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If Magolor had learned that he would one day visit an undiscovered realm filled with ancient architectures and singular phenomena of dimensions, truth be told that the magician would probably never have been able to sleep with such anticipation. He also wouldn’t have been able to peacefully close his eyes if he had known that he be left stranded in such harsh environment, powerless and alone, with no way to ever return home.
Any normal living being would have quickly given up and die in a matter of hours.
Good thing that Magolor was not an ordinary creature.
Sure, things hadn’t start well. He had been this close to abandon all hopes at the start of his journey. After all, passing from ruler of the universe to miserable worm in a few minutes would have been mind shattering for anyone. But with the turmoil of being deprived of his godhood behind him, the wizard’s spirit had been ignited by an old flame: his survival instinct. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he had been growing more powerful with every obstacle crossed, with every foe destroyed, with every Fruit Fragment collected. It was only a question of time before the Gem Apple Seed was fully restored and the fallen king regained his place at the head of the pantheon of a new world! But theatrics aside, he also had a score to settle with some old friends.
So Magolor should be eager to finish his quest, no?
In reality, he may have been a little too overconfident. Since his narrow victory against Electricky Dooter, the cat-like alien had been rushed with self-assurance, pushing him to be more and more reckless. The sensation of power and adrenaline were the only thing that repelled Magolor’s inner desperation, which took quite a toll on his physical and psychological condition. The endless fighting had slowly drained his energy, but he had brushed the fatigue aside, too focused on upgrading his skills. And chances are that he would still continue to neglect himself if it wasn’t for the fact that he had nearly die.
His body had failed him at the worst time as he was confronted by Fiery Puffer (the universe must have some kind of twisted sense of humor to make him fight elemental versions of the foes that had paved Kirby’s path… or was it simply karma?). Magolor’s attacks had gotten weaker and weaker as the combat went on. His vision became blurrier. His movements, more imprecise. His brain was like twisted in brambles. If it weren’t for his lucky shot with his Magical Cannon, the mage would have been burned to a crisp.
He had finally retrieved a Fruit Fragment and escaped the Pyred Dimension by the skin of his teeth… And that had sincerely scared him. It’s like he had suddenly remembered that even if he had cheated death once, the cold fingers of the Grim Reaper were still wrapped around his very soul, ready to strike him down at each mistake.
This near-death experience had encouraged (or rather forced) the feline to take some time to himself, take a little bit of rest.
So there was he, sitting on the steps of the Ethereal Altar, unreasonably annoyed at the weakness of his flesh. Couldn’t just his body get over it? The more quickly he recovered, the more quickly he could go back to find an exit to this hellish situation. He had been careless; this was a mistake he will not repeat.
Magolor’s golden eyes had started again to inspect his injuries for what must have been the eight times since the last five minutes… Not that he could really check time in here. The scientist was pretty sure that this place didn’t follow the most basic rules of the spacetime continuum. Back when he navigated the universe, he had surveyed how time could flown very differently depending on various conditions, each specific to its own dimension, but the mage had never seen a realm where the rules could suddenly change by itself. When his survivalist side had gotten the best of him, he had quietly observed the various plants in the area, hoping that the fauna would show him the edible ones. Its then that Magolor had truly become aware of just illogical all of this mismatch of dimensions were, as he watched in disbelief the way a flower could blossom one second, and the next, totally wither and die.
Dear Void, he would have love to see how a sun’s course would have react to such anomaly. Would it have continued its trajectory, or accelerated and decelerated at random? How does a celestial body would respond to temporal dilatation? Well, this Dimension Abyss didn’t really have a solar system, or even real planets… And this realm had only rubbles as moons.
Even space was fragmented, and not just because there were multiple dimensional rifts. The landscapes tend to bend in bizarre and impossible angles, like twisted springs. There weren’t many man-made walls here, but this location was like a labyrinth. Magolor was often surprised how easily he could lose himself: the wizard would have pass one corner in the Aerogree Dimension, then take the same path back and found himself in the depth of the Pyred Dimension. A fascinating phenomenon that would enthrall Magolor, provided that the layout of this place didn’t tend to make him want to throw up. Being the captain of an interdimensional ship, he had learned how to navigate using the stars but here, it was useless. Its like the white dots constantly moved on their own when he wasn’t looking. Each time he blinked, the constellations seemed to like rearranged itself into new patterns, only worsening his headaches.
