4.5 Possessed By the Demon King

This was around the time Akiha heard snoring. Mish had dozed off on top of a log (where had they even gotten that from?). The bonfire made her look orange. Since Snail was green, did the flames turn her yellow? Kind of. Two-Rabbit was still blue... gray... whatever he was. The driver, whose existence Akiha had sorely forgotten, served himself one skewer after the other, aided by Pluie, the city guard that left the mercenary group to join their cause.

What time was it? Late. The stars above shone red, blue, yellow. A biting chill pervaded through the side of him that didn't face the bonfire, where nothing but darkness remained. No city lights, no distant chatter, not even a breeze—nothing. The universe began and ended with the fire, and what little life remained to surround it.

"So is Haku the dark lord or not?" Two-Rabbit asked.

"No."

"He got possessed by the demon king," Snail answered. She'd long since stopped eating, though there was a suspicious container next to her (where had she even gotten that from?). "That's what's happening, right?"

"No."

"Oh. But... I thought he was acting nice because of that? Because the demon king was tricking you? No?" Whatever face Akiha made then caused Snail's shoulders to hunch. "Sorry."

Around that time, Pluie and the driver came back, though no one seemed to want more falafel-plum skewers. "Did I miss something important?" Pluie inquired. "Last I heard was the demon king tricking—"

"He's not," Akiha snapped, and while he cleared his throat right after, the damage had already been done. He did it again, anyway. "Apologies. He's not. The bespectacled entity is a garden variety wraith at best, and he was there as a catalyst, not a cause."

"No," said Two-Rabbit.

"Yes."

"I regret to tell you that your friend's sudden niceness makes no sense."

"It does."

Upon taking the container, Snail stood up. "I'll, um. I'll take these to Cér. You guys can continue without me." Translation: time to run before this escalates.

Akiha found himself extending a hand. "I will."

"But..."

"I must tell him something important," Akiha lied, which made it easier to take the package, although Snail hesitated. "I shall use a will-o-wisp to guide my way and keep me warm."

"No, I mean..."

"Rest. You need it."

Without waiting—or caring—for a response, Akiha turned towards the darkness. The call of the void, as Haku might've called it. Hua would've had a field day studying the scenery and hatecriming locals, but she was too busy maintaining a seal that prevented the real darkness from spreading everywhere else. Akiha hadn't done so while she sought help instead, because he'd been too weak to keep the barrier up for long. Truly an 'idiot saving' or whatever Haku had called him.

Getting swallowed by inky, frosty black was kind of cathartic. Without Mish to carry the momentum, the only sound to come from the universe was the cracking of logs (where had they even gotten th... whatever) under fire. Every now and then, a hushed whisper would arise, though by the time it evolved from a spark to an ember, Akiha had strayed too far to hear what the topic was.

He walked.

He walked through the void.

Where was the moon?

A pale orange dot floated in the distance: Cérise's bonfire. As Akiha's vision adjusted to the darkness, he found the multicolored stars again, their tiny marks on the oasis, shadows of what used to host bandits. With the cold and no real color to distinguish it, how did the crunch of sand under feet differ from that of snow?

"Hello," Akiha told Cérise upon reaching the pale orange dot. Its glow made Cérise's eyes golden. While he'd obviously noticed Akiha, he made no effort to acknowledge this. "Uh, I, um. Snail sends you this."

When Akiha handed Cérise the container, the latter glanced at it, but he didn't take it. "Tell her to keep it. Bold of you to show up alone to what could've been a trap."

Yes. (He hadn't even considered that the bonfire could belong to someone or something else...) "Please take it."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're skin and bones."

"So are you," Cérise told him.

"Just—eat, you dumb fuck."

What should Akiha have expected? An insult? A scowl? Dry laughter? There was nothing. Cérise stared at his mini-bonfire again. "Snail cuts her meals in half to give some to me," he said. "Between a grown man and a giant child, who do you think needs it more?"

Akiha's arm began to tire. He held the container perpendicular to his body anyway. So silly. "Have you considered she might have adopted this behavior as a consquence of your own?"

"In which case, why enable it?"

This was like talking to a wall. Akiha grit his teeth. This wasn't it. This barren wasteland. This darkness. These bunch of useless—

No, no. He had to calm down.

One, two.

Deep breaths.

He sat next to Cérise, who visibly recoiled, but Akiha couldn't possibly care less at this point. There was only one conveniently-placed log, anyway. "Do you think we could beat Haku?" He asked.

