"Huff...huff...huff."
Some time passed as Hope remained curled on the floor, arms closed in like a child hiding under one's sheets. Closed off from the world. And if he could, close off from himself.
His face was planted on the cold dirt, chest rising and falling rapidly. Hot breath passing his lips in the chill air as he counted the seconds.
What did it matter to count the seconds? It still hurt.
Everything still hurt.
But even so, Hope willed himself to move.
His muscles screamed when he adjusted to a crawl.
Now that night had fully submerged the world into darkness, Hope could barely see what was in front of him. The only forms he could mannage were the vague silhouette formations and hinted blue of the night. Behind him was pitch black. It must be a cave then. No wonder it felt like a wall had disappeared during his fall.
Krrrrrrrr...
Sunset happened a lot faster during this time of year. But why did the days change when the seasons change? Why were some nights longer than one portion of the year, and some days longer than the other portion of the year?
Such small questions didn't benefit Hope. At least, he assumed they didn't.
What was important was that it was cold. Cold nights were just as much of a threat as facing monsters.
But moreso in challenging the intelligence of one's survival. Not hand-to-hand combat.
Krrrrr...
Hope dragged his shield, the rim scratching.
He then stopped when his hands brushed against the monster's corpse. Or Grieve Crawler the Spell called it.
Once he sat himself up, something snapped inside his chest. Hope bent forward and groaned. It throbbed and ached like a sucking vermin that stubbornly won't let go.
Like how he did.
Wanting to heal at an abnormally fast rate only happened in stories that soldiers would dream about. Wherever and whatever stories they've read from, he didn't know. They entertained themselves too much with tales and daydreams.
Every time they returned from their missions, those soldiers highly expected themselves to easily spring back into action the next day. Perform their next line of duty as such Awakeneds have done. But soreness tied them to their beds, making it impossible for them to stand.
The more that happened, the more they realized that such stories and realities were different. And the imaginative dream of them acting like an Awakened was a mere fantasy.
But Awakened had it rough too, right?
"..."
'They're Awakened. Don't they recover a lot faster?'
Definitely faster than a Dreamer.
Hope curled again to relieve the ache in his chest, the voices slowly replacing the pain. He supposed they would be a distraction till the pain passes.
How should he put it...
He recognized all of their voices.
But at the same time, he didn't.
It was almost like standing in a sea of crowds. Individually, he could pinpoint what line came from where, or what lyric belonged to whom. But if they spoke all at once then it was intangible.
Huh. If he tried to recognize them all at once-
!!!
Hope's head swelled from the action.
The voices once distant and docile like the brushing of a wind suddenly turned into vicious snarls and barks. His mind tore in multiple directions as he attempted the feat. A call pulling him in one corner. Another pulling him in the other. They didn't have conscious thoughts of their own, or maybe they did, it was as if they cried 'Listen to me here,' or 'No over here!'
'Bad idea. Fucking. Bad. Idea-'
"Urgh....!"
Choose one Hope thought something said. His instinct probably. Something from the crowd, it said.
Anything.
'No...'
Hope pressed his head harder into the ground.
Hope didn't want to.
He didn't want to be at the mercy of his own mind like this.
He understood more now, those people's pain in his First Nightmare. All those rotted skeletons crawling for escape. Driven to insanity. Driven to death.
Hope bit down on his tongue. A sharp pain shot in his mouth as blood trickled with the taste of salt and iron.
Immediately, the voices settled as the pain overruled them all.
Finally, they returned to their original volume.
"Haaa...."
With a shaky hand, Hope leaned on the monster's corpse and forced himself to sit up again. This time he did it without fail. Although the pain was still there, he refused to obey that as well.
He traced his hand along the monster's shelled back. After reaching its middle to lower back, Hope slowly raised his left arm and brought his whole weight down to strike the shelled spine.
Slash!
"Erk!"
Hope squeezed his eyes shut.
His muscles rallied once more. But Hope was more than fed up with its complaints.
'Move.'
Hope pulled back and struck again. Then again. And again. And again.
And again.
Sqlssh!
The sound and squelch of soft meat were felt under his shield. It sank like a pillow, the aroma filling his senses. Hope dismissed his Memory; the shine of ethereal light lit one moment, then disappeared the next.
"....."
Hope flexed his hand before reaching through the warm flesh and silk blood. He felt around the monster's torn innards till a dim orb of light peeked through.
Hope was greeted with the Soul Shard. Nothing that could serve as a flashlight or a lamp, but it was something, nonetheless.
Hope wouldn't destroy it just yet.
"That's another one." Hope paused and eyed back at the monster.
