Chapter Text
You quietly browse the items on display. The auction claimed they are selling authentic war regalia from the now peaceful Ursus, a continent across the ocean from Linkon City located in Columbia.
The main atrium is crowded with people, busy at the gambling tables playing poker or dancing to the tune of waltz at the dance floor not so far from the hallway you are standing.
While you did browse the different glass cases, you began to recognize some artifacts used by your comrades. A gun that is claimed to be a remnant from an insurgency 100 years prior back . A case of frayed paint brushes apparently owned by a renowned Ursine war painter. A bomb that is already defused, the design familiar.
"Not interested in buying anything?" A voice spoke behind you.
You turned around and saw a tall man beside you, around 6 feet tall, a Sarkaz vampire (How rare.) from the looks of it, standing next to you.
“I believe I already saw my fair share of them,"
"Besides, this is way above my paycheck," You thought, glancing at the numbers attached to the item.
“Is that so?” He asked, taking a step closer with a small smirk on his face, “Then why are you here in this auction? If you have no plans of buying then surely you're here for something else."
“I have a friend who said I might be interested in just looking," You answered, thinking about Yelena, a Cautus and former comrade, when she told you that the place she will serve as a chef would be holding an auction of items all the way from Ursus.
“Then you won't mind if I keep you company for a bit.” The man hummed, clearly amused, “I'm here for... business purposes.”
"You don't look like you are interested in such items."
“Well, as I said, I'm here on business,” The man chuckled then glanced at you, “Say, I don't believe I've caught your name, sweetheart."
You turned to the man and noticed how it felt like he was studying your face.
You mentally sighed and felt like you have nothing to do anyway so you raised a gloved hand for him to shake, introducing yourself.
He gives you a smirk before taking your hand, gently placing a kiss on the top of it.
“Ah, a beauty and a lady, charming,” he said and he kept your hand in his, gently caressing your fingers with his thumb.
Your eyes widened a little at the surprised gesture as he finally let go.
What is with men here at Linkon?
"I appreciate the compliment," You replied, a small smile on your face.
The man moves closer so that your body is nearly touching. He watches you carefully study the item, and he can't help but admire the attention you give them.
“So, I take it you're here to... observe. You must be quite knowledgeable then."
“Not really. I am simply wondering how did the people here manage to acquire such items despite the tight security back at Ursus.”
You have a feeling this bomb is actually Wis’adel's, one of your comrades, her signature haphazardly carved at the side of the rectangular bomb.
The man raises an eyebrow, impressed by your observation skills. He smiles and looks at the bomb, then back at you.
“You're right. But I'm not surprised they're being sold here.”
He steps closer until his breath is almost by your ear, “But what do you think?”
You stood your ground, not disturbed by this man's closeness. Based on the way he dressed, he looked too important.
"I am just wondering if they are real," You lied, "There are many gullible people in Linkon who want their hand on these."
He glances at you, amused by how you refuse to back away. He smirks once again before leaning against the display glass, “That's right, people will pay anything for war relics of a bygone era.”
“And you're clearly not one of those people,” He added, “You came all the way here just to have a look at them. Why is that, exactly?"
A mix of emotions welled up on you as you thought about the answer to that question. You supposed you just want to ground yourself to reality that the revolution did happen and you just want to see something tangible. That the now peaceful continent you left behind used to be in such chaos.
Wis’adel's bomb.
Yelena's knife.
Your sword.
Your commander.
The you of years past.
Anything.
There are no words to accurately describe such odd yearning. You are happy now, a job, a quiet house at Linkon, and no one knows you.
Why did you come here looking at these when you can pretend it didn't happen and you are just an ordinary citizen with a humble background?
"Just curious and besides, Ursus is yet to open its borders to other countries. We don't know much except the recent war."
Except you, you know much much more than that.
The man can tell from your answer that you're definitely hiding something. His smirk is gone now, replaced by something else, an intense gaze as he watches you carefully. He's studying every bit of your face - every twitch in your expression, your eyes, your movements, your breathing.
He leans forward slightly, almost closing the gap between you.
"Just curious, huh?”
He focuses on your every thought, feeling your emotions, your desires, your memories. He senses your thoughts, your deep inner desire that you're trying to bury deep within your heart but he only saw a quiet home in Linkon City, just far enough that the noise will not reach your house yet for a split second, he saw a glimpse of you in a hill, standing beside a 7 foot tall man with antlers, a Sarkaz wendigo, surrounded by peonies.
He was taken aback for a moment upon seeing the memory he just observed. He takes a shaky breath in an attempt to compose himself and clear his mind but that single image he saw intrigued him, he wanted to know more about you, and why that memory popped up. He looks into your eyes once more, quietly trying to dig even deeper.
You are not sure why this man was so invested in scrutinizing you so hard and it is starting to get weird with all the staring.
“I did not get your name.”
