by L. M. Kerr
It could be a second chance he could use to start all over with her, to protect her from dying this time around, and perhaps find something he'd given up on entirely in his first life.
At the same time, he couldn’t help but realize that he was a very different person than he had been when they first met. There was no telling whether Isabelle would like the him of now. Life had made him a rather sardonic cynic at times, far from the cheerful youth Isabelle had loved.
Seconds slipped into minutes as Micheal sat on his tree, lost in thought.
The evening light gradually began to wane as the sun fell downwards. Around 20 minutes passed before Micheal finally sat up, nodding to himself as he reached a decision.
‘Alright.’ He took a deep breath.
There was no point in wavering over decisions forever. If he was going to do something, he would need to make his choice and go with it. Hesitation could prove fatal in the 7 Layers.
Just as he was thinking this thought, readying himself to settle on to a plan of action…
A branch snapped, off in the distance.
Micheal’s entire attitude jarringly shifted as he stood up. His eyes grew cold as his body froze, his attention jerking out in the direction of the noise. His right hand flexed slightly, causing a few metal threads to fly out from his glove so he could hold them at the ready, just in case.
Another branch snapped. And then another. The sounds of footsteps echoed in the dying light, coming from the west. Micheal’s gaze pierced through a layer of leaves and branches as he zeroed in on the intruder, preparing himself to act.
In the distance, he spotted a male Farian carrying a large brown bag on his shoulders. Like most Farians, he was handsome, with a strong jaw, dirty blond hair, and warm green eyes. His body was rather muscular for a Farian, showing signs of someone that trained wholeheartedly. For a Farian, putting on muscle was harder than it was for many other races.
Micheal lowered his guard slightly as he saw this, most of his unease evaporating. If nothing else, the Farians, as a race, were extremely loyal. Ever since they had banded together many years ago, it was rare for even rival tribes to actually battle with each other. Disagreements were simply disagreements, typically resolved without violence.
Still, he kept an eye on the warrior as he walked up to Isabelle’s treehouse. The bag the man was carrying had a few bits of cut meat within it, the remnants of a fresh kill.
“Hey! You made it here early!” Isabelle’s voice echoed out as she stuck her head out of one of the windows of her treehouse, waving at the man down below. She had managed to sense him before he announced himself, her senses well-honed.
“We finished prepping for the Life Festival on time, somehow.” The male Farian’s voice held a hint of a smile in it as he continued,
“I’m all practiced up and, I’m gonna tell you now, Iz…” The warrior grinned,
“I managed to secure the top spot! I’ll be front and center, at the very head of the Festival!”
“Ooh, so the star of the show himself has deigned to visit me?” Isabelle pretended to swoon as she laughed out loud, looking at the Farian with open affection. The warrior smiled back as he began to clamber up the tree.
Micheal’s face went blank as he watched all of this.
He blinked several times, a sinking realization slowly settling into his gut.
He had gone back in time.
That meant he got a second chance at everything, it was true… but that also meant he had gone all the way back in time.
Back to before he had even arrived on the Second Layer in his first life.
Memories Micheal had forced into the shadows of his mind for so long, refusing to ever even consider looking at, began to creep forward once more.
Isabelle was a beautiful woman. Sweet, charming, naturally talented. She wasn’t an outcast or hated by her own kind… in fact, she was actually very popular.
Had she never dated anyone before Micheal?
Of course not, the Farians shared a similar concept of courtship as compared to humanity.
When Micheal first met her in a random forest clearing, she had been alone and was being attacked by a powerful Magic Beast. She sustained serious injuries and was near death as he arrived. If he had arrived even a minute later, she definitely would have died.
After he saved her life, they formed an unlikely friendship, even as the tensions between races grew. Micheal had found her at a point where she was at her lowest, both mentally and physically.
As he grew to know her more and more, he began to learn certain things about her.
She was single, yes… but not by choice.
The last person she had loved had been brutally killed before her own eyes just a few months before she met Micheal, a tragedy that scarred her horribly.
Unwittingly, Micheal’s careful care for her, as well as his constant training to try and grow strong enough to protect those he cared about, won her over and helped her heal. As the months passed, they went from barely knowing each other, to fast friends, to lovers. In the war-torn worlds of the 7 Layers, relationships and love often flourished as people tried to live life to the fullest.
This became the happiest point of Micheal’s life in the 7 Layers.
However, the lynchpin of their relationship all fell back to one specific thing.
The first person she loved had died…
And he had died just months before Micheal met her.
As memories flooded Micheal’s mind, he sat back down on the tree branch he had been standing on, his legs going numb.
One memory in particular flooded up in his vision, his thoughts jumping back in his mind.
“…”
“…”
“…”
“He was a great man. Honorable, kind, charming.” Isabelle and Micheal had been sitting around a warm campfire in the middle of a forest, resting under the stars above. Shin had gone back to sleep, but not before proclaiming how proud of a third wheel he was.
