CHAPTER SEVEN.

PAST

THE SUN IS ROASTED RED, BLEEDING INTO THE MIDDAY. Taunting moving shadows, fraught. Darkness sits in the house of your bones, rattling ribs like a cage. Your guts rips off strips, filled with black blood, black bile, molten midnight feathers.

You wallow.

"[Name]," Myra whispers, her tone uncharacteristically soft — you would much rather her  voice be as cutting as it usually is, as takes the pity and horridness off — "it's not your fault."

You've learnt to kill on purpose, yes. You've learned how to stab a blade through a person's body, to watch all the blood leak out. You've accustomed yourself to the horrors of this...game.

But you've never taken the life of someone accidentally, until now. Contrary to popular opinion, you've always deemed "accidents" as something far worse than things of intent. Because with accidents, you knew that you had killed a person that wasn't destined to die, unlike a premeditated murder where the person was supposed to die With all this mishaps and carelessness, you would know you murdered a  person that wasn't supposed to die — but still, they did. And it's this very thought that plagues you as you stare at the corpse of your...friend.

You've befriended this person a few days ago. And later on, you will be the one who will kill her.

"Fuck," you breathe shakily. You start to shiver, wrapping your hands around yourself. "Fuck, why did I have to be put in this...this shitty game..." your words become soft, and you tremble. "Fuck!"

Myra is evidently taken aback. "[Name]—"

"I know it wasn't my fault!" You tear at your hair, your eyes anguished and so utterly human you start to envy Sora for being detached — "I know, and that makes it even worse. She wasn't meant to die. Ah, this game..."

Myra falls silent. Technically, you're giving yourself away, but you don't care now. You can't care when now, you're afflicted with a wave of conflicting, ugly emotions: the ones that tear away at your humanity, the ones that...

You let out a sob. You're not weeping for just yourself — you're weeping for your friend, for all the dead people you've killed...for Sora.

This is how he felt. This is...

Myra looks at you, helpless.

You are convinced that is the moment you shatter inside, just a little bit. You try to think back to happier, merrier times — but they elude you, and you fall.

PRESENT

Sora frowns at your bruised hands and blistered palms. You've made your way to the bar, and you see Sora looking for you. The closed sign hangs on the door, even though it's usually opening hours. Clearly, you've taken a bit of a time with Axel. And clearly, Sora isn't pleased. He's somehow made it out from his guild office all the way to the bar, without bumping into the fight.

So this means you'll have to explain yourself.

"Who...?"

You look away. Should you drop his name? Perhaps this gives you a chance to know more about your self proclaimed ex, who you so happened to beat up moments ago. You study Sora's face expression — he isn't happy.

"Axel." You murmur.

Sora's eyes flash. "Axel?"

"I beat him up pretty good, so don't you worry about it," you smile easily at Sora, hoping to help him relax — "this..." you gesture to the little marks on your hands. "Is just a result of beating him a little too hard."

Sora is amused, but the worry hasn't died down yet. The rage has not been purged yet. He looks disapprovingly at you, and you wince.

"Why do you get so easily hurt? Why don't you care about it?"

Because everything's fake, you think, you don't truly like me. I just built up your affinity points, that's all. There's a little pang in your heart. Yeah, that's true.

"I dunno. Myra patches me right up. It's really not a big..." you catch his expression. "It really isn't a big deal. Stop making a mountain out of a molehill."

Sora starts to laugh. "Mountain out of a molehill," he repeats, before tenderness falls onto his face. You fidget — you don't like that expression. You...you'll take something like hatred from Axel any day as compared to this.

"So who is Axel exactly? Other than the fact we used to —"

"—Date," Sora finishes bitterly, "right."

"I was making poor decisions."

"He led you into it," Sora corrected, and you crane in closer to hear more juicy information, "he promised to leave you alone after going out for a couple dates. And of course, you dumped him, and—"

A memory flashed in your mind. It isn't yours.

.

.