Inconvenients set aside, the meeting of astronomy and quantum physics was truly a wonderful mix that the magician adored to dive in. If Magolor had more resources, and the Lor at his side, he would have love measure the energies fluctuations of this strange place and to nerd out about all of this spacetime anomalies …
A hole appeared deep in the Halcandran’s stomach at the reminiscence of his ancient vessel. A sickling feeling had started to take hold of him now. Magolor sighed and brushed aside the sensation. Lingering on her was no use.
His gloves had all of a sudden became more interesting.
Magolor couldn’t really check himself for any internal injuries, so he had decided to wait a day or so (not that it could be measurable) to see if he felt any symptoms of concussion or internal bleedings. In the meantime, he had made the decision to monitor the healing process of his external lesions. Focusing on his hands’ wounds, he delicately turned around the cloth that hide his hands. They were burnt at the fingertips, a consequence of his fight against the arsonist fish and his continual use of fire magic. The damages that the gloves had experienced exposed small spot of fur, making him feel somewhat uncomfortable. The magician didn’t like being uncovered; it only worsens his sense of vulnerability. Blame those who had hurt him. Likewise, Magolor was very insecure about his feline shape (not that he will ever admit it). Turns out that people do not tend to take you seriously when you looked like a young kitten, bragging about universal domination… And he hated that to his very core. A longtime ago, when he had started to scheme, Magolor had tried to employed mercenaries to help him fight Landia, only to be laughed at. At least, no one was here to mock or judge him. After all, he was completely alone.
Confronting head on his shame that has no reason to be, the alien looked around for any injuries he may have missed earlier. The deepest wounds were rapidly healing thanks to some primary spells he had learned a long time ago, and apart from an upturned claw, he was satisfied to have only superficial scratches. But that didn’t change the fact that little tufts of hair were still escaping from his lacerated gloves… They were ruffled and filthy, far from the well-groomed coat Magolor was accustomed to. There was something easily deductible when you looked at his Lor Starcutter, and that was he was a neat freak. After surviving for years in Halcandra's grime, the traveler had become a stickler for cleanliness and living alone (for most of his life at least) had only accented this climate.
His cape and scarf were also showing signs of use and some tears had appeared on the fabric. He must have look absolutely terrible… and pathetic. Magolor was disgusted by himself, but the logical reasons for why were lacking as he was essentially trying to make it through a cosmic purgatory. Fashion should be the least of his worries. As he closed his eyes, the abnormal color pallet of Another Dimension starting to make sick, Magolor thought how a bath would be just so nice. Steaming hot, the exact temperature the Lor knew he loved, with the lavender bomb baths synthesized by her that just smelled so nicely… Aaaaaand he was thinking about her again.
Gritting his teeth, he could feel his breathing speeding up. Magolor couldn’t think of any words that could perfectly describe all the hate he had accumulated since her "betrayal". Even with the entirety of the language of the Ancients in mind, no known term could truly translate the pure loathing he experienced each time she came to mind. His Lor had abandoned him when he needed her the most. Left him to rot like he was nothing. Like he hadn’t saved her from oblivion by finding and restoring her! She should be forever thankful to him for her rebirth.
And all I had in return is treason.
The Lor had say she had opposed him in order to protect him from himself, that his safety had always been her top priority, but he could see right through her lies! It was obvious that all her actions were just act, his vessel had never loved him. She surely despised him! It wasn’t like she had saved him countless times during interdimensional travel… or nursed him back to health when he became sick… or gave him chocolate milk, with his favorite honey added, when he was sad or angry…
And that why Magolor didn’t like to think of her. Because her behavior didn’t correspond with the portrait he was trying to paint of her. Saying that Magolor didn’t like to be wrong would be an understatement, but it was more like he couldn’t grasp the fact that the world could work independently of his line of thinking. Travelling between dimensions, fighting against many beasts, understanding how the universe works… his lust for knowledge and power had led him to think that nothing could escape his comprehension.