His small smirk returns to his face, realizing you have broken eye contact.
“My apologies for the lack of decorum,” He straightens up and clears his throat, “The name's Sylus. I'm... a businessman, as you can see.”
He gestures slightly to his suit, clearly expensive, fitting for an auction where the richest of the rich gather.
“Sylus," you said, trying to pronounce his name.
Sylus feels a slight shiver down his spine hearing you say his name. The way you said it, the way your lips curled, the way your voice sounded. He can't help but wonder if the other sounds you make are just as captivating.
“The auction will be starting in 5 minutes," An announcement came out from the speakers, "For exclusive guests, please wait for the ushers to guide you to your seats."
Sylus glances towards the auction floor. He takes a moment to compose himself, clearing his mind of the distraction known as you, and looks back at you.
“Well then, I suppose this is where we part ways.”
He lifts your gloved hand to his lips again, pressing a light kiss on your knuckles. You nodded and watched him disappear among the crowd.
He takes one last peek at you before vanishing amongst the crowd. Even from a distance, he can't help but look at you every now and then, watching you observe the items on display. He feels an odd desire to take you away from here, to find out more about you, to get to know the Ursine woman who's suddenly been constantly on his mind.
Yelena suddenly appeared beside you, "Who were you just talking to?”
"No one."
Yelena just shook her head, amused at your answer then said, "Come on, I can find you a seat inside."
Sylus continues watching you and another woman among the crowd, a slight frown on his face. He remains silent, blending in with the crowd, but his mind is preoccupied with you, wondering who you really are. He keeps to himself as he finds his own seat amongst the more important guests, still watching you as the auction begins.
You sat politely at your seat, reading the auction items in the tablet handed to you. Some of the items you recognized, being old cannons from the war. You even saw a broken gun claiming it was from Edelweiss, the propagandist of the Ursus revolution you are part of.
Two blind items?
Sylus hears the news about the blind items. He glances at you from his seat, noticing you also happened to be reading the description on the tablet. He wonders about your reaction to the blind items since you seemed to have a keen eye for these objects.
The auction is going smoothly and you were honestly bored.
You didn't know people are that interested in Edelweiss' old gun but you supposed he did have a following.
Sylus was also becoming fairly bored since the items were nothing more than war relics collected from the rich elite. He looks at you, noticing your obvious bored look as well. He can't help but smirk slightly, sharing the same reaction as him. He wonders if there are any other interesting reactions you'll do tonight.
“Up next,” the auctioneer announced, “a decorated war hero’s sword!”
The people around you gasped at excitement and you narrowed your eyes on the description.
A decorated war hero's.. sword?
Sylus is also surprised by the news.
A war hero's sword? Just what exactly is this mystery item going to be? He can see some of the attendees were already anticipating for the item to come out, whispering amongst themselves who the hero could be.
“That’s right, folks!” The auctioneer said proudly, “We managed to bring you all the way from Ursus’ former no-man zone, an authentic sword.”
You have a bad feeling about this but you waited for the man to finish.
“And it's just not any other sword, my esteemed guests, we have here the ACTUAL sword of-” the auctioneer made a dramatic flare and announced with such enthusiasm,
“Holuhraun the Liberator!”
Sylus' eyes widened slightly at the announcement. He's heard of that name before, the 'Liberator' of Ursus, the name that even reached all the way to Columbia because of its almost cult-like following of its Ursus citizens. He glances at you, noticing your expression, wondering if you'd react to that name the same way he did.
The world felt like everything went into a standstill, your eyes widening as the sword came into display as the auctioneer pulled the red blanket off the case with flare.
The red blade glinting against stage lights, a red armband with the Reunion’s logo, the symbol of your movement, tied around its black handle.
Sylus' eyes widened at the display, but he didn't take his focus off you. He's watching for any reaction from you, noticing your widened eyes, your face turning pale, your breath slightly hitching.
“No one knows who Holuhraun the Liberator is but I am sure every Ursine folk who is here now know that Holuhraun traversed the snowy landscape of the unforgiving Ursus tundra as Reunion’s infallible soldier.” The auctioneer spoke with reverence, “The poor Ursine folk, awaiting liberation and enslaved by the corrupt, hail their arrival!”
Sylus can see that you look visibly flustered and unsettled by the name. You're clenching your knuckles so tightly he can see faint white from your gloved hands, and your breathing is slightly erratic. He wonders what's going through your head, why the mere mention of the sword and the 'Liberator' makes you look so shaken up.
Using the tablet, you zoomed in the photos of the sword. You recognize the scratches and the marks but it could be easily replicated except for-
“Most of you think it might be fake but no,” The auctioneer said then asked the cameramen to zoom in the middle of the blade.
“For evil men must be cut-off.”
The Sarkaz phonetics immediately translated in your head together with the auctioneer.
