chase the demons out of Hamel. When the point where the world-ending catastrophe was supposed to happen didn’t happen, and instead they had gotten another new party member in the name of Lunatic Psyker who seemed to constantly have his eye on Code: Empress, that was when Lord Knight started to worry. A bit of difficulty is had in allowing Sakra Devanam to join as well, mainly from Iron Paladin himself. Lord Knight hadn’t expected to have to argue with his best friend over his choice, but things are settled with some form of ease in a way.
They entered Sander, where the demon threat got even worse, and it is when he suddenly wakes up in the infirmary with bandages over his head does he realize he doesn’t have the advantage of future sight anymore.
Iron Paladin drums his fingers on the bed, bags under his eyes, and clearly was slowly starting to droop, but as soon as he sits up he’s wide awake again and clasping both Lord Knight’s hands. He asks a little bit too many questions, frets over the smallest cut, and demands that he rest when he asks if he can go work on his swordsmanship. His brow is furrowed in exactly the same manner as Tactical Trooper’s, desire to reassure everyone’s happiness with confidence brewing in Lord Knight’s stomach. Lord Knight looks away and apologizes for his ineptitude, a shadow hanging over his face, already feeling Iron Paladin’s frown deepening.
“You’re an amazing person, Elsword,” Iron Paladin finally says after a drawn-out silence, standing up and letting go of his hands, eyes downcast, “I…” then he hesitates, just like Tactical Trooper, shakes his head, and says instead, “please get some sleep,” before heading out of the room. Lord Knight doesn’t understand the implications behind such a statement until Iron Paladin starts entering his tent every night with Hamelian recipe teas that made him groggy and sleepy, constantly finding ways to get him to take a sip and rest. It always worked, too, annoying him just a little bit because he found solace in these nighttime visits where the only people around were just the two, where he felt he could loosen up a little bit and crack open his shell by maybe a couple fractions, yet it clashes so heavily with his urge to train. The worry he feels about being unable to tell what will happen next, on the other hand, remains close to his heart as well as the thoughts of inferiority that began to swell.
He meets the demon Lu and her partner Ciel, Lanox his relationship with Iron Paladin takes a different spin compared to when he was Infinity Sword and the guardian was Tactical Trooper. Iron Paladin was much more easily agreeable, and they very rarely had conflicting opinions. Some may have even called them a pair attached by the hip. Iron Paladin’s care comes in multiple different directions from checking in on him often, protecting him in battle, and even just giving him company and to say Lord Knight liked it would be a feeble understatement. It reminds him he still has a heart beating inside him, and that he’s not a trophy face for the world. Still, he runs himself dry from concern for his sister who was apparently supposed to be the next El Lady, and keeps fretting over every detail he can find now that he doesn’t know what will happen next.
Past Lanox into a different place, Voices enter his head, whisper to him, then he watches his Nasod friend sacrifice himself when he shouldn’t have had to, and the Sun Master, in particular, tells him he has a choice. The next El Lady could be Grand Master, his sister who had so much good for this world that she was capable of, just like the rest of his entire team with all their unique aspects and powers, or she could live on as herself as the El continues to deteriorate. Lord Knight thinks of everyone, thinks of Iron Paladin especially, and decides these were people that didn’t deserve the torment of thousand-year traditions.
Reaching out, Solace watching every move he makes with hawk eyes, Lord Knight comes into contact the El and sinks into a world of white.
The third time, he woke up in his bed, the sun glaring through the windows of an empty home, and he quietly remembers his touch with the El bringing him to nothing. He awakens with a mortified surprise, and the cold sweat, clammy hands doesn’t come in immediately until he realizes he remembers once again, just like the previous disaster he remembers it all from awakening to Elysion.
Why was he here again? Why does he still remember? And most of all, what happened after he merged with the El? The voices of his team, crying out for his salvation, for merciful El to return him to their arms, chattering behind his back of some kind of cure, and he heeded them not. He faded, merged, became entwined with the El until his end was a blissful, pure light that shone upon him.