Shockingly, Cérise didn't stand up. He almost did, though. Did he looked annoyed or pained? Both? But he didn't stand up. "Why don't you go back?" Was Cérise's non-answer. When Akiha couldn't come up with an excuse, he added, "What is it? Why do you keep talking to me?"

"I... the... it's just... I'm... sorry?"

"What?"

"Apologies. That's what I meant."

"For?"

"Existing?"

Cérise blinked. Neither annoyed nor pained, just baffled.

Akiha felt the call of the void again. "I-I just... so much has happened."

"...and?"

"Do you hate me?"

After an agonizing pause, Cérise sighed. "No."

"Sorry."

And then, as though this (?) weren't bad (?) enough, Cérise actually reached for the container. It seemed to be made from sort of straw. He opened the lid. When he witnessed the plum-falafel skewers, his reaction was to ask: "Who made this atrocity?"

"It's a lot better than it looks. I promise. Oh, and there's plenty left. You need not worry about Snail."

Though the falafel had turned soggy and purple. Cérise took a skewer out. His disgust was evident, even though it wasn't. Instead of putting it back, he let it roast over the fire for a bit. "If I'm eating this thing, you are, too," he said. "Take one."

Akiha did. It wasn't even that disgusting. Apparently they ate hot unicorn milk with noodles in Hua's tribe. And sugar. He almost said this, but Cérise probably didn't care. Only after Akiha had chomped into his skewer did Cérise do the same.

"What kind of meat is this?" He asked.

How would Akiha possibly know?

"...ah, I see now. It's human."

"Pardon me?"

"Human meat. You didn't notice?"

"What. No. NO!?" Akiha spit to the side. This was it. His breaking point. No more. He couldn't do this anymore.

Then Cérise burst out laughing. It was short. Too short. "It's not."

"Sheesh, that was—no. I can't even eat this thing anymore, just thinking about..."

"It's most likely lizard."

"Great! That certainly helps."

"People eat lizards. Lizards eat people." Cérise took a bite. He avoided the soggy falafel at all costs. To be fair, Akiha hadn't seen any livestock around, but... well... it was a desert. Were crops imported? Or plums. Did they even know what unicorn milk was like? Noodles? And they drank soup with cheese and bread at the top. "I'm not good at comforting people."

The statement broke Akiha out of... whatever that was. For how long had they remained silent, consuming falafel-lizard-plum skewers and staring at the fire, or the darkness? "I haven't asked for anything of the sort."

"Hm. Sure."

"Just being here helps."

"It does?" Cérise glanced at him.

"I, uh. I said that without thinking."

Silence. This was where Akiha would've said something funny to make him laugh again, but he couldn't think of anything to say, nor was he funny. "Mish fell asleep," he informed. "If that's why you left."

"It's not," Cérise replied.

"Then... why? Do you hate them?" 'Us?'

Cérise shook his head.

"Do you dislike them?" 'Us?'

"No."

"Then why be here and not there? Do you like being alone?"

"No." Cérise quickly scratched his hand, which meant it was true. Akiha blinked back the surprise. "I'm standing guard."

"Oh. But. It's late. We're safe. Besides, Two-Rabbit would be able to tell if someone showed up, wouldn't he?"

"Maybe."

"There's also wine."

"Plum wine."

"Yes." Under other circumstances, Akiha might've given such a beverage a chance. "Snail is also, uh... unwell. Though you might not be able to comfort her, I believe your presence alone would help. She was blinking back tears."

Cérise said nothing.

"Oh, come on."

"Fine." Cérise tossed the (now empty) skewer on the fire, which cracked purple for a moment. "Just don't make this a thing."

"'This?'"

"Talking to me when you're distressed." And then Cérise began to walk. The will-o-wisp followed him. Akiha trailed behind, with the half-empty container.

Snail, too, had fallen asleep once they returned. She lay against Two-Rabbit's side, who had fluffed into a ball, though he woke up upon hearing them, thus unfluffing. Pluie dutifully looked after the bonfire. The driver read a magazine. "Hello again," said Two-Rabbit. "I'm sorry about earlier."

Akiha waved this off. It was rude. He was too tired to think, so that's why he did that. "Don't mind it. I overreacted."

"An 'overreaction' is just a reaction."

"I suppose."