Should he hide inside it...?
"....." He didn't like the idea. But it was an option. "Even in death, you're still useful."
Hope set the orb gently aside before turning back to widen the gash on the monster. A few times he stopped to give his arms and chest a break, but then continued until the monster's skinned side matched the crouching size of himself.
He didn't plan on hiding directly inside the beast. But resting against the monster's flesh would serve enough as a warm wall.
Besides, he didn't want to be in the belly of another beast again.
Hope turned and grabbed the orb. Pain scorched him as he adjusted against the skinned flesh, facing the cave's mouth. It was like a heating blanket. Hope didn't mind what effect it'd have on his appearance.
How worse could it get?
The blood heavily mixed with its odor, and himself. He stared blankly down at the soul shard, feeling the now-dried streaks along its surface. A ball of silver-blue flames between his palms. But no warmth emanated from it.
Hope frowned.
Well, now what was he going to do for the rest of the night?
He was exhausted, no doubt his muscles tired from the battle with the Grieve Crawler, but nothing of a sleepy spell lurked behind his eyes.
Truly...was he unable to sleep...?
"..."
A thought crossed his mind, but he felt reluctant about the idea.
His fingers twitched on the orb.
'I'll...have to do it carefully this time."
There was an obvious thing he could do if he were to stay up all night.
If he were going to explore his memories, he was going to do it his way.
But more carefully this time, of course, so as not to lose himself in its sea. Not drown in it. He was able to accidentally submerge himself into the memories before. That meant that he could do it consciously as well, right? He might as well learn since this curse was damned with him in the long run.
'Let's see...'
Hope paused.
Maybe memories of his sister then-
!!!
'Hi, Hope! Guess what I drew today!'
'Don't tease me like that!'
'Oh look at those lights! Can you see them? Can you see them?'
'Mama says to smile smile haha-'
Hope bit down on his tongue again.
"..."
It was quiet once more.
Well, as quiet as it could be.
He spat blood off to the side before recollecting his thoughts.
"More...specific specific...memory..." He muttered under his breath.
Hope took a deep breath and shut his eyes.
As he sat in the silence with the voices whispering in his ear, he caught one that was his sister's and held tight.
'Hope! Hope, come here!'
Hope just wanted to listen to the rest of her lines, to listen to her clear tune he hadn't heard in months. But the more he held onto her, the more he focused on the memory, there was an immediate pull. Images from that memory flashed behind his eyelids, all sporadic like puzzle pieces. But Hope let them piece together until they rebuilt all around him into one final concrete image.
It happened in an instant. But since he was more conscious about it, he saw the layers build themselves, rewriting reality.
And this memory...which time was it?
Ah. He remembered. Of course he did.
His sister's voice called out once more, and he found himself in his child form. Trapped in nostalgic's play.
The weight beneath his feet was there. His feet...were smaller in size. The soft wind through the window's net frame could also be felt against his skin. Huh. The splintered wooden planks could be counted for too.
Hope wanted to touch it, but his arm didn't move.
Right...It was a memory.
Not something he could run freely inside.
But something that he could only relive in the moment.
He felt a sigh escape his lips as he turned in the direction of where his sister called. He remembered—
—the apartment he and his family stayed in had worn gray rooms with short hallways. Shadowed green tints hid in the corners, adding to the stuffy mold smell of their home. Or temporary home. It was one of the many settlements he and his family had chosen from.
And they had moved a lot.
"Hope!" His sister called.
He paused as he looked into the room she was in. She was lying in bed with a messy fold of sheets around her.
"If you don't wash that filthy mouth of yours then you owe me a dollar!"
How...did his sister learn to talk like that again?
Ah. She was eight at this time. And he was ten.
Not that that explained her way of speech.
Hope felt his mouth curve into a frown and his small legs carry to her room. "The hell is a dollar?" He heard himself say.
Yura, his younger and only sister, pouted.
"Don't say that! And well- I don't know. I hear people mention somethin like that to the other kids." She raised her chin in the air. "They say 'every time you swear you put a dollar in a swear jar'."
She nodded as if in agreement with herself.
"Mm..." Hope reached her bedside and grabbed the edge of the flowery patterned wrinkled sheets.
"You sure-"
"Positive!"
Hope sighed as he pulled the sheets up to her waist. Then tried to flatten the wrinkles with the stroke of his hand till they disappeared.
"We don't need to do that."
At that moment, the sounds of gunfire could be heard in the distance. Like faint rapid thunder.
Yura simply shook her head.
"Yes we do! You spend your whole time at the window so much that you pick up your talk talk from all them soldiers." She glared at him.
