The journey back was deceptively short, a winding route through familiar back roads and hidden paths that nevertheless felt expedited. They arrived at camp just as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues. Throughout the trip, Lucy had been a persistent shadow, her voice a relentless hum of negotiation. Her initial attempts focused on convincing John to act as an intermediary between their group and Kay, a proposition he rebuffed with growing weariness. Each time, her pleas were met with a firm "no," until his patience finally snapped, a sharp command for her to cease pressing the issue.
Undaunted, Lucy shifted tactics. The topic pivoted to a new demand: either she or one of her 'youngest' be allowed to stay within the secure confines of his underground base, ostensibly for protection, or as she vaguely claimed, to act as a more direct link. This, too, was met with swift and decisive rejection, the finality in John's tone leaving no room for further argument. Still, she persisted, her curiosity now turning to his formidable collection of statues and clockworks. She peppered him with questions – how he acquired them, their functions, their origins – each query more probing than the last, until John, exasperated, resorted to flat-out ignoring her, a silent wall against her incessant inquiries.
"Home sweet home," Saya announced with a small, weary smile as the bus finally shuddered to a halt. Everyone disembarked, the rumbling vehicle pulling away into the twilight. "Finally, a chance to have a shower and sleep in my own room again." Her words elicited murmurs of agreement from the others, a shared longing for creature comforts after their ordeal.
"First, you will set the others up with the tents to stay in," John interjected, his voice cutting through their weary anticipation. His command caused everyone to freeze, turning to him with confused expressions. May and the other rescuees looked particularly bewildered.
John's gaze, devoid of warmth, swept over the group of returnees. "They left willingly," he stated, his tone chillingly devoid of emotion. "They don't get to just come back, walk into their old homes and act like nothing happened. They will be staying in the tents until further notice and will not be permitted underground. I'll rig an outside shower and a basic latrine, but that is all. Anything further, they will need to work for it. I'll provide breakfast, but lunch and supper are earned, not given, for them."
His words, delivered with a stark, unyielding finality, shocked everyone present. A palpable silence descended, broken only by Sieg's sudden, booming laugh. "Well said, master!" Sieg clapped his armored hand to his thigh, a metallic clang echoing in the gathering dusk. "They left of their own free will, dared to speak ill of you, or so I heard, after you gave them whatever they wanted or needed and then messed up. They should be grateful you even took them back and will give them food in the morning. I remember deserters being treated far worse where I came from."
"Indeed," Choi added, his expression equally grim. "My old lord would kill them on sight at the barest hint of rebellion, or if they even seemed like they were about to desert him." Their unyielding support resonated with John's hardened stance, painting a stark picture of loyalty born from a harsher world.
Michael, Elena and the old man, who had emerged from the base upon hearing the bus, greeted John. Elena, in particular, rushed forward, wrapping him in a fierce hug, a silent refusal to let go, as if grounding him. Upon seeing the others, they were initially confused but quickly understood the situation and fully agreed with John's decree. The unspoken consensus among his loyalists was clear: consequences for desertion were now a harsh reality.
"So, we don't even get to our old homes anymore? Or even to get cleaned up?" Smith ventured, his voice a disbelieving whisper, earning him a sharp glare from John.
"No," John replied, his voice a cutting whisper of cold air. "Those were a privilege, not a right. Be glad I'm even giving you tents to use and not leaving you to sleep on the bare ground with nothing." With that, he turned, his back stiff and unyielding and walked towards Cliff's place. There, he intended to discuss the construction of a single-stall toilet and shower for the returned, a suitable location for his new forge and a host of other pressing matters, leaving the stunned group in his wake.
"He can't be serious," May murmured, her gaze fixed on John's retreating figure, a tremor of disbelief in her voice.
"Oh, he seemed quite adamant about it," Saya affirmed, her voice holding a note of weariness mixed with understanding. "And even if he were in a better state, I think he'd be sticking to his guns on this. I mean, you lot did leave and judge his actions without even asking or wondering as to why. Mob mentality combined with old-world ideals." She gestured towards the stack of portable tents on the ground. "Those are pretty easy to set up, just prop them and pull them up straight." Her gaze then shifted to Butcher and Carnage, returning from a patrol, their heavy footsteps announcing their presence. "Don't suppose you two would be up for a spar later? No weapons, just hand-to-hand and maybe helping me with my class? I need to get a lot better at it overall." Butcher emitted a deep grunt and Carnage offered a curt nod, indicating their agreement.