Axel grins at you. "You, [Name], are like me. You are too tired to live, too scared to leave. You are too young to die, but it's too painful to live."

.

.

Shit. How is it that even the space in your head doesn't belong to you anymore?

"[Name]?" Sora says softly, very softly, "are you alright?"

Your throat is dry. "I..."

"Hey," Sora pulls you to the side, and forces you to sit. You exhale. "[Name], did he say anything...?"

"He must have been fucking shitty," you whisper. "Screaming profanities and attacking me when he was supposed to love me..."

You won't ever change who you are! Was what Axel had screamed, you're just the same as ever!

Really? Really? You're like a character that doesn't even exist in your original world? Are your personalities blending together? Are you becoming less of your own person? Are you—

You pour a glass of wine. Your hand isn't as steady as it would have been. You hate to admit this: but you're scared. Scared of another person that the original [Name] knew that you didn't know, scared of the violence that the person had so readily shown; scared of the hatred you had received when it wasn't even your body. And every time you use the powers that [Name] was somehow blessed with, you feel closer and closer to...something else. Something that isn't human.

"I'll kill him later," Sora says cheerfully.

You smile. "Now, that sounds awfully inviting."

"How did he get a hold of you? I thought he went away." Sora looks disturbed — well, murderous — as he continues to tap away at the empty glass. The sound fills in the silence. "Don't tell me he stalked you."

"I think he's moving back to XinHua," you quickly interrupt, exhaling. Then, you think: he moved away? So maybe he is a S-Class, but he wasn't in the guild meeting because he wasn't present.

"Maybe he stayed in Fermi. Or even Eudora," Sora's voice is filled with venom. "If I kill him — when I kill him — I won't even bother making him a corpse. He'll stay in the afterlife. He'll rot in hell."

You're amused. "You really hate him."

"And you don't?"

I don't know enough of him to truly hate him, you think. But you nod, remembering the nasty words he threw at you, remembering his grit, his burning desire to almost kill you as you slammed him hard on the asphalt ground. You were lucky the patrolling robots didn't catch you. "I do hate him. Actually, I fucking loathe him."

"So you..."

"Nearly killed him," you say softly. "Rendered him unconscious, large split to his skull, maybe. He was bleeding."

"That's my [Name]," Sora says, affection oozing out of his words. "Good job."

"...It was just self defence," you add.

Self defence. Even now, you are defending your brain against all the horrible thoughts: you are constantly using that excuse as a way to justify your violent actions. Violence, you realise, has seeped into your everyday life, filling up every crevice, every spot. And compared to your own life beforehand, you didn't even —

—it was hard to get used to. It always was.

"Let's change the topic," you offer Sora, "let's not talk about this."

"I rather keep that piece of shit's name out of my mouth, so deal," Sora says with a dazzling smile, before he touches your hand, his fingers skimming over the callouses and the wounds. "Does it hurt, [Name]?"

"I thought we weren't going to talk about it."

"Now we're talking about you," Sora says gently, "let me do this for you, alright?"

"Do what?"

"Care for you."

Now your heart hammers against your chest. There's a wad of phlegm stuck in your throat, and you inhale sharply. "I do that plenty, thanks."

"I don't see why you always have to avoid such topics."

"Damn you."

Even with all this cursing, all this meanness — Sora's never angry at you. You start to suspect he physically cannot be angry at you — and you don't know how that makes you feel. Instead, his voice takes on a gentler, sweeter tone as he whispers, "you don't really take care of yourself."

"And you do?" You spit out in disbelief. "Hey, I thought we were changing the subject. Don't go about turning my mood sour."

"I just thought that perhaps you would want to take care of yourself. To stop getting yourself hurt. I know you got yourself shot the other day. Dior must have done a splendid job of recovery."

You stiffen. "How do you know that?"