He remembers how he tried his hardest beyond to keep everyone; working on his flaws, sticking to the right path as closely as possible and aligning himself with the world even when he wanted to scream and shout. Having his eyes on Chung— Comet Crusader once more, realizing the thudding in his chest, but only a little too late and becoming hitched with fear and questions over whether it was okay for the leader to do things like fall in love and date when there were so many other pressing concerns.
Was he worrying over his team too much? He gave up his life to restore peace, became the final El Lord or whatever to end the cycle, but why was he here again? Did that not do enough...? If that was the case…
Was it all for naught?
Regret that he had spent his time drowning himself in following shadows, letting his sister get the better of his head, his heart, his path even as he felt the gaze of Aether Sage on his back and, while he couldn’t comprehend himself or her, had his own eyes on Comet Crusader down to the moment he pressed his hand against the Giant El. Not to mention… what had happened after he became the final sacrifice of the El?
(“Hey, Chung, tell me. What was I to you? Sorry, I can’t seem to remember.” A forceful smile is his only answer. Comet Crusader tells him simply, “We’re best friends,” with a crack in his voice before he goes to brew tea for the two of them. Knight Emperor felt nothing at the way he purposefully maintained present tense.)
It hits him hard. The waves of emotion that felt so strong, that he thought were something forgotten before, hurt so much he forces himself to stagger out of bed and feels bile rise in his throat, dragging himself to the bathroom to retch it out in disgust at himself. He repeatedly tells himself to get ready after that mess because if today was like before, then today was the day Banthus would steal the El, and he had to be there to meet Aisha and Rena one more time, form the El Search Party, and go.
(“Any results?” Esencia asked Doom Bringer out of the blue. Knight Emperor couldn’t think of anything that would compel her to start a conversation with Doom Bringer, but he has a strange feeling when the two look at him for a moment, then back at each other before Doom Bringer shakes his head with a click of the tongue.)
It was obvious to him now. They were looking for a way to change him back, weren’t they? It hurts with every moment, every fleeting second he remembers more and more of his last breathing days, the haze around his mind dissipating, of his gazes in the mirror as his red hair slowly gave way to glaring white, cyan, cold blue eyes, the looks the El Search Party gave him that were so pained like something had always bothered them ever since he stepped up as the El’s conduit. Knight Emperor, with his losing emotion and deteriorating state, with his fading memories and increasing detachment, could not comprehend it at the time, but it suddenly clicks together now that he has woken up back at the start once more, sudden understanding and everything makes him gasp out and grip at his chest, realizing those smiles were so full of pain, and oh El, Comet Crusader especially. He understands that tone, the betrayal of his voice when he spoke, the truth that Comet Crusader’s voice was filled with grief and resignation when Elsword returned his emotion-filled gaze with a hollow, pitiful shell of a look. How could he? Even if he was given blessed final days from everyone around him, and though it was meant to eternalize prosperity to Elrios, was it not enough to leave everything else to his team’s more than capable hands?
Maybe the truth was that pure light didn’t mean everything would be right. His world had given away to white, not to darkness that time, not to the whisper of the void, and he left after inflicting an infinite number of invisible wounds to the heart on his team because he buckled down and wrapped himself up in society’s eyes and what was ‘good and right’, hidden his true self from sight and mind. Was that truly the result of a life dedicated to selflessness?
(“Everything... ceases to nothing,” Apostasia had whispered as Diabolic Esper’s rage pierced the world as they knew it. Infinity Sword, bloodied and on the cusp of a death he wouldn’t expect, runs towards him yelling.)
Then, to make sure he doesn’t regret anything this time, Elsword decides he will indulge. He’ll do what he wants this time. He won’t worry about maintaining face, or a reputation, or making sure he always looked the part of a hero for Elrios. He’ll be mindful of gaining power— he’ll figure it out without resorting to shady little forests, just like the previous time. That seemed to make his teammates not go world-destruction mode. He should try to have fun this time around; he may recall the events, but he’ll simply take it in stride this time. No more fretting over handling it months, years before it happens. Elsword checks the mirror, touches the red back on his head, and nods to himself.
