"Rebirth?" Malik tilted his head.
The wind blew a symphony for those that were forgotten. But how could they be forgotten?
Darius remained silent, an odd silence unfitting of him.
"You're not how I recall you," Malik uttered.
"And is that all I ever was to you?" Darius responded.
A beat. His shadow flickers like a faulty light.
"You never knew my thoughts, my fears, my bitterness, my actions . . . you never knew who I was." He tilts his head mockingly.
"All you knew was the smile I gave a weak child."
Malik stays silent, breathing slowly.
"Tell me, how can you perceive a man you never really met?"
. . .
"People are not what they were, Malik. They are what you believed them to be."
Malik's eyes widened; he senses regret in himself, a weakness that emerges in his heart.
"You can't do this," he asserted.
He looked around, recognizing every stance, every face with hollowed-out eyes, and he knew how fragile they truly were. He can barely move a muscle as he stares at those he swore to protect. The memories advance forward, ignorant to his desire to stop fighting.
Darius's shadow twitches, like an afterimage.
Suddenly, Malik hears a step behind him and gently grabs a cold hand.
"Why must you do this?" Malik weakly says. "I avenged all of you." He gulped, holding a defensive stance.
"No hard feelings, Malik, but there is nothing left of us to feel."
Malik stumbles back, barely keeping balance. Darius's voice keeps cutting deeper, deeper than any blade held by the Bayonet.
"You could never save us, and we do not blame you. However, it seems you keep blaming yourself."
. . .
Every member of the hollow-eyed crew held another iron beam that was once planted in the ground.
"I'll never kill family."
. . .
"If your goal was to save us, you have failed. Now, this is your chance to withdraw and accept the blade further," Darius says, condescending.
Malik's spiral eye widens, pulsating as an asphyxiating ache occurs.
What can I do . . .
"Be sharp, Bayonet." Darius smirks, his razored eyes shut.
Malik's eyes turn swollen and red in an attempt to contain his cries.
"They want you dead, and you don't want them dead. Think." The Bayonet whispers.
Malik stumbles, but grabs onto his blade before hitting the floor.
He grips onto it tight, gritting his teeth.
An array of needles and pins puncture his mind as he struggles to think.
My rebirth will be recurrent.
Malik unsheathes the blade from the ground and cuts a steel beam that flies past him in one fell swoop.
"I rebuke your ignorance to my compassion," the Bayonet spoke in place of Malik.
"Show us how you've evolved, Malik." Darius smiles.
In a split second, another iron beam flies past Malik's head, and he moves out of the way elegantly.
He disappears and slices the beams that each hollow member held.
Darius stepped aside, away from the collision.
Swoosh!
Only a faint slice of air was audible.
Then—
Their fingers, arms, fell abruptly like objects.
The hollow-eyed family the Bayonet once knew had their throats slit elegantly.
Their heads fell back.
And they all fell peacefully.
"A swift end for those I am fond of," Malik spoke along with the Bayonet. "Rest now. Let your souls frolic."
Darius laughs, applauding Malik.
Malik exhales, holds his blade ready as he tenses his muscles.
Darius keeps his keen gaze as he welcomes Malik into his presence.
Malik charges and—
Darius jumps over him, facing his back upside down as he floats effortlessly.
Instantly, Malik turns around, the blade inching nearer to his head mid-air.
Instantaneously, Darius lightly taps his hand and knocks it off trajectory.
Darius sticks the landing and opens his arms wide.
"Your love for us has made us stronger. That is why you cannot dream of forgetting me, let alone end me."
"I embrace your nature, Malik," Darius says.
Malik stays silent, his teeth rattle in hesitation as he stares at his decisions laid out before him.
He hugs his head, the blade whispering louder, shaking his head as he growls.
Then, Malik takes a harsh leap.
Darius closes his eyes as he senses Malik nearing him and—
Boom!
A flying knee lands on Malik's chin as he charges, then falls gracefully.
Malik furrows his eyebrows while showing his fangs like a rabid animal.
"Strange, I've never seen you make that face before," Darius mocks.
Malik attempts to slice, but Darius grabs his arm.
However, he had not paid attention to the other arm . . .
Gash!
Malik planted his fingers into the back of Darius's knee, knocking him off balance.
His fingers dug into his knee and severed a vital artery.
Blood gushed out, redder than the sky. As he falls with glee, Malik takes the blade and lacerates his stomach.
Darius cackles in pain, face-planting the ground. With muffled laughs, he flips over and stares at his wounds. He gets up like nothing happened as Malik stares, still wielding the bloody blade in his palm.
Like a force pulled him down, Malik fell to his knees, frustrated. He yelled in a primal manner and stabbed the ground multiple times.
Damn it!
Darius laughs and walks in front of Malik, taunting him.
Malik looks up. "I never wanted this . . ."
"So stop trying to be in control," Darius responds. "Let your regret culminate, then let it go."
Malik tenses his muscles as he cannot look him in the eye. Looking down, he cackles uncontrollably. Then, he looks up.
The clouds begin to bleed, leaking blood-like rain.
"Arise, Malik. There is more to do." Darius offers his hand.
Malik leans his attention to him and ponders.
A hand filled with kindness, but behind the gesture, Malik knows it will never come to be.
He grips the blade tightly, biting his lip until it bleeds. The sky kept pouring harsh red, and it had no plan of stopping.
What does it take for one to let go?
Malik thought, then a familiar voice crept, one that he tried to resist.
"To kill it yourself," the Bayonet uttered.
. . .
The innocent hand of remorse faced Malik even in the treacherous rain.
Suddenly, he got up. Hatred? Sadness? Regret? No emotion was discernible.
Darius smiled wider as he sees Malik's hand come closer to his. Barely grazing fingertips, they begin to embrace each other.
Before their palms make contact—
Slice!
. . .
With a clean slash at the wrist, the hand fell, and so did all the regret. It landed on the ground, drowning in the red storm.
Darius stared at the wound with a frown.It wouldn't heal.
The open wound bled harder than the rain; a downpour of agony raced in Darius's mind.
"Pain," he uttered weakly. "You made the right choice, Malik . . ."
Then he toppled over, hugging the crimson ground.
Malik remained silent, staring him in the eyes with empathy. He left the bleeding Darius behind, ignoring every word, for it was all a blur beneath the bloody hurricane.
Malik forcefully shut his eyes, persisting to walk forward.
"Do not turn back." The Bayonet pierced.
. . .
I know.
Pushing forward, Malik felt his injuries add up, but he kept going.
The winds tried to turn his head to face his actions, but he resisted. He would never falter. He gripped the blade, slicing through every shard of rain that stood in his way.
"The Bayonet has become my only companion," he whispers to himself.
In my thoughts, I never once considered to face what was in front of me, and here I am. Oh, how I hated how quick life has become, but I have been forced to tackle it.
I had tossed aside my guilt, anger, and regrets, only to replace them with an irrefutable kindness. But now I see that my kindness has turned into a prison, a prison where it hid the real me.
The Malik I once knew was a fracture of what I really am . . .
When I put the pieces together, I am not beautiful. But now that I am whole, I am not bound by anything anymore. I am bound by my surroundings no longer, but am I still bound by myself?
I had been so blind that I never noticed that this is land. I can feel it, smell it, touch it, see it. Now I know there is a whole world to explore. Nine realms, with their different cultures, not one I have seen. I had taken this world as a punishment, a conviction for my guilt.
But now I notice that this is—
A gift.
Was there a reason I was never allowed to see it?
. . .
Malik closes his eyes, stomping the ground with every step he takes.
No matter what happens, he will never look back.
Never.
. . .