“A lot like you, actually.” Isabelle punched Micheal in the shoulder, her eyes twinkling as she grinned at him. She looked exactly the same as she did now, the same sparkle in her eyes and smile on her face.
“Well, you always did have great taste.” Micheal replied with a smile. Isabelle had told Micheal yesterday that she wanted to talk about her past. This mentally younger Micheal tried to be as understanding as possible as he listened to her, his heart physically hurting for her as he saw her struggle.
“How did he die?” Looking back, his delivery had been far too blunt. He had never been that good at being subtle, especially not back then.
“He…” Isabelle rubbed at her eyes for a few moments before pausing. She turned to look at Micheal.
“It’s weird, you know? Like, I’ve moved on. I know he’s gone. And I genuinely love you, I love spending time with you, simply being with you makes me smile. But every time I think of him, it makes me want to cry. He and I were never even actually together, I only realized how I felt after he was gone. It just makes no sense!” She leaned over and hugged Micheal, her voice pitiful.
Micheal caressed her, rubbing her back as he felt her shake.
“That’s just how things are, smalls.” He replied slowly, keeping his voice low,
“I know you love me. But it’s alright to miss those you’ve lost. I would never begrudge you that.” He kissed the top of her head as he hugged her close.
They stayed close for several more seconds, two beings joined together, a crackling campfire roaring quietly right next to them.
Finally, she leaned forward again as she began to speak.
“He was one of the frontrunners in the Life Festival, a position he was so proud to have won. I told you about that one, right? The one where we lost half of our greatest warriors.” She spoke quietly.
“Ah.” Micheal muttered, a sudden light of understanding appearing in his eyes. He nodded solemnly.
“Yeah.” She rubbed at her eyes a
s she spoke, her voice listless,
“The one where a group of High-Tier Magic Beasts attacked.” She stopped speaking for a few moments and looked down.
The younger Micheal, unsure of what to do, stayed silent as he looked at her, trying to emanate a feeling of being understanding.
At the time, all he had known was that High-Tier Magic Beasts were incredibly dangerous beings, each one controlling a Helion Spirit Crystal. The devastating power hidden within those Spirit Crystals, and their deadly volatility, was something humanity only truly learned during the Great War.
“And their attack…” After several seconds, he spoke out loud as it became obvious that Isabelle wasn’t going to say anything first.
Isabelle nodded, looking up at him.
“Yeah. They started at the front of the festival, of course. Why wouldn’t they?” Her voice took on a harsh, angry edge,
“And that is where he died, right in the beginning.” Isabelle turned away as she glanced up at the dark night sky, her voice sounding very small all of a sudden.
“He never stood a chance.”
.
Chapter 37
Choices.
Starlight drifted down up on high, glorious suns hidden in the sky above passing judgement on those beneath them. This light showed through the truth of the night, chasing away the darkness that haunted the shadows.
Micheal sat in one of those dark shadows, back by a rather familiar lake.
The sounds of the tranquil night spread out around him, quiet chirps and hums from resting creatures, the rustling of animals that prowled the night, and a cool breeze that did nothing to soothe the fires raging in Micheal’s heart.
“Time travel.” He spat the words out as if it was a curse, his eyes hardening as he looked down at his hands. Small ripples spread out on the lake in front of him, his words scaring away a few nearby fish.
“How could I forget? I’ve gone back in time… and time isn’t just going to sit by and wait for me.” The words did nothing to soothe his raging heart.
He continued to look down at his hands, a flurry of emotions passing through his dark gaze. Anger, guilt, confusion, hope, a confusing wash of feelings that melded altogether.
What should he do?
How could he possibly react?
What was he supposed to do?
How was he supposed to react?
For the next two hours, he sat alone in darkness, questions and confusion flooding his mind.
The time passed by in what felt like a blink of an eye to Micheal.
He forced himself to not make an instinctive decision. Instead, he went over everything logically, examining every facet of how he felt and trying to take a guided approach.
Who wouldn’t desire a second chance to fix all of your mistakes? Especially mistakes that you could never take back, mistakes that would haunt you for years to come.
Hope that had bloomed in Micheal when he arrived on the Second Layer struggled to blaze within his heart, refusing to leave him. Memories of love, of loss, and of regret filled him, leaving thorny trails in his mind.
“Choices.” As the eve marched forward, Micheal’s voice echoed softly in the still night, a steady realization settling within him.
“…”
“Choices…”
He muttered the word again, a quiet voice that slowly died out, lost in the black abyss all around him.
“…”
“…”
“…”
He needed to make a choice. Emotions clouded his thoughts, ones he tried to shove to the side as he analyzed things.
There was what he wanted… and there was what was right.
He recognized, now, that he had arrived at a turning point in his life.
With either choice, he could still accomplish his goals. A slightly late start should still allow for his plans to work.
All it would take was a small delay, who could blame him for that? He wasn’t perfect, after all. He could make mistakes too.
No one would know but himself.
“Choices…”
The starlight that lit up the shadows surrounding Micheal gradually began to fade, thick clouds obscuring the sky above.