The Lor had concealed from him information, so in Magolor’s mind she was the vicious spider and him, the poor unfortunate fly caught in her web of lies. But the truth is that she had cared about her captain, yet had to stand up against his rise of power for fear of the universe’s fate, and his own's. At the time, he had refused to understand. The Lor, his first true friend, had hurt him more than he ever had been. No claw or fang had cut him this deep than her, forcibly disconnecting him from her mainframe. His vessel had meant well, wanting to protect him from the crown's perverse power, however Magolor had been too much blinded by his pride and emotions to listen. And now, she wasn’t there.
If she had truly care, she would have rescue me from this realm…
Yet, the horrible memory of what he had done to her creeped on him. With the Master Crown on his head, the new overlord had tried to dispose of Landia and the Heroes of Dream Land by using his ship. She had resisted… so he had naturally controlled her against her will. He had used his friend as a mere object, as a weapon of destruction as opposed as the pacifism that her code had always displayed. And he had killed her…
Okay, he wasn’t exactly sure of the last part. His memories about his time under the crown’s influence were a bit fuzzy. Nevertheless, the mage could distinctly remind himself of her being shot down during the fight. The Starcutter’s carcass may still float in Dimension Road, alone and without any hope to be repaired. He hated the dread that the idea immediately filled him. A terror because his only known exit from here had been destroyed, or because the one that cared about him the most may be forever deactivated?
Pushing away his dark thoughts, Magolor tried to reason that thinking like this would amount to nothing. Even if the Lor was still alive and in operating condition, she had no reason to come his aid. He was Magolor the traitor. A weak creature that had to rely on other to do his dirty works. The person who had made all the wrong choice each time.
Grabbing a nearby stick, Magolor began to draw circle on the dirt. It was an old trick from his native planet, the real one, and also one of the only things he remembered from there. Apparently, it was some kind of ancient meditation method, but he wasn’t entirely sure about the truthfulness of this information. That really didn’t matter because in the end, it greatly help him during his moments of stress, easing up his mind and making him see more clearly.
He should stop holding it so firmly though.
Furiously scribbling on the floor, the teen tried to vent all of his frustrations about his old companion, without much of a success. The rhythm with which he drew did not slow down a bit, so much so that he seemed to be mauling the ground more than anything else.
He couldn’t get her out of his head… The mix of hatred and regret he experienced was bringing him to the brink of insanity.
I should think of something more… calming.
Like…
like…
…Falluna Moon! That was such a beautiful place!
With difficulty, a painting of an orangish plain started to mask his negative memories. It must have been around four or five years before he had crashed in Dream Land. For what Magolor recalled, he had simply stumbled on the moon after fruitless researchs for ancient’s artefacts on Planet Earthfall. He hadn’t really wanted to linger but after roaming the cosmos for so long, the Lor had lured him by indicating that some of the trees there were thousands of years old, and so may have been around during the Heroes of Yore’s era. Who could resist to the temptation of analyzing old, dried wood?
A clever ruse on Lor's part to make him to take a break.
Magolor grinded his teeth, the circle getting messier.
After landing and looking around, he had convinced himself that a small break of one day wasn’t going to kill him. The autumn esthetic always had an appeal on him. The way the leaves turn yellow, orange, and red made looked like a benevolent fire had grown on the tree’s branches. The fresh breeze that so kindly rubbed his fur, similar to a loving mother. The calmness that enveloped the woods, the time seemingly freezing if it weren’t for the gentle sounds of nature. It had reminded him of Halcandra, just much less deadly.
He had let his inner child out for ounce, throwing himself into piles of leaves, trying to take a picture of each animal he encountered, patiently reading about the plants he gathered, doing angel on the mud (whereas being dirty was very out of character of him) and knowing very well he will need to cleanup his clothes before the Lor let him touch her keyboard. The same evening, the ship had prepared him food, some kind of local dish, done with the Nruff he had previously chased, accompanied by hazelnuts and mushrooms. The meal was far better than the things he had currently here… In this realm, all fruits seem to turn to ash in his mouth and no water is able to quench his thirst. Tears dwelled in his eyes at the fond memory.
