Darkness.
It had always been like this for Atreides—dreaming, that is. He had neither dreams of fabled adventures nor nightmares of wicked wrath. Before him stood nothingness, an immutable void in which all had been born, and which all will return.
Perhaps, were it any other, they would find such a moment terrifying to its very core, yet Atreides sought its cold embrace.
“Wake up, fool.”
“...”
Of course, his bliss is short-lived. The sailor heard a painfully familiar voice call out from beyond, yet actively chose to ignore it.
Please, Keresaspa. Not now. Atreides thought. I’ve nearly hit 5 minutes over breaktime. Don’t ruin this for me!
“...”
For a moment, it seemed like peace had returned to the indolent sailor, as he drifted back into the world between. That was, until…
“URRRAAAAAAAAAH!”
“—?!”
Keresaspa, thoroughly fed up with the sailor’s antics, flipped the entire rooftop with maximum lethality in mind.
“So you were awake!”
“I wasn’t, until you nearly crushed me to death.”
“You lie!”
Atreides bowed his head and raised his open palm in prayer. Unfortunately, he lacked the grace of his left arm, so this much would have to suffice. “Please spare me, oh mighty dragon. I had known not my grave offense, and would like to face a most reasonable punishment.”
“And what would that be, little imugi?”
“...5 more minutes of my breaktime, please. My back is just terrible at this age.”
“You…!” Keresaspa’s forehead bulged with veins of wrath. Even a simple glare could cut a man in two. “A dragon need not heed the words of a pathetic imugi, forked its daemon’s tongue!”
“Yet within the imugi lies the heart of a raging dragon. Are you familiar with the tale?”
“Well-acquainted, I am. You tell of a serpent who longed for the dragon’s visage, aye? Pray tell, have ye such a passionate heart?”
“No, no, no, your highness. I could never presume to be such a brave man, worthy of great awe and reverence.”
“If you are neither dragon nor imugi, then what should I presume you to be?”
He looked down at his wristwatch. “A sailor, of course.”
Keresaspa sighed, “You cannot take anything seriously, can you?”
“That’s just how I am.”
“Fine then,” Keresaspa took a knee beside the half-dead Atreides, her breath laborious and unsteady. “Have it your way.”
Her idle manner of speech betrayed her physical condition. Large lacerations stretched across the titan’s body, her wounds having refused regeneration.
“To think that those ten mages could harm a warrior such as yourself…this planet is full of trouble, trouble that’s far beyond our pay.”
“Aye. I’ve come across magecraft similar in nature, those that halt the flow of regeneration, yet nothing quite like those flames. I must say, each of them was a formidable warrior in their own right. It is a shame that things had to come to an end.”
It went without saying that Keresaspa was the victor. Much of the blood staining her skin was not her own, but the monochrome white mages who had assaulted her. Of course, it was by no means easy, yet not at all impossible.
“Do you wish to face them again?”
“I do.”
“Well, I’ve got something for you. Take it while it's still charged. You’ll need it.” Atreides pulled out a green talisman from his back pocket; its magical energy teemed with life.
“A [Restore] talisman…?” Keresaspsa questioned. “If you had one all this time, then why didn’t you use it earlier? Did you act weak with the sole intention of drawing my eye?”
“Don’t flatter yourself; it was nothing like that. My magecraft is a sacrificial type, so I gain power based on the offering’s value. In other words, being injured is deeply beneficial for me, while staying healthy is discouraged.”
“I see, an ability similar to mine.”
Atreides shrugged, “Something like that. The only difference is scale. I’m pretty much limited to the power of an average mage, while your power is within a league of its own. Unfair, really. ”
“Perhaps, but it would be unwise to see you again in battle in such horrible condition.”
“Battle? Don’t you remember my original designation? I am here to sabotage the world barrier and prepare human reinforcements. That’s all. I’m not a warrior.”
“...”