“-Written by the legend themself! Rumor has it that their commander, the great Buldrokkas'tee the Patriot himself guided Holuhraun to engrave those words on their blade."
Sylus can see you zooming in on the details of the sword, and with the auctioneer's confirmation that the sword is not a fake, he can see your hands visibly shaking slightly. He watches intently, noticing how the words written on the blade seem to have an effect on you. He can see that you're getting even more rattled by the minute, he wonders how much more you could take until you reach your breaking point.
“Starting at 10,000,000!"
Sylus watches as the bidding goes on, the others are eagerly bidding and raising the price higher. He looks at you, noticing how tensed up you are. He wonders what's going through your mind, if you're itching to join the bidding or if you're just going to simply watch.
He decides to test your reaction, lifting the price by another bid, bringing the price up to 12 million.
You paled as the people around you started to outbid each other, your brain running on high with questions.
Sylus continued to watch your reaction closely. He was curious to see your next move, if you will join in the fray or remain silent. He can see your expression, how pale your face has gotten, how your knuckles are starting to turn white from clenching them so tightly, and how you're breathing is starting to become more erratic.
Sylus pressed the button to bid again, bringing it to 25 million.
He's not holding back, and he doesn't care how much he spends to win that item. He's more focused on your reaction, waiting to see if you'll respond, or if you'll continue to be frozen in your place.
How-
Does that mean-
His grave-
Your thoughts are cut off when the auctioneer announces the winner, “Sold to Onychinus! Now, let’s wrap this up as we move to the much awaited surprise!”
Sylus feels a slight smirk on his face when he's announced as the winner. He leans back on his seat, watching with a careful and amused expression as the bid is confirmed and they prepare to move on to the next bidding.
He continues to watch you, taking notice of your physical reaction. He sees your eyes still locked at the stage, how you're sitting completely frozen in place, your arms stiff and your knuckles are turning even paler.
The next glass case arrived, covered by a black cloth this time.
“The greatest war hero of all time who rallied the brave such as Holuhraun,” The auctioneer started, trying to mystify the guests, “Unyielding fighter of countless battles, the old guard of Ursus, and fallen Kazdel’s pride.”
Most of the people started to stand up, their eagerness cannot be contained any longer. Sylus is also curious about this item, noticing the excitement of the surrounding guests. However, he only has eyes for you; he's silently observing you, noticing how you're not as excited as the others, how paler your face has become, how your body has completely shut down on you.
“Oh, I am sure you know who he is, folks!” The auctioneer cheered, “I can just taste the anticipation in the air!”
“Behold, Buldrokkas'tee the Patriot’s shield and spear!”
Sylus' eyes widen as he looks at the item revealed to the guests. He looks at you again, noticing your reaction, your gasp, the way your other hand quickly went up to cover your mouth from the shock.
Never in your life you would see the remnants of your mentor, your commander again towering before you, standing almost 5 feet tall.
Sylus notices how you're looking at the item on display. The way your eyes are locked onto the shield and spear, the way you look almost transfixed by it, how your breath has now become more irregular, how your eyes almost look like they're tearing up.
“-Patriot is a Sarkaz man rumored to stand at least 7 feet tall. Look at the size of that weaponry, no wonder the soldiers rallied before him!” The auctioneer said, amazed.
A rush of lightheadedness and anger surge within you.
These people, these disgusting people, desecrated his grave.
His final resting place among the peonies beside his wife and son.
Sylus observed how your face is starting to become a more mixed expression of sorrow, and anger. He can see the sadness in your eyes, how you're desperately trying to hold back the tears from falling, the way your body has begun to tremble. He can tell you're desperately trying to hold back, your knuckles have turned even paler from clenching them so hard, your breathing is even more erratic, and your jaw is tightly clenched as if you're trying to not scream in anger.
You abruptly stand up and head for the exit. He remains watching from his seat, his eyes fixed on you as you briskly walk out of the room without looking back.
The voice of the auctioneer started to fade as you made your way through the almost empty hallway. There you found Yelena leaning at one of the posts, her eyes at the items in display, apparently on a break.
Yelena was caught off guard as you suddenly appeared and dragged her to a quiet spot. She looked at you with a confused expression, noticing how shaken up you looked, almost as if you were about to cry.
“How did they know?!”
Yelena was taken aback by your outburst, she had never seen you look so panicked and distraught before. She frowned, trying to figure out what you were talking about.
"How did they know.. what?”
“The field!” You said, brows furrowed in anger, “They just auctioned my sword and now they are fighting over Patriot’s!”
Yelena's eyes widened as you spoke, realization setting in.
“He was buried on a fucking desolate land," you continued, "And last time I checked, I am the only one who knows where that is among all of us!"
“I entrust only you with this,” your commander once whispered in your ears.
You feel like you are about to vomit, the thought of these criminals digging up the peonies for his remains. Removing your sword, the spear and shield you have stabbed against the ground.