"Hello to you too," Two-Rabbit told Cérise. "There's plenty of food left. No alcohol."

"Thanks." He could've left since the reason why he'd come back in the first place was irrelevant, but he did not. As Cérise headed to the food station, he told Pluie, "Told you he'd let you in."

Akiha sat. It hurt to speak. In many ways. Too much. Too tired. As if knowing this, Two-Rabbit told him, "You can finish telling us what happened some other time. I think I get the gist of it."

Too tired to tell him no actual demon kings were involved. He really shouldn't have brought that up. At the time, Akiha had just fancied it a bit of interesting trivia.

Cérise actually came back. His skewer had nothing but meat, and he had wine, despite Two-Rabbit bristling at the sight. "I'll stand guard," he said. "There's a lot of empty tents. You lot should use those."

Right.

Tents. From slave traders. Who were now imprisoned due to an accidental victory. "I'll manage," Akiha replied, though he'd probably stay awake all night again. "My throat is beginning to ache, however, so we'll continue the tale some other time."

"No," said Two-Rabbit, not to Akiha, but to Cérise.

"Yes," said Cérise, not to Two-Rabbit, but the wine.

"No more drunks."

"No one gets drunk with plum wine. Go sleep."

"And you?"

"No point," Akiha told Two-Rabbit. "To get him to eat was a perilous task on its own."

"I can stand guard, too," Pluie said out of nowhere. "Since I'm a, you know. I'm trained." He was ignored.

Akiha had never slept under the stars. At this point, the fire's dance and song began to have a lulling effect, even as his bed was a convenient log in the literal middle of nowhere. The quietness was a blanket, serene, not unnerving, despite... everything. This whole mess.

The last thing he saw before closing his eyes were sand flies, floating around everyone but Cérise.

***

Lazslo visited him. His nightmare, to be precise. Akiha was about to get sold off by bandits. Like the illusions dreams were, Lazslo brushed them off, thus turning the landscape into colorful, dizzying swirls. "These losers won't do," he told Akiha.

Lazslo: the ascetic monk that'd promised to help when no one else would. His skin was pale, hair golden, eyes blue, though what was most striking by far with his right sclera being black. Akiha, no longer about to get kidnapped, could relax, although floating in a kaleidoscope still kind of counted as a nightmare. "I... perhaps?" He responded. "We're more capable than you'd think."

"These sacrifices look like they'd wrestle napkins and lose."

"Don't call them that."

"Warriors. My bad." Lazslo said the word like it was a punchline.

That should've been it—the explosion. Yet, there was nothing. No anger, not tears. Not anymore. "You mock me," Akiha replied, "Yet your trial depends on those who perform thankless tasks. Whether their weapon is a lance, or a mop, or their words, is irrelevant. Moreover, with no fame or fortune to their name, they managed to take down a bandit operation run... oh, you must've seen it."

"I did not, actually. The hole you tore in the fabric of space-time with borrowed magic, my magic, made it impossible." Like Cérise, Lazslo's expression didn't change much, but while the former defaulted to ennui, the latter was laced with irony. If he smiled, it reached his eyes, though not for the purest of reasons. "Though I'll say that your current surroundings back up your claims. Fine. I'll humor you."

That, exactly, was Lazslo's default attitude: 'Fine, I'll humor you.'

Still, it'd been Lazslo to fish Akiha out of the snow, the one to nurse him back to health, and the only one to answer his pleas, later on, when every neighboring town ignored him. "I think we can pass the trial," Akiha said. "I truly do."

"Well, I don't. But that's fine. There's still a long way to go."

"Indeed. More people will join, I'm sure."

Lazslo circled his hand as he spoke, blending the colors. "In any case, don't do things that might give away our contract again. I'm pretty sure your napkin friends already suspect."

Two-Rabbit probably did. Mish didn't seem that... burdened by reality to notice. Snail had more important things in mind at the time, and Cérise... maybe? It'd be unwise to ask. But maybe. "It was an emergency, but I understand. I won't." Probably.

The area Lazslo mixed had turned the color of mud. Using that, he drew a rectangle around himself, whose area twisted into what seemed to be a portal of sorts. A portal. Only an ancient mage would be able to pull that off. "Good luck," Lazslo said. "I'll be keeping an eye on you. Oh, and do preserve some skewers for me. They look disgusting and I'm curious."

He hopped into the portal.

He left.

Akiha's nightmares resumed.