For the first since a forgotten eternity, while taking vacation on this little moon, the spider-like legs of ambition and madness hadn’t been wrapped around his brain…
But he could never come back there.
He had killed the Lor.
He was so hopelessly alone.
Magolor would kill just to be able to hear her voice, now more than ever.
Even if it hurt him to admit it, he also missed the voices of his old allies.
Even the babbling language of Kirby.
Even the ear-piercing screams that the obnoxious jester sometimes did was also lacking.
Realizing that his vision became blurred, the mage quickly wiped away the tears with a flick of his cuff. He had daydreamed… again; not that he could really dream in this dimension, its like he couldn’t sleep at all here.
A sharp pain alerted him. His palm hurt when he fisted it, driving Magolor to check his holding hand. The stick’s thorns deeply penetrate his gloves but not enough to actually make him bleed. Another long breath escaped his mouth. He really needed to hold it more lightly…
…
Magolor had found the insane clown when searching for a clockwork star to simplify his plan to conquer the universe. A Nova would have grant him his wish for infinite power and combining this with the Master Crown, he would have been a literal god!
…Unfortunately (for him at least), between the moment that the Starcutter’s sensors had detected the presence of a Nova in the galaxy and his exit of the Lor’s interdimensional jump, the machine had been reduced to pieces. All that was left was some kind of pinkish gumball with beautiful goldish wings floating lifelessly among the stars and molten clogs, his corpse strangely emitting an energy similar to the Galactic Novas. Of course, Magolor had retrieved the body: who could have let such interesting specimen go to waste?
Then again, he had the not such great pleasure to suddenly discover that the monstrous jester he had allowed on board was, in fact, very much alive.
Since then, Magolor and Marx had a strange relationship but when you looked at them, it was easy to understand why. The former was far more grandiloquent, less impulsive, but a little geeky and covertly very introverted. Unlike his counterpart, the Noddy had always been pretty straightforward and blunt when he talked, never fearing to displease others. The clown may have been quite unbearable at times during his short stay on the Lor, but to his credit, Marx was smarter than he looked. Magolor was deranged by how easily his new "roommate" could read people, especially him. The way he had so quickly understood what Magolor was, underneath all of his polite exterior… and helped him. The Noddy had been the one who introduce him to Kirby and the limitless potential that the small hero held. They had schemed together, Marx being a sparring partner and commenting on the captain’s acting talent in order to manipulate more smoothly. Because, as much Magolor loved to be theatrical, he never had any prolonged social interaction. Their sessions were filled with "too much theatricality" and “a little more desperate” or even with “a wider smile!”. Marx had joked that he had “taken him under his wing” as he had very much put it, which only made his friend secretly frown. It was nothing but one more of Marx's tease, yet it had hurt his ego? Magolor took lot of pride in the near flawless plan he had designed, so giving Marx any kind of recognition for his future successful conquest of all dimensions was out of the equation. Distrust and disgust had slowly creeped on him as his fight with Landia approached. The way the trickster smiled, joked around, listen to him when he rambled about ancient technologies… It was all a fraud, wasn’t it? Marx had betrayed Kirby in the past, what stopped him to reenact?
He had let Marx became too close to him and he knew that there couldn’t be two kings of the universe. If only his friend could be satisfied with being his royal jester.
So, Magolor had abandoned him. A few weeks before returning to Halcandra for his first confrontation against the Master Crown’s guardian, Magolor pretexted to sail on Shiver Star in order to retrieve weapons for their plan. It had been pretty easy to convince his partner of the necessity of this mission, Marx knowing how precautious the magician was (and the absolute love of the chaotic clown for causing havoc had only induced him to come). Disarming the alarms effortlessly, Magolor had let his psychotic friend go ahead to annihilate the rogue androids standing on their way. The plan was to quickly leave the planet when the idiot was busy. It had been the plan…
But the bond he had formed had been too strong, and Magolor couldn’t bring himself to let him there without some kind of discussion. You know, between two mature beings who could solve a problem without having to fight?