(He knows that exception will be the moment his fingers brush with the Giant El. He needs to truly think about that, and he has another three years to think on it now if everything goes along the same.)
…Which ironically leads Elsword to crack open the books.
It starts out a mild curiosity he has been meaning to address. A question on how he could possibly further address the increasingly noticeable flaw in being open to magic in his style. Empire Sword had always covered for him in that aspect up to his last breath, but this time he wanted to handle it himself. Furthermore, going the exact same routine as before would just be reaffirming his place behind his sister’s shadow all over again. Elsword’s gut churns at the memories of Comet Crusader’s cryptic looks, how he understands them so suddenly with his emotions in his body once more, and gathers up his pride.
He resorts to asking Aisha about a few tips and pointers in magic. She seems appalled, shocked that Elsword would ask her, but concedes eventually after some repeated questioning. He feigns a heavy amount of stupidity for the sake of good old times. It’s easier than he thought to just say what he thinks at her face when they disagree so much. It’s easier when he realizes he misses everyone just as much as before. It’s easier when he realizes he can do this right and less proper again. He would make sure his team, himself, and El, Chung especially were kept in good spirits. They deserved it, for putting up with a shoddy ass leader like him.
Closely safeguarded to his chest, with the ability to hide thoughts and emotions from the people around him stronger from times prior, Elsword starts the journey again, remembering.
The dark corrupted and tore fragile peace into shreds; his end had ironically become his own allies, who had succumbed into inevitable despair.
The light encapsulated him; made his end a slow consumption of his heart until he was barely anything left, then nothing at all.
If he thought like Add, it seemed only natural to Elsword that he try walking a balancing act of both sides. He tells himself he needs to get stronger but refuses himself from reaching far into the rabbit hole. Still, when the time to track Wally down in Elder comes, he does not hesitate once. Mercy is hardly considered as he practices his flames and lights a fire on the castle, igniting, burning hot like the nature of life should be, but he makes sure to leave many unconscious instead of drawing death.
(He thinks of Chung every passing day. Wonders if he, too, will change this time like Elsword has as he foregoes his clothes a third time, dons looser, more revealing clothing that makes him blush upon close inspection, but keeps at it.)
Unexpectedly, Aisha had ended up training in the dark arts of all things. Idol to nerd to punk mage admittedly had Elsword, as Magic Knight, concerned, but when her spunk had hardly changed, and as they grew up again, seeing her grab the darkness by the Eldamn balls and rule over it, he realized, maybe darkness wasn’t particularly bad. Raven seemed rather hellbent on using only his human arm, which was fine, and Rena had focused on her kicks. Eve wasn’t doll-like porcelain, wasn’t a queenly elegance that she displayed in perfection, but she was a queen in ruthlessness that both scared and impressed Elsword. Spears, several, shower down from her hands and pierce demons in Feita.
Elsword gets a bullet point checked off his bucket list, and gets tattoos at the tender age of sixteen.
It hurt. Really hurt, feeling the pain of enchantments being burned into his skin, having to grip both Wind Sneaker and Void Princess’s hands as the ritual continued, but necessary and he admittedly agreed to mark his body. They’re runic— made for assistance in controlling his innate magic potential, but tattoos nonetheless. He’s gotten used to loose clothing, leaves the button to his pants undone because it just felt more free that way, though he couldn’t help but smile warily at the absolute glare the Void Princess shoots him when her eyes drift a little too low.
But this was fine. He thinks he actually likes living like this, focusing on the moment and only the moment. Like this, then definitely—
“I’m Chung Seiker,”
Rune Slayer’s eyes fall upon a cold gaze.
“Thanks for the help.”
