Work Text:
Standing at the crest of the hill, with Pethuamet before him, emitting loud, guttural roars, Yuder steadied himself for the final confrontation. His eardrums rang with the harsh sounds coming from the beast, and he had multiple injuries across his body. Still, the pain that should have been excruciating seemed distant, perhaps due to the surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins.
In his current state, having successfully followed the glowing trees of the mages and led the monster to the planned place, Yuder knew that victory was imminent. Yet, at that moment, a strange sensation gripped him, making him feel as if his lungs were constricting. It was a complicated emotion that came upon him suddenly and without warning. One that, in the face of a complicated battle, felt utterly unnecessary.
The ominous feeling solidified as Pethuamet’s spike-studded tail raised with deadly intent, striking toward him. At that moment, what had been an unclear sensation solidified into a certainty within his mind.
I might die today.
He had not planned for this. If death came to him now, it would take him with a storm of conflicting emotions. On one hand, Kishiar would be spared from facing Pethuamet; on the other, the bitter knowledge that he could have had the potential to further serve Kishiar in life gnawed at his resolve, deepening the frown that shadowed his face.
Yet, his mind chose then to conjure an image of Kishiar from his past life; bloodied, resolute, and standing much as he did now, facing Pethuamet. The memory ignited his resolve, straightening him like a tempered blade.
Indeed, it was not the moment for such thoughts. Yuder had to focus to summon the strength needed to unleash his power and bring the hill crashing down. Any emotions that might waver his resolve had no place now; he shoved them into the back of his mind, locking them away until he had the privilege to visit them again. If this had to be the end of his life, he needed the resolution to welcome it.
He breathed out and focused on the power residing inside of him, summoning it forth as his gaze locked with the beast's crazed eyes. A sudden earthquake rippled through the land, shaking the entire area. The hidden mages and awakeners watching over the fight cried out in alarm, their shouts ringing through the chaos. Even the beast faltered, flinching in bewilderment as its attack came to an abrupt end.
“The ground, the air… No, the entire forest is moving!” exclaimed an awakener, the same one who had retrieved Yuder’s sword for him earlier in the fight.
At that moment, with a tremendous roar that seemed to split the earth, the entire hill collapsed.
All around him, screams filled the air, yet Yuder’s gaze remained fixed on Pethuamet. Emotions and thoughts moved in a tangled storm at the edges of his mind, but he was still set on his decision to give them no priority.
Ironically, it was in that moment, on the crumbling hill, staring death in the face once more and ignoring everything that didn’t have to do with his main mission, that he felt most like the man he had been in his past life.
He ensured that beneath the collapsing hill, jagged, spear-like rocks awaited Pethuamet. The beast had no escape from the cruel descent that would pierce him in countless places. Pethuamet, impaled by the fall, lay sprawled like a broken, helpless creature, his long tongue lolling lifelessly from his snout.
Standing in front of the beast Yuder had no strength left, it was resolution alone that made him slowly raise his sword to strike at the monster’s tongue. The attack was slow and sluggish, his body barely capable of movement, but the monster lacked the strength to evade. Moments later, the enormous tongue was severed, releasing heavy amounts of bodily fluids over Yuder.
Drenched from head to toe in the creature’s blood, he watched as the beast’s eyes slowly dimmed, the light of life fading from them. In that moment, he fleetingly recalled his earlier conversation with the priest about the monster’s poisonous blood and wondered: was it normal that he felt no ill effects, despite being soaked in it?
The moment Pethuamet’s torn pupil completely relaxed, the sword slipped from Yuder’s grasp, falling lifelessly to the ground. His body swayed unsteadily before beginning to collapse. Thankfully, a shadow darted forward just in time, catching him and lowering him gently to the ground.
At the start, Yuder was oblivious to the embrace, his mind too clouded with exhaustion to notice he wasn’t standing anymore. The emotions he had suppressed earlier now began to swirl within him, chaotic and unrelenting. Many were unfamiliar, and difficult to discern, while others, like fear, felt so ingrained that he wondered if he had ever truly lived without them in the past months.
Fear had been his shadow ever since he was sent back in time, a fear of the future repeating itself, a fear of something happening to Kishiar, a fear of failure. Even now, as his life thinned, his fear was not for himself but for the consequences that his death might have on the future, for what it might mean for his commander.