A really crappy idea. Magolor already had a hunch at the time.
Marx knew that his buddy had ambition. He just hadn’t realized that it was undivided control of the universe and that Magolor would never settle for less. The situation had… escalated.
In the end, against the powerhouse that was Marx, Magolor had to activate the alert in the whole factory to ensure his escape. He had let his old partner in crime to fend off against a HR-class mecha.
Magolor had let his first real organic friend there, on a post-apocalyptic world against an army of robots, just for that stupid crown.
To be fair, he doubted that Marx had died. He was a hard Noddy to kill.
But he must hate him now.
Useless to hope that he would come to save him.
Crack
Remember when Magolor had told himself to not hold the stick to firmly? Well, he may have break it in half. Good job, Magolor! You sure know how to follow simple objective!
Throwing the shorter part of his improvised pencil in the endless void, Magolor contemplated his work: a messy ring of dirt. The Halcandran had enough of this therapeutic bullshit. He was fed up with undesirable memories. He needed to relax to heal better, not overthink about some old acquaintances.
You know what?
Using the twig, Magolor started to complete his “masterpiece”. Someone to direct all of his anger toward. This will surely be cathartic, right?
Magolor went back over his drawing lines.
First you draw a circle,
Carefully, he cut off twice deep in the ground.
Then you dot the eyes.
With a quick slash, a recumbent D was drawn.
Add a great big smile
Adding hands and feet, it was done.
And Presto, it’s Kirby!
A mischievous grin formed on the feline’s face. Oh, how much he wanted to tear him to pieces. Yeah, the pink chewing gum may have saved his soul, but Magolor wanted to make sure that his good deed didn’t go unpunished. Him, and his stupid friends.
Because it was their fault! All of this pain, this planning, these sacrifices he had to endure to get the Master Crown between his claws… and they had stripped him of it. All of these betrayals… for nothing at all! Was it a sin to want something more in life than just being nothing in the face of eternity?
They had such perfect lives! Them and their luxurious home! They were respected, admired, loved, while he had to fight for this! Did these lazy imbeciles knew what it was like to fight just to survive?
Of course, they know…
It was foolish to think he was the first victim of the universe’s injustice. Many peoples had opposed them to disrupt the everlasting peace of Planet Popstar: Nightmare, Dark matter, Marx… even some of the heroes had been at one point on the opposite side.
The poor shivering cat felt like the two holes that symbolized his old friend’s eyes were staring right through his own soul. They didn’t look guilt-tripping however… more sympathetic. It was far worse.
In a way, Magolor was glad that he didn’t drew the other three, because he wouldn’t have been able to bear their gazes.
A liquid was starting to pour on his fluffy cheeks. Since when did his throat started to hurt so much?
Magolor practically threw himself on the ground, his claws mauling the drawing face.
“I don’t need your stupid sympathy!” he screamed, as his order didn’t even resonate in the dimension. His voice sounded raspy, probably due to his prolonged time here without anyone to talk to.
“I did what I did, and you just had to get in my way! You, and your dumb friends, and your ego!” Magolor’s glove were starting to turn to brown as he vigorously mowed the grass, but he was too preoccupied to notice. “You just had to be the hero, didn’t you?!”
The lying wizard stood up, his sleeves and cape now full of mud. He had trouble to catch his breath. If he had any feet, Magolor would have surely kick his drawing in anger. Looking down to see the damages, he had horrified that the shape persisted. In fact, it just looked like it was frowning now. It seems sad. It seems to pity him.
Magolor difficulty choked a sob. His head felt like it was burning but waterfalls kept flowing from his eyes. He hadn't planned this. This was supposed to satisfy his anger, to make him feel better, not make him an emotional wreck.
What had Kirby done to him?
“You should have bowed down to me! We both could gotten what we wanted!!!”
His inner dam seemed to be leaking.
Magolor didn’t want that. He didn’t want to face what he did. He was not ready.
“I would have become the ruler of everything! Be the King Undisputed! Respected! Saluted! And see for the wonder I am!”
