Mavin watched the skies outside of everyone’s sight. Four hours ago, he had taken the head of Minerva, one of the leaders of the factions. He also was able to get rid of one of Kismet’s Tale.
After that he enjoyed a quiet ride back to the cabin where Gaul, Edward, and Stefania had discussed what they should do to Miss Wendy who was recovering her injuries while in their care.
Meanwhile, Mavin had chosen to change to a comfortable outfit after such troubles and left the cabin quietly and found a quiet place where he could take a seat and evaluate.
He hasn’t been stopping. He had been fighting that even after he had awakened from his semi-state of death after years of regeneration. He was still fighting. He thought of the days he spent in the orphanage, ignorant, and happy. He thought of the face of Melia who was nothing more than a big softy that wanted the kids in the orphanage to be good.
She’s gone so easily. What about the magiborne who wanted to find peace, but however could not find it even though he found a good home for himself? That short moment of peace, taken away, because he didn’t have the heart to leave the two people he just met. They were people that was once nothing more than strangers. He didn't know then and there was no way to know now.
Mavin thought about it. How everything went so far. He had realized that he didn’t have time to take a step back. Even after the war, there was still so much to do and he was wary.
He asked himself constantly.
What was the reason he was fighting so hard?
He sometimes didn't understand.
But mostly he thought of what his parents told him that day.
Wind was blowing that made him think even more sincerely. He remained in the place where he sat, and just stared at the direction of Lazon. He realized that there was a familiar sight that was even seen this far from Lazon. The tallest mountain in the world, mixed with green and silver that was covering the galaxy. He had heard that one day there would be a time where the ‘Green Night’ phenomenon would spread two continents away.
Just fifty-seven years and it had already spread.
What is worth fifty-seven years of being dead, robbed out of your time, and of your life? You did it, Mavin Tomas, you took a part of Kismet’s Tale. You destroyed that cursed ‘route’ that made a mess of everything. Before they could even do that stupidity, you had shoved your feet in the path they will take, and broke the road.
There was that.
He had done everything he could.
Mavin Tomas felt weak. He felt like even though he had tried his best to do what he wanted. He was empty, tired, and simply he had little gas left. He didn’t feel any major pain. He didn’t have a disease. He shouldn't have anything to complain about.
Ah, I have nothing other than this.
Mavin thought about it.
He had an idea of what happened to the Empire.
What was the point of solving the problem in Flost when the civil war still happened? It felt like a joke that even with all his effort, the Confederate of Athesia was still formed. And the Old Empire that he remembered in the ‘memories’ were still around.
His 'memories' was a guideline. He knew every ability and perk-giving boon there is and collected everything he could to make sure he was strong and durable enough to fulfill his self-imposed mission. All he could be happy was that at least the demifiends womb were truly gone. He had managed to kill them and yet...he was lost.
With Kismet’s Tale, crippled and turned into ashes. There was no way to revive Kismet. Other than that there was something about the Southernmost part of the world that could be trouble. He couldn't do anything about it.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t a God, and was merely someone who had supernatural strength, agility, and endurance. His reflexes were fast enough and he could even slow down his perception of time to a crawl, fast enough that he could swing a sword to cut a bullet, and move his body fast enough to avoid a bullet. And even if he was hit with a bullet, he could still shrug it off, and watch the injury heal in no time.
He regenerated from being burnt and melted inside. It might have taken many years, but he was still able to recover just because he had a boon that allowed him to do so. The boons were natural, supernatural, and were abnormal anomalies that caused a reaction to his body. The boons mostly improved his abilities and skills.
He should have no problem. But even so there were days where he just found himself taking a long look at the sky.
Seventy years of nothing but toil. I spent all that time either fighting or healing myself long enough that I could fight again. Chasing a dream, a goal, not for anyone, but for myself. All for myself, because...what was it again? To do nothing at the face of it, is simply evil...but what about those who I stepped on to reach this goal? Good is good, evil is evil, and yet here I am thinking that I did good. Perhaps, it might be the better choice. Mercy is the choice of the strong, and I am so weak...if I had the heart...the speech to convince anyone. I might have found a better path than this.
Mavin leaned on the trunk of the tree. His eyes reflected the canvas of stars that he had always been fond of since young. No matter what era, year, or day...the night remains alongside the stars.
He looked around him. It was empty and everyone who he knew were not around Where were they? They were simply gone as time dictated it to be.
He said no goodbyes.
All he did was fight until he ‘died’.
All he left them was probably the news of his death.
He used them. He made pawns of them while only caring about the self-imposed goals that he had made. To save the world? No, he wasn’t after that. He only wanted those close to him to be able to live happily.