He didn’t dare presume he held such a place in his commander’s life that he would be irreplaceable, but he knew his knowledge and power still had much to offer. If he had known his fate would lead him here, he would have shared more information about the future with Kishiar.
As his faltering consciousness lingered on thoughts of his commander, a voice eerily similar to Kishiar’s reached his ears, calling his name. It was faint, muffled as if it came from under the water, yet Yuder clung to it. If his commander was calling him, then as his assistant, he had to answer the call.
Yuder painstakingly opened his eyes and looked up at the hunched figure of Kishiar la Orr, who was cradling his body and calling his name. For a moment, he wondered if this was a figment of his imagination, but the familiar scent of Kishiar grounded him, confirming that his commander was truly there.
Yuder couldn’t make out the expression on his face, nor could he hear his voice clearly, his shattered eardrums muffled the world around him. Yuder wanted to look into the other’s red eyes, as it was difficult to discern emotions when half a face was obscured.
“Commander?” he muttered. Yuder wasn’t sure if his voice had been heard as he couldn’t clearly register the volume of his own words, but the gentle squeeze of the hand holding him indicated an affirmative response. “How did you get here…”
“That’s not important right now.”
Kishiar leaned in, bringing his face closer, and Yuder found himself staring directly into the commander’s red eyes. He hadn’t expected the waves of emotions coming from them, strong enough to drown him. Though Kishiar’s expression now looked impassive, his silent gaze carried more feeling than Yuder had ever imagined this man capable of directing toward him.
‘He seems lively… alive, well,’ thought Yuder despite his muddled mind, and slowly, many of his regrets and fears began to dissolve. Would it be acceptable to feel content in a moment like this? He had defeated the monster, and the commander appeared unscathed. Thousands of lives had been spared from the devastation that Pethuamet would have brought.
Perhaps it wasn’t the ideal ending, but it wouldn’t be so terrible to die now, cradled in the commander’s arms. Having defeated one of his deepest regrets from his past life. He had already changed the future for the better.
The moment he realized this, a refreshing sensation washed over him, as though he had finally resolved an old regret and ambition.
“...Are you smiling?” Kishiar mumbled in disbelief. “Can you really afford to smile in such a state?”
Had he been smiling? He couldn’t see his own expression, so he wasn’t sure whether he was or not. Still, the truth was that he felt good, and so he chose not to respond.
At that moment, Yuder felt the uncomfortable feeling that had been building since he began fighting Pethuamet surge and overwhelm him. It was the certainty that he would die there. The feeling grew stronger by the moment, yet he didn’t want to stop talking with Kishiar. Yuder wanted to talk with him a bit more before going, even if it ended up being brief.
Luckily, Yuder was skilled at suppressing his feelings, and so, he pushed this certainty down once again to focus on the man in front of him.
“You kept… your promise,” he ended up saying, trying to shift the subject and distract himself from the looming sense of finality. The promise of coming back in three days that Kishiar had given him was the first thing that came to mind.
Kishiar, noticing the change in topic, chose not to comment on it and simply replied, “Indeed…”
Yuder felt a gentle touch on his arm as Kishiar pulled him closer. Held so tightly, almost like a child, he could finally feel the undeniable reality of Kishiar’s return.
Kishiar rose to his feet with Yuder cradled in his arms, prompting the latter to stifle a wince at the sudden movement.
“I can walk on my own.”
“Really? If you can lift your hand by yourself, I’ll let you go.”
Yuder tried to summon strength in his arm, but his hand didn’t do much as twitch. He frowned, and Kishiar sighed with resignation.
“Is there anywhere that hurts?”
“I... I’m not sure,” Yuder replied honestly.
“So you’re saying it’s serious enough that you can’t even tell where it hurts.” Kishiar’s voice sounded curt, though Yuder couldn’t tell if it was due to his poor hearing or something else.
Yuder’s silence served as confirmation. Without another word, Kishiar began moving, carrying Yuder out of the crater he had created with his ability.