That was new. Words cold like frost stung him a little. His smile, for the first time in a while, feels forced. Rune Slayer reaches out his hand for a handshake, which is returned in such a stiff manner he feels almost dumped immediately when Chung lets go of his hand. Rune Slayer’s heart beats loudly in his chest, his face grows hot at the boy before him, and it feels so wrong because such an expression was so odd on Chung when he knows confident, smug Chung Seiker, who obsessed over research that he treaded into forbidden areas and created crazy contraptions, and soft, kind Chung Seiker who had long, lavish hair and the image of safety and determination scrawled all over his everything. Why was Chung this time so cold? So closed-off, right from the start? Did he do something indirectly?
Rune Slayer almost forgets to introduce himself amidst his questions. He only remembers when Void Princess loudly clears her throat and jams her elbow into his bare side, causing him to snap back into reality. Weird Chung looks at him curiously.
“Ah—right. I’m Elsword, we’re from the El Search Party. We’re here to help Hamel and stuff.”
“Is that so?” The curt response he gets feels as if he were being inspected with mere words, “Alright. Let’s talk back at the capital, then.”
The conversation was over. Chung starts ahead first. The rest of the team follows, yet Rune Slayer stands there dumbstruck. Void Princess grabs him by the collar of his half-shirt and drags him over to the side, clearly cross with him.
“What’s up with you?” She snaps, “You were making a face like Sun Master Solace at him, and you just…” she smacks the base of her halberd staff against her palm, hip cocked to the side and clearly trying to get a read on him, “stared at him the entire time!”
He did? He did that? Rune Slayer hesitates at first. Well, that was because this was a totally new Chung, and in a way, he wasn’t anticipating it at all, but he couldn’t tell Void Princess that. Too many things he couldn’t explain properly and he can tell Void Princess would inevitably ask about herself. It looked like he would have to get answers with his own efforts by getting to know Chung again (as if that wasn’t already part of the plan). He decides to say it right then and there, briefly remembering those stares from Aether Sage in his time of dying, “I think I love him.”
Void Princess makes a horribly offended noise and look that Rune Slayer feels affronted just looking at, takes a step back, swings her halberd in her hands, mouth agape and eyes saucer-wide, “Excuse me?”
“Uh... haha, you didn’t hear?” Rune Slayer scratches the back of his head.
“I did, and I really think you are no Solace, but a stupid little egg-headed Juliet Capulet right now! How do you love someone in just three sentences? ‘Hi, thanks for the help, let’s talk at the capital’, and you already—“
“Yeah. Yeah, I get it,” Rune Slayer affirms, then follows the team. Void Princess makes a grunt between disgust and fascination behind him before her footsteps follow his own.
He lets it slide. Explaining the whole remembering-past-lives thing would be too time-consuming and took too much of his brain to figure out how to explain without sounding like a genuine crackhead, but he knows that even like this, yeah, he’s sure now that he’s still in love once again.
Rune Slayer later learns his name is Deadly Chaser, and he is a guardian of Hamel who specializes in speed, stealth, and assassination. His eyes are harsh, like Code: Nemesis, and he is impassive to the enemies before them, caring only if Hamel was brought into the question. Still, he clings to his flames and fiery runes, clenches his fist, and determines to himself he will do things right this time.
Blazing Heart comments, when he arranges him and Deadly Chaser to share a tent as they travel further towards the Water Temple, that this decision was going to make people talk. Rune Slayer waves her off, tells her he doesn’t care, that this was just so they could carry less tents with them. Rumors matter to people he didn’t have to bother with, and that was alright. She shrugs, leaves him be, but casts him a very questioning (and smug?) look as she goes. He recalls Tactical Trooper did this tent arranging shenanigan, asked him as well if he was worried about rumors, and the way Comet Crusader kept invading his tent to console him when things got rough, even when he insisted he didn’t need to.