"What about food?" Lacy quietly pressed, her voice barely audible, her eyes wide with fear and hunger.
"Master has made it clear only in the morning will you get food," Aria couldn't help but snark, crossing her arms beneath her ample bust, her multiple tails swishing behind her in agitation. "The sun is going down, so clearly it's not morning, unless I've entered a backwards world." Her tone sharpened, dropping to a low, menacing hiss that made the returnees flinch. "Let me warn you now, though: should you betray my master a second time, I will ensure there will be nothing left of you. Not even dust and no one will ever find your remains." The softness of her threat made it all the more terrifying.
Ivy, Hope and Angel nodded in solemn agreement with Aria's chilling declaration before turning their attention to Ash. "This one feels we should speak with master tonight and make sure master is not alone," Angel began softly, her voice laced with genuine concern. "This one worries for how he has been affected and wishes for him to open up to this one and his others."
"I honestly don't care much for emotional hand-holding, but I do see the signs of trauma," Ivy piped up, gripping Grace protectively close to her. "I don't know what he went through, but it hit him hard and seems to be wearing on him. We will need to get him right because I'm not going to risk my sister if he becomes mentally unstable or worse, damn the consequences."
"I'm more worried that it physically harmed him," Ash chimed in, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I mean, sure, his dreams aren't just dreams, but I haven't seen such an effect from them when he isn't glowing. The last thing I want is something taking him over and changing him into a monster of flat-out killing and slaughter. It didn't seem like any strange bugs or worms infected him and as far as I can tell, no weird seals or brands to control him, no mask forming either, so not a hollow. Meaning whatever happened in the dream was more psychological and emotional well-being, yet strong enough to harm him physically. We need to help him beat it like a Mega Zord beats the monsters!" she finished, her shift from serious analysis to enthusiastic heroics comically abrupt. She then whispered under her breath, "And maybe I can worm my way into the role of love interest this way." A playful whack from Aria, who had impossibly overheard, cut her off.
Leaning in, Aria whispered back to Ash, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I will be the main wife, little girl, but I won't mind my master having others, or sharing, especially with a cute girl like you." Ash's face flushed a deep crimson and she sputtered incoherently, making Aria laugh at such a reaction before turning to the rest. "So, tonight we talk with him and make him tell us. We can't let Master suffer." Earned nods from the girls as Ash, still blushing, quickly agreed to inform Saya and rushed away.
Everyone pretty much dispersed from there to do their own thing, leaving the bewildered returnees to set up their tents. Lacy slowly began to sob, May trying her best to comfort her, even as a cold dread settled over them. The full weight of their mistake in leaving became crushingly clear. Yet, a flicker of gratitude remained; at least they had shelter and safety, even if it came with harsh conditions. May silently cursed her own stupidity for following the others, searching for a bright side in their stark new reality.
It was later that evening. John, physically and emotionally drained, returned to his room. He had spent hours speaking with Cliff and Elena about the immediate needs of the settlement, from resource management to security upgrades and had also engaged in a vigorous, albeit productive, debate with Choi about future strategic actions. A hearty supper had done little to lift his spirits, only adding to his profound exhaustion. Rubbing his eyes, he pushed open his door, only to find Saya, Ash, Angel, Aria, Ivy and Hope all waiting for him.
"Look, I don't know why you're all in my room, but get out," he said, his voice husky with fatigue, a vein of detached annoyance running through it. "I'm tired and just want to try and get some sleep. I even got something special ready to ensure I knock out." His words, hollow and defeatist, drew concerned looks from the assembled women.
"We're worried about you, John," Saya began, her voice gentle yet firm, her eyes searching his face. "The way you were today, it isn't like you. There was this cold detachment, like you completely shut yourself off and went cold and dead to the world. You were around, present in body, but lifeless, like you wouldn't have cared if something happened and you died."