How could your last memory of him, his grave under the shade of the elm tree with your armbands swaying in the wind, be desecrated by a bunch of criminals?
Yelena placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you, but she also looked devastated and appalled at the news.
"I can't believe it..." she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Who would do such a thing? The commander is a hero surely everyone back at the homeland would have noticed-”
“Why do these people think we are heroes? We are not heroes,” You said, defeated, "We took so we can protect."
Yelena looked at you, her heart breaking for you. She could feel your anguish and anger, the pain and the loss you were feeling.
“We did what we had to do to survive," she said quietly, her voice full of understanding.
“Look,” Yelena said, cupping your face to look her in the eye, “You’re a war hero, a legend almost at par with the commander.”
You felt a wave of emotions wash over you as Yelena spoke, a mix of surprise and realization.
“Heroes?", you whispered, your voice laced with disbelief, "War heroes?... I never thought of myself as... as anything more than just... just a soldier…”
“I am just following orders, El.”
Yelena saw the pain and guilt in your expression, her heart aching for you.
“You did more than just follow orders," she said, her voice gentle, "You saved lives, you led us to victory.”
There was silence between you as you heard footsteps coming out of the main atrium, the auction now concluded.
“I didn’t know Onychinus was a fan of relics.” a woman passed by you told her companion, “They really spent millions just to get both.”
“I think it is already an honor to see them in person before they get hidden somewhere."
You and Yelena listened to the snippets of conversation from the Ursine couple, your hands that are now on your sides clenching into fists, anger and frustration bubbling inside you.
"They don't understand," you mumbled, your voice taut with anger. "They think it's just some fancy piece of display."
You killed countless lives with that sword.
It talked to you every night of its legacy that you wonder how it did not drive you insane.
Yelena could hear the bitterness in your voice, the raw anger and the deep sorrow. She knew that you lived through wars, that you have used that sword in battle. She knew that it was more than just a relic for you. It was a weapon, a legacy, and a part of your past.
“Where do they transfer the items to the owners?"
“No, no, the last thing you want is to cross Onychinus,” Yelena said, trying to convince you, “All that freedom you bought will be gone when you get caught. Especially if they find out who you are.”
“Where is it or do I need to find it myself?”
Yelena knows she can’t talk you out of something once you put your mind to it and sighed in defeat. She knew you too well.
"Fine," she said, her voice resigned. "I'll tell you where it is. Just... be careful, okay? Promise me."
“I promise," You said, squeezing her hand. An attempt at reassurance.
Yelena looked at you, her eyes clouded with worry and fear. She trusted you, but she couldn't help but feel anxious about what you were about to do. She squeezed your hand back, holding onto you for a few moments before letting go.
"Okay," she said, her voice soft, "But please, promise me one more thing, please don't get yourself killed. I... I can't lose you too.”
"I survived a war together with you, El," You answered, smiling, "Do you think a bunch of criminals can stop me?"
Yelena couldn't help but smile at your words. She knew you were strong, she had seen you survive and overcome so many obstacles. She knew you wouldn't stop until you achieved what you set out to do.
“No," she said, her voice filled with a mixture of awe and concern. "I don't think anything can stop you. Just be careful, alright? And... don't you dare get yourself killed.”
Yelena gave you the information you needed, telling you where the items that were auctioned off were being transferred for delivery to their new owners.
“It's heavily secured," she warned, looking at you intently, "They're not going to make this easy. You have to be careful."
You smiled then turned your back, walking to your destination. She saw the strength, the determination, the courage, and the unwavering will of Holuhraun the Liberator, the person she has followed through countless battles. She silently prayed for your safety, hoping that you would return intact.
You took the elevator to the basement then noticed the camera. You snapped your hands then the camera started melting.
“Why are you so worried?”
You know you won't be here by tomorrow once you retrieve the items. You will be on your way not to Ursus this time. This time, you will traverse the farthest region of Kazdel to look for your commander's hometown.
You stopped when you saw the glass case containing your sword, two masked men loading them inside the truck. You look around, seeing nobody is there except the three of you.
You paused at the sight of your sword, laid out behind the glass case, ready to be transported to some wealthy collector. You scanned your surroundings, making sure nobody else was around. It was just you and the two masked men loading the items into the truck.
"Certainly an odd reunion.”
You raised your hand and murmured, "Come home to me, Laevateinn.”
The sword, hearing your familiar voice and sensing your presence, responded to your command. The malevolent red glow of the sword intensified, and the cracking sound of the case echoed through the room as the sword began to break free from its confinement.
You felt the weight and the balance of the sword in your hand, its familiar grip comfortable and familiar. Your eyes were drawn to the arm band tied around the handle, the symbol of your former regiment. You traced your fingers over the logo, a mixture of nostalgia and determination coursing through you.