Deadly Chaser pops an interrogating question as soon as he lifts the flap and steps inside their tent, “Are you keeping a watch on me because I’m new?” he presses, “I have no benefits from betraying you.”
Rune Slayer frowns while undoing his hairbands. It almost feels as if Ishmael were testing his resolve to walk this indulging path. Yet he has memories of times before, the result of those fruits, and reassures himself that he would refuse to falter this time, even if it made him look stupid or lame or caused the world to scorn his actions. He shakes his head, “Nah, just wanna get to know you better.”
“Get to know me better?” That sends the assassin’s eyebrow quirking up.
It was true, though. Rune Slayer genuinely has no idea how exactly Deadly Chaser ended up like Deadly Chaser when he could have become someone like Iron Paladin or Tactical Trooper again. It would be a similar process to get closer to him, but he has a feeling he would get far, far different results from the last run. Rune Slayer allows for a slight boyish smile, “Something wrong with that?”
“We’ve hardly known each other for more than a couple days, maybe a week. Don’t fool around with me like this.”
“But I’m not,” Rune Slayer counters, patting the bedroll over a ways off from his own, unzipping his top as he does so, “see? No sword or anything. Nothing. We’re the same age, that’s pretty cool y’know? You’re interesting.”
“I could kill you right now when you’re that defenseless,” Deadly Chaser quips back.
“But you won’t, because I know I can trust you,” Rune Slayer smoothly answers his dare with a widening smirk. He actually doesn’t know if Chungs can transcend personality traits, but if anything made Chung, well, himself, it’s that he knows any Chung is loyal to his word. He casually throws his shirt to some odd corner and relaxes on his bedroll, closes his eyes, and knows he isn’t off the mark when he hears soft footsteps after a flash of light, followed by covers shifting next to him.
Rune Slayer opens his eyes to look over, only to see Deadly Chaser staring at him with a bit of a funny look. He’s got his brows scrunched, eyes glistening with a bit of light’s gleam, lips pursed into a thin line. Okay, so he’s thinking. That kind of face seems to remain true to him as well.
“What’s up?” Rune Slayer turns toward him, resting his head on his arm.
“You’re incredibly stupid for a leader.”
He’s incredibly blunt. A different trait of him this time. Rune Slayer smiles, twirls a strand of his hair around his fingers. Being insulted right off by Deadly Chaser was a new one to him, admittedly, but he thinks he can do this. He thinks he can be the support for him like Comet Crusader and Tactical Trooper was all this time. He thinks he can tell him about his feelings this time, too, given he slowly gathers up the courage. It was definitely going to be rough after seeing that cold brutality of Deadly Chaser’s style with two guns and the lack of empathy he displays, but the saying does indeed go that hope dies last.
So he answers, “To me, that’s a compliment,” instead, and tells himself he will be there for Deadly Chaser thick and thin, just as Tactical Trooper had with Infinity Sword, and just as Comet Crusader had with Knight Emperor.
The barest, half-amused grin that Deadly Chaser gives him is enough to fuel his determination for years to come, and he sleeps sweeter dreams than he had in years.
Rune Slayer continues to forge his relationship with the guardian with sincerity as he relives his adventure with a fresher perspective. Admittedly, they go through their rough patches. The pessimistic realist that Deadly Chaser was as a person here clashed with the growing optimism Rune Slayer was learning to hold dearly to himself. As the events of Ran’s escape replay again, Rune Slayer remembers Apsara and makes his final say to allow Yama Raja into the team. It causes more than just a typical scowl from Deadly Chaser. Rune Slayer can’t bring himself to blame him as he grabs Rune Slayer by the collar angrily in private, asking why in El he chose to make such a choice, and the knight takes the brunt of Code: Nemesis’s sharp glare when he accepts Mastermind in as well.
Lanox, Atlas comes and goes, a period where their hearts were locked in a seesaw motion of tender care, offense, and strange, ambiguous banter chemistry that left Rune Slayer asking if they were basically already dating. Always, he later answers no to himself, the cycle repeating itself even as he became increasingly aware of recognizable shifts around him parallel to Comet Crusader and Tactical Trooper.
