Truth was something Durge
Eltiorra would never understand. As far as he could remember, he was always
told to be a good student, a good friend, a good son. Thus, he always became
one. However, the more he forced against his nature in order to fulfil these
‘duties’, the more he longed for the truth. He held himself from his true
nature for eighteen years, and there was no truth left in him, and if there
was, he could never find it.
The society he lived in was never
one holding on to the truth. Everything was false, everything was fake. The
truth was alwas bended by the Wiser Ones, with the excuse of maintaining the
order in the society. He himself would never know this truth, if not for the
murder he witnessed. A man at his mid-twenties raped and killed a young lady, a
friend of him. No, Durge wished that she was more than that to him.
He found out that the man was a son
of one of the seven Wiser Ones, and thus decided to report it directly to them.
Upon hearing the fact, the Wiser Ones only confirmed that ‘disciplinary action
shall be taken’. He was horrified to find a total stranger, probably not from
his society, being sentenced for adultery and murder. His faith, the very faith
that built the society, was no more. He trust them no more.
Society demanded facts that are
convenient to them, sometimes so far away from the real thing. Some said that
the wanted facts could keep the peace of the people. Even from historical
times, many of the facts are concealed and hidden from the world that may
actually reverse the role of the good and evil. Not that he was interested in
history.
Nothing is true – the world full of
tales of the untrue.
The cold winds blew his sad, yet
courageous face, as the stars continue to light up the galaxy they were in. The
gush of chilling river stream was crystal clear, and the usual murmur of the
street was no more. The city where he was born; was he born in the wrong place?
He pondered over it for a few minutes, praying to god that he deserved more
than this. Little did he know about what he would be encountering.
The great bridge – that’s where he
decided to end his life. Maybe he could be reincarnated in another world, a
world much different from this world. A world in which people respect truth. If
death was the ultimate solution, then he himself had no reason to live. He let
go of his last support, and like a bungee jumper he shifted his weight to his
back, towards the river. There was no regret in him. Nothing but Valentine.
In physics class, he remembered his
teacher’s lecture about gravity. A free-falling object would have its velocity
increases over time, but he guessed there was an exception. He defied his
teacher’s logic, thinking that it might be a lie, too. He felt like he was
slowing down, really down to a stop just six inches from the seemingly frozen
water. Until he realized that it was not the water that was frozen. It was the
flow of time.
“Rejoice, young man, for the right
decision you have made.”
Durge had always wondered how could
one stop time, and many of Hollywood movies he watched did not satisfy him. Now
he himself was trapped in this very, very rare occassion. To stop the time is to
stop everything, every single thing in the universe, to stop any action. With
some exception, of course – if not, how could one even realize it? Well, maybe
the old man stepping on the stopped water could explain.
“Who are you?” But no, the time stop
was too rare that it was the creator of such event that was most important.
What could create such thing? A man in his mid-forties, with eyes bulged out
and wrinkles all around his face? The man stepped slowly, but steadily, towards
Durge, and he could not stop thinking about the possibilities of the identity
of the old man.
“I am one who knows you,” the old
man answered, in a staggering voice, as he started to stroke Durge’s hair in
such a caring manner, almost as if he was fondling his own grandson. Then
slowly, he began to walk with his hand on the outline of Durge’s body, which
seemed to be stopped with time. “I know your pain, your suffering, and how you
wanted all that to end,” he continued.
As long as Durge could remember, he
had never confessed his feeling about truth to anyone else – he was afraid, and
there was no one he could trust. He always kept his feeling to himself, and
maybe that was the reason why the pain of his sanity got worse as time passes
by. It was always himself that wanted to take a stand for the truth – him against
the whole society.
“What do you mean?” He asked, his
body still hanging in the air, not even moving an inch. The old man had reached
his feet by that time, and upon hearing the question he chuckled. His skinny
finger was observing the usual pattern on Durge’s shoes, every inch of it.
There was a deafening silence, as if the man demanded it, until he reached
Durge’s forehead once again. In an instant, Durge jerked and fell to the frozen
water so hard that he felt as if he fell to a rock.
“Listen, Durge. You have had it
easy; you could end your life in this manner freely. There are others, others
that wanted to leave this seemingly devilish world the way you did. But the
freedom, they have not,” he lectured him as Durge got himself up and was
standing in amazement of the time stop. He
examined the theory and concluded that particles did not move in a time stop,
with exception of air. Therefore, a gushing water become as hard as diamond.