The hum of the sword seemed to contain a thousand words. It was as if the sword was communicating with you. It was reprimanding you for leaving it alone standing among the field of peonies, chastising you about leaving your family’s legacy.
“I miss you.", The sword seemed to say, its hum filled with an almost sentient longing.
The two masked men saw you holding your sword firmly in your grip. They were about to launch an attack on you, but before they could do anything, you drove your sword into the ground.
The impact sent a powerful shockwave throughout the room, causing both men to stumble and lose their balance and were knocked unconscious by the shockwave. They lay on the floor, unmoving and unaware of what had just happened.
You stood over them, breathing heavily, and gripping your sword tightly and walked towards the other glass case containing Patriot's weapon.
You can only give a melancholy smile as you put your hand against the glass case. Seeing your commander’s arms, a weapon that should be wielded only by a person worthy as him and being displayed in a glass case for profit, fills you with a sense of indignation and loss.
You raised your hand, channeling your energy and focusing it into your palm. With slow, controlled movements, you directed the heat towards the glass, causing it to crack and break apart. The delicate barrier was no match for the power of your energy, and it shattered into pieces, granting you access to the weapon inside the glass case.
You were about to reach for the Patriot's shield when you heard a familiar voice called out.
"Did not expect we would meet so soon, sweetheart."
Your eyes widened in surprise as you recognized the man's voice, turning to see Sylus behind you. It was the same man from earlier, the one you had met at the beginning of the auction but hadn't seen till now.
You gripped your sword tighter as you looked at him, unsure of what he was doing here or how he had snuck up on you.
"Don't get in my way."
The floor slowly cracked around you due to heat and your sword began to be surrounded by black and red haze.
He chuckled at your warning but didn't make a move, remaining where he was, eyeing you curiously.
"Are you threatening me, sweetheart?"
"I have battled countless arrogant men before you,” You said harshly, "Do you think a person like you can stop me?”
Sylus saw the change in you, the way your stance shifted, the look in your eyes. You weren't the Ursine civilian he had met earlier, the one who had politely conversed with him. His eyes moving from you and the sword in your hand, as if piecing everything together.
Ah, how humbling to be in the presence of Holuhraun the Liberator.
“Oh, I don't doubt your capabilities, sweetheart," he replied, a sly smile on his face, "But I wouldn't underestimate me either.”
“How annoying.”
You have met men like him before, sent them groveling, and you will not hesitate to do it again. Your sword released a small heat wave, bursting all the windows.
Sylus raised an eyebrow at your actions, his smirk never faltering. The sudden burst of heat from your sword shattered all the windows in the room, sending shards of glass everywhere.
He chuckled again, his eyes fixed on you, unperturbed by your display of power.
"Is that supposed to intimidate me, sweetheart?"
As you made a move towards him, your sword ready to attack, he reacted quickly. He sidestepped to dodge your initial attack, his movements swift and precise.
"Feisty," he commented, a sly grin on his face, "You never seem to back down, do you, sweetheart?”
You just grumbled then clutched your sword, throwing it in his direction.
Sylus was surprised by your sudden action, the sight of your sword flying towards him in a graceful arc. Despite the unexpected move, he reacted quickly, dodging to the side to avoid being hit.
"Quite innovative," he commented, his tone filled with amusement, "Not many would think to throw their own weapon at their opponent.”
You opened your palm then your sword swiftly returned to you as Sylus watched with mild fascination. The act was seamless and well-executed, a testament to your control and familiarity with your weapon.
"Impressive," he praised, his smirk widening, "Not only do you know how to fight, you also have complete mastery over your weapon. Fascinating.”
You rolled your eyes, you have no idea why this man is so.. so damn talkative.
You prepare to attack again, lunging at him faster.
Sylus noticed your eye roll, a small smirk appearing on his face. You were clearly annoyed by his constant chatter, but that didn't deter him from speaking another word. As you lunged at him, your speed and agility surprised him for a split second. He barely had time to react, dodging to the side once again, the tip of your sword narrowly missing him.
"You're fast, I'll give you that,” he teased, "But let's see how long you can keep this up.”
You dragged your sword in the ground as fire was sent to his direction. You threw the sword in your other hand and did the same thing. Your training with your commander and your peers is still ingrained in your muscles.
Sylus had to admit, your swordsmanship was a sight to behold. The way you wielded your sword, the precision and control, it was almost like a dance. He watched as you sent fire in his direction, the heat and the brightness momentarily blinding him.
He chuckled to himself, amused by your skills and the fact that he was slowly being forced on the defensive. He had never been outclassed like this before, and it was both annoying and... exciting.
"Get out or I will slash your throat."
Sylus smirked at your threat, clearly not the least bit intimidated. In fact, it seemed like it only fueled his amusement. Despite the danger you posed, he still couldn't help but find this little banter entertaining.
"And what if I don't?" He countered, his voice deceptively calm, “What are you going to do, sweetheart?”