Soon, Micheal was left to bear the darkness alone, a solitary figure fading to obscurity as time itself seemed to leave him behind.
.. .. .. .. .. ..
Several days later…
.. .. .. .. .. ..
Clouds gathered in the sky above, bunching up en masse like a thousand white meteors crashing together. These frightening titans covered the sky, threatening the world down below as they hid the late evening Sun from view.
“A storm is brewing.” The Lord Justiciar of the Farian Race, Gregor Mantorel, frowned as he looked up at the sky.
Unlike his home planet, the weather of the Second Layer was known for its rather extreme shifts. The storms could deviate to absurd levels, something his people had experienced quite a bit of in their time here.
This was the ‘calm’ season for weather here on the Second Layer, so the storm shouldn’t be too fierce. But it was still a bad omen to see it appear at all.
He sighed and waved the thought away. He had never been one to believe in the omens, even if half his people did. Whether or not the future could be foretold based on seemingly random occurrences mattered little to him. He could see the truth of reality with his own two eyes, and that was enough.
“It looks like it will be a light drizzle at worst. It should clear up come tomorrow.” Myla’s warm voice sounded off from behind, causing the Lord Justiciar to turn to look at her.
They were currently standing next to a very large clearing that was located at the center of the Woolen Forest, roughly equidistant from each Tribe’s encampments, with the sole exception of the Kowalsi Tribe. That Tribe had long since split off from the rest, their entire Tribe moving up from the First Layer as one instead of moving up in waves like the rest.
The two of them, plus the several elite guards that always followed Myla around, stood at the edge of the clearing, watching the bustling activity that was unfolding before them.
Thousands of Farians could be seen setting up various wooden platforms, crafting large bonfires, festive tents, and putting together a variety of art pieces that had been prepared just for the upcoming festival. Laughter and merrymaking echoed out of the clearing, the Farians’ uplifting and positive atmosphere practically oozing joy.
“One can hope. The Life Festival should be a day of good cheer.” Gregor grunted, his face dour.
Over the past week, something extremely odd had begun to take place.
Nothing was going wrong.
The violent raids that had pestered the warriors of the Tribes had seemingly vanished into thin air. They had been bleeding strong warriors for months now, and suddenly, all of that came to an abrupt end as the Life Festival began its final approach.
In the last six days, the only even remotely suspicious sighting came from a single report of an unknown human, or Gemless Byren, running around the southern half of the Woolen Forest.
The lack of notable incidents made Gregor uneasy.
If he could just catch the damned murderous rats with his bare hands, he would easily tear them apart. He was the strongest Farian that had lived in half a dozen generations at the least, even more so as he adapted to the energy-rich air of the First and Second Layers, growing ever-stronger.
Few warriors could take even a single blow from him and live to tell the tale.
The air around him began to tremble as he thought about this, red light fluttering as an Aura began to form. He grit his teeth in anger, his eyes flashing.
“Gregor!” Myla’s warning voice snapped him back to the present. Gregor looked up at her sheepishly before assuming his stern, prideful visage once more. The elderly female Farian simply sniffed and squinted back at him, ruining his attempt at restoring his image.
“Careful with that! The Lord Justiciar will be speaking from
there! Careful!” The voice of one of the Taskmasters in charge of setting up the Festival Main Grounds interrupted their conversation, helping salvage some of Gregor’s dignity as they turned to look at the speaker.
It was a burly Farian directing a dozen others as they set up a large, metal platform atop a larger, wide wooden stage. Dozens of poles with glowing crystals were in the process of being installed around these platforms, set to ward off the darkness when nightfall came.
“The Festival preparations are going along well.” Myla spoke aloud, changing the subject.
“Yes, it’s been too long since we had a proper Life Festival. It will be good for the Tribes.” Gregor rubbed at his jaw as he spoke.
His mouth was starting to grow sore from how often he ground his teeth, according to the Farian Healer he’d talked to. His gargantuan strength was sometimes a detriment when it came to how frustrated he was as of recently. Perhaps he should take up chewing the popular ‘bubble gum’ that a group of peaceful humans had sold a few batches of.
He immediately discarded the thought, grinding his teeth again as he thought of the race that was causing his own endless amounts of trouble.
“Have you made any more definitive progress?” He changed the subject to one that was more pressing.
“Yes, I believe we’ve figured out the most pressing bits.” Myla understood what he was referencing as she replied calmly,
“Tracking these Seeds over a large range is difficult, but it’s definitely possible. More testing is needed, however, but it shouldn’t take up more than a few weeks.”
Gregor nodded as he heard this, his eyes hardening.
“Good.” He, rather heroically in his opinion, resisted the urge to grind his teeth.
He turned back to look out at the festival grounds. A relaxing breeze swept through the open meadow, wrapping around the Farians as it danced by. Gregor closed his eyes as he felt it sweep over him, taking a deep breath.
He exhaled slowly.
“Good. As soon as you finish, Operation Wildfire will begin.” His eyes snapped back to glance at Myla, a frightening intensity settling within them.