The air was filled with confusion and hesitation. Yet, the weight of the sword in a person's hand didn't lie when danger was afoot.
What looked like an illusion to them was none other than his 'image.' Perhaps 'physical form' would've done better. And that such a thing existed, it was no far-cry of how many-half-true stories Kilgore had heard in his lifetime.
'One' life. In an attempt to break away from his past memories, the ones which brought about his fate from another version of this world. It was quite jarring to remember something different, or the same; the context in-between was important, so much so that it got away from him the moment he was shot into his very own corpse.
His body was moved in an interesting way that followed Phronta's guidance when she took an initiative towards the path of divinity, whatever it is, she meant it and probably would've stayed there through to the end.
And in the end, following her was his only deliverance. Perhaps not understanding half the things he really did understand was a higher caliber of ignorance. Nobody would truly understand any more than him, but most definitely would believe they did if they were presented with two 'fake' and 'true' options.
And those options stem from the truth.
Somewhere, somewhere lost, inside his chest was still himself, the self he felt comfortable with.
He asked himself, why was he being cautious? After all, who cares if this world of many possibilities has no need for him? And where did this forlorn feeling at the pit of his heart swell up from?
'Do you understand what you mean to each and every piece of existence in this little world around you? Everything else that you don't know? Or do you truly find value in the life that your actions have ruined? Be completely and utterly selfish... That's what you were made for! Not this game of tag that... That God forbid... Forbade us from your heart!' Zabulus' Psyche spoke to him, even now. Even in his changed state.
And it wasn't something to ignore. Something had made him shift his viewpoint on life—of what life was to him.
Phronta held his hand as she began to run away towards the other exit, making time slow down in their pace. To them, it might've gone faster, perhaps. However, to Kilgore, even if he looked, it would make sense to be moving quickly. But from his point-of-view, something felt off.
But where was the point in escaping? He thought.
The White Queen will simply call upon the God, one way or another. It's either the Queen or God to smite down traitors. He thought.
But for what purpose would Phronta, a loyalist to the Forty-Eight and the Queen, decide to betray her principles and escape right here and right now, or could it be that... That the Azkite is controlling her mind, just as one would think initially.
"That filthy hell-spawn will pay! He is taking control of our Phronta; Halt any who let her escape! We will strike him down, but you will keep our Phronta a sacred maiden, unadulterated, away from harm's way!" Kilgore boasted, the gears in his head turned. 'So that's it... You infiltrated our ranks, killed one of our sacred daughters of the Forty-Eight... and destroyed proof of the heresy perpetuated by your kind!'
Surprisingly calm, the Zabulus stated whilst running away, "She is no longer your property, hood-guy! Come and get her yourself!" Zabulus taunted him even though he had no intention to really fight him or go through the trouble to justify himself. Something was telling him to lead Kilgore into certain death, but he fought back enough against it that it would give him enough wiggle-room to save his skin.
"S-sir... hah... hah... I'm losing a-air... I can't keep-"
"Just a little longer, come on. Please."
"Nghhh.... A-alright... But, why did you make Kilgore follow us?"
"I don't plan to play along with his sickening sense of irony. Had it been up to him how this goes then-"
"Halt! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!!" Kilgore's voice echoed throughout the hallway they found themselves in.
Thinking for a moment, Zabulus swept Phronta off her feet and carried her princess-style. "Alright, looks like you can rest easy."
"H-hey! W-what are you doing..?!"
"I promise not to misbehave. Just endure this a while longer,"
Feet on the cold stone tiles, he began to pick up his pace. He was actually keeping up with the ones behind him, but instead of catching up he was creating more and more distance between him and them.
Their weaponry began to echo louder and louder the farther it got away.
"Hmmm, let's see..." He wondered. "There should be a hidden tunnel right about... Now!" And a simple leap to the air allowed him to fall directly inside a hole that wasn't there to begin with, "You can do almost anything you want to the surroundings as long as you have faith, right?" Said Zabulus to himself as he let himself drop down, keeping Phronta in his grasp, tight and secure, as Kilgore and his brigade came across where he fell down, but ultimately found nothing, only a trace of where the ground should've given way.
As darkness loomed around them, darkness filled with questions of purpose, only a few men could find salvation from the clutches of 'righteousness.'
'Poor naive fools.' Zabulus would not be here if it weren't for Reiah and her memories. How convenient is one's life when using only the information obtained from their enemy's perspectives?
"We're at the bottom now. No one should be able to follow us here. Otherwise, they'll be crushed to their deaths from falling." Zabulus spoke in a relaxed way.
Putting her down. She couldn't help but speak. "E-Everyone will j-j-just f-fall to their d-deaths...?"
The thought.
"Perhaps so, but we're different. I don't plan to meet my end just yet." He 'looked' her in the eyes with that last statement, some things are just better left said than unsaid.
She stayed silent at those words, unsure of what to make of those words, but willing enough to believe in his words because, "Hey, s-so... what was your name ag-ag-again?" she never really knew his name, so saying 'again' was a bluff.
He was still carrying her, despite everything. The path they were treading was dimly lit, enough to make him understand that there might've been somebody down here. "My name is Zabulus, as you're unaware. But I'll also not abandon you simply because you did not know that from the beginning." As he gave her his name, she responded to the silence by putting her arms around his neck and embraced him.
Quiet as can be, there seemed to have been a ruckus outside.
They were most likely in the safe regardless, but he had to keep safe by walking quietly down this tunnel. After all, there could've been anybody or a mechanism to detect intruders anywhere in this forsaken place.
"Can you... stop that?" Referring to her gentle touch, almost an embrace.
