"…"

"This can't be real, it just… it can't. It can’t end like this."

John wanted to look away. He wanted to run away. To forget what he was seeing and that today had ever happened. But he just couldn't. Through reddening eyes, vision blurred by tears, John could not look away from the sight before him.

Seras was pinned to the wall in a mockery of crucifixion, metal spikes driven through her hands and into the cinder blocks behind her. Her eyes were no longer the blood-red pools of desire and passion he once knew… they were blue, pale and milky, and her eyes were unseeing and unmoving.

Her body had been cut in various places, with burn marks and bruises dotting what skin he could see through her torn and tattered outfit. She had been through some kind of fight, and a hellish one at that. Her body was battered, and her head was… it was… it rested where it had been severed from her body entirely. There was a hole in her chest, right through her heart, where a bolt or blade had pierced completely through. Her gloves and outfit were torn in all the places she usually struck when fighting without her gun - whatever had happened, she had given the fight all of her strength. She had given it everything she had.

”…Everything…”

"There's no way… I was holding her in my arms just this morning. We were talking about how to upgrade her gun, what new furniture we needed for the house. We were planning our lives together, our future, how we were… how we were going to change the world together. How can she just… how can she just be gone?"

"John, I'm so sorry. I was trying to protect you… I wanted to hide this from you until we were safe, until you would have time to grieve," Moira said, leaning in and pulling John to her chest. He pushed away from her, less aggressively than before but nearly as forcefully. John felt like his insides were all shriveling up. Shock and grief pushed all other sensations away from his mind, and even the feeling of his feet against the ground felt dulled as he strode forward to where she was. John placed a single hand on her chest, as if expecting to feel a heart that hadn’t beat in weeks.

"Heal. Please, heal. Come back to me. Wake up, Seras… wake up."

John didn't know what else to do. Heