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[oom] Day 260
Apr. 11th, 2020 09:23 pm“We don’t have time for this, Mateus!”
To anybody watching, they’re probably little more than streaks of light flashing about the Coliseum, crashing together with bursts of energy and then splitting apart again. Except Eden’s having to fight two battles at once: One against Mateus, and one against the hulking Heartless that used to be Hercules.
For all its size, it’s remarkably fast, and persistent in trying to go after the fleeing Thebians. Every time it lunges for one, Eden speeds into its way and shoves it back, just in time for Mateus to bear down on him and leave another slash mark across his body, the blood crystallising as it hits air.
Eden isn’t sure if Mateus plans on this being some kind of death by a thousand cuts, or if he’s just that little bit too slow to land a killing blow before Eden speeds away. The other boy is wearing him down, though. His limbs are starting to feel heavy and sluggish.
He needs to finish this. He needs to, and that means dropping the act.
The Heartless’ sword lands against his keyblade and sends him careening backwards, throwing up sand in his wake, keyblade digging into the ground. Mateus is quick to follow, keyblade raised above his head. Eden can see the chip in the blade he left before.
Deep breath.
Time to stop pretending.
Mateus grins wildly, energy erupting around his keyblade. “Limit Break: Absolute Do -- ...”
Eden hefts his keyblade and swings. It impacts the weak point, the chip in the blade. Mateus’ keyblade shatters on contact. With a crack, the Coliseum splits in two. A wave of air sends the Heartless tumbling backwards, crashing through the stands.
Mateus stares at the broken hilt in his hand. Slowly, carefully, he turns it over, blinking at it, eyes wide.
“I don’t understand …”
Eden dismisses his keyblade, clasping his hands behind his back. “Like I said. No time for this.”
Mateus is still staring, wide-eyed, at the remains of the keyblade in his hand. Eden cocks his head, waiting to see if he’ll realise that it’s really gone this time, that there’s no piecing it back together now.
“But you’re a -- …”
“He-e-ey, now, don’t go doubting yourself, bbbuddy. You’re still strong -- well, you were -- and I’m still weak,” Eden chirps, patting Mateus on the shoulder. He meanders past the other boy, rolling his shoulders into a shrug. “What can I say? Deep down, maybe I’m a craftsman, or even an artist. I know shoddy workmanship when I see it, y’know? You just prod it in the right place and it falls apart like wet cardboard.”
“I don’t understand,” Mateus says again.
“You don’t need to,” Eden replies, letting his tone go flat and cold again. “You don’t need to do anything anymore. Hey, man, remember all those times you were like ‘I’m a keybearer of Daybreak Town, these people don’t matter, arglblarglfargl,’? Well, now you’re one of those people. No keyblade, no powers, you can’t even open a Corridor, so you’re stuck on this world forever. You’re going to have to find a new way to live, dude.”
Mateus grips the hilt of his keyblade tighter. It’s flaking away now, cracking and dissolving. “I’m important. I matter. I’m the strongest keybearer in Daybreak Town. I’m the highest ranked keybearer in the highest ranked union, and you’re nothing. You use lies and tricks to come out on top because you don’t have any talent.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Eden says agreeably, pacing across the Coliseum. The Hercules Heartless (the … the Herculess). He summons his keyblade again, lifting it above his head. “Guess I’m showing you all my little tricks today.”
His keyblade blazes with white flame, spiralling upwards until it cuts through the miasma above them, a whirling torrent of light and pale fire. Beneath his feet, the magic circle appears, and the symbols of the Foretellers in it, one by one, unicorn, snake, bear, leopard, fox, goat, and lion.
The Herculess charges, bearing down on him. It’s a shame. He could have been a good ally.
“Limit Break,” Eden murmurs. “Lion’s Roar.”
He swings his blade down, dragging the torrent with it, until it crashes across the Coliseum, engulfing the Herculess and ripping through it. It tears its way through sand, stone, earth, brick, and when the light fades a second later, Eden sees the Herculess’ heart floating away, and a trench three foot wide and twelve feet deep carved into the ground.
Eden breathes out softly, then drags his persona up again, hiding himself behind the happy-go-lucky expressions that his body remembers.