You did not answer, your blade landing in his throat, slashing it with deadly accuracy.
You met Sylus' eyes as you did, a smirk in his face as blood splattered everywhere.
The cut was precise and deliberate, a sure sign that you were not to be messed with. Blood spilled from the wound, running down his neck and staining his shirt. Instead of shock or fear, you saw a smirk on his face, as if he had expected this.
Then it happened.
The cut in his throat began to slowly heal, the skin magically mending itself together.
“W-what?"
Sylus watched as your expression turned from surprise to confusion. He couldn't help but chuckle, amused by your reaction.
“Did I forget to mention, sweetheart?" He said, his voice tinged with arrogance, "I'm tougher than I look.”
Seeing your momentary surprise and hesitation, Sylus quickly moved, using the opportunity to overpower you. He swiftly pinned you to the ground, his body pressing against yours as he held your wrists above your head, preventing you from moving. Your sword clattering beside you.
"What are you?!"
You have seen your fair share of beasts and men in the Ursine territory but a Sarkaz man that can heal so fast? If you look closer, it looks like he wasn't even wounded, the tell tale signs he was injured was the blood in his clothes and his face.
Sylus chuckled again, enjoying the fact that he had the upper hand. He leaned down closer to you, his face inches from yours, the smell of blood still lingering on him.
"What am I?" He echoed, his voice taking on a low, almost mocking tone, "I'm someone who's harder to kill than you think, sweetheart.”
He smirked as he held you firmly against the ground, his grip on your wrists firm and unyielding.
Sylus looks at you, amused.
Now, why do you exactly desire to have these weapons back, he wonders.
Sylus studied your eyes as he held you there, pinning you down and studying your expression. He tried to catch a glimpse of your emotions, your intentions, or any hint of vulnerability. He was searching for any sign that could help him understand your motivations, why you were so relentless in getting these weapons back.
The sight before him intrigued him even more.
The field of peonies was a beautiful sight, but the fact that you were alone now, standing in the middle, was a mystery.
Seeing your sword and Patriot's shield and spear stabbed into the ground, abandoned, only added to the enigma.
Then he watched as you removed your armband, tying it around your sword's handle.
The action was purposeful, filled with some hidden meaning that he couldn't quite understand yet.
You pulled a knife and sliced your hand. You hold on the spear, only letting go when the blood reaches the ground.
And just like that, you walked away, leaving behind your weapon and the shield, an untold story in your every step.
"Let me go!" You shouted, your body temperature rising, an attempt to burn him even if you will get burned too.
Sylus snapped back at the present and felt the temperature around him rise as you attempted to burn him. Despite the pain, he maintained his grip on you, his strength still holding you down, refusing to let go.
"Calm down, sweetheart," he said, his voice tinged with both amusement and concern, "You're just going to hurt yourself like this.”
You refused, the temperature steadily increasing by the minute and Sylus can feel the room getting hotter.
"You are going to kill yourself over this?" Sylus asked.
The room was starting to feel like an oven, the air getting thicker and harder to breathe. He could feel his clothes sticking to his skin as the heat grew more intense. It was dangerous, the risk of getting burned or even killed if they stayed any longer in the room.
"Enough, sweetheart," he said, his voice firm and commanding. "You have to stop. You're going to burn us both alive.”
"No!" You shouted, defiant, "I made a promise!”
You gritted your teeth in anger, "They do not belong here.”
Sylus continued to pin you down, his grip firm and unwavering as he listened to you. Your words, filled with anger and determination, revealed your deep connection and loyalty to these weapons. He could see your anger, and understood it. These weapons meant more to you than just artifacts for display. They held a significance that went beyond their physical existence.
“I get it, sweetheart," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle despite his firm hold on you, "But burning yourself alive won't help anyone.”
“How are you going to bring them home if you are dead?"
Sylus tightened his grip on you for a moment, silently asserting his control over the situation. He could feel the heat growing around them, the room becoming almost unbearable, but he refused to let go.
You slowly stopped struggling, finally the haze of all emotions being lifted.
"Exactly," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of concern and annoyance, "You won't be able to bring them home if you're burned to a crisp. So calm down before you turn us both into charcoal.”
Sylus felt the tension in your body slowly release as you began to settle down. The room no longer felt like a furnace, the heat starting to subside as your anger slowly subsided. He loosened his grip on you slightly, but still maintained his hold, ensuring you wouldn't try anything else.
He watched you as you calmed down, the fire in your eyes subsiding, replaced by a mixture of exhaustion and resignation.
“Feeling better now, sweetheart?"
How can you be called a war hero when you are here, close to burning everything like you always did?
"Just.. let go," You said in resignation, avoiding his eyes, "I won't do anything."
Sylus listened to your words, silently acknowledging the mixture of pain, frustration, and resignation in them. He could tell that you were still struggling with your emotions, the events of the past weighing heavily on your shoulders.
