Day 10, Week 1 - The Step One before the Step One

[Corporal Light]

He didn't expect the exact kind of story the gangster decided to give him.

He supposed that he should've known the story would've been tragic or at the very least poignant to some degree. After all, how else would one end up being possessed by a malevolent being? It wasn't like he had simply found him in a corner somewhere and decided to allow him to take up residence in his mind.

But that wasn't what bothered the gunsmith.

What was so bothersome about the story was what it entailed and he didn't know if he should've felt sorry or distrusting. For one thing, he had no way to know what Koal was saying was the truth. He could've just as easily been manipulating him, just to backstab him later. He could still feel the ice pick in his hand, having buried it inside the bastard traitor's bosom. Part of him yearned to experience it again if only so he could mutilate the woman more.

On the other hand, the one thing he did know for certain was that the kid's other half, Seraph, had taken possession of him at some point. Exactly how was the question that gnawed at the back of his mind, despite his constant attempts to ignore it. Logic dictated that thrusting himself towards Lynch would've been a bad idea, but even SPB knew that wasn't going to convince him not to. Koal easily noticed the way he fidgeted in his seat, his eyes turning solid white and smoke rising from his sleeves. Occasionally, his eyes would revert to yellow, his posture softening, before he would blink and his eyes would turn back to a snow-white color, hardening his stance.

Despite that, however, he couldn't help but recognize the fact that everything he said was so damn familiar, and yet it was just as, if not more, obvious that he knew almost nothing about the gunsmith. Such a thought seemed foreign to him, and his eyes instantly switched to white and remained there. As Lynch finished speaking, he moved to sit next to him, his impulse telling him to punch him or just yell at him.

Instead, he stayed silent, watching the broken man walk up to the cave entrance, trying to calm himself down. But the gunner couldn't be calm. He had absolutely no idea if he could even trust the kid after all that he had gone through. The last time someone had decided to share their story with him, they had tried to get him killed after convincing him that they were his friend. That they truly wanted to help him, even when he pushed them away and threatened them. That they could've made him forget. What a stupid thing to have thought. All forgetting had done was make him blind to the world and all of its problems. And he was going to fix those problems if it meant killing off everyone in the Omniverse. The way he saw it, his attempts to forget had solved nothing, just like the Wicker Men had solved nothing. Just like the Church had solved nothing. Why exactly should he give Lynch the benefit of the doubt when everyone he had given it too had betrayed his trust at some point in their lives? The Church did, the Wicker Men did, his people did, Immy did.

Just like Immy. Just like Immy...

Smoke billowed out of every part of his body, enveloping his figure completely. He jerked out his pickaxe, smashing it into a nearby set of stalagmites. The sound of broken ice reverberated around the room as Lynch turned around, seeing a gaseous figure standing near their campfire, its weapon stabbed into a nearby wall and shouting at the top of its lungs.

"The truth? HERE'S YOUR FUCKING TRUTH, DIPSHIT! I've had to deal with crazies on EVERY END of EVERY SINGLE DAMN THING IN THE UNIVERSE who refuse to accept that two people just aren't the same! I've had to deal with people wanting me dead for QUITE SOME TIME. I've had to deal with bandits, soldiers, patriots, and TRAITORS ever since I got here! I've tried to keep my mouth shut about all of that and act like I don't care, BUT WHAT THE FUCK HAS THAT DONE FOR ME OR FOR ANYONE ELSE?! All that I've done since getting here is get shot at, get stabbed, and get BETRAYED by a person that could've been my friend! I've tried to forget all that shit was even a thing, maybe to preserve some kind of fucking sanity or some semblance of peace here."

"But the truth? The truth is, Lynch, is that I can't do that. All that's done is kept people killed because criminals like a friend of mine, and people like Camelot fighting wars because they REFUSE to coexist with each other, and the trolls and dwarves of this land KILLING EACH OTHER for some dumb shit reason. How can I sit here and act like all that doesn't exist? I can't, Koal, and I refuse to sit here and do nothing while wars continue and criminals walk free. I'm here to stop these fucking wars, and make sure they never reignite again, and I'm not letting your SOB STORY deter me from that."

The smoke dissipated as his rant ended, his grip on the haft of the pickaxe softening. He closed his eyes, a voice unlike his own coming out of his mouth. It was soft and emotionless.

"You shouldn't have done that, Ballad. You shouldn't have done that..."