—Clink, clink.
Repeating noise of metal chipping away stone echoed endlessly in a tunnel. The humidity made every breath feel like you're drowning and the constant phlegm dripping down their throats. The combination of ailment that every worker has gotten used to. Amongst the hundreds of men that were evenly spread out, a walking corpse was imitating his peers.
A man, covered in layers of cloth kept relentlessly digging, a damp spot had slowly gathered at his station. He's well-known in this company. Not the good kind, but far below the status that someone might label as infamous. The nickname, "Ghoul" has stuck to him.
Every swing the man took, the tightly woven buttons on his shirt inched towards popping. The next ferocious strike happened to just that. Nearly all of them unbuttoned, unable to contain the muscular physique underneath. Although his physique wasn't that otherworldly, his skin was—pale. Pale to a point where if he stood in front of a large white wall, his veins would resemble a map against his stark white skin.
Lord knows how long he's been at it, though now with an excuse, he gave himself a moment to take a breather. While buttoning up, he glanced the way he came from. His station's quite close to the entrance, since no regular human like him could withstand the mana pressure down the tunnel. On his tippy-toes he could see the tunnel's entrance. On the deeper end, tunnel seemingly had no end. Although he's heard of this tunnel having an end, it's so thick with mana and pressure than even races that were born underground struggled to withstand it.
His eyes glance at the unwaning light source in this hell hole. Without the help of tiny blue crystals that were holstered at the unstable ceiling, they'd have to use lamps.
Quite ironic how the main resource of the mines are just above their heads, helping them on this endeavor. Mana Crystals, an anomalous crystal formation that formed after "that".
A loud singular bell grabbed his attention; his, and many of his peers at Level 1, shift has ended. The miners huddled up at the entrance way, the tight spaces seem to have made them unaware of personal space. Slowly, but surely the Ghoul trudged forward.
The pale man calmly waited for his turn, eventually he arrived at the "Den". Despite being under hundreds of meter underground, the structure held up. It's a huge open area with thousands of paths that have branches in them.
The Ghoul's eyes gloss over a group of young men, with their self-bought pristine gear and worn down company pickaxes. A large centauresque automaton stood tall amidst them. Its single blue "eye" projecting a hologram of an environment that could be mistaken for ant nest map.
The man smiles for some reason, his eyes leave the new workers and dart to his hands; worn down and calloused. When will it end?
The man's eyes dulled, turning blank. However, he didn't crash into anyone. In fact, with over hundred workers, with different races, sizes; none were colliding. Their visages akin to worker ants, following routine and being persistent.
Speaking of ants, some of them actually were; Intectezoids. Held as the creepy fellas with pincers, while that didn't change, overtime their efficiency and strength were appreciated by all.
While still unaware and unbothered, he somehow managed to bump into someone. Someone far below his eye level.
"Oi, Big Man. The guy's are heading out to drink. Wanna come with?" The dwarf, with his braided golden beard asked him. With his thumb, he gestured behind him while the other rubbed his rotund stomach. He wore identical clothes to the Ghoul, though the dwarf didn't cover his chest and instead had tied jacket around his hips.
"…" The Ghoul shook his head, the dwarf had predicted this and glanced at the stone at the ground. With eyes that the Ghoul could barely distinguish previously, were filled with worry.
"You… alright, brother? Since the day I met you, you haven't been this quiet… hoho, I can't believe I'm about to say this, but fuck ale." He walked up the Ghoul, his headlamp barely at the height of his chest.
"I'm not that smart on things like these, it looks like you need someone to talk to and I'm here for you brother." He playfully punched the Ghoul's stomach.
"I'm okay, thanks though." A hoarse reply for the Ghoul shut him down, he turned around and left, leaving the Dwarf more worried than before.
I've changed, but what of it. I can't change the past can I?
The Ghoul joined the mindless and tired queue that awaited to escape these depths. That gave him time to reflect whether "it" is worth it.
The row kept getting longer, at least the view of the elevator in his eyes has gotten closer. Shortly, the conductor opens the gate, letting him in to it.
