Chapter 322 - Epilogue: Moments

"Is she alright?"

Back in the lavish room designated for the Weltwanderers, Macheo looked at the azure-haired girl that had quickly fallen asleep on the silken sofa before turning his gaze back to the vermillion-haired demi-human standing beside him. 

"Just look after her. She needs to rest." 

"Got it." 

Sitting on the comfortable furniture across from the girl, Macheo looked up at Valerie, who seemed a bit anxious about something--it was rare for her to stare at the ground with such hesitant eyes. 

"What's up? Well...I guess seeing someone get killed like that is probably…"

"It's not that. It's...the bracket. I got a glimpse of it, but I really didn't want to say anything to her--it would've totally cramped her match."

Leaning against the firm wall, the draconic woman huffed as she folded her armor-clad arms across her plump chest. 

"Yeah?"

"Granted I win my match...Iris and I will be pitted against each other in the second round." 

"I see." 

Macheo didn't seem too bothered by this information from the demi-human, tinkering with his intricately-crafted arm made of wood; fiddling with the gears that eased his delicate, small movements. 

"Also, I'd start preparing if I were you. Your opponent in the second round is that Andraste guy...he's a lot of bark, but I know for damn sure he's got the bite to back it up. The Victorious Seven are basically--"

"I know."

Hearing the straight words leaving quickly from Macheo's lips, she noticed it at last--there wasn't a glint in his royal, crimson eyes--he was intently focused. 

"Right...well, I'm sure Ren is going to come to check up on her. I should probably tell him to bring that tubby bastard back with him...anyways, I'll see you later."

"See ya'." 

With one last look at the golden-haired prince, Valerie left the room with a small sigh to herself--immediately being met face-to-face with the slightly shorter than herself, white-haired young man. 

"Holy…!"

Jumping from the unexpected presence of the hazel-eyed young adolescent wearing a neatly-kept, sable gambeson coat with a decorated cloak hanging over his shoulders, Valerie let out a high-pitched squeal unbecoming of her. Wincing at the frightened noise reeled out from the demi-human's throat, the young man caressed his ear as if it had been thoroughly abused. 

"...Hi there? I brought someone with me."

Somehow she didn't notice that atop Ren's back sat the giant, crimson-furred panda that seemed impossibly large for the young man to carry, slumped over his back like a limp sack of potatoes.

"Oh, right...just set him down on the floor in there."

Pointing with her thumb, the draconic demi-human gestured for Ren to continue his delivery of the unconscious, snoring panda--listening as the tremor-like thud indicated Hongse had been placed on the floor before leaving. 

Taking a breath after carrying such a dense, but fluffy load, Ren wiped a bit of sweat from his chin as he looked over at Iris, who remained quietly resting. 

"That definitely was...something."

Ren muttered, taking a seat next to Macheo, who seemed to be trying to distract himself by fiddling with his arm still. 

"Yeah, I guess you can say that." 

Silence inhabited the room as the two sat there, only listening to the heavy breaths of the slumbering demi-human that completely overshadowed the quiet, gentle breaths of Iris. 

"I don't know what to do, Macheo."

"Huh?"

Looking to the side at the white-haired companion of his, Macheo watched as Ren sank his head into his hands without any other words. 

"How am I going to help her? I mean...I don't even know how to help my own damn self. I know what those thoughts are like--the ones that come with staining your hands with blood...the type that comes with taking a life--they never leave your head. Not for a day, not a single hour, or a minute of the day. It just...lives there, constantly reminding you--never hesitating to tell you that you're a piece of shit. Over and over, and over again...I don't want her to have these thoughts, Macheo…" 

It was the first time he had seen the usually collected, cheery young man sink into such bleak depths in front of him. By the infrequent droplets hitting the floor beneath the white-haired young man's leaned forward position, Macheo found himself at a loss for words at the sight of tears slipping between the man's fingers. 

For the Lucrauvian royal, such a vulnerable sight from a man was definitely something he wasn't used to; the first thought that popped into his mind was to scold him, but that was the teachings of the devilish family of his he despised. Awkwardly, he reached around Ren's back, slowly giving his companion gentle, reassuring pats on the back as he averted his gaze. 

"I wanted to protect her from this…"

"It's just my take, but...I think you'd sooner turn insane if you tried to shield someone from bad things. I've seen what happens when someone tries to protect you from the muck of this world. The problem is...there is a lot of muck." 

"This is different though...having to kill someone...that kind of thing just doesn't need to happen."

Ren lifted his face from his leather gloves that had become stained with his tears, not turning to his friend--but nonetheless, Macheo could see the red hue of past tears tinting the whites of the young man's eyes. 