He loosened his grip on you, finally releasing your wrists from his hold. He watched you closely, his gaze never leaving you, monitoring your every move. He trusted you, but he wasn't about to take any chances.
"I'm going to let you sit up," he said quietly, "But just remember, no more impulsive actions."
You nodded, slowly getting to your feet and dusting the ash.
“So much for getting a dress,” you thought as you saw the edges burned and beyond repair.
Sylus stood up as well, watching you as you rose to your feet. He couldn't help but notice the state of your dress, the edges burned and torn, evidence of the intense heat that had just filled the room.
He smirked a little at the sight, a mix of amusement and disbelief.
"Looks like that dress is a bit ruined," he said, his tone light and teasing, "Probably not the kind of evening you had planned, huh?”
“I was told war relics," You said, "Not weapons of mass destruction.”
Sylus chuckled at your words, amused by your bitter remark. He could see the frustration and disappointment etched on your face, the realization that the weapons were not as benign as you had initially thought.
"War relics, weapons, call them what you want," he said, his tone nonchalant, "But what did you expect? Anything that was once wielded on a battlefield likely has the potential to cause destruction.”
You gaze at the other side of the room. Buldrokkas'tee's weapon doesn't even look like it was burned. Sylus followed your gaze, his eyes settling on the weapons across the room. Buldrokkas'tee's weapon stood firm, unmarred and undamaged by the intense heat. It was a testament to its craftsmanship and resilience, a stark contrast to your own burned out state.
He studied both weapons for a moment, silently admiring their presence before turning his attention back to you.
"What exactly are you doing down here?"
What actually you wanted to say is “how dare you walk in here at the wrong time” but you chose to be polite, feeling slightly embarrassed losing control earlier.
Sylus looked at you, a hint of a smirk on his face. He knew you were trying to compose yourself and be polite, but he could sense the frustration and anger that still simmered beneath the surface.
"Me? I was just passing by," he said, his tone deliberately casual, "Didn't expect to run into you, sweetheart, but it was a nice little surprise.”
"I don't think they will allow anyone down here," You pointed out, "Unless you are someone important.”
Sylus chuckled once again, clearly amused by your observation. It was true, these areas were highly guarded and restricted, accessible only to a select few. Anyone who wasn't authorized would have a hard time getting inside.
“So you're observant, in addition to being feisty," he said, his tone teasing. "Maybe I am someone important-”
"Or, maybe I bought them."
Sylus' statement was meant to rile you up, to add more fuel to your already burning resentment. He could see the irritation in your eyes, the disbelief at his claim. He couldn't help but find your reactions amusing.
"Maybe that's it," he continued, his tone nonchalant, "Perhaps I just happen to be the wealthy and influential person who bought these weapons.
“You did buy them."
Sylus chuckled again, enjoying the fact that you had caught on to his little game. He didn't deny your accusation, only smiling wider as he continued to toy with you.
“And how did you figure that out?"
“You're just like every fucking Ursine elite," You muttered, "Everything is a toy to you.”
Sylus raised an eyebrow at your words, his smile faltering slightly.
"A toy, hm?” He said, his tone cold, "You're quick to make assumptions, sweetheart. And you're not exactly a saint yourself.”
“I did not claim to be a saint," You replied, "I am not even a war hero they all said I am."
What you gained from the war, you took from others. You know that.
Sylus looked at you, his expression hardening at your admission. He could sense the weight of your words, the burden of your past. He knew that you weren't innocent, that you had done things you weren't proud of.
He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
“You're right," he said, his tone chilling, "You're not a saint. But you're not the only one with a bloody past.”
You raised your eyebrows at him at the comment then began to think.
You knew both of your weapons cost him a fortune.
"I proposed an exchange," You said, "How much do you want for my commander's weapon and I?”
Sylus paused at your question, his gaze fixed on you as he contemplated your words.
He saw the determination in your eyes, the resolve to obtain your weapons back.
"An exchange, huh?" He repeated, his tone nonchalant, “"You're bargaining with me now?”
You won't die and you won't get out of the way," You pointed out, "So an exchange.”
Sylus chuckled at your direct statement, he found your bluntness refreshing. He could almost smell your determination, your tenacity and regarded you intently.
“Alright, sweetheart," he said, "I'll entertain your exchange. What do you propose to offer?”
“What do you want?"
Sylus tilted his head slightly, a small smirk on his face.
He was enjoying playing cat and mouse with you, drawing out your every response.
"That's a very broad question, sweetheart," he said, his tone amused, "You really expect me to name something specific? You just said you're offering an exchange. Shouldn't you be the one doing the offering first?”
You scoffed.
Honestly, you leave the negotiations with Edelweiss during the war because people like Sylus.. bargain so much.
You know you don't have money.