"Sorry... i-it just w-was starting to b-bother me if you wouldn't do the same,"
"..." As he grew silent, he couldn't lie to the fact it wasn't something he wanted to get close to. Why wouldn't he, after all? In all his years, since being born, and, seemingly, many times thereafter he couldn't remember having a real and proper embrace. Perhaps only in recent memory, it was with Onofre, but he wonders if she'll accept him anymore. A true friend was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of person. Those were all things he learnt now, and now was much better than later. "Say, have you ever met a traitor?" He asked abruptly.
"W-where is this coming from?"
"I won't answer your question if you don't answer mine. That's fair, isn't it?"
"It's a yes and no sort of situation... but the yes part is far more prevalent than the no one."
He pondered if he should tell her what's inside his heart or not.
'Though, not everyone must know everything. A pity you don't have more knowledge, Phronta. But I won't abandon you either, because I am much the same.' The words he thought all had a touch of sadness in-between. For all the lives he destroyed and lived through...
'....'s....'s....'s..."
He stopped walking.
Something was being said from within him once again. A soul voice that can only belong to Vetro. His name and his memory was important in helping all these half-corpses find their worth before departing from the realm, one which tied them all together.
Worried that he'd become his old self once again, he pushed Vetro's voice back into his soul. To make him stay there, alone, where his Psyche could eat him and nurture his hatred for an eternity. That way he might lose another part of him that didn't belong.
...
'My eyes can't see, but that voice belonged to him. My ears can't hear, but those were his thoughts.'
Phronta released her arm around his neck. "What happened? Y-you look d-d-disturbed..."
Snapped away from his thoughts, he pretended to laugh, "It's nothing. I'm probably just a bit tired," We all laugh sometimes, "Are you okay? I know the way out—by the looks of it—it should be up ahead by this point."
...
Slowly, almost as if she was holding something back, she brought her arms down against her sides and huffed out a lot of air. "You... Are not alright, are you? You inhabit the vessel... T-that brought down my sister, you still h-have that part in you... r-right? I-I-I mean, you looked distraught for a moment, but I don't think even God could be as compassionate as a b-blind man... right?"
"Huh? What do you mean? What's God got to do with anything right now?"
"G-god? B-believe me when I say this, b-but God does n-nothing and everything a-all at once..."
"So just what are you saying?" He questioned non-rhetorically.
"Everything, T-The Forty-Eight, it was a lie when they t-told you that the White Queen was their only leader... b-but she only exists under the F-forty-Eight... U-understand?" Her breaths were loud.
"Sounds like hogwash. Are you telling me Onofre-"
"D-do you know her?! Ono-Ono... That's the name of the White Queen? The very one which rules Onkhivol?!"
"Yeah, that's what she told me her name was... I think. It seems you guys really don't have any clue what your real ruler is, huh? Or is it something else...? Does that mean that everything that's been happening here is unknown to her? I doubt that could be possible..."
"...w-w-w-wh.... H-ho-"
"...I wouldn't go telling everyone about this if I were you, yet again... I don't believe there's nobody left to tell at this point. They all either think I'm the enemy or that you've been brainwashed... Well, that's their problem. Whatever it is, I have no real reason to come back here once I leave."
"T-then where will you go?"
"Back home."
"Your home... Was it the same as mine? Did everyone see death for their kind or salvation...?"
"There was no one but me at my home. I had been trapped back there in my mind for as long as I existed. You see... I had... murdered my mother."
She was quiet.
Zabulus doesn't flinch or halt his steps, but a feeling within began to fester. Like poison in one's veins, a sense of sickness hit him hard but he said nothing; kept his head facing forward and tried his damnedest not to make a single bit of regret known. "I still have her image in my mind when I sleep, in the back of my soul... I don't know what it was that lead me to that choice. But I know that she did what she did, and it was that she kept me away from the world. I have regrets that are overshadowed by the sheer want of freedom and choice that was given to me despite all the odds against it. If there was an axiom of choice, then it would be the choice that makes a person."
It makes no difference if that ideal ends a human life, choice is an apex that could only happen when free will is the judge. And man was a terrible being who towered over the maxims of the concept of Choice; everything underneath his reign and body was his territory. Thus he took away what was next to be his. Freedom. Man created prisons, man created rule, man created law. Men had free will, and thus limited it through their own stupidity of conceiving anything out of the norm from their thoughts and vision of the world.
To be no such thing of man, is no way of man. Everything was a set path, everyone was a passive existence. Too weak. The only chance at freedom was through choice, that which was stripped away eons ago by oneself. And choice would endure a limit of freedom. That was the true realization of selection and desire. Everything was created because you can decide, not because it was all set in stone from the beginning of time.
Nothing made sense with clear and logical progression. There were people from afar that were dead, some from afar that reigned supreme above tainted corpses of the earth below them. Some were too stupid to recognize that there was always death among the land, everywhere, that the same corpse has a different person within their flesh. The ultimate choice has been, and will always be, the absolute will to continue living, after being ripped from a body and relinquishing their death. Some die hundreds of times in a lifetime, some die never. That was the way of reality, that was the will and action that derived from Choice. To be an axiom of choice is to become a God in your own right. The only God of your own domain; of that domain that creates things within your life. No longer will passivity pass the responsibility of creation and recreation on to someone else. Death wasn't an end, and nor was it simply the journey from start to finish. Everyone in this world was already dead, that is why they cannot find their way 'home'—there is none. Some learn this fact, most get sheltered from such awful truths and realities. Some... become nothing. The most awful end is to be nothing; to do nothing.
That is why Zabulus believes that he will never die.