Chapter 8: The Awakening

Chapter 8

The Awakening

“All along I thought my brother was dead. All along I’m the only man standing behalf of my bloodline. All along I pushed my way in the core of darkness, becoming the avenger with this rose that linked at my soul...”

Arkloyle vomited at the sea. It was his fourth time this day at 4 a.m. at October 24. He looks even paler than the usual he looks like. It reached into the limit as his face turned into a yellowish skin. He felt cold as cold as he described it like an ice. He was hyperventilating. Sooner or later he might die.

“I feel very cold indeed at times of October...” he said as he coughed badly like he was dying, “Like my brother who became paler when he reached the age of 17.”

He walked in his cabin and lied down on his bed. Mavor left the ship to buy something while they were off-duty in the meantime. He was all alone in the ship like there’s no tomorrow. He could barely hear, smell, or feel a thing. It seemed he’s sweating too fast and breathing too slow as it visualizes that his life was all revenge.

“Sallie was right... this is meaningless revenge...”

“...because I have no power to slay hundreds of undead in one night, I have no freedom to myself on my solemn I’d made up, I have no more a brother as he left me alone as I suffer alone...”

Arkoyle took the rose out of his pocket and stared at it.

“I’m so weak! I only rely with this gun!”

Arkoyle pointed the rose at his head. He leaned over the rose and shut off his eyes. He slowly pulls the trigger.

At 5 a.m., Arkoyle sat down on his bed. His head was faced on the ground, his eyes were wide open and never blink, and his hair was stained with a reddish liquid. Mavor came inside the cabin. There he saw Arkoyle. “Oh my good riddance, what happened!?” Mavor gasped. Mavor quickly reached Arkoyle and he quickly slapped him in the face.

“Ouch!” Arkoyle shrieked.

“Don’t scare me like that!” Mavor yelled.

Arkoyle sighs while Mavor looked angry toward him.

“You almost drank the rum at the last drip of it!” Mavor yelled.

“And you insanely poured it all over your head! Had you think about me?” Mavor added, “Darn! I lose another drink from you!”

“Sorry... I’m just not at myself yet.” Arkoyle said. Then he feels he is going to vomit.

He burst out of the cabin. He vomited at the sea. Out of all in one day it was now his fifth time. He gasped as he recovers a bit and then. “Here we go again...” He moaned.

“What kind of disease you have? Even the doctors couldn’t explain why.” Mavor uttered as he watched very pitifully at Arkoyle.

Arkoyle recovers from the sickness he has temporarily. He looked at his pocket watch and he whispered: “This is the same time that my brother vomits at his fifth time.”

“Some say I have a dope~ in my head that hanged up on the rope... Oops I forgot! My head was missing!” The Durahan that rode in a flaming horse sang, “I tend... To- kill! I tend... To- steal! Their heads apart... as I gather them up to my place where I put the rejected heads!!” The Durahan landed down the ground from his horse and took his sword, placed on the pack beside the body of the horse. “I was bargained by a necromancer! A deal with my eternal rest! But it seemed he want a test! To prove I am right on my skull!!” Durahan quickly sang it loud. He was at a village where local townsfolk having their trade. It seemed he was in the market. “I can’t handle him! He might break my skull~ that leads to my eternal dim!” he sang out loud as he withholds his bloody rusty sword. “So come out now... wherever you are! Hear my cause... because I can’t call you through my words....” Durahan sang, “Oops I forgot... I have no voice! Only an eerie of my thoughts... you will hear in your ears. A mere whisper of the wind... controlled by my presence that you could hear. But wait, how could I think if I have no head!?” Durahan initiates to terrorize the village. “Never mind ‘bout that! I don’t even know my path! I don’t even know why I kill! As it seemed insanity brought me in!”

A fowl was released at the time of the attack of Durahan. It carries a message, a message of alert and call. It was a written call, a call for back-up. The fowl flew high before the Durahan saw it... or should say it felt at. Durahan couldn’t grasp and kill the fowl, high on the sky. It headed toward Faust Sinier and landed at the chapel. The message was passed on to another fowl by a priest. The fowl flew high and headed toward the stench of salt, the sea. It finally reached its purpose as it landed on top of the head of... “Mavor!” Arkoyle shouted, “Where’s my rum!?”