"I agree--it doesn't need to happen. But, it did. You're not from Gaia, so maybe it's different from Earth. Knowledge of your world is incredibly limited here...most of the journals were destroyed, scholars with knowledge were killed...but I've heard some things myself. It seems like in your world...it's peaceful. I'd love to see it one day. It's impossible, but I'd like to. But, here? Ren, Gaia is constantly in war. It doesn't matter if it's between two kingdoms, or monsters attacking humans, or even just a matter within the country: we're always fighting. It's unfortunate, but to survive--you have to get your hands bloodied." 

Macheo's words were spoken softly, a tone seldomly experienced from the lips of the usually abrasive prince, but Ren listened closely, nodding his head as he watched Iris slumber quietly. Standing up from the sofa, the white-haired young man stretched his limbs before placing his hand on the handle to the door. 

"Are you alright? Maybe you should rest here for a bit, it couldn't hurt if your match is close."

"I'm good. Thank you, Macheo."

Giving his companion a smile, Ren waved him off before exiting the room occupied by his slumbering comrades--making his way down the lavish, extensive hall. 

"IT'S TIME FOR OUR NEXT BOUT! ON THE RIGHT, BAKAR, PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE ARENA!"

Listening to the deafening cheers of the plentiful crowd that followed every announcement from Asmodeus, Ren continued his way down the hall as he looked at the ceiling as if hearing the words better from such an angle. 

Bakar, huh? Good luck, Gramps, Ren thought. 

"FROM THE LEFT, GALAGGHER, PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE ARENA!"

Hearing the identity of the opponent pitted against the old man, Ren paused for a moment in the vast, but empty hallway as the name alone was enough to freeze his limbs. 

To his side, the sound of heavy, metallic footsteps approached, such an elegant rhythm to the steps that it almost snuck up on him. 

"Sounds like that's my cue." 

Passing by the stationary young man, a tall, hazel-haired knight clad in shining armor made his comment with a smile--disappearing down the hall before Ren could say anything in return. 

"Curious, are you? I can understand why." 

"I didn't say a single damn word." 

Responding to the sage's elegantly spoken words, the young delinquent responded without much emotion himself as he sat across the tea table as his delegated liquid grew cold in the lukewarm room. 

"I know you aren't a savage fool. You started Shibuya Majin to protect the weak in your area from the vicious, violent gangs, did you not?"

"How the hell do you know that?"

Keeping his arms folded across his chest, Kazuya squinted at the primordial sage, who only smiled at being on the receiving end of such a stare. 

"I have my ways. But...am I wrong, Kazuya?"

"..."

"Either way, you're a part of the Outlanders now."

"And what if I refuse?"

Running her pale fingertip along the rim of the immaculate glass, Beatrice simply smiled before returning her cosmic eyes to the young delinquent, who didn't shy away from her own gaze. 

"You answered my summon; though subconscious it may be, this is something you desired. Besides, it's not like it's a role without compensation. If you choose to remain in this world after your mission is complete, you will be bestowed whatever you could possibly desire." 

Sitting across from one another, Sirius and Sora lounged in one of the many rooms specifically secluded for the Outlanders; packed full of various ingredients and already prepared meals, it was a dining hall run entirely by the existence of a self-sufficient golem that acted as a chef. 

Like most of the quarters built in the Hollow Foundation, the walls were made of the durable, stygian metal that was scarcely seen elsewhere in the world--however, the floor was mostly covered by an expansive, quilted carpet. 

"Hey, Moro!"

Sora called out to the humanoid golem formed of clay; dressing the part, the scarily human-looking golem wore a spotless, white, double-breasted jacket with gray pants that inhabited a hexagonal pattern. 

Looking up from behind the counter, chopping away at carrots with rapid, precise speeds, the golem responded to the call of its name, "Yes, Master Sora?"

"Get me a grilled dragon thigh, would you? Double-up on the sweet sauce, just like I like it!"

"Coming right up!"

Flipping the sharp knife it wielded with the equivalence of a master swordsman, the inhuman entity smiled with words that seemed to exhibit excitement; Moro's curly, abundant locks of a black shade bounced with each quick movement it made. 

Within moments, the designated chef was fervently getting to work on the requested serving of chicken. 

"You just ate like a day's worth of meat...I don't know how you aren't as round as a ball yet."

Sirius commented as he leisurely snacked on a steaming potato that had been lathered in a buttery substance. Speaking with a mouthful without any care, bits and pieces of his snack flew onto the table. 