“Your condition does not seem well. I will…” The commander stopped mid-sentence, suddenly looking at him with surprise and an air of urgency.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Yuder said, or at least tried to say. It was then that he realized he couldn’t move his mouth even if he wanted to. A sense of powerlessness gripped him, and the certainty of death he had been suppressing surged forward once again, crashing against him like a relentless wave pounding a rock.
He could only move his gaze, which locked with Kishiar’s, who had his eyes now filled with sudden and unmistakable desperation.
Yuder was taken aback. He had never imagined he would see the commander with such an expression. Even in his past life, when he had met his end, he couldn’t recall Kishiar’s face ever looking so unsettled.
Yuder noticed from the corner of his eyes how Kishiar’s hands were glowing with a golden light. It was his holy power, but it had a difference. It was the brightest, most intense gold he had ever seen him use. Yuder had half the mind to worry about Kishiar straining his vessel for a lost cause, but he couldn’t speak his displeasure. He could also perceive the blur of trees rushing past them, indicating that Kishiar was likely running.
Yuder inhaled. The musky scent of Kishiar felt like an invitation to sleep, and he was so, so tired. He knew he shouldn’t have continued speaking with Kishiar as if nothing was wrong moments ago when he also knew the likelihood of his survival was slim.
‘Selfish until the end,’ Yuder thought as he exhaled. His lungs, however, didn’t seem inclined to draw another breath, and he wasn’t surprised by the fact.
It felt like a miracle that he had lived long enough to see Kishiar in these final moments. It was a gift he felt undeserving of, yet he was grateful for it at the same time.
Yuder thought of the members of the cavalry, the mages immersed in their research, and his bright commander. He reflected on all the changes that had come to pass, and he hoped that he had done enough to protect them this time around.
He didn’t have time to fully address the painful regret bleeding from his heart at the sight of Kishiar’s distress, as his eyes had already stilled.
Kishiar suddenly stopped in his tracks. The holy energy faltering from his hands seemed to tell him it was futile, that the body he was holding had just become nothing more than a lifeless shell. But he couldn’t accept that, not yet. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say he didn’t want to.
Kishiar’s mind became utterly blank at that moment, devoid of any thought. The only thing he could feel was an ever-growing pain in his chest and a crushing pressure so intense it seemed as though the universe itself might collapse under its weight.
He didn’t even notice when his legs gave out beneath him, leaving him to sink to the ground, still holding his assistant protectively in his arms.
Because of the sudden movement, something rolled out of Yuder’s pant pocket. Kishiar barely registered it at first, but when his eyes landed on the object, he felt the world come to a halt.
It was the shiny wrapper of one of the candies he had given Yuder before departing, a candy meant to be eaten once per day during his absence. This one was meant for today, the day of Kishiar’s return.
The moment the commander’s fingertips brushed against the cold wrapper, the previous numbness vanished, and his mind cleared from the fog with painful swiftness.
The truth struck him like a cannonball, the horrific realization that his loved Yuder Aile was in his arms, lifeless.
Kishiar felt a jolt rush through his body at the thought, and the pale face of his subordinate blurred before his eyes. He had believed himself accustomed to the loss of those who left this world, yet now he found himself incapable of accepting this reality.
“You need to be alive, do you hear me?” he said, or screamed, he could no longer tell. “As long as you’re alive, nothing else matters. That’s an order, you need to be alive!”
Kishiar hit the ground with his fist as the different powers within him surged in disarray. The holy power flared the strongest, desperately trying to force its way into Yuder’s body, willing it to move once more.
“You never disobeyed me, Yuder Aile. You can’t start now, not with the most important command of your life.”
Kishiar felt himself growing faint. Despite the aggressive, uncontrollable grief wracking his body, he placed a gentle hand over Yuder’s lifeless eyes and pulled him closer into his embrace. His sobs made his body shake violently, and with each tear trailing down his cheeks, he felt an icy coldness creeping deeper into him.
Before long, tortured screams, similar to the ones of a wounded animal, tore through the still air. They were so loud and harrowing that anyone within earshot mistook them for the cries of a monster and fled in terror.
At that moment, Kishair was left alone in the world. His only companions were the lifeless body of the man he loved more than anything and a single, uneaten piece of chocolate, a bitter reminder of a promise made with a lighter heart.
A promise that could never be fulfilled.