"Hey old man, do you know what is going on."
The man stepped closer to Devon.
The figure that was meant to be Devon had not made a move. It just stood there, with half a smile and half a frown.
The man looked at it for a while, trying to understand what was going on.
"Hey old man."
"It is fine."
He turned slightly, giving reassurance.
"Devon, Devon can you hear me."
I heard him. I heard him perfectly.
But I also heard something else.
The scream of my dead mother, her eyes laid open as she was killed in an instant.
My memories seemed to be contorting each time.
Till it made me the villain in each scene.
From her being yanked away by a monster, it changed to me pushing her to the monster, then I became the monster.
With each switch I found it harder to believe I was not the monster.
Tears dropped from my left eye.
I was in pain, excruciating pain, with nothing to do about it.
Then he came again.
My reflection.
It was his voice.
It sounded like mine, but wrong.
Close to my ears it whispered,
"It hurts, does it not."
I did not answer but he continued.
"They took us away from mother."
"It is their fault she is dead."
"If they had left you, you would have saved her."
"Whose fault."
"Them."
It pointed towards the man in front of me, wearing a conical helmet and a sleek armor.
I had to stop the pain I was feeling. I didn't mind making someone else the villain and I the victim.
No hesitation.
I slashed,
my arm was fast, from his side.
It clashed with the man, attempting to slam him away.
But the man stood there, his arm raised, blocking.
"It is your fault, it is all your fault."
I said it repeatedly to make it more true.
I lashed out again. Each arm that looked like tentacles striking, he blocked them with relative ease.
With a palm strike he sent me moving back a few meters.
I was not me anymore. I was something else.
I could not even tell what I was saying.
Faint black veins began surfacing beneath my skin, spreading slowly from my arm.
The man stared at me for a while. He watched my tears drop down to the floor.
From behind.
"Old man."
The boy with orange hair was about to move.
"Stay where you are."
He said it out.
The boy tried to speak.
"Stay where you are, no matter what, do not interfere."
He then dropped his battle stance and stood defenseless.
"I'm here now, and I won't fight back."
I launched at him once again.
But just like he had said, he stood perfectly still.
Moving my arm at lightning speed, I smashed into his ribs.
The attack was so powerful, it sent him flying through the darkness.
Without hesitation I followed his body.
The orange haired boy did not hesitate to follow.
On the ground was the man.
On top of him was me.
Smashing repeatedly into his mask.
Each hit breaking the ground beneath him.
Again.
And again.
The conical helmet had long gone off.
The mask was the only thing covering his face.
With a loud roar I smashed again. The hit breaking the mask and showing his face but I did not stop.
"Old man."
The orange haired boy screamed.
Just as he was about to move, the old man raised a hand telling him no.
The boy gritted his teeth, tears forming in his eyes.
I kept smashing.
Blood soon started covering my tentacles.
My other eye turned red.
The black veins now spread fully across my body, pulsing with each strike.
I kept punching him for several minutes, each blow echoing through the darkness.
The man through his half broken mask stared at me.
His eyes looking at me with some kind of pity, some kind of sadness.
I paused.
Those same eyes flashed in my memories, the same eyes my dead mother had.
It was the same look I could see on his face.
A tear fell onto him.
I went back, trying to retrieve who I was, the one I remembered myself to be.
He stood up and stepped closer.
I had finally gotten myself back a bit.
"Do not come closer."
I yelled.
But his footsteps the only thing I heard, as I covered my eyes with my arm.
"You blame yourself for it."
For what happened.
I did not answer.
"I said step back."
I threw a tentacle but he parried it off easily.
His one eye peeped through the mask, staring at me.
"You believe it is your fault, that you were responsible."
That was the last thing I wanted to hear.
My eyes filled with tears.
"I killed her, I killed my mother."
The man stood a few meters from me.
"The answer to that, you have to find yourself."
"But if you cannot remember why you killed someone, then you should not speak like someone who carries that burden."
"So I ask you Devon."
"Why did you kill your mother."
"Because, because."
I repeated, then stopped.
I had no answer so I asked myself.
"Why did I kill her?"
His voice came again.
"Because you are a murderer, it is who you are, a beast, an animal."
But his words were not getting through anymore.
My true memories were coming back.
I remembered clearly what had happened.
Then I answered.
"I did not kill her, it was not me."
He smiled.
"What do you feel right now?"
I was confused, then he asked again.
"Right now, what do you feel, do not think, answer."
I looked deeper.
It was anger.
It had always been there.
But I was directing it towards myself, not what had truly killed her.
My eyes began clearing the moment I realized that.
My large frame shrank.
The veins that had spread across my body slowly faded.
My arm returned to normal.
My anger overcame my regret.
And I was alive.
Naked.
Extremely tired.
I lost consciousness almost instantly.
The orange haired boy ran towards the beaten old man.
Stopped a few centimeters from him.
"What the hell old man?"
"What were you thinking."
"I should not be the more reasonable one between us."
He said nothing but let out a chuckle.
"Help me get him out of here. Hang on, is that tears I see?"
The boy tensed up, rubbed his eyes.
"Did you get beat up that much you seeing things."
The boy picked Devon, now naked on the floor.
And with a jump instantly left the Black Vault.
The man followed after giving the darkness a deep look.
Just as they stepped out.
A figure stood waiting.
With four others behind him, each wearing worn metal suits.
Only the man in the middle looked untouched.
He wore a long white apparel.
With a sword sheathed at his side.
He looked like he was in his mid thirties, but his presence felt more regal, more composed.
His hair was golden, flowing down his back.
Two long lines stretched from his eyes downward.
He stepped forward.
"I told you, did I not, if you ever put my son in danger, I will not let you take another breath."
The orange haired boy tried stepping forward only for the man to push him backward,
And step forward,
His mask still broken as he clutched his ribs.
"Commander Leygold, there is an explanation for this."
The man just stared down at him, his face showing obvious disgust.
Of course there is.
But I tell you this as your Commander.
"You should not measure my words with your pride."
His hands reached for his sword.
The man called Thyrus narrowed his eyes.
Seems like his mind was already made.