Since when his dream to give joy to others and discover the universe’s mysteries had vanished? When his vision of theme parks bringing smile to all had been replaced by total domination? When did his ambition and hatred consumed him?
“And you would’ve had a new friend!”
It broke. Whatever wall that Magolor had built to be protected from his feelings, from the guilt, from the hard truth that he was in the wrong, just collapsed. It had crumbled and disappear, letting his emotions out without any kind of self-control.
Magolor slumped to his knees, desperately trying to stop his hot tears. Hiding his face in his paws, the mage fully breakdown. He couldn’t breathe, his body just wouldn’t let him. His heart was racing. He was going to die here, alone and messy and without anyone caring. He must have looked pathetic, Magolor thought.
Fear was the little death that killed the mind, Magolor knew that, but that didn’t change anything to his current situation. Years of denial and guilt were finally catching up and he was hopeless to do anything against it. He couldn’t think. His head was aching too much. Nobody was there to comfort him. To tell him that everything was gonna be okay. No one was there to prepare his special cup of milk when everything was bad.
The world started to fade to black. Was he going to passed out, or die?
Isn’t what he deserved after all?
He had claimed that all dimensions will be safer in his hands, but it was just a power trip. He acted like his life had been a tragedy whereas he had many chances to travel to forgotten paradises with the Lor and get a bright future. All of his “masterplan” could be watered down to: "get others do the heavy lifting" and the idea of manipulating Kirby hadn’t been originally his.
He was just a traitor. He was weak. He never had done any good in his life. He was a monster undeserving of love. No one will mourn him.
Magolor could feel himself giving up, letting his spirit be crushed by his past mistakes. Soon, the Dimension Abyss will swallow him all as if he had never existed.
His back to the ground, Magolor sobbed as he watched the numerous wormholes furrowing the skies. He wanted everything to stop. He wanted the pain to disappear.
As cliché at it may sound, the magician’s life flashed before his eyes as his brain was running relentlessly. A life of suffering, as he saw himself fight for his own survival in Halcandra, his previous home having been erased from memory. His left paw being burned by a volcanic stone while scavenging for resources. His chest being bruised by Owgulfs trying to steal his food. The buzzing sensation of being hit by a Volttzo.
But the scars weren’t just physical. Magolor got glimpse of his dispute with Marx, him violently taking possession of the Starcutter, the looks of betrayal when he had gloated about his plan to Team Kirby.
He was going to drown. In what, he didn’t know, but his lungs were burning so much he was sure of it. He felt so dizzy now.
It was dark…
Too dark…
His mind sank down to the depths… Gone were the confusing colors of Another Dimension, now there was just darkness. Pure and eternal void.
Yet a sudden light appeared right in front of him; in an instant Magolor found himself in a cave, a torch in hand. Any kind of dread or disbelief had disappeared. The surroundings were strange, similar to a fever dream. In the distance, a bluish-metallic structure could be seen. Magolor tried to discern was he was observing before the realization hit him: it was the Lor being half embedded in one of the stone walls, deep underground Haldera.
Then, he was now on a couch in front of a TV screen, a controller between his paws. Some kind of video game was on it, displaying proudly a “PLAYER 2 WINS” in bold letters. Was it on his ship? A little chuckled startled him.
“Nova, you suck at this game, you know that?”.
Magolor turned his head only to be greeted by Marx, lying on the pillows beside him, trying to hold his joystick with the claws on his wingtips. His gaze shifted from the TV to the young pilot. A little smile, not entirely malicious, was plastered to the jester’s face.
“Co-op?”
Magolor tried to mumble a weak “what?” but no sound escaped his mouth. The world around him swirled again. The Halcandran shut his lids to be spared by the off-putting sensation.
Magolor's ears however perked up when he heard up familiar laughs… Hesitantly, he opened his lids to find himself at a round table, next to the fours heroes of Dream Land. It seemed that everyone was resting in the Starcutter after what had been most likely a confrontation. The feast that Magolor had prepared for Team Kirby after they had retrieved the Lor Starcutter's Emblem from White Wafers?
Dedede was attacking the buffet like there was not tomorrow.
Meta Knight was focused of one of the books that Magolor had gifted him, trying to ignore the pleads of the king to stop reading and go join him.
Bandana Dee was nearby, trying to beat one of Magolor’s restored arcade games, an apple juice box within reach.
No trace of Kirby?
A slight tug at Magolor’s cape made him turned to face some kind of colorful abomination. It was a poorly done drawing on a white sheet, representing only what Magolor could guessed be the Lor, Kirby, the rest of the team, and finally him. The shoddiness of the design was exemplified by the fact the spaceship’s colors blended with the environment, who had been hatively added after the former, or the surreal proportions of the characters, Dedede being comically large or Galaxia being twice the height of its carrier.
The drawing gave way to the round, pinkish face of the artist. Magolor step back a little from surprise. The last time he had see this face, he had been killed (or freed, in a way). A smiling Kirby quickly moved closer, trying to make him look in greater details his handwork. Magolor put himself together, analyzing what the pink blob was pointing. It was supposedly him, but he looked more like an easter egg than anything else. The lines of his robe were scruffy, and the colors kept spilling over. With a closer inspection, the mage noticed that Kirby had made two yellow dots to create his eyes, but also a huge tremulous smile in the same hue. A mouth which Kirby, or anyone, had never seen as it was sheepishly concealed behind his scarf.
“Me ?”
For the first time, Magolor succeeded to utter a word. Maybe as the one he had pronounced at the time.
“A friend?”
Kirby responded with a childish glee before pouncing on him. Magolor braced himself only to be meet by a soft sensation as the marshmallow had decided to hug, his eyes gazing at his own.
I abandoned all of this… for that tyrannical tiara?
Magolor woke up in a jolt, his heart racing a mile an hour. He didn’t know where he was. His panic attack had also reappeared and Magolor felt himself hyperventilating. Before being too much overwhelm by emotions however, Magolor started to do his breathing exercises.
Inhale.
1…
2…
3…
4…
5…
Exhale.
1…
2…
3…
4…
5…
Doing it five time in a row, Magolor began to calm down. He was still shaky, yes, but it was better than passing out again. Now, he just needed to see where he was, which had an obvious answer. He was right where he had lost consciousness, on the ground, next to the Ethereal Altar.
Struggling to get up, Magolor’s brain was still feeling funny but at least he could think straight now. He had to reflect on what happened. He had been subjected to a great load of memories: some unpleasant, some not. The teen didn’t know what to make all of this. There was a mix of fear, anger but also regret, and… happiness? Because of the time he had spent with these peoples?
He had love them. No matter what he might think. And sometime, he had brought them joy.
Magolor had allowed the Lor to fly again, while her fate would have been to be forgotten under Haldera.
Magolor had (albeit accidentally) rescued Marx and had formed a genuine friendship with him.
Magolor, while he had manipulated Team Kirby, had also share many happy moments with them.
He may not entirely be a monster that causes pain to other. That was… reassuring he guessed?
It was unsettling to say the least.
Magolor still wanted to be angry at Kirby for stopping him, but it was himself who was the villain of the story. Oh, and they also saved him from a fate worse than death, so he may be in debt to them. Hatred and sadness still dwell inside of him, but there were not as ubiquitous as before.
Maybe one anxiety attack wasn’t enough to change someone’s entire mindset. He had a lot to think about. Magolor needed to work on his feelings. That’s something that took time.
Rubbing his forehead, Magolor decided to put his conflicted feelings aside in order to focus on to escape the hell he had been sent to. Self-hatred led to nothing. He had made mistakes and was suffering the consequences of his foolishness. If he wanted to make amends, he had to live.
Taking one last look at the pieces of fruit on the altar, Magolor headed towards the Poseiblu Dimension, now determined to complete his quest. Although he was slightly out of breath, his body was feeling better. He had wanted to rest physically and had obtained emotional enlightenment as a bonus.
If he wanted to see Kirby, Dedede, Meta Knight and Bandana Dee again, he first needed to restore his powers.
Then when the Gem Apple will be completed, Magolor would see if this adventure had been a journey of vengeance…
…or penance.