“Elsword, listen. I’m sorry. But things just happen, and we can’t do anything about it, and I know you want to, but sometimes you don’t think realistically enough!” Deadly Chaser had snapped to him at one point in the midst of the party’s grief, when the replay of Yuno’s death was fresh in Rune Slayer’s memory once again, and Rune Slayer had to mutter freezing incantations to chill the burning of his runic tattoos threatening to blow up in front of the assassin.
“We still can do something for Yuno,” Rune Slayer had instead retaliated back, anger drawing him close to where the fog of Deadly Chaser’s breath was hot against his lips, “and we will. We won’t go anywhere until we finish what he started,” and when his blush could easily be mistaken for anger, he forces himself back and excuses himself from their tent.
(A few hours later both had come for the other to apologize, and consoled one another with embraces and apologetic whispers.)
Rune Slayer couldn’t say it to his face, but Deadly Chaser still shows he is still Chung at his core and in the very essence as their journey continues longer and longer. The team together once again, Rune Slayer had found himself drawing close to the moment where he chooses his sister to be the next Lady El, or he gives himself up. He asked Void Princess, Mastermind, and Code: Nemesis to perform some research on alternative El energy resources in Elysion as soon as they arrived, face stuck in a grimace at the thought of what may happen should they not find anything. He starts checking the mirror every morning before they set out for signs of white, blue, or cyan in his hair and eyes. Deadly Chaser’s observing stare as he fusses over himself goes noticed, but Rune Slayer favors fighting down the worry of unconsciously merging with the El.
(“Kuk, you never struck me as the type to want to learn about Nasod,” Mastermind remarked. Elsword cheekily grins, toots his horn with a lame, “I’m not!” of a response that resulted in a well-deserved slap from Code: Nemesis.)
“Els, talk to— ahem. Elsword, talk to me,” Deadly Chaser had suddenly said, walking into their tent with such purpose and strength Rune Slayer almost instinctively made way for him. Removing his armor into black clothing with a mere touch of the guardian stone, he approaches his leader. Rune Slayer is immediately reminded of Comet Crusader. Comet Crusader was like this when something bugged him, even as Iron Paladin back in Lanox. It was almost like he had a developing sixth sense for Lord Knight feeling off-kilter back then. Or maybe he was just an obvious read? Either way, Rune Slayer gets the suspicion Deadly Chaser is the same.
“What do you mean?” He feigns innocence at first, knowing Deadly Chaser won’t buy it yet does it out of a more habitual sense anyways. He pushes aside papers that were, in truth, reports. Reports of findings, of Diceon energy and Solace’s hoarding of it, how it was too troublesome to utilize it when Solace has it all wired to him. Rune Slayer thinks there may be no problem, and he might have a plan (though that may be because he knows what will soon happen).
It just all counts on whether his study on magic was proper and whether Solace will hear his stupidity.
“You don’t look too great,” Deadly Chaser takes a seat next to him on the bedroll, searching, eyes flitting all over Rune Slayer’s face calculatingly, “and you’re not sick, or I’d be sick by now too. You keep looking at yourself in the mirror like you’re waiting. Waiting for something to happen to you. Did Solace say something?”
Rune Slayer thinks on how to word it for a flat two seconds before he leans into the crevasse of Deadly Chaser’s neck, notes how the fringes of his hair have gotten a wee bit longer recently, the strong jawline that had developed in the past, and says nothing initially. He wishes he could tell him, but knows. A gut feeling wouldn’t be much of a truth as he knows what is going to happen, and he figures old habits truly do die hard when the same feelings of knowing even with his best effort, the result may be the same, and thinking about trying to say he might get sucked into the El and become a walking puppet would just be too tough to explain.