The ride, well it was a ride, filled with other sweat miners. With the press of a button the elevator sped upwards, crossing the threshold of the one's in the past by a wide margin. The rocky shaft blurred and their bodies became heavy for a few moments; and they were out.
A red hue colored the sky, and in turn the world greet them. What are the chances, huh? It's that time again.
He chose a schedule that made it so that his free time was at nights, but unlike yesterday, or in fact any day in the past month. This night's moon was red, hence the name phenomena called "Velvet Moon". It's also the reason there weren't any anthropomorphics on the way home, they know better than to avoid causing a mayhem where they live.
The Ghoul however, didn't care. He effortlessly squeezed through tight alleyways. Avoiding the annoyingly populated night streets that were filled with broken people like him.
He emerged from one, through the red haze of the Velvet Moon, a warm place, without any customers seemingly welcomed him. The home of comfort, an escape from the misery and darkness; A Ramen shop.
His smile appeared once more, how come he kept being drawn to other people? I can't reject her, especially without eating her special one last time.
The Ghoul trudged closer, a soft sound of noodle dough being kneaded faded in. The shop was more like a permanent stand that was built in front of a first-floor apartment. It made sense since he lived just upstairs.
He waved through the blinds and sat down on an uncomfortable, yet slightly nostalgic chair. The Cook behind this meager shop was a woman, her delicate, though mature hands knit and tossed the dough. Effortlessly making nearly a foot of noodles with one batch.
"Phuu, that does it. Should be enough for a bit…" She said as the floured noodles plopped down on the counter.
"The hel— say something if you're here! With your creepy ass habits." She pouted, her wrinkles and tired eyes couldn't hide the slight smile.
"Just so you know, you're paying extra for this."
"The spe—".
"The special. I know, I know. You don't order anything besides that." She cut him off and tossed a portion of the uncooked noodles and threw them in the boiling pot. She didn't sit still and started throwing spices, chicken strips and all sorts of vegetables into another pot.
The Ghoul didn't pay too much attention, he'd seen it hundreds of times by now. What grabbed his gaze was a picture. Is it new? I haven't seen it before.
The picture, worn down and with clear fold marks, depicted a young man wearing a fully blacked out suit. His right hand was gracefully placed on a woman's hip, she also wore a male suit, but her attractiveness didn't dissipate not one bit.
Must be her husband… times have changed, I'm stupid to think that I was the only one affected.
Soon, the bowl of steaming ramen slid on the counter, the bowl had been shoved in his face. Without further ado, he tried some;
"Hahaha! I made the special, special. Just for you." She laughed as the previous emotionless Ghoul was coughing. He held his chin high to prevent his nose dripping like a child. The ramen was, spicy, to say the least.
The calm silence between them fell into place, she felt the palpable barrier that the Ghoul has built up. After all for all the times he's been here, he barely talked.
The Ghoul paid for it, "Thank you." His hoarse voice grabbed her attention. This young man…
Her arms trembled. He left, leaving her, once again, alone. He disappeared behind the blinds, his presence had already waned, but the eyes of his had burned into her memory.
After turning off the stove top, she made way to the apartment part behind the store.
As she entered, another picture was placed on eye-level for her on the cabinet. A young man, with muddy bleached hair, an unrivaled physique and a crispy brown tan.
"It's been a while… this stupid mother can't help you…"
⨂
The Ghoul reached his apartment, the door wasn't even locked, what's there to steal anyway? Ignoring the mess of this barely livably-sized apartment, his goal was the fridge. Inside, nothing edible, but his hand drifts forward and grabs a glass bottle filled with a brown liquid. A cold beer is all I need right now.
With one in hand, he went back to the hall, with his sluggish steps, he battled the the stairs. Which quickly led him to arrived at the rooftop. However, he immediately had to cover his eyes from the light. The building across from his, was plastered with a giant holographic screen that buzzed loudly. It kept flashed random news and ads.