"I know many things about you, [Name]," Sora says quietly. You ignore the hand that traces all the scars on your skin, all the broken bits and all the rough patches. "I know alot. We've been together for ages, haven't we? It would be strange if I didn't catch on to all the little secrets you think you're hiding — I know, [Name]."

"The guy just didn't want to pay. And he was drunk. I got rid of him." You say lamely.

"I know you're strong enough to win. I've always believed in you."

"So I don't see the issue. Stop —" you pull your hand away from his touch, "stop doing this."

"What? Caring for you?"

"You know what I mean," you shoot him a look. "Stop doing...this."

"Why? Does being offered tenderness feel like proof you've been ruined? Does it, [Name]? Because I know that I was selfish in my desires when I brought you to the quests where we had to fight those monsters. I know part of you will always resent the fact that I was the one who destroyed your humanity; that I was the one who made you...kill. If I never brought you to those places to kill those monsters, you never would have to kill those humans."

"I've never hated you." You say weakly.

"But you've thought about it."

You remember the feeling when you accidentally killed that friend: think back to happier times. To happier times! Think back to the times where she was still alive and breathing, and you had yet to betray her! Think, [Name]!

"I wanted to understand you." You take a sip of the wine, swirling it uselessly in the glass. "I wanted to understand and to see why you did what you did."

"Why I killed humans." Sora murmurs, "you wanted to understand...that."

"You've never shared your childhood with me. Or your feelings. It's always: how are you, [Name], and what did you do? It was never part of yourself. So we're sharing the same issue, I suppose. We never care about ourselves..." you trail off. "Do murderers even deserve that right?"

"[Name]," Sora's voice is soft. You don't dare to look into his eyes. Fucking hell. "For whatever wrong thing you do now, blame me. Make it easier. It was never your fault, [Name], it was mine."

"And I hate that way you treat me," you say abruptly. "You're selfless, and..."

You remember the night you killed that friend...by accident.

I wanted it so desperately; I wanted to vanish so completely that I would not remember myself; not my actions. No feelings, no memories, just the blank slate that I was when I came to this world. The freedom of oblivion. I wanted to run away; to disappear, to get so lost that I would never be found.

That I would never have made my way back to you ever again, because I knew you would anchor me here.

"I'm sorry." Sora whispered.

You keep talking. This is probably a side effect of all the jittery feelings that has come up to you since Axel's appearance, and the fact that there are more things you do not know of. "And I hate how you always prioritise yourself over me. I hate how you just — you just keep looking on so gently even when I curse at you, even when I spit so much meanness to your face, even — like now," you say brokenly. "Just like now."

Sora knows. Sora knows you're shaken because of Axel. Sora knows that whenever you feel your flesh connect with another's, whenever you use your blood powers — you fall into the abyss. You remember all of your kills; you forget your humanity. Because your power — because those powers and the origin of it...the fragment...it was meant to rip away your humanity. It was meant to...

But this is love, Sora thinks, this is his love for you. It is a mass of ice melting. He can't hold it, he has nowhere to put it down. It's too slippery, it's too dangerous.

So instead Sora reaches out to you and holds you firmly. "I'm sorry," he says.

He'll take on your burden. All of it.

You close your eyes and soak in his words.

—

Patricia needs to harvest your power. She needs to pull you away from your bartending job — she needs your power for XinHua, and for other reasons she will not disclose. But here's the thing; Sora Selasta is much too overprotective.

"Call for [Name]," she murmurs. A subordinate immediately scurries off, heeding her orders.

Patricia holds her hand to her chest, exhaling.

"Ah," she says softly, "the fragment. I feel it." The stone in her — the fragment — is a ticking time bomb. A keystone of life. Of powers. She cradles it, and grins.

[Name] is the key to everything, and so is his power.

And so is his fragment.

A/N; this chapter may seem irrelevant but it really isn't ;; showing the mindset that y/n slips into whenever he uses his blood powers...and the suspicious origins of the powers! (will be expanding on what the term "fragment" is later) this act (1-10) is still not as action-packed, but there will be some important revelations!

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