Story:Kings of Strife/Part 49

Chapter Forty-Nine
Silverius stood atop a hill and looked upon the ruined city in awe.

There was no life in Morshia, no more smoke rising to the sky, and no evidence for what could have razed it to the ground. There was only silence, and emptiness.

‘Just like me...’

He only walked now, the air too dead and dry for even his winds to blow. He was hungry, and tired, but he was not afraid.

The city met him with open, skeletal arms. An entire day had passed since he clashed with the Hero of Wind, and the sun had set again before Silverius had arrived at Morshia. It was the middle of the night now, but even if the sun was high in the middle of the sky, it felt as if there would be no light within this loss of what was once a city.

‘I was going to destroy this…’

So why did he feel so disappointed? So pained?

Not everything was destroyed there. Skyscrapers charred black and buildings crumpling onto each other with broken windows teased small shambles of corpses, some melting into puddles or some with their bones still reaching around in fear. Remnants of lifeless puppets and memorials extended their hands everywhere, up to the sky, to corpses near them, even to what they thought was ‘safety’, but to Silverius it appeared that each one was reaching to him. Seeking and screaming for him and the salvation he would bring.

‘Eradication. Annihilation. Torture. Not salvation…’

He had long ago grown used to his body being destroyed and his nerve cells constantly washed over with pain, but this… this was a pain he was not used to. Though he had killed and killed over and over again for all of his life – in the military, in his home, in the service of the Serpent Society, in Sumfate City, in Empiria, and in Icarun – he had never been surrounded by corpses, like this. Never had they been fresh, smoldering, and calling out to him.

“He’s right, Crono. You’re not alone anymore.”

“We surmount or we die. That is the Inusian way. You know this.”

“Somehow I knew you’d be the one to kill me…”

“I’ve always envied you!!”

“She is mine, not some damsel to be rescued!”

“You’ll always be a killer, Crono. It’s your destiny.”

“You’re a good person, Crono. Thank you.”

“Crono!”

Silverius screamed.

“Get out of my head! Stop speaking to me, for once, please!” He had grown accustomed to the whispers that commanded him to murder and bathe himself in blood, but those had faded as he gained mastery over the Crystal of Wind – and vanished completely once he was tortured for months within Icarun. He had been alone within himself, and that was horrifying; but now, surrounded by death, he heard nothing but memories within himself, flooding back and bombarding him, with regret.

“Let me be alone,” Silverius moaned, “Let me exist. Please. If I can’t die, just let me exist…” He fell to his knees and held his head in his hands. Both of his golden eyes stung, and he felt himself tearing up. “Do I exist? Should I exist? My birth… was an error, wasn’t it? Speak to me… Somebody answer me!”

At his side, the Crystal seemed to pulse with power. Something moved to his side.

Silverius looked up instantly, his entire body tense and ready to move. He looked around for the source of the sound with quizzical, glowing eyes. “There couldn’t possibly be anyone else alive here. Not here.”

He was right. Before Silverius’ eyes, a particularly fleshy corpse started to rise from the ground, though it could not move much, as its entire lower body was crushed by singed concrete rubble. Just as slowly as it started to move, as Silverius stared at it, the corpse fell back down and lost its liveliness, quickly reverting back to just another corpse.

“No,” Silverius whispered, standing up slowly and clenching his jaw. “No. It can’t be him…”

He had only seen a corpse move twice before in his life, and both times were the work of a Serpent Knight of Ouroboros. The Knight in question was a wizened man beneath mounds of red robes who apparently could control undead bodies like marionettes, and Silverius was in a city full of corpses.

‘My time has come,’ the ex-prisoner thought to himself as he started to breathe deeply and his eyes radiated golden light. His shattered and limp right arm, held in place by a primitive sling of tree bark and black cloth, trembled lifelessly as obsidian winds started to blow around him. “I’ll kill you right here and now!” Silverius screamed, into the city of corpses, into the abyss, and into himself.

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