“Anyway, see ya,” he chirps. “Gotta go finish this mission.”
To anybody watching, they’re probably little more than streaks of light flashing about the Coliseum, crashing together with bursts of energy and then splitting apart again. Except Eden’s having to fight two battles at once: One against Mateus, and one against the hulking Heartless that used to be Hercules.
For all its size, it’s remarkably fast, and persistent in trying to go after the fleeing Thebians. Every time it lunges for one, Eden speeds into its way and shoves it back, just in time for Mateus to bear down on him and leave another slash mark across his body, the blood crystallising as it hits air.
Eden isn’t sure if Mateus plans on this being some kind of death by a thousand cuts, or if he’s just that little bit too slow to land a killing blow before Eden speeds away. The other boy is wearing him down, though. His limbs are starting to feel heavy and sluggish.
He needs to finish this. He needs to, and that means dropping the act.
The Heartless’ sword lands against his keyblade and sends him careening backwards, throwing up sand in his wake, keyblade digging into the ground. Mateus is quick to follow, keyblade raised above his head. Eden can see the chip in the blade he left before.
Deep breath.
Time to stop pretending.
Mateus grins wildly, energy erupting around his keyblade. “Limit Break: Absolute Do -- ...”
Eden hefts his keyblade and swings. It impacts the weak point, the chip in the blade. Mateus’ keyblade shatters on contact. With a crack, the Coliseum splits in two. A wave of air sends the Heartless tumbling backwards, crashing through the stands.
Mateus stares at the broken hilt in his hand. Slowly, carefully, he turns it over, blinking at it, eyes wide.
“I don’t understand …”
Eden dismisses his keyblade, clasping his hands behind his back. “Like I said. No time for this.”
Mateus is still staring, wide-eyed, at the remains of the keyblade in his hand. Eden cocks his head, waiting to see if he’ll realise that it’s really gone this time, that there’s no piecing it back together now.
“But you’re a -- …”
“He-e-ey, now, don’t go doubting yourself, bbbuddy. You’re still strong -- well, you were -- and I’m still weak,” Eden chirps, patting Mateus on the shoulder. He meanders past the other boy, rolling his shoulders into a shrug. “What can I say? Deep down, maybe I’m a craftsman, or even an artist. I know shoddy workmanship when I see it, y’know? You just prod it in the right place and it falls apart like wet cardboard.”
“I don’t understand,” Mateus says again.
“You don’t need to,” Eden replies, letting his tone go flat and cold again. “You don’t need to do anything anymore. Hey, man, remember all those times you were like ‘I’m a keybearer of Daybreak Town, these people don’t matter, arglblarglfargl,’? Well, now you’re one of those people. No keyblade, no powers, you can’t even open a Corridor, so you’re stuck on this world forever. You’re going to have to find a new way to live, dude.”
Mateus grips the hilt of his keyblade tighter. It’s flaking away now, cracking and dissolving. “I’m important. I matter. I’m the strongest keybearer in Daybreak Town. I’m the highest ranked keybearer in the highest ranked union, and you’re nothing. You use lies and tricks to come out on top because you don’t have any talent.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Eden says agreeably, pacing across the Coliseum. The Hercules Heartless (the … the Herculess). He summons his keyblade again, lifting it above his head. “Guess I’m showing you all my little tricks today.”
His keyblade blazes with white flame, spiralling upwards until it cuts through the miasma above them, a whirling torrent of light and pale fire. Beneath his feet, the magic circle appears, and the symbols of the Foretellers in it, one by one, unicorn, snake, bear, leopard, fox, goat, and lion.
The Herculess charges, bearing down on him. It’s a shame. He could have been a good ally.
“Limit Break,” Eden murmurs. “Lion’s Roar.”
He swings his blade down, dragging the torrent with it, until it crashes across the Coliseum, engulfing the Herculess and ripping through it. It tears its way through sand, stone, earth, brick, and when the light fades a second later, Eden sees the Herculess’ heart floating away, and a trench three foot wide and twelve feet deep carved into the ground.
Eden breathes out softly, then drags his persona up again, hiding himself behind the happy-go-lucky expressions that his body remembers.
“Anyway, see ya,” he chirps. “Gotta go finish this mission.”