"That's why I have the body of a Greek god, and you're left with those noodle arms of yours."

Slapping his bicep that bulged against the sleeve of his gray tunic, Sora released a hearty laugh that supported his teasing remark. 

"I'll zap your hair right off of your scalp." 

In response to Sora's retort, Sirius' playful threat zipped the vermilion-haired man's lips shut. With silence occupying the dining table, it was clear the tense mood that hung around the Outlanders didn't dissipate. It all stemmed from one thing, something both Sirius and Sora shared in greatly--the memory of their fallen comrade. 

"Anyway...how're you feeling about this Kazuya guy?"

It was a question they both wanted to ask one another, but Sirius was the first. Placing his elbows on the glistening, pale-white table, Sirius rested his chin against the top of his hands as he set his magenta irises on his blue-eyed friend. 

"Well, having another person from my homeland is nice and all, but...I don't know. It just doesn't feel right."

"Yeah...I get that. Barely a week. That's it. That's all she waited before up and replacing Lucas. I could see it the entire time on that emotionless face of hers during the funeral...she was just thinking about his replacement." 

Sirius' expression dropped as he recalled those vivid, fresh memories, clenching his fists tightly shut as he looked down at the table. 

"She's always been pragmatic. I guess that's something we should appreciate in our leader."

"Screw that!"

Interrupting the words of the bulky, vermilion-haired man, Sirius slammed his clenched fist down on the table as a tremor resounded through the vast dining hall. 

Feeling the effects of the brief, but potent showing of anger--the chef stumbled a bit before continuing his mixture of ingredients. 

"We've given everything we've had for her...and for what? She took us from our lives, our friends, our families...it wasn't an option; I don't care what riches she promises us, all I want is to return home. Lucas can't even do that now. Neither can Sebastian. I'm sick of this. I'm so sick of just being her pawn." 

Relieving his face to his glove-clad hands, Sirius gripped his jet-black fringes, tugging on them as if trying to pluck weeds from the ground. 

"..."

I get it, Sirius. I do. I was there. I was powerless to help him...both Lucas and Sebastian. There isn't a minute of the day where I don't recall those painful memories...my blood boils so hot I feel as if my skin is going to burst. 

But, I'm clueless. Every time I've acted out rashly, it all goes wrong. I'm scared of being the reason one of you dies again. I don't have any right to be mad anyways. It was my fault; I'll live with it my entire life. But...I won't let any of you see that,  Sora thought. 

"Your dish, Master Sora."

Moro retrieved the man from his thoughts with the aroma of freshly prepared dragon meat, placing the dish down in front of the man as he bowed his head. 

"...Yeah, thanks, Moro."

He could only look at the meat as the gruesome memories of that day filled his mind, listening to the footsteps of the chef grow distant as his comrade sitting across from him remained silent. 

"Sirius."

"Yeah?"

"I know this probably isn't what you want to hear...but, this is the way things are. Lashing out won't change anything. Going against Beatrice would only result in our one ticket home disappearing...it'd also mean the sacrifices of our comrades were for nothing."

Sora's unusually calm, composed words came out from his throat that heated up with emotions that he tried to suppress, but his own words brought the face of his fallen companions to the forefront of his mind. 

"..."

Remaining silent, Sirius moved his hands away from his face as his magenta irises fell upon Sora. 

"Maybe one day I'll be able to live with the reality that they're gone. But...I wouldn't be able to live with knowing I trampled their reason for being in this world, for sharing drinks, laughs, and days with us...so, let's keep moving forward--for them."

Taking the knife and fork that were laid out on a napkin near his plate, Sora split the sauce-covered serving of meat into two sections, gifting one half to Sirius. 

You know it just as much as I do, Sirius: the past can't be changed, and destroying our future won't solve anything. You're the strongest of us all--we need you, Sora thought. 

"Alright, Sirius?" 

Sora's blue gems traversed a spectrum of emotions; it was impossible to tell if he was truly joyous or on the brink of endless tears--but nonetheless, Sirius accepted the gracious gift of food with a nod. With lips that trembled against such a shift in expression, the black-haired Outlander replaced his bleak expression with a small smile of his own. 

Thanks, Sora. If it wasn't for you, I don't know where I'd be. No...The Outlanders as a whole would be lost without you. More than anything, a smile can clear up the fog in one's heart...disdain, contempt, all of that negativity can be swayed just by that single, simple gesture. If there is one we would call the "Heart of the Outlanders", it's you. You're the real Big Brother of the Outlanders, Sora, Sirius thought. 

"Yeah.. Let's."