“Your.. intention?” Durge asked
after carefully choosing his words – not that it made any difference. Hearing
the half-hearted question, the old man, with a black robe covering his body,
raised his eyebrows. “Intention?” he repeated the word Durge used as he
carefully walk to the river bank and into the silent street. Durge followed
him, still mixed up with curiosity, amazement, and confusion. And a little bit
of fear.
“I want you to give them the
‘logical’ cause of death; accident, murder, anything but a suicide. They also
carried the same order, and maybe you will be dead in the process. Not that it
was a bad thing to you now.” He patted Durge’s shoulder, with the eyes that
asked for a favor; a request. Still appalled and confused, Durge answered the
old man’s request with a doubting gaze. “Of course, if you can ‘save’ all these
people without dying, there is a prize. A world of truth.”
Durge, his pupils widened
unconsciously, was obviously interested in the prize and was then fully
listening to the request. If this elderly could stop the time, maybe it was not
that impossible for him to change this world into that which favors truth, or
move to a whole new world sterile of lies and vague interpretation.
“How can I find these people? How
can I ‘save’ them?” Durge asked in a hurried, interested but serious tone. It
was a perfect deal to him – there was no possibility of him losing anything at
all. It sounds too good to be true, but if your common sense was suppressed by
years of pressure, there’s no telling such thing. His response had caused a
huge laughter to burst out of the old man.
"Easy, Durge. It’s not like you had
to hurry – we have all the time we needed,” said the old man while tapping his
wooden cane gently on Durge’s hip. The old man then turned his back against
Durge, clearly revealing his old, thin white hair that barely touched his nape.
“It’s your job to find them. But, you can use this to ‘save’ them. Don’t worry,
they’ll come to you in no time.”
“One last thing,” Durge mentioned as
he received a black spear transformed from the cane. It was a strong, yet light
and swift. The blade at the end was particularly sharp, and undoubtedly could pierce
through almost anything. He swung the spear to test it, before he raised his
last question. “Who are you?”
“I am a demon who knows you.”
In a blink of an eye, the old man
was sucked into nothingness and disappear from Durge’s sight. The next thing he
noticed was a force that disturbed his balance, and as he tries to regain it,
the time was already flowing normally. The spear had also transformed back into
the wooden cane. The lack of knowledge to turn it back made Durge a little
agitated, but he decided to try in in secret.
He was standing still in the middle
of a T-junction, the bridge was a few step to the right. The two street light
that was lighting the road a little ahead of him became dimmer and dimmer, and
with electric sparks coming out from them, the light was no more. Fear
suffocated him and froze his body as a dark figure’s footstep was heard
clearly. It was a presence that should not exist.
A pair of wings with dark feathers
grew from that person’s shoulder plate.
No, that figure was not a ‘person’. It
was clearly an entity more powerful than anything found in this earth. As the
moonlight finally exposed the being’s appearance, dread became even more
pressurizing. There was an urge to run, an urge to fight, an urge to die,
anything so that they won’t coexist. In such stressing state, Durge only wished
that he would have the spear back in his hands. And the next moment, it was
there.
“I’m impressed, kid,” the being
said, the surrounding became darkened. Standing before Durge was a humanoid
demonic creature, a little taller than him, with golden spiked hair, and a pure
white complexion. Bare-chested with a long, metallic black jeans that was
entangled in chains, the being held a red scythe with his right hand. Durge
actually had the same feeling from this being as the old man, the demon. It’s
just way more hostile. “For you to ready your weapon in front of me, how brave.
How foolish.”
“What do you want?” Durge finally
could throw out those words, in a somehow screaming sound. The being closed his
eyes and clicked his tongue, clearly unsatisfied, and as the scythe dissolved
it crossed its arms. “How disrespectful,” he protested as it suddenly extended
its wings, showed its razor fangs and opened his red-pupil eyes wide, showing
who is on the higher ground. Staring straight at those eyes, Durge was
petrified and unable to move according to his will.
“I figured out that old demon had
not made himself clear, and intended on giving you some pointers,” the being
explained as it stepped towards Durge. In every step, the road it stepped on
was cracked – it was such a strong step it echoed around the area. Still
petrified, Durge thought it was already hopeless. “It seemed you know how to
materialize your spear. I’ll tell you something; when you’re into this, you
can’t die from anything unrelated to this ‘game’. The simplest way is to
fight,” the being warned, half whispering beside Durge’s ear. The it dissolved
into black feather’s, releasing Durge from the petrification.
Little did he know about the fate
lying ahead of him.
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