John laughed, a sound utterly devoid of mirth, a dry, brittle rasp that sent a shiver down their spines. "You hit the nail exactly on the head," he admitted, his eyes distant, unfocused. "After last night, I realized I can't keep being so soft, showing such emotion. And I really can't stand to live like this. A king and a leader needs to be above those they lead, showing no emotion or their true feelings. They need to be stronger for all of them to lead, to be a pillar of unwavering resolve. It doesn't sit well with me, though. And honestly, anyone else would be a better leader. Saya and Ash here are perfect examples; both would be excellent leaders, far better than I. As for me, well, I'd rather die protecting everyone and being a reason you all push to get stronger. At least then I'd be useful." His words, infused with a chilling sense of self-sacrifice, shocked them into silence. He turned towards Ash, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "I'd be like Asuma or Garp, or even Maes Hughes—a death that drives everyone to grow beyond their limits and be a driving forc—"
His words were abruptly cut off by a solid slap, the sharp crack echoing in the small room. The impact spun him, almost knocking him over and making him stumble heavily to the side.
The air hung heavy, thick with unspoken pain, yet fractured by the sharp, echoing slap that had just landed. Ash stood before John, her hand still outstretched, throbbing from the impact, but her gaze was fixed on him, swimming with tears that mirrored the visible trembling of her entire body.
"Now you listen here," she choked out, her voice raw but laced with an unyielding steel. "We have all had losses, you are not special in that regard. But I need you, we all do! We're all still going to face so many more losses in the future, the world all ensures that now but we are all here now! Losing you won't change a single damn thing. It will only hurt all of us and make the world an even darker place than it already is. You, John, may not realize or even see it, but you've been a driving force, a bright, unwavering light for all of us. You've been a level of comfort, a silent promise that someone is there who won't stab us in the back, someone who actually gives a damn about us. Gods know we need it, with how the world has turned."
Her voice cracked on the last words and fresh tears streamed down her face, leaving shimmering tracks on her cheeks. She moved closer, grabbing his arm with a desperate grip, her fingers digging into his sleeve. "So stop it! And talk with us! Open up to us, please, trust us to try and help you through this. Alice wouldn't want you to be like this, John, please. You have a lot of people who need you. Everyone here needs you and we will do whatever it takes to help you. If I need to be the Zoro who's always there for his captain or act as Neferpitou with you being my Meruem to snap you out of this despair, then I will gladly do it!" She finished, her chest heaving, her eyes pleading.
"Ash..." John murmured, his own gaze unfocused, distant. The dam within him began to crack and slow, heavy tears started to track paths through the grime and weariness on his face.
From below, Angel, a small figure, gently wrapped her arms around his waist, her head resting against his side. "She speaks the truth, Master. This one and the fox, we would be lost without Master. We chose Master due to Master's interesting nature, to see if Master has what each of us needs and has not disappointed us thus far. Master also promised this one Master would keep this one safe. Master can't do so if Master is gone." Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of her profound dependence.
Aria, with a huff of defiance, stomped forward and clamped onto John's other arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "The midget's right, Master! You aren't getting a free pass like that. And should you ever try to go through with something like allowing yourself to die, I will kick your ass, bring you back and kick your ass all over again!" Her warning, blunt and fierce, was underscored by a genuine fear that flickered in her eyes.
Ivy, her expression unusually cold, but with an undercurrent of fierce protectiveness, kept Hope close beside her. She ran her fingers through Hope's hair, a comforting gesture as she spoke. "Honestly Master, you took us in. You've been pretty damn good to us, even spoiled us, if I'm being honest. I don't think me and sis could ever go back to how things were in the slave shop. Gods know our next master wouldn't be as good as you have been and I won't let her, my Hope, go through that again. So you better open up and talk to us, Master and let us help you through these issues before I make you." Hope, nestled against Ivy, merely nodded, her small face mirroring Ivy's resolve. Their shared past, a dark shadow, was a powerful motivator.