But yet when he woke up he heard that there was a civil war and that in the end it went back to the ‘route’. He might have prevented the biggest problem according to his ‘memories’ that he looks for guidance.
But all the paths and tangled lives of others had flowed naturally without his intervention. Time wasn’t kind enough to wait for him. He could no longer influence, and even if he had something. There would be no point. All he had done today was confirm who the enemy was, and get rid of her. She had the artifact so Mavin had got the advantage of gaining more time for himself.
But what about time? What do I do with time? Nothing...I can brush up on my history, the geopolitical weather, and inquire about the technologies. Other than that, I have nothing that I want to spend my time on. Good Lord, how do you expect me to stop a volcano from erupting in the southernmost part of the world? There are things that I have control, some that I have, but no complete control over, and things I simply have no control. I can’t stop a volcano. I can’t stop what is outside of my power like that.
He was not blessed to have the bloom either. The only thing that he had was the boon that allowed him to seal the bloom and the crest.
He had no funding left. All of the finances of the Hounds were used up after fifty-seven years of secrecy, and time had passed long enough that some weren’t patient enough, and took off with some of the wealth that they had built up. It’s not like he could just go to Lazon, and say that he was alive. He had no proof who he was and even if someone had lived long enough to know who he was.
Mavin felt like he didn’t have such a thick face to show his people.
He didn’t want to think of it. Perhaps, he might meet some of his direct family who might have children after many years. But he had missed out in their lives. There was simply no way he could just come back.
And mostly...he was afraid.
He was afraid to go back to a home where his cousin wasn’t waiting. A place where Old Fred was no longer around, and those familiar faces. He was terrified of it. He would rather fight and dodge bullets than take that step for now.
There was nothing to go home for.
The people that he had been close to had been long gone. Even if he does what he does. Who was he doing it for? No one but himself. And the worst part was what if he just left them alone, then those who deserve to be called ‘heroes’ would pave a better path, though it would cost suffering, it would still end to what they call a happy ending.
As much as Mavin wanted to say that it was futile. That it couldn’t be helped. He found out that he couldn’t give up on what he wanted to do. He couldn’t stop his legs from moving, and going for the self-imposed goal he had been wanting to achieve.
He had done it!
That’s what Mavin wanted to shout from the bottom of his lungs. Even if he does nothing at this single moment, the world would at least head to the path where only the easternmost part of the world would be in trouble.
He might be able to do something.
But he simply didn’t have enough stomach to handle it.
He didn’t enjoy taking someone’s life.
Even in the war, he pulled the trigger because it was his duty. He didn’t regret what he did in the war, but he didn’t enjoy doing it as well. He did it because he wanted to believe that some things could be changed. He managed to do something. And yet no matter how much he thought about it.
The only time he felt proud for what he did was during the time he accompanied Kohl back in Sudugar. Seeing those two happy made him happy. And that was it. He thought of anything else, and even the dream he had since childhood no longer meant anything to him.
He didn’t want to be a lord. He didn’t want to be a soldier. He didn’t want to be a killer. But at the same time he couldn’t stop thinking about what may or may not happen if he did continued on one of those paths.
His head was full and in chaos. He certainly felt better when he had a goal in mind. A direction where he could go and do something other than take someone’s life. His arms felt heavy despite what he could carry.
His legs felt tired. His mind was heavy and chest tighter that it felt like he was having a heart attack. His became blurry and for some reason he wanted to shout so loud that it would tear out his lungs and throat.
His hands were shaking.
He didn’t understand why it was shaking now.
And why he felt so weak all the sudden.
He didn’t understand. He should be happy that he has reached so far. He had gone so far than most of his peers and yet despite all of it. He felt emptied out. He bit his lower lip, and body-shaking sobs came out of him.
He was far enough that no one could hear him. He was far enough that no one would notice how a Ghost would cry.
At the moment he felt so...bare and defenseless. The world in his eyes had become blurred and watery. He tried to suppress his emotions like usual, and even pulled out his pistol, and pointed the barrel on his head.
I don’t understand what’s happening.
It didn’t calm him any longer.
Mavin thought that he could take it. But yet upon reaching this far in his goal, despite the setbacks, he found himself stumbling, shaking, and was simply unable to bear the weight that was on his shoulders.
His body and mind was steel.
But his heart remained a cracked glass.
Mavin threw the pistol violently on the ground, kneeled, and boxed his ears with his head down, and arms and legs pulled in close to his body. He didn’t know why.
He simply wanted to be left alone in the dark where no one could see or hear him.
