Requiem Of A Failed Hero



The creation of the cosmic wheel is still a mystery to even higher planes of existence. 

As much as many would like to say that the primordial heralded the beginning of everything. It was still well believed that the cosmic wheel had been in existence long before the first three primordials of origin were birthed from the universal plane's core. 

If they were known to be the beginning of creation, the cosmic wheel is the drive of creation. 

Diverse creatures with power incomprehensible have been birthed and were not even the result of the actions of primordial. Some with less intelligence than humans, and a large number of them with more intelligence than humans can ever have. 

Beings that were the pinnacle of their existence, objects of fear, the harbinger of chaos. They acted freely of their own accord and some even had the potential to rise against gods. 

Yet they are only classified as beasts, mythical creatures, of this category were dragons. 

Although a dragon's power is dependent on its race and its knowledge. They are limited to how much they know and for them, knowledge is power. 

This is not a mere statement. Literally, there were creatures that carried magnificent power in ratio to how much they know. 

That is why a dragon is often known to be travelers, traversing worlds and planes in search of knowledge. Nesting in a particular place of their choosing, and roaming worlds over and over again to come back for their nest. 

The longer they live, the more they know... hence, the more powerful they become. 

In the presence of a creature like that, even though the space between them was separated by an impeccable door. Even the peak of human existence would cower in fear. 

Raith's heart began to quicken, its rhythmic beat betraying the unease that had taken root within his chest. 

A single thought had ignited a spark of dread, and like tendrils of darkness, it spread through his being.

His breaths came in shallow gasps as if the air itself had turned thick and suffocating.

'What is this? What is happening to me?' 

Raith beckoned on himself. But he couldn't tell. He didn't know what was wrong, he had just felt it for a moment, the strong energy that Noir warned him about, he felt it like a passing breeze and his body shook.

A chilling shiver raced down his spine, each vertebrae was as if they were echoing the icy fingers of fear. 

His palms grew clammy, and he clenched them into a fist, trying to garner himself amidst the tumultuous sea of emotions and thoughts that surged in his mind questioning this strange feeling, this hotness in his chest, why his body was shaking, his leg won't respond and move forward. 

Time itself seemed to slow, the seconds stretching into eternities.

Finally, tracing his mind to the origin of how this all started, he muttered:

"I-i-i-itt... s-s-strong..."

His words were like they wouldn't drop out of his mouth, even his voice seemed unwilling to be let out. 

Raith had never experienced this degree of fear. To feel like a weak, helpless human. 

"My liege..." 

Trying to sound as low as he could, his voice vibrated the air. 

But it did not cause Raith to snap out of it. 

They could vividly feel what he was feeling and among all of them, the only one strong enough to lift his steps closer to Raith under the intense pressure was Jarvis. 

Not Antares. Jarvis. 

He had no idea why but he was able to resist it. Although that came with a lot of pushing till he was able to move. And after moving, the pressure on the air still threatened him–as if a large mass was going to fall on his head. 

White smoke slowly emanated from his black body. 

Opening his hand, the darkness of his armor extended to his palm and extended out to form a wriggling figure which soon straightened out to form his greatsword. 

Struggling with the pressure while the others had been forced to their knees already. Jarvis pulled his hand back and stabbed the sword into Raith from behind. 

Raith shrieked as the sword plunged out through his chest. At first, what soared within him was anger, he turned his head with a fire-shot gaze. 

Jarvis however dropped the sword and fell to a genuflecting position. 

[You have been stabbed severely]

[You are on the brink of death]

It was the moment later that Raith noticed. 

With the edge of the greatsword still plunging out from his chest, he moved his head to the middle of his chest right beside the blade.

'...I feel okay...'

He looked down at the blade even though he was bleeding down his chest. It was like the searing pain of the sword had taken his mind off the pressure for once and because of that, he couldn't feel the fear. 

The fear he felt so strongly a moment ago, that he was struggling to breathe. He couldn't feel anything anymore, what was the logic behind it? Was it because he was in pain? 

"Jarvis... what did you do?" 

Raith turned back to him fully. 

"Amidst the storm of fear, pain is the lighthouse that guides one's focus away from the tempest and towards the strength within."

His words resounded in Raith over and over again. 

After a minute, he looked down at him, "Stand up."

"I have committed a very devastating act. Please punish me my liege."

"Don't let me repeat myself." 

"Yes, my liege." 

He responded sharply and stood up. 

Raith turned towards the door, bringing the hilt of the sword towards Jarvis. For a moment it crossed his mind, the crumbling skeleton in the prison from which he collected its soul. 

It was the soul that he put in Jarvis after creating him a body. 

For the first time, he became curious about Jarvis' origin. 

"Pull out the sword." 

"My l-l-lie...ge" 

His tone quaked. It was an easy decision for him to make in the first place but it was the only way to break Raith out of the ocean of fear he was sinking in. 

Being asked to pull it out when Raith was standing right in front of him, conscious. 

Jarvis' hand shivered as he brought them to the sword and held its hilt. 

"Pull it out." 

Closing his eyes work a wrinkle seen on the edge of both eyes embedded in his helmet. 

He drew the sword out in one go, splattering Raith's blood all over the place. 

He was going to live with this guilt for the rest of his life...

I will work harder than everyone else...

I will redeem myself...

I will correct this...

Even though he meant good and his means provided a solution even though they were daring. Jarvis couldn't forgive himself. 

Raith fell to his knees, vomiting blood and feeling the ground between his knees with a pool of it.

Raith's eyes rolled down. 

'...my blood...'

This was not the first time he had seen human blood, to be particularly, his blood. 

He was used to seeing a maroon color, but right now, what he saw was cherry red blood, exactly the redness of a tomato.

Plus his blood was shining, as it was reflecting some kind of illumination. But the cave they were in was very dark. There's no illumination to reflect. 

In one minute as Raith slowly and painfully anticipated his death. He then saw something unusual.