“Nah. Just tense. I’ll be fine,” he says instead in a soft murmur. Deadly Chaser visibly stiffens, and Rune Slayer runs his finger across the pale knuckles of his best friend, changes his words, “…We’ll be fine. …Yeah. Definitely.”
“Elsword…” Deadly Chaser starts, clearly unconvinced. Rune Slayer avoids his gaze, shakes his head, and that’s all there needs to be said between them before he feels a cool arm drape itself around his shoulders. Rune Slayer settles into it.
The next morning, he checks his hair again for any sudden white or cyan strands, his eyes for the faintest sign of blue. He asks Deadly Chaser, confirms with him that yes, they are still red before he settles into barely lessened tension. Deadly Chaser eyes him more than usual, enough for even dumb old Rune Slayer to notice the way he feels as if someone is always watching over him, but knows he means well. So he leaves it be, and Deadly Chaser, in turn, confirms every day that yes, Rune Slayer’s hair and eyes are still red, even if he didn’t know why he asked.
The routine continued for the rest of the El Search Party’s time in Elysion.
In the end, the event was inescapable. No matter what Rune Slayer attempted, in the end, they were going to have to fight Solace, Solace would single him out, and force him to make a choice: El or sister. So rightfully, the idea he had come up with was basically too simple to be real. Before his choice, Rune Slayer ends up telling Solace, “Use Diceon energy, I’m gonna do something,” before letting his hands brush against the El, feeling the familiar burst of energy as his heart swells with as much resolve as before, but for an entirely different purpose. The fire burned hot in his fingers, his tattoos felt scalding against his skin, and then it was empty nothingness. Thoughts of restoring the El lulled in his head, but thoughts of his team lingered as well.
But he heard them loud and clear this time. In the fog, in the haze, the voices of everyone. Void Princess, Wind Sneaker, Blade Master, Code: Nemesis, Yama Raja, wow, Mastermind sure was reluctant, Dreadlord and Chiliarch, Blazing Heart,
Deadly Chaser, especially.
(“Did you know this was going to happen?!” He heard him scream, emotions so raw and open Rune Slayer starts trying to deny the El on his own. The will of the El shifts, and with it Rune Slayer did too. “You’re a complete dumbass, but you’re my best friend, El be damned, Els!”)
Agh. Shit. His heart fluttered at the memory for a heartbeat before it hit the ignition. He was falling in love all over again. He remembers how this time was different: being pulled out of the El with the Diceon energy, experiencing weird bursts of magic overloading his body and his runes growing painfully fiery hot, having to resort to more help than he was used to in order to handle it.
Thus, with tattoos imprinted all over his body, Rune Master perches himself at the cliff of Varnimyr, inspecting the layout of enemy forces just some ways below and the looming tower overhead.
He has no memory of what to do after this again. He’s on his own again, without any past memory or future sight to help guide his way. But that just made living in the present all the more special to him. Life was supposed to be about uncontrollable aspects, twists and turns and thrill rides like the flames he bore fruit to. Maybe being unable to tell what would happen next wasn’t as bad. If he screws up, then, well, he’s got his teammates to help him out.
“Els, I’m back.”
(“You needed to see me?” He had quietly slid into their inn room. Rune Master felt skittish, nerves jumbled up, repeatedly tells himself now that he has passed the Giant El hurdle, he needs to clear the final one. The one he wasn’t able to do in two lifetimes, hands playing with each other warily as he addresses the young man before him.)
Fatal Phantom slinks from above an overhead tree branch, gracefully landing in a crouch without a sound and approaches him from dark woods. He drops onto one knee to level with him. Rune Master looks at him, grins, leans in and presses warm lips against his cheek. He knew that he trusted Fatal Phantom to be fine going ahead with Abysser to check the forces, but the gnawing at his chest hadn’t ceased until his return. Fatal Phantom shoves him away lightly, rolling his eyes, but Rune Master catches the smile before his sight is obscured by cream and dark chocolate strands.
“Welcome back. What are we looking at?”
