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The overhead sky is dark, giving the impression of a storm brewing. Instead of the clouds, however, bursts of light arc between the ground as fiery attacks reflect off Mydei’s golden armor. His speed makes him as quick as lightning. The sound of the Titankin falling to the ground is the echoing thunder. The only rain that falls is whenever the Titankin gets a good hit in on him, drawing golden ichor from his body. It doesn’t happen often, though, and it is only shallow cuts and blossoming bruises. It is nothing he cannot power through; it is nothing that will not heal sooner rather than later.
The Titankin seemed to endlessly spawn when the fight first began, but through Mydei’s (and Phainon, if Mydei’s being generous) efforts, they are dwindling. There are only a few more left now. While Mydei’s exhaustion rises in his body, he doesn’t consider any of these remaining Titankin to be troublesome. He swiftly deals with them, shattering each statue with a well-placed punch. He stomps through these broken pieces, not letting a single one get in his way or trip him up.
The last Titankin in front of Mydei turns toward him. Mydei exhales. He steps toward the Titankin. It draws its massive sword back. Mydei lifts an eyebrow at the statue’s attempt. Mydei does not quicken his pace even when the Titankin charges at him. The stone sword crashes directly into Mydei’s chest. Golden ichor drips across his exposed stomach onto the ground. Mydei slams his fist into the Titankin’s forearm, shattering the stone immediately. His other fist launches forward to strike the Titankin’s head. The body part flies right off. The golem collapses onto the ground, leaving the sword behind in Mydei’s chest. A slow smirk slides onto Mydei’s face. The Titankin thought he would be the one to kill Mydei, but all he’s done is given Mydei’s blessing (his curse) a chance to heal all his wounds.
“Mydei, I’ve taken care of everything on my side. Are you—” Mydei glances over his shoulder. Phainon jogs toward him. Phainon stops short a few feet away from Mydei. His strikingly blue eyes slide down from Mydei’s face to his chest. His expression crumples like the Titankin once did. Horror splays out on every facial feature— in the widening of his eyes and the parting of his lips and the paling of his skin and the narrowing of his eyebrows. A slow tremor moves through his body. Phainon drops his greatsword on the ground, leaving it to land among the dirt and dust.
Mydei takes his turn to frown since he knows how important that sword is to Phainon. He also knows how important weapons are to their warriors in general. While Phainon could fight hand-to-hand combat, it isn’t the time to be testing that when another horde of Titankin could fall upon them at any moment. Mydei opens his mouth to say exactly that, but his words are stolen by Phainon crying out right before he reaches Mydei’s side, “Mydeimos.”
The prince frowns at the usage of his full name. He could tell Phainon off for it, but he doubts the white-haired man is going to listen to Mydei when he’s muttering to himself. His hands hover around the sword still lodged in Mydei’s flesh. Phainon’s expression has only gotten worse, especially when his fingers brush against the golden blood still warm from Mydei’s body. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I can fix this. I promise I can fix this. Just—”
Phainon draws his hands away like he’s been burnt. He yanks his jacket, forcing it off his body with a harshness that surely hurt him or tore the fabric. Phainon is unbothered by it. He just shoves the jacket near the wound. His shaking hand touches the blood-soaked sword. Mydei realizes it’s Phainon’s intention to remove the sword himself. He wants to bandage Mydei’s wound with his jacket. All of his quiet whisperings about ‘fixing this’ only adds to Mydei’s assurance.
Mydei huffs. He reaches forward to grab Phainon’s chin. He forces Phainon to look into his eyes. Phainon’s expression is still bad. His irises are trembling. Mydei resists the urge to sigh. He tugs Phainon’s face closer, settling their foreheads together. “Be silent, Deliverer. I do not die so easily. I will remove the sword, and I will return to you. Wait calmly.”
Mydei releases Phainon’s chin. Phainon doesn’t move away. He just stares at Mydei in confusion. The blond has nothing else to explain. He slams his fist down on the front of the sword. It breaks in two halves, making it easier to remove. More golden blood drops onto the hardened ground. Phainon makes a weak noise at the sight, especially when the warm blood splashes onto his body. Mydei’s body starts sinking toward the ground to prepare for his revival. Phainon’s arms shoot forward to grab onto Mydei, lowering him gently. Mydei rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t tell Phainon to knock it off.
Once he’s on the ground, Mydei closes his eyes. Death approaches him as cold fingers ghosting over his flesh, but it is unable to capture him. Death must leave him with his soul intact. The blood stops leaving his body. His wounds close up, healing in an instant. When the last of them has been fixed, Mydei opens his eyes. He observes the area around him. The sky is still dark. Phainon’s jacket is blanketed over his body. The ground is hard, but his head is lying in Phainon’s lap rather than on the cold stone. Phainon leans over him with his lips pursed together, clearly having tried his best to ‘wait calmly’ as Mydei told him to. A shaky exhale of relief leaves Phainon when he meets Mydei’s aware, amber eyes.
Mydei frowns. No one has been worried about him in this way in a long time. He assumed everyone knew about his immortality, the deaths he can afford to waste. Phainon didn’t, however, and his panicked concern made Mydei feel… odd. It was nice in some ways, but he also never wants Phainon to look that terrified again. He doesn’t want to remind Phainon of the past he left behind.
“We should return to Lady Aglaea,” Mydei mutters. He kicks his legs up, bringing him to a squatting position. He rises into a standing one, catching the jacket as it falls off his body. He looks back at Phainon. The white-haired man holds a hand over his heart. He stares at the ground without really taking in the details. Mydei grabs onto Phainon’s wrist. He drags the white-haired man onto his feet. Phainon stumbles, not quite inside his own body. Mydei sets the jacket back over Phainon’s shoulders. He closes it tight. When he finishes, he uses his fingers to tilt Phainon’s head back, forcing eye contact once more. “Stay alert, Deliverer. We may encounter more threats on our way back to Okhema.”
Phainon nods slowly. Mydei crosses his arms over his chest. He waits for Phainon to put his jacket back on properly. The man does this while walking over to his greatsword. He heaves the weapon off the ground, wiping it off with his sleeve. Phainon jogs back to Mydei’s side. They begin their trek back to the holy city, side-by-side.