“Ha…” He lowered his gaze and furrowed his brow with irritation. “Just take it, alright? Don’t waste a person’s goodwill. It's about etiquette, you know?”
“Hmph.” Keresaspa snatched the talisman out of his hand, applying the [Restore] talisman to her searing wounds. “I do appreciate the sentiment, but does it behoove you to behave in such insufferable ways?”
“Hehe, no, it doesn’t, but it’s a nice way to kill time while I’m here.” He stretched left, then right, then back, then forward, as leisurely as an old man on an evening stroll. “Well, I’ve got to get going. I’ve unfortunately used up my 5 minutes, so no more slacking on the job. The lieutenant is going to kill me for sure.”
As the jovial sailor took his leave, Keresaspa couldn’t help but linger for a moment, her gaze fixated on the man’s shrinking silhouette.
Just who are you, Atreides?
———
Auto-locomotives stood frozen in time.
Skyscrapers reigned alone, piercing the heavens.
Buildings shared a monotonous hue.
It was as though the city itself had been struck by divine judgment, reduced to a pillar of salt for all eternity. Within me bloomed a distant longing for its tranquility; a paradise of eternal rest that I, alone, had embraced.
It was a nostalgic honey laced with self-indulgence, a selfish dream of eternity. I knew this place was a farce, a mockery of heaven, and my childish longing could not change that. No matter how you try to patch up the past, it will never be the same as the original. A fake was a fake, and nothing more.
That is why…
Urr must be destroyed, I repeated to myself. The heaven you once knew no longer exists in this world. It is time to fulfill your purpose.
[Welcome to the Q train-line! Next stop, 42nd Street!]
Alone in the empty train car, Derrick and I sat quietly, preparing ourselves for the mission to come. It was awkward, unbearably so, as neither of us knew what to say, or perhaps, it was best to say nothing at all.
The periodic stop announcements helped break up the tension here and there, yet they could hardly break the lingering “compression.”
“It’s fast…and the construction of the train is clearly on another level,” Derrick commented, putting an end to our awkward feud. “We don’t have things like this back in Wisteria. Well, w-with no disrespect intended towards the Fourth Seat, of course. You must feel the same thing, right, Ereth?”
“Yeah, the contraptions of this world are quite incredible, yet they fill me with…unease.”
“Unease? How so?”
“I can’t really describe it well, but I guess it reminds me too much of my homeland.”
“Saranhell…?”
“R-Right,” I stammered, having nearly forgotten that lie I told. “At Saranhell. Dunes as far as the eye can see, you know? It’s tiring to look at. Too unchanging.”
I’ll need to visit Saranhell more if I want to keep up the impression of a native.
“I see…Well, I get how you’d come to that conclusion, but honestly, it fills me with wonder.”
“Wonder…?”
“Yes. A world clean and sterile, devoid of lingering filth. My older brother often spoke of such things. He was quite the visionary. Some of his tales resemble this city, their nature fantastical, absurd, yet so utterly sweet. Perhaps a part of me longs for such a world, a paradise, but I know that this can never be. I have no right to such things.”
“...”
I am truly, without a doubt, a failure of a human being.
Those were the words he said to me that day. Words of malice, of hatred, of condemnation. Just what events could transpire, what pain could one must endure, before branding themselves a human failure?
“Derrick—”
[Welcome! You have now arrived at 42nd Street. Please keep to the right and allow passengers to exit freely.]
“Did you say something, Ereth?”
“No..” I said, averting my gaze. “It was nothing.”
The stop announcement interrupted me, rightfully so. It would have been inappropriate to ask of Derrick such a thing, to open up about one's deepest woes to a man he barely knows. The mission came first. It always came first.
As the doors of the train car gently slide open, we were greeted by dozens, no, hundreds of footsoldiers donning the city’s sickening color scheme.
I held out my hand, withdrawing the Broken Sword of Promised Victory from the enveloping light. “Just try to keep up, alright?” I said with faux bravado.
“Y-Yes! I’ll do my best!”