Ash, seeing his tears, stepped closer again, her voice softening, though the urgency remained. She gently thumped a closed fist onto the top of his head. "Talk to us, please, John. Open up and let us help you. You aren't alone. Even if Alice is gone, you still have all of us. Don't live in the past, but rather in the present. Enjoy every bit of time we all have together and get stronger to keep from losing those close to you. Even if it's impossible to prevent all loss, keep getting stronger so you can limit the number you lose instead. Now tell us what the hell happened last night. What caused this?"
At this, John could no longer hold it in. The emotional onslaught, the raw, unfiltered love and desperation from his companions, shattered his remaining defenses. He began to sob, great, wrenching gasps that shook his entire frame as tears streamed down his cheeks. He finally spoke, his voice hoarse, broken. "Unlike everyone else, I still feel remorse and emotion in regards to killing, even after everything. My first kill made me feel sick; I threw up from it. And things didn't get easier after that. My parents were killed... my brother went nuts... the girl I was developing feelings for, Alice, suffered worse than death and I had to end her with my own hands. And my best friend... he's gone." He gasped for air, a shaky, ragged breath.
"Last night," he continued, his voice barely a whisper, "Last night, I got tormented mentally by the entire thing. How I didn't need to kill her... how if I was faster, they all would have lived... if I was stronger, he wouldn't have needed to have gone insane... if I was more involved and better, she wouldn't have suffered like she did... how if I had just done something different, had a better class, my friend wouldn't be trapped wherever she is now. I was tortured verbally by all those I've lost, their accusations scathing and relentless. Then it turned physical. It felt like days, over and over, recounting every fault, every mistake, every failure. Then I woke up and realized it wasn't real... or so I thought until I saw the marks and cuts."
With a sudden, frantic wriggle, he pulled free from their gentle grips, his hands fumbling at the hem of his shirt. He pulled it over his head, revealing his torso. The sight caused a collective gasp from the group. His body was a map of fresh scratches, thin, angry red lines crisscrossing his skin. There were deeper cuts, some still weeping even now as if they hadn't healed and still looked fresh even though hours had passed and dark bruises slowly blooming across his ribs and shoulders. Even small, distinct bite marks marred his flesh as if various mouths had tried to rip flesh from him.
Saya, however, narrowed her eyes, her gaze piercing. Something about the marks felt off to her, not quite right. A faint heat spread through her sword at her hip, a subtle vibration that only she could detect. "John, it wasn't them," she said slowly, her voice unusually grave. "Someone or something else is behind this. Call it instinct from my class, but this is wrong. You shouldn't be tortured like this. I think they used your lack of closure and your deep-seated guilt, as a way to attack you or to break you for some reason." As she spoke, she slowly drew her blade, its polished steel now glowing with an eerie purple luminescence, wisps of silver smoke curling from its edges. A chill seemed to emanate from the weapon, a silent power.
"I think I can help, but I need to know if you trust me," she continued, her voice gaining a quiet intensity before taking a slow deep breath and speaking again. "I have two ways I can help you, the first would be the best and most direct way, but to do it I will need your trust, your complete and total trust."
John looked at her then, truly looked at and through her, his red-rimmed eyes meeting her determined gaze. After a long, agonizing moment, he slowly nodded, a flicker of hope, of desperate faith, igniting in his depths. "I trust you," he croaked, the words a sacred vow carrying deep emotion.
Letting out a soft sigh of relief Saya turned her piercing gaze to the others. "No matter what happens, do not interfere unless I say so. And you will need to do exactly as I say."
Aria, ever the fiery one, looked ready to protest, her mouth opening. But John gently placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch a surprising anchor. "Listen to her, Aria. You too, Angel. I will make it an order if I have to." His voice was weak, but his resolve was clear, a flicker of his former self returning. Reluctantly, they both relented, their concern battling with their obedience.
"Thank you," Saya said, a sense of grim purpose settling over her. Without another word, without a moment of hesitation, she raised her glowing sword and, with a swift, decisive thrust, plunged the blade directly into John's heart. His eyes widened in shock, dilating in the sudden, agonizing intrusion, before rolling back into his head. The last thing he heard, a cacophony of fear and disbelief, was everyone calling out his name as he fell backward into the waiting darkness.