The fowl landed on top of the head of Mavor. Arkoyle was drunk; he seemed to be in absolute grief. Mavor went to him and shouted back: “I should be drunk not you! I have received more misery than you are! What’s the matter with you anyway!?” Arkoyle slapped him in the face hard and yelled, drunken as he was: “I’ve been cheated by my brother! He left me under care of the most... INSANE PERSON OF THE WORLD! Ahahaha!” Arkoyle suddenly collapsed and fainted. He was fallen asleep. “I’m not yet drunk... I’m just... tired...” Arkoyle, drunken and flooded he was with his rum, said.

“Pity...” Mavor whispered.

Mavor held the fowl on his head and took the message on its foot. Mavor read the message and he groaned: “For the love of my land! Bad timing!” Mavor took a pail of hot water and splashed it at Arkoyle. Then he quickly prepared their tools, but Arkoyle didn’t respond to what Mavor did. Mavor reached him and yelled at him to wake up; but no response, not even a finger, was made by Arkoyle. Mavor abruptly checked his pulse. Mavor panicked. He was freaked out to a sudden cold feeling of Arkoyle. He doesn’t felt the heartbeat, the breathing, the pulse and any movement of Arkoyle. Arkoyle became more paler and paler until his face turned white as snow.

“Can’t die now! Not you too! Screw up you creep!” Mavor cried, “Please! Wake the hell up!!”

On the other hand at the hilltop, afar from Faust Sinier; where he, with a lady as he looked at the ravaged place along with corpses of knights and soldiers, flipped a coin and pronounced the word ‘Placebo’. The coin phased as tails. He stood up and sang a liturgical song in Latin as he slowly walked away on the sight of the ravaged land and followed by the lady. He sprinkled the land he walked with pure transparent water. The land slowly blooms as it purifies with new beginning.

“I wonder why there are still knights even though they seemed to be extinct or being part of history.” said the lady as she gazed at the land, the land considered as a huge graveyard where armors and ashes lies, rusts and rots.

“Those who think they were knights or should I say those who still run a land by manor system couldn’t adapt with the changes. So they still believe on what they devoted at...” the man responded.

“...believing extremely that some lose their minds and do such crimes to keep it in reality even whatever it takes.” added he.

“All was white within this four sided walls... Where am I?” Arkoyle whispered. He wore all white as a glow from a hole in the wall slowly trembles him. An image suddenly appeared at him. The image of the portrait, the image of his brother, the image of the rose hanged around his hands. Then a flash swirled him like a tornado as his surroundings change and fall apart to become an island in the middle of the wide ocean. He looked around as it stormed over him. He was in a tiny island where Amihan blew at the pacific. There he saw Captain Aizack being seized by the Kraken. Captain Aizack spoke out to him: “I treated you a brother but you didn’t do your best to save me! You’re weak!” Then the place blackened out. “I’m weak... to revenge...”

“Why am I so weak!?”

In the midst of his despair, Arkoyle’s anger grows like a rumbling thunder. Slowly in the darkness a light shone to him. The light formed a symbol, the emblem of the Meveskus clan. He suddenly merged with the symbol. He screamed as lightning cast toward him.

Lightning and thunder struck their curses at the sky. A large black cloud floats high above on the land of Faust Sinier where Valcrine from Hilvar spotted it.

“So it begins...” Valcrine uttered.

Mavor gazed at the sky, wondering what’s going on. All the people including other creatures gazed above. They gazed at the sky at the incoming storm: a wrath seemed ready to strike the land.

“Let there be rain!”