You left everything at Ursus. (You know people here at Columbia would probably arrest you if you carried too much Ursine currency.)
You do have the skills but would you really go back to.. mindless killing again? This time for a.. sleazy businessman? (You really want to punch that smug face right now.)
Sylus watched you as you considered your options, seeing the internal struggle play out on your face. He could sense your resistance, the reluctance to offer something you knew you couldn't give.
“Come on, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and coaxing, "Surely there's something you can offer. You're not completely worthless, are you?”
Would you go back to killing again?
What would Buldrokkas'tee do?
What would he tell you right now?
You gaze at Buldrokkas'tee's weapon one last time, hoping you are about to make the right call.
"My service," You finally answered.
Sylus' eyebrows raised in surprise at your answer, clearly not expecting you to offer your service as your side of the bargain. He studied you closely, his gaze searching for any hint of hesitation or deceit.
"Your service, huh?" he repeated, his tone a mix of curiosity and skepticism, "And what exactly would your 'service' entail?”
"I am Holuhraun the Liberator," You said, "I came to cities, burning the shackles of Ursus’ violent past.”
Yes, you burned cities to the ground.
You were a herald.
You believed that a new country could arise on top of the razed cities, its ashes ushering a new age.
Sylus could almost see the cities burning in his mind's eye, the chaos and destruction you had caused.
"A liberator, is that what they call you?" he said, his tone cool, "So, you're offering to burn my enemies to the ground, is that it? How... generous of you.”
"3 years," You said, "1 year for each weapon and then I will leave.”
Sylus' gaze remained fixed on you, his expression unreadable. He appeared to be considering your offer, the terms of your service. He knew how dangerous you could be, how much destruction you could cause.
“3 years, you say," he mused, his tone thoughtful, "That's quite a commitment, sweetheart. Are you really ready to burn for me that long?”
“I am not doing it for you," You corrected him, "I am acting on the last will of my commander.”
Sylus studied you carefully, sensing the dedication and loyalty in your words. He could see the determination shining in your eyes, the fire of your conviction.
"For your commander, hm?" he said, a smirk playing on his lips, "So, you're willing to serve a dead man who can't even fight alongside you anymore. How touching."
“I will follow him to the afterlife if I could," You said, gritting your teeth.
Buldrokkas'tee was not just a mentor.
He was not just a commander.
He was so much more.
Sylus watched you closely as you spoke, the raw emotion and pain evident in your words. He silently admire your determination, the way you refused to let the memory of your commander be forgotten. It was a quality he found both admirable and intriguing.
"So you're going to honor his legacy," he said, the smirk on his lips replaced by a more thoughtful expression, "Very well. I accept your terms.”
Sylus observed as you called for your sword, the weapon materializing in your grip.
"Impressive," he said, his tone approving, "A bit flashy, though, but I never expected less from a war hero like yourself.”
You rolled your eyes at the remark then used your sword to cut another line in your hand, blood starting to trickle.
"Now, what was that for, sweetheart?"
"An old tradition," You answered then gestured for his hand to shake, "Just so you know I am not going to break our deal.”
Sylus looked at your extended hand, the blood still dripping from your fresh wound.
He could sense the seriousness in your eyes, the determination in your offer.
He reached out his own hand, his large fingers wrapping around yours, and shook it firmly.
”I trust you won't," he said, his tone cool. "Breaking a deal would be... unfortunate.”
“Consider what we did as a binding contract,” You said as you let go, "If you extend further than 3 years, it will not end well.”
Sylus chuckled as you issued your warning, he could tell that you were completely serious. He had no doubt that you meant every word.
"I have no intention of breaking our agreement," he replied, his tone casual, "But I appreciate your concern. You're quite dedicated to your commander, aren't you? Makes me wonder what he was like.
There were never enough words to describe Buldrokkas'tee, you wanted to tell Sylus but stopped yourself.
"A good man."
Sylus studied you, silently wondering what you had stopped yourself from saying. There was clearly more about Buldrokkas'tee than met the eye, a depth to the man that you were keeping to yourself.
"Just a good man, huh?" he said, his tone neutral. "That's all you're going to say about the man you've sworn to honor?”
You just looked at him but chose not to reply.
"My service starts now," You declared.
Sylus regarded you for a moment before nodding in acknowledgment of your declaration. He could sense the finality in your words and the determination in your gaze.
"Very well," he said, his tone serious, "Your service starts now. I have some... enemies that need to be dealt with. Shall we begin?”
You only nod, following Sylus like how you did before with your commander.
Your commander's wish for you to have a completely peaceful life would have to be moved on a later date.
Sylus led you out of the room, his footsteps echoing through the dimly lit hallway. He could feel your presence behind him, your determination and loyalty like a constant presence.
He didn't turn around to look at you, but he spoke, “You're loyal, I give you that. But you're also a fool, you know that, don't you?”