He popped the beer open, the ridged cap cutting into the callouses. Sat down on the edge, trying to ignore the blistering light and the electrical humming.
"Fucking hell…" He clutched his head, folding into the vertical fetal position. Through his legs, he can see the barren street down below.
A news segment appeared, with bright bold letter, passing a message. "Blue Ice-Queen shuts down 33rd Mana Beast with zero casualties."
Then an image of a woman flickers on the screen. Her blank expression, her empty eyes and the cyan tipped hair; It felt she was born to fit that title. She was unusually attractive, in a sense that she was a porcelain doll that you'd have to be careful not to crack.
The Ghoul's eyes stared deep into hers, far longer than a normal passerby would.
"Whatever happened, happened." He whispered, placing the bottle near his lips, however, tilting it revealed that it was already empty. Without much to live for—he tipped over the edge.
Time slowed down to a T, his breath staggered. I shouldn't have died like this.
⨂
The rain trickled down heavily, far away from the ghoul's passing site. Days into the future. A man silently sits in a car, his eyes keep darting through the tinted window.
"You don't have to go, Sir. T-Club has surrounded her." A woman sitting across him says, her determination clear from her stern voice.
"…I'm going to meet my classmates, a reunion of sort." The man opens the door, letting in the rain, yet stops and unbuckled his sheath. A thin layer of sweat quickly coated the palm of his hand. Past these turmulous few years, on one hand you could count how many times he has parted with his sword. However, was a worthy day to do so.
He left the trusty sword of his on the back seat. Ignoring his Assistant's worried gaze, and stepped out.
The rain didn't trouble him, although else something did. With ease, he felt the area around. Inwardly pointing out the various inconsistencies with the shadows around the graveyard. They really want to capture her…
He swiftly made way to the memorial site. A giant wall of stone. They couldn't find or bury everyone that died in the "Flood", so they decided to make this. Inscribing every name, covering the wall completely with barely readably-sized names. However, a new name, nearly a decade after, has been added.
There was no gate, no candles, the area was simply trimmed grass with the stone in the middle. Though, now, a hooded figure stood near it.
He walked closer, each step made his heart wince, as if saying; "What are you doing?! What will her reaction be? Will she attack me?"
Before those questions could be answered in his head, he unknowingly stepped into a barrier. His skin tickled as he passed through what felt like honey, the rain was gone, the mist of it didn't disappear and more importantly—she hadn't.
"…Arth, why did you come?" An ethereal cold voice asked, he could barely see her through the hood. She shook her head, correcting herself. "Mm, it's exactly like you…", her eyes went back to being fixated on the unmoving stone.
"Kaze, It's been a while." Were the few words that had been stuck for a while, yet he, for the life of him, couldn't say them. He sighed inwardly;
"They won't attack you, but I won't promise you safe passage after the fact." Arth, answered loudly as he finally stood beside her. Her cold eyes hadn't changed. His breathing stopped, he couldn't muster another word. Everything he would say will surely bring up bad memories, so they simply stood there for a few moments.
"Yoho? What's this? A reunion?" An annoyingly unstable voice pierced their ears. Before Arth could do so much as blink, Kaze's arms turned to ice.
"Relax, relax. Iren can't listen in, he's custom made… sadly with his design, but~ I made some preferential additions." She rambled on. By the woman's side was a bulky automaton that wore a tuxedo. It whisked away the wet umbrella and stood firm as the woman approached them.
She wore an oversized lab coat, her large glasses couldn't do so much as to contain the eerie eyes of hers.
"Lillia, you were the least likely to show up here." Arth said. Kaze didn't show surprise, but Arth couldn't do that. Arth's mind wandered in that moment.
Was she closer to him the we thought?
"It hurts me to say this, my theory was incorrect…" They both stared at her silently, as they inwardly predict her next response. "Of course, I won't tell~"
Three of them silently stared at the stone, a name nobody could even find. There were a few that still know of his name. None had a nice impression of "Simon Gift", the forgotten 11th classmate of 2-C, but he left his mark on everyone.