So it rained and stormed at the entire land of Faust Sinier. A heavy storm flooding all the land with sorrow and hatred rained its way. Mavor complained about this because it was such a burden and a bad moment. They were ordered to go at the market village to repel Durahan or to destroy him alright. The other burden that bothers him most was Arkoyle. He couldn’t think of a way to wake him up. Without Arkoyle he thought that he couldn’t face Durahan alone. Is it because he’s the fast sharpshooter and Arkoyle is the brains?

Arkoyle was as cold as the storm. Mavor believed that he was not yet dead, because his heart was still beating even it beats very slow. Mavor heated Arkoyle up as he put a warm blanket on his entire body. He left him alone with the ship as he headed toward the place where he will repel Durahan. When Mavor left the ship, Arkoyle moved his finger. “We’re not normal humans...” a voice whispering at Arkoyle. His eyes slowly open. “We’re gifted...” His hand moves slowly. “We’re not considered as orcs and elves.” Arkoyle’s body shivers. “But we’re considered as the undead... because not all the undead we’re meant to be evil.” The shivering stops. A gust of cold wind swirled around Arkoyle. Arkoyle opened his eyes. His eyes turned blue like the night. Then Arkoyle abruptly stood up and ran outside the cabin of the ship.

Mavor on the other hand, struggled on the wind blowing toward him as he headed toward the place where Durahan was last seen. On his way he spotted Durahan loitering around. He quickly hid himself and armed his rifle. He fixed the mechanism of his rifle, suited for cases regarding armored undead and nearly immortalized one. The rain seemed to be a good cover and a manipulation of every location of Durahan. He quietly grunted as he tries to pull the jammed trigger. Then a very cold breeze blew at him. He was spooked out and the next thing he knew...

“No use for struggling...” an eerie whispered at him.

...he was paralyzed.

“You are under my spell...” the whisper continues.

He couldn’t move. Durahan, pointing his rusty bloody blade, was in front of him. ‘CHECKMATE...’ a word that linked on his mind. He does his best to fight the spell, a binding spell. Before Durahan could kill Mavor, Durahan’s blade was suddenly dropped and flew away by a mysterious light as fast as the speeding bullet. Multiple shots were fired at Durahan. The massive armored undead quickly charged where the intruder was. The spell was slightly broken, Mavor glanced a bit at where the light came from and surprisingly he knew who it was with blue eyes like the night, carrying a gun that almost slays anything, creepy as he looks like the palest person ever live. And so the man who interferes at Durahan was Arkoyle.

Arkoyle fired continuously at the Durahan. He changed a bit from the way Mavor knew about him. Durahan summoned a black blade and wielded it as he dodges and deflects all the attack of Arkoyle. Arkoyle was suddenly runs out of ammo, he slowly released the empty magazine on the rose and took it, and then he reloaded it with the same magazine on the rose. Arkoyle aimed calmly at the Durahan as Durahan was going close to him. Then Arkoyle continuously shoots at the Durahan like no other gunners or musketeers can keep up on his speed. A burst of fire shoots at the Durahan. Durahan was penetrated by chains of light coming from the rose; thus his sword was destroyed and turned into fragments, his armor was deformed and he was flown away. Arkoyle stopped and unloaded his rose, he took the magazine and placed it again on the rose, and he precisely aimed at Durahan. A strange force on the gun was appeared in the form of lightning. Arkoyle grasped at the rose as the strange force was compressed inside the rose. The rose lit brightly as the symbols around it glow brighter than the gun itself.

“I summon you...” Arkoyle slowly commanded.

He slowly pulls the trigger. And when the gun recoils, he shouted, “Thyrion!” as the bullet was released on the gun. The light like a blue electric ball formed into a being as it was fired toward Durahan. Gigantic wings like wings of a large eagle, large body with sharp claws, and a head of a dragon-like mammal were formed. A mythical creature it was, the Thyrion with a yellowish white fur on its whole body and with blood of a dragon on its veins, and an elemental of lightning and light. The Thyrion charged at Durahan. They flew high above the sky. The Thyrion dropped Durahan on the middle of the air. Durahan fell down deeply on the ground. The raining stops, the thunder and lightning grows larger. The Thryion roared over the land. Lightning on the sky focused on the Thyrion. The whole body of the Thyrion, releasing rays of intense aura, shone and slowly turned into light, forming into a massive energy ball, and then it cast toward Durahan.

