The Hero

Chapter 3

The hallway grew dimmer by the second, almost completely bathed in darkness. The Champion shifted his gaze to his right toward the windows but found nothing. He hoped a light would be within sight. There was none—only the dark outlines of houses obscured his sight from what could possibly be a moon in the night sky. Yet, through it all, slivers of moonlight managed to triumph and splatter upon the floor. Every time the Champion walked through them, temporary relief surged through him. But it was always short-lived.

His gauntlets remained limp at his sides, still soaked in blood that rained down to mark his path. He never looked at them. Or behind him—he would only look ahead. Everything behind him could be forgotten. It would be fine in the end. He just needed to go forward—

"That's a very stupid mindset, brother!" Jewel called out from the shadows. The Champion came to a halt as he located two yellow eyes levitating before him. He could make out no body or anything resembling one. It was like he was one with the darkness.

"I... I..." the Champion sputtered for an excuse. The only thing he managed to do was force the bloody imagery back into his mind he had just created. Worry stretched his heart across, about to make it explode—he still couldn't push Shimmer out of his mind. Promidate did well to remind him of her. He hated how it was that way.

"But do not worry," Jewel declared, narrowing his eyes with a newfound smile underneath. "I will always be watching your back. Every mistake you make." His eyes and smile disappeared from sight, leaving the Champion bewildered. Until the voice continued right in his ear. "Will be fixed. Nobody will know of them. Nobody will care. You will be sitting on your throne as if nothing had ever happened in the first place!"

The Champion spun around to look for Jewel, but found nothing except for his laughing that rang throughout the corridor. He was alone with only thoughts of Shimmer to accompany him.

"Not dead... wasn't her," he muttered, then looked at his gauntlets. With them right in front of his visor, he could see their shaky and soaked form. Moonlight seemed to make the blood gleam and sparkle. He hated it.

Uneasy about the past, both recent and far, he proceeded down the hallway and rushed into the throne room, finding comfort at last. His back pressed against the shut doors, he stared ahead at the floor bathed in splatters of moonlight. The throne itself was only half-illuminated as the rest was covered in obsolete darkness.

He had sat on that throne not too long ago. It was very similar to the time now; his gauntlets were drenched in blood, yet he couldn't take his mind off the killing. When he killed Jarunx, it wasn't that hard to forget about it. Surely it was because Promidate resembled Shimmer. That was the only explanation he could deduce.

"I wouldn't mind such a place as this," Jewel remarked, startling the Champion, who searched for the voice. He managed to find him by the throne, his back turned. There was barely enough moonlight to display his form: a figure made of amorphous, black particles held in by an indistinct outline. At times, it wavered; others, it remained intact. But the particles always leaked to the floor, a waterfall in itself.

"You speak about my mistakes," the Champion said, and thrust a bloody finger ahead. "What can you possibly do about them? You're dead. You can't do anything. You're just in... in..." He tried to continue, but only stammered. It was hard to grasp the idea of Jewel being fake and not flesh.

"I can do many things," Jewel claimed, turning around to show his hungry eyes and wicked smile. "One of those happens to be..." He thrust his right hand forward and snapped his fingers. A whole downpour of particles erupted soon after. "Well, it's hard to phrase it... so shall I say..." He grimaced, lowering his voice. "A bit of cleaning up after my artistic brother?"