Although, Hope couldn't help but pat her on the head in response.
He thought his way of speaking was fine.
"Ah. I think a dollar is money." Hope noticed Yura tilting her head in confusion.
He sighed again. "Something about growin on trees I heard."
Yura's eyes widened. "But we don't have any trees!"
The gunfire ceased in the distance.
"Nope." Hope placed her small worn teddy bear next to her. "But fine. I'll put a coin in a swear jar."
She frowned as she fiddled with the teddy bear's ears. "But where will you get all that money?"
Hope shrugged. "I'll remember till I earn myself some—
"Erk!"
Crack!
A random shot of pain twisted in Hope's ribs. Hope involuntarily gripped the orb hard enough that it shattered.
'Ah... How long till I recover?"
Hope gritted his teeth as he watched the faint blue vapor spill into his chest. Then darkness.
Hope groaned once he steadied his breathing.
"Huu..."
Hope's hands closed into a fist and pressed against his eyes.
"Seriously."
It felt so real. It was one thing to be lost in thought; it was another to be drowned in its entirety where the world ceased to exist.
Hope felt conflicted as he glimpsed back at the memories but then willed himself to pull away.
At this point, he should offer his sister the world then for his failed actions.
Though it would be comical if she actually put a number on how many times he'd cursed.
Not that it mattered anymore.
His jaw started to ache from clenching his teeth for so long. Seconds have passed. Probably minutes. As Hope stared into the darkness with the monster's flesh cushioning behind him, he forced his mind to keep the voices at bay.
He was tempted to explore more. But he didn't want to go into the past anymore.
It was the past for a reason.
Besides, it wasn't like anyone would miss him anyway.
So maybe he should do the same.
In need of another distraction, Hope summoned his [Ashen Shield]'s memory description. He might as well learn what this new weapon, or defensive item, had in store for him.
The familiar ethereal runes weaved themselves, filling in the lines. It almost reminded him of when he first summoned his Aspect's description-
'Nope. No. I don't fucking remember.'
Hope dismissed the tangent thought and read the description.
Memory: [Ashen Shield]
Memory Rank: Awakened
Memory Type: Weapon
Memory Description: [Against dragons and fiery beasts, a shield belonging to one of the great heart warriors withstood the heat and might of its enemies. But time has worn him and his allies. Even his shield had broken into a myriad of pieces. In last remembrance of him, the people have repaired what little remained and restored what little of itself. But alas, the strength of the shield always reflected the strength of its owner. Even to death]
Hope blinked at the runes.
'Dragons...With this thing...?'
Hope paused. Then summoned his shield, its form weighing on his left hand.
He frowned at the weight again.
Light.
Too light.
But it had its benefits for that, he supposed. In close combat, it proved not only to be good for deflecting and blocking, but also for agile attacks. That would prove useful. Hope wasn't exactly keen on hauling a heavy shield during battle.
"..."
But that also proved that he'd have to be in close combat for his to work effectively.
Hope dismissed it, a bitter taste filling his mouth. Not from his bloody tongue this time.
Such a valuable thing lost much of its originality, dwindling to a smaller, insignificant part of itself.
"Not entirely a disappointment."
It had some fight left in it to withstand the strength of an Awakened Beast. 'Always reflected the strength of its owner,' it claimed. Then what if he challenged a rank higher? A monster? A devil? A Fallen?
As long as his strength...or perhaps will did not wane, it too would endure the afflictions, 'even to death.'
Hope pressed closer against the corpse as a slight chill passed.
It was going to be a long night.
His own flesh begged for it.
At least Dreamers healed faster than mundane humans. Hopefully, by early morning, he would be able to start traveling again.
He was ready to get out of these hills as fast as possible and reach the Mirror City. Then he could reequip himself and travel his way back to Acheron.
And after that then...
Hope paused.
He would have to plan for that later.
***
Hope lost track of time that night.
Or at least he let himself to as he stared off into space and battled his mind. He had nothing to do after all except to be provoked by the untamed memories.
His fingers were tracing the rocky ground beside him, sometimes in light motions and other times in aggressive ones whenever the memories ensnared him. The skin had blistered from the constant friction over the hours, its raw tips more prone to pain.
But Hope's face remained placid.
He then turned his right leg to the side.
'Mm...That hurts less than...an hour ago?'
As he thought that, the atmosphere started to lighten up. It happened at a slow, gradual pace, and the cave in front of him became clearer. The cave was surprisingly small. The mouth of it was tall but inside was no more than fourteen paces across.
Hope turned his head to the left.
East.
This time, he couldn't see the sun rising. But he knew dawn had finally approached.