One of them said, "This was Nate's sword!" with a harsh, incredulous tone.
Eyes blazing, Markus Oakland, a quirky warrior with a hint of resentment, gazed at Connor. "Why would you take his sword and turn it into some fucking spear?" His voice cracked with raw emotion. "I crumbled when he passed away! All that was left of him was that broken sword!"
Connor stiffened, his twin brother Jacob leaning slightly against him for balance as they shared the same body. The glare from Markus was piercing, and despite Connor's best effort to steady himself, his grip tightened on the jagged spear in his hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came that could explain the complicated mess of survival instincts and the crushing weight of their reality. How could he explain that to someone like Markus—a seasoned warrior who probably never had to scrounge for broken bits of metal just to survive?
Markus took another step forward, his voice rising in fury. "That sword was all that was left of him! A memory of his sacrifice! And you—" He jabbed a finger toward Connor's chest, "You turned it into... that?"
Connor's frustration flared, pushing past the pain in his body. "It was a shattered hunk of metal when I found it!" He fired back. "A useless relic wasn't going to keep me alive!"
A deep, tense silence descended upon the room. Jacob moved uneasily next Connor, the circumstances dampening his normal eagerness.
The hush was broken by a blond-haired, sharp-eyed explorer who spoke in a calm but forceful tone. It's not as if he took it from Nate's tomb, Marcus. The sword was already shattered. We couldn't have done anything with it. Perhaps this is a way to commemorate it, to give it a new purpose and a second chance at life.
Markus turned to him, disbelief etched into his face. "Honor it? By turning it into a crude weapon?"
"I told y'all we shouldn't save them, but Aria wouldn't listen," Markus muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking to the conjoined twins. "We lost a good warrior, and for what? These freaks?" He pointed at Connor and Jacob, his eyes venomous. "They look like some mutated cancer. Useless."
Connor couldn't stand it anymore. He stepped forward, the jagged spear clanging against the floor as he leaned on it for support. "I didn't have the luxury of thinking about honor or who this scrap piece of metal belonged to!" he snapped. "I was just trying my best to survive and get accustomed to this damn world! I didn't know this sword belonged to him."
His breath was ragged, his body trembling with effort. He turned away from Markus, his voice low but biting. "If Nate's sword was so sacred, maybe it should've done a better job protecting him," he muttered just loud enough for Markus to hear.
Markus's eyes flared with rage, his hands balling into fists. "Yo, you've got some nerve! How dare you?! He died because we came to rescue you! And this is how you repay him? Acting like his sacrifice meant nothing? You wouldn't even be here if it weren't for him—you and your brother would be dead! We could've just left you both to rot, but we didn't. And now you talk like his actions didn't save your lives? You're so damn ungrateful!"
The words hung in the air, thick with accusation.
Before Markus could go any further, Lyle, ever the level-headed one, stepped in between them. "I think we all need to calm down," he said, pausing before continuing. "Whether or not we made the right call is too early to tell. But I know it pains Markus, and we all miss Nate."
Markus shot a final glare at Connor before walking off in frustration, his heavy steps echoing in the tense silence. Connor stood there, his breathing uneven, the weight of the encounter pressing down on him.
Jacob, standing stiffly beside him, finally spoke, his voice soft but steady. "We never wanted anyone to die. If we could've saved Nate, we would've."
Lyle sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I know we all know that you didn't mean for any of this. It's just... emotions are running high right now, is all."
Connor glanced at the jagged spear in his hand, the words gnawing at him more than he'd like to admit. He didn't want to care about Markus's words, especially after he called them freaks, but they hit deeper than he could let on.
Aria stepped forward, her expression softening as she met his eyes. "We're not trying to diminish what you've been through. But Nate... he was one of us. And his sword—what it represented—it's all that we have left of him. You have to understand why Markus is upset."
Connor's grip on the spear loosened slightly. "I didn't know," he said quietly. "I had no idea that belonged to a significant someone in your life. I saw it as only a shattered metal object that I might utilize to stay alive.
After a prolonged period of staring at the weapon in his palm, he gradually returned it to its original state, with the shattered pieces lying on the ground. He placed it back where he had found it, as if to acknowledge the weight of what it had once been, even if it wasn't his to preserve.
Aria's gaze softened further, and she gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "We get that. But next time, try to ask. Or at least tell someone."
Jacob, trying to defuse the tension, gave a small, encouraging smile. "It's not like we have a manual for this world or anything. We're just figuring it out as we go."
Lyle chuckled dryly. "Isn't that the truth?"
The group fell into an uneasy silence. Markus's anger still hung in the air like a storm cloud, but whether it would pass, only time would tell.
Aria gave Connor a small nod, signaling the end of the conversation for now, before turning to follow Markus.
Connor let out a slow breath, his shoulders sagging as the weight of everything pressed on him. Jacob nudged him with a faint smile. "Hey, at least we didn't get thrown out. Small victories, right?"
Connor snorted, shaking his head with a dry chuckle. "Yeah. Small victories," he muttered, glancing down at his missing legs. "Real small victories."