“Looks like the sky lightning chose my younger brother.” Valcrine, gazing on the sky and sailing toward Faust Sinier, babbled.

“Too bad it didn’t choose me,” he added.

“Don’t be envied about it and don’t forget that I chose you.” A voice coming from his left hand whispered, “And much stronger!”

“Fine... I won’t compare the both of you!” Valcrine whined, “Well I can’t just...”

“Can’t what?”

“Resist... the flying ability of the Thyrion of course.” Valcrine continued.

“The hell I’m faster when it comes to the ground!”

“Okay-okay you’re much stronger now so lower your anger...” Valcrine insisted. Turning to the left, they landed at the docks of Faust Sinier. He was with Silvia. They disembarked at the ship and headed somewhere on the east.

The Thyrion roared over the land. Durahan has no more body because it was pulverized into the simplest matter; but he became a headless spirit, a headless wraith.

“Young slayer... My only wish before I leave this world... Is to retrieve my skull and place it on my ravaged castle at the far meadows of Frigata.”

Spooky enough to hear those words as Mavor was crept out. Arkoyle simply nodded at the wraith. The Thyrion charged at the wraith and grasped it on one of its claws. The Thyrion, turning into light particles, flew above as it slowly disappears with the wraith. Arkoyle returned to his normal condition. His eyes became as black as everyone has. He was no longer pale. But still he acts very creepy.

“Wicked...” Mavor said. He was amazed that Arkoyle has a unique ability.

Arkoyle suddenly fainted. He had reached the limit in the worst condition he has. He became sick. His fever was high. Mavor quickly took action. He finds the best doctor Faust Sinier has but he ended up nothing. All the doctors weren’t there. He loses hope; until he was approached by a man with red eyes along with a woman.

“Sound of roars... what kind of roars were they? So keen! So terrible! So frightening! What’s happening to me? I feel...”

Arkoyle slowly wakes up on his cabin.

“SO HOT!” He yelled.

There was a clean cloth that was soaked before with hot water, very hot like living fire. He quickly took it off and groaned a bit. He put his hand onto his forehead and massaged it.

“So you’re awake...”

The man with yellow eyes stood near the door of the cabin. Arkoyle stared at him as he recognizes the face of the man.

“...Aren’t you going to greet me?”

Arkoyle quickly dashed toward the man and hugged him. He was crying but those tears were tears of joy.

“I thought you were dead brother!” Arkoyle cried.

“Thoughts are deadly” His brother reasoned.

They bonded together for they missed each other. Mavor went in to the cabin to check if Arkoyle was alright. When Mavor went in, “It seemed he’s alright already.” He said. Arkoyle looks like happy. No more dark emotional sides on him. He quickly introduced his brother to Mavor.

“Mavor this is my brother, Vildavez Meveskus.”

Mavor shook hands with Arkoyle’s brother.

“Alright then... LET’S PARTY!” Mavor yelled.

They went on the nearest tavern and held a celebration. Mavor got easily drunk as for Arkoyle and Vildavez were competing against each other on drinking glasses of rum.

“Hey... when did you learn to drink huh?” Vildavez said.

“Why? Is something wrong!?” Arkoyle answered back.

They were all drunk even those who were invited at the party. After all it was Mavor’s treat.

“You’re too young to... *Hiccup* to drink young brother.”

“Hey! I’m old enough to stand up on my own... so don’t pamper me!”

“Okay... as you wish but *Hiccup* don’t drink too much because *Hiccup* you might ended up with that wretch.”

“Who the hell are you talking to!?” Mavor, asleep, affectively yelled.

The two brothers looked at Mavor with confusion. They laughed out hard for what Mavor said.

“Ahahahaha! *Hiccup* Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

“Cheers!” Mavor, lifting his glass of rum upside-down high, said.

Valdivez looked at his young brother and praised him a lot. Arkoyle had overjoyed this particular moment that he’d drunk more than enough.