Mavin watched the skies outside of everyone’s sight. Four hours ago, he had taken the head of Minerva, one of the leaders of the factions. He also was able to get rid of one of Kismet’s Tale.
After that he enjoyed a quiet ride back to the cabin where Gaul, Edward, and Stefania had discussed what they should do to Miss Wendy who was recovering her injuries while in their care.
Meanwhile, Mavin had chosen to change to a comfortable outfit after such troubles and left the cabin quietly and found a quiet place where he could take a seat and evaluate.
He hasn’t been stopping. He had been fighting that even after he had awakened from his semi-state of death after years of regeneration. He was still fighting. He thought of the days he spent in the orphanage, ignorant, and happy. He thought of the face of Melia who was nothing more than a big softy that wanted the kids in the orphanage to be good.
She’s gone so easily. What about the magiborne who wanted to find peace, but however could not find it even though he found a good home for himself? That short moment of peace, taken away, because he didn’t have the heart to leave the two people he just met. They were people that was once nothing more than strangers. He didn't know then and there was no way to know now.
Mavin thought about it. How everything went so far. He had realized that he didn’t have time to take a step back. Even after the war, there was still so much to do and he was wary.
He asked himself constantly.
What was the reason he was fighting so hard?
He sometimes didn't understand.
But mostly he thought of what his parents told him that day.
Wind was blowing that made him think even more sincerely. He remained in the place where he sat, and just stared at the direction of Lazon. He realized that there was a familiar sight that was even seen this far from Lazon. The tallest mountain in the world, mixed with green and silver that was covering the galaxy. He had heard that one day there would be a time where the ‘Green Night’ phenomenon would spread two continents away.
Just fifty-seven years and it had already spread.
What is worth fifty-seven years of being dead, robbed out of your time, and of your life? You did it, Mavin Tomas, you took a part of Kismet’s Tale. You destroyed that cursed ‘route’ that made a mess of everything. Before they could even do that stupidity, you had shoved your feet in the path they will take, and broke the road.
There was that.
He had done everything he could.
Mavin Tomas felt weak. He felt like even though he had tried his best to do what he wanted. He was empty, tired, and simply he had little gas left. He didn’t feel any major pain. He didn’t have a disease. He shouldn't have anything to complain about.
Ah, I have nothing other than this.
Mavin thought about it.
He had an idea of what happened to the Empire.
What was the point of solving the problem in Flost when the civil war still happened? It felt like a joke that even with all his effort, the Confederate of Athesia was still formed. And the Old Empire that he remembered in the ‘memories’ were still around.
His 'memories' was a guideline. He knew every ability and perk-giving boon there is and collected everything he could to make sure he was strong and durable enough to fulfill his self-imposed mission. All he could be happy was that at least the demifiends womb were truly gone. He had managed to kill them and yet...he was lost.
With Kismet’s Tale, crippled and turned into ashes. There was no way to revive Kismet. Other than that there was something about the Southernmost part of the world that could be trouble. He couldn't do anything about it.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t a God, and was merely someone who had supernatural strength, agility, and endurance. His reflexes were fast enough and he could even slow down his perception of time to a crawl, fast enough that he could swing a sword to cut a bullet, and move his body fast enough to avoid a bullet. And even if he was hit with a bullet, he could still shrug it off, and watch the injury heal in no time.
He regenerated from being burnt and melted inside. It might have taken many years, but he was still able to recover just because he had a boon that allowed him to do so. The boons were natural, supernatural, and were abnormal anomalies that caused a reaction to his body. The boons mostly improved his abilities and skills.
He should have no problem. But even so there were days where he just found himself taking a long look at the sky.
Seventy years of nothing but toil. I spent all that time either fighting or healing myself long enough that I could fight again. Chasing a dream, a goal, not for anyone, but for myself. All for myself, because...what was it again? To do nothing at the face of it, is simply evil...but what about those who I stepped on to reach this goal? Good is good, evil is evil, and yet here I am thinking that I did good. Perhaps, it might be the better choice. Mercy is the choice of the strong, and I am so weak...if I had the heart...the speech to convince anyone. I might have found a better path than this.
Mavin leaned on the trunk of the tree. His eyes reflected the canvas of stars that he had always been fond of since young. No matter what era, year, or day...the night remains alongside the stars.
He looked around him. It was empty and everyone who he knew were not around Where were they? They were simply gone as time dictated it to be.
He said no goodbyes.
All he did was fight until he ‘died’.
All he left them was probably the news of his death.
He used them. He made pawns of them while only caring about the self-imposed goals that he had made. To save the world? No, he wasn’t after that. He only wanted those close to him to be able to live happily.
But yet when he woke up he heard that there was a civil war and that in the end it went back to the ‘route’. He might have prevented the biggest problem according to his ‘memories’ that he looks for guidance.
But all the paths and tangled lives of others had flowed naturally without his intervention. Time wasn’t kind enough to wait for him. He could no longer influence, and even if he had something. There would be no point. All he had done today was confirm who the enemy was, and get rid of her. She had the artifact so Mavin had got the advantage of gaining more time for himself.
But what about time? What do I do with time? Nothing...I can brush up on my history, the geopolitical weather, and inquire about the technologies. Other than that, I have nothing that I want to spend my time on. Good Lord, how do you expect me to stop a volcano from erupting in the southernmost part of the world? There are things that I have control, some that I have, but no complete control over, and things I simply have no control. I can’t stop a volcano. I can’t stop what is outside of my power like that.
He was not blessed to have the bloom either. The only thing that he had was the boon that allowed him to seal the bloom and the crest.
He had no funding left. All of the finances of the Hounds were used up after fifty-seven years of secrecy, and time had passed long enough that some weren’t patient enough, and took off with some of the wealth that they had built up. It’s not like he could just go to Lazon, and say that he was alive. He had no proof who he was and even if someone had lived long enough to know who he was.
Mavin felt like he didn’t have such a thick face to show his people.
He didn’t want to think of it. Perhaps, he might meet some of his direct family who might have children after many years. But he had missed out in their lives. There was simply no way he could just come back.
And mostly...he was afraid.
He was afraid to go back to a home where his cousin wasn’t waiting. A place where Old Fred was no longer around, and those familiar faces. He was terrified of it. He would rather fight and dodge bullets than take that step for now.
There was nothing to go home for.
The people that he had been close to had been long gone. Even if he does what he does. Who was he doing it for? No one but himself. And the worst part was what if he just left them alone, then those who deserve to be called ‘heroes’ would pave a better path, though it would cost suffering, it would still end to what they call a happy ending.
As much as Mavin wanted to say that it was futile. That it couldn’t be helped. He found out that he couldn’t give up on what he wanted to do. He couldn’t stop his legs from moving, and going for the self-imposed goal he had been wanting to achieve.
He had done it!
That’s what Mavin wanted to shout from the bottom of his lungs. Even if he does nothing at this single moment, the world would at least head to the path where only the easternmost part of the world would be in trouble.
He might be able to do something.
But he simply didn’t have enough stomach to handle it.
He didn’t enjoy taking someone’s life.
Even in the war, he pulled the trigger because it was his duty. He didn’t regret what he did in the war, but he didn’t enjoy doing it as well. He did it because he wanted to believe that some things could be changed. He managed to do something. And yet no matter how much he thought about it.
The only time he felt proud for what he did was during the time he accompanied Kohl back in Sudugar. Seeing those two happy made him happy. And that was it. He thought of anything else, and even the dream he had since childhood no longer meant anything to him.
He didn’t want to be a lord. He didn’t want to be a soldier. He didn’t want to be a killer. But at the same time he couldn’t stop thinking about what may or may not happen if he did continued on one of those paths.
His head was full and in chaos. He certainly felt better when he had a goal in mind. A direction where he could go and do something other than take someone’s life. His arms felt heavy despite what he could carry.
His legs felt tired. His mind was heavy and chest tighter that it felt like he was having a heart attack. His became blurry and for some reason he wanted to shout so loud that it would tear out his lungs and throat.
His hands were shaking.
He didn’t understand why it was shaking now.
And why he felt so weak all the sudden.
He didn’t understand. He should be happy that he has reached so far. He had gone so far than most of his peers and yet despite all of it. He felt emptied out. He bit his lower lip, and body-shaking sobs came out of him.
He was far enough that no one could hear him. He was far enough that no one would notice how a Ghost would cry.
At the moment he felt so...bare and defenseless. The world in his eyes had become blurred and watery. He tried to suppress his emotions like usual, and even pulled out his pistol, and pointed the barrel on his head.
I don’t understand what’s happening.
It didn’t calm him any longer.
Mavin thought that he could take it. But yet upon reaching this far in his goal, despite the setbacks, he found himself stumbling, shaking, and was simply unable to bear the weight that was on his shoulders.
His body and mind was steel.
But his heart remained a cracked glass.
Mavin threw the pistol violently on the ground, kneeled, and boxed his ears with his head down, and arms and legs pulled in close to his body. He didn’t know why.
He simply wanted to be left alone in the dark where no one could see or hear him.