(“I just want to talk. That’s cool, right?” Rune Master asked, feeling a spike of terror shoot through his veins at the mere tremble in his voice. Fatal Phantom looked appalled, the furrow in his brow showing his worry, but nodded, “We can talk.”)
Fatal Phantom’s eyes dart across the defensive front, that deadly gleam back in his eyes, “Ciel found a row of dark elf archers over in the south. We’ve got riders toward the east, and turrets seem to be stationed throughout. I checked out the west and northern sides and they’ve got foot soldiers with some sentinels and riders. Fewer turrets than the other side. They know we’re here,” he changes his focus to Rune Master himself, their shoulders brushing together as bare fingers interlock with armored ones, “the turrets have thermal detection, so a party our size is going to get detected. Stealth won’t be an option. Think we’ll be okay?”
Can’t answer that for sure, Knight Emperor would say. Immortal would just talk that massacring them all like usual should do the trick. They’ll be fine, Rune Master will say. Now, killing them all to little bits and stuff might be more Fatal Phantom’s claimed thing, but Rune Master opts to pretend he doesn’t know Fatal Phantom aims for the parts that render unconscious, and not typically a kill. Obviously, it wouldn’t be a development if Rune Master didn’t jump on his ass every time he really did kill someone. He’s still, after all, eerily aware Rune Master could do as little as an off-handed comment to kill someone and Fatal Phantom might really do it.
(He keeps staring everywhere but at the man himself. Rune Master forces himself to look him square in cerulean orbs and it all comes out a big dumb mess. Fatal Phantom has to ask him to repeat it again and it comes out an even worse, stupider, uglier mess before frustration gets to him and he yells a short, quick, ‘I think,’ then three words that get the point across.)
Rune Master would like to be confident. The future was uncertain now— Knight Emperor didn’t get this far, ended the tradition tragedy of sacrifice with another sacrifice and Immortal wouldn’t dare dream of reaching this point with everyone still together. Neither times had he gathered the energy to say anything to Chung, but this time he had pulled it off. Sloppily, but he did it.
(Flushed red like his own hair, Rune Master pulls his bandana lower to obscure most his eyes like it would hide his entire figure from Fatal Phantom. Fatal Phantom tells him to take the damn thing off and look him in the eye again. When he does, with shaking, trembling fingers quaking with greater fears than the first time he fought Solace, the gap between them suddenly closes and he feels the shift in their relationship.)
Rune Master looks once more at the outpost before them. The El Search Party catches up with soft clusters of footsteps and Fatal Phantom stands up, slips his hand out of Rune Master’s fingers like intimacy never existed with them. He waits patiently for a response.
(They didn’t know what to do about the development afterward. Rune Master insisted it was as simple as ‘we’re boyfriends, right?’, while Fatal Phantom tentatively argued that coming out with it so quickly was going to distract everyone, and such an announcement was best saved for post-war activity.)
All the more reason to end this whole demon war shebang, save Helputt and Ran and properly restore the El, once and for all. Grinning, finding himself pumped, Rune Master stands up and turns to addresses the team with headstrong eyes.
He knows he’s different from the previous two times, but like Chung, he’s got some things to him that was just the quintessence of Elsword no matter what galaxy of him it was.
“We fight our way in through the northwest front. We’ll be fine as long as we’re together. No one goes out of eyesight. Everyone stays close to each other.” Affirmative nods across the board make him smile brighter.
“Okay. Let’s do this!” And so he turns, pushes out with his feet and without a shred of doubt, leaps off the cliff towards the start of enemy territory. He hears one, two, twelve total leaps follow behind him. Fatal Phantom falls close to his side, the wind whistling in their ears as blue billows behind him. Drawing his blade, Rune Master prepares to cast a deflecting rune, and he knows everyone’s got his back when unhooked guns join a chorus of weapons pulled from their sheaths.
Yeah.
They’ll definitely be fine. With everyone, with Chung, he’d make sure of it.