“Hey... that’s *Hiccup* enough!” Valdivez persuaded, “Stop drinking...”

“I can still drink!” Arkoyle, nearly falling asleep, retorted.

“Just another glass of rum. For I offer this as our reunion...” Arkoyle, likely to be falling freely on his seat, said.

“...To father, mother, grandpa, and to the entire clan.”

“Put that down. That’s enough. I have something to tell you.” Valdivez urged.

“In fact I’ll tell you something...”

From the tone of Valdivez, he wasn’t likely to be drunk. He might have faked all the hiccups he’d done recently. He took a blade from his bag. A saber with mysterious symbols.

“I’m going to give...”

Arkoyle was fallen asleep as well as Mavor.

“Looks like I’m going to say goodbye once again by writing a letter to you.” Valdivez smirked.

Valdivez, helped by Silvia, took them back to the ship. When they got there, Mavor and Arkoyle were lain down. Valdivez left a final note for Arkoyle and the saber. He plucked out the rifle, stuck on their supplies, of Mavor and replaced it with another rifle from his bag.

“I leave you with my little brother. Take care of him.” Valdivez whispered at Mavor.

Valdivez eyes turned red. He landed down at the ship and went to another seaport. Silvia followed him. Valdivez or Valcrine looked at Silvia with a cold sight.

“What’s the matter?” Silvia asked.

“I think it’s best that we separate paths.” Valcrine said.

“What!? I thought we had a deal!” Silvia retorted.

“Not anymore...” Valcrine, holding the necklace of Rose, said.

“How did you and when did you~”

Silvia suddenly checked all her possible pockets where she could place a necklace. Then she quickly tried to swipe the necklace. But she failed. She persists on getting the necklace from Valcrine. She became angry about what Valcrine was doing to her.

“Give me that!” Silvia commanded.

“It is for your safety... I don’t want you to be involved with my problems and conflicts.” Valcrine said.

“I don’t care!” Silvia snapped.

The signal of debarkation at the pier alarmed all its passengers. The ship on which it was sailing toward Roufnogard, prepared all its things to sail.

“I want to be with you! I want to fight with you!” Silvia cried.

Valcrine headed to the ship without another word to Silvia; but still, Silvia followed him. She was tailing at that moment. So persistent she was that Valcrine seemed to be annoyed, very annoyed like he wished that he could be afar in a blink at Silvia.

When they landed at Roufnogard, Silvia was still following Valcrine. A sudden explosion of Valcrine yelling at Silvia, that he yelled: “Will you quit tailing me! The deal is off! Go tail some vampires but don’t tail the heck of me!”

Silvia was affected to what Valcrine. She was hurt. She tried not to cry but she did cry. Valcrine felt guilty about it. Silvia suddenly ran away crying. Valcrine tried to follow her but he was stopped by the Fenril that spoke out: “Forget about that woman! Prioritize first our target here! The more we stall the more his presence would disappear.”

“What do you mean we?” Valcrine asked.

“Remember that this is my life!” Valcrine, angered he was, said.

“Forgive me.” the Fenril apologized.

Valcrine wore his mask. He marched onto the dark woods of Roufnogard. He was fully prepared. He seemed to be nervous on his every step he walk on the woods. It looks like that there was something on the woods that can tremble the cold-blooded assassin.

“Show no fear!” the Fenril yelled.

“Remember that we will fight the Bardion together.”

“Why was it always that if the Thyrion appears... the Bardion also appears?” Valcrine complained.

Deep on the woods there is a sleeping beast, a pure dark elemental but neutral between the side of the good and the side of evil. A large magical black beast having silver scales lining around in the middle of its body from head to tail, having humongous red wings at its back, having red eyes and wielding a yellow orb on its left front claw. Then the beast slowly opened its eyes from a long sleep it had. But farther on the woods of Roufnogard, an army wielding black blades marched toward where Valcrine was. A man with a talisman, shaped as a fang of some sort of a wolf, stared at the black woods.