Chapter 287 (2/2)
The sky above them darkened, and Shal felt his Aether grow more distant, more difficult to utilize.
“Fine,” Gerroark growled, his eyes bright. “Then let’s begin.”
****
Randidly was barely conscious. Whatever that fucker had done, had left him mostly blinded and unable to focus. Thinking at all was too painful. Using Skills… moving… facial expressions… talking…
Randidly groaned.
The jostling didn’t help, but strangely, it abruptly stopped. The blurs and colors slowly stopped spinning, and Randidly focused as hard as he could, narrowing his attention.
He was in… on a platform? Divvet stood outside of it, next to a bored looking man in a uniform, who pressed-
Energy, stange constructs of Aether in the air around him. They caught his attention, and Randidly focused, and immediately regretted it, groaning. His headache felt like someone was sharpening a rusty ax on his cerebellum.
But then-
Randidly thought it was a smile at first, on Divveltian’s face, which was shocking enough. But then he realized it was too low, and too red. It was on Divvet’s neck, and weeping downwards in long streaks.
Divvet fell forward, and the bored looking man was suddenly an alarmed looking man, spinning around, his eyes wide, but then he fell too, and there was now just a new man standing there, holding two objects, one in each arm.
The energy began to swirl and flare brighter around Randidly, blocking off his vision, but he could recognize the man, even through the swirl of energy. The man seemed annoyed, and his name-
“Marco… Polo….?”
The energy went bright, and Randidly lost consciousness.
****
Helen, her chest heaving, arrived at the inn. Or the site where the inn used to stand.
It had been leveled, totally and completely. There was no sign of Aethon or Randidly. Just a hole in the ground where the building had been. She wondered idly how Deardun would heal, after it had been scarred so completely like this. How the great Styles would defend their actions, doing nothing aside from Aethon’s interference.
How the people would remember this Regional Tournament.
There was only some dead bodies, and Claptrap standing over one, crying. Emptiness and fear swirled in her. She had been too late. Everyone…. All of them, had moved on, leaving her here, alone. She had no idea where the assurance came from, but she felt deeply, truly, that they had left. It was an unavoidable fact. And she-
The body on the ground at Claptrap’s feet was Roger’s.
Helen was shocked how easily that name came to her, when looking at him. He had been decapitated, but he was also covered in wounds, which wasn’t that strange for him. His face though…
Locked forever into that dumb look of determination. And now that she saw it so clearly, so frozen in time, Helen recognized where it had come from. That was Randidly’s expression, the tight lips, the narrowed eyes, the firm belief that he would succeed.
Helen had always thought that Roger was the furthest from Randidly’s potential of them all, barely taking it seriously, but… He was here, on the ground, the proof forever shaping how she would remember Roger.
Maybe he had been the one who looked up to him the most. Needed him the most. Wanted to be him the most. That day, when they had all met, Roger’s pride had been crushed. The arrogance that he had based on his pedigree was lost to him, so he had to find something new. A new source of strength.
The brutal dedication and refusal to give in he had learned from Randidly would have undoubtedly been something he could rely on for his entire life… They really seemed so similar in that moment, their faces overlapping.
But where Randidly’s eyes would glow emerald with that expression, Roger’s eyes were dead and empty.
“I killed him, you know.” Claptrap spoke up. “Because I hate you all. I hate… how weak you made me feel.”
Helen just turned and walked away.
“Does it piss you off?” Claptrap taunted, tears streaming down his face. “Are you just afraid? I could kill you right-”
“Claptrap,” Helen said softly, turning and looking over her shoulder. “You’re trembling.”
Then she turned and left. The emotions she felt were ugly and vicious, yes, but there was something colder and more lonely numbing it all. She didn’t have the will to deal with Claptrap and his issues.
In the wake of Randidly’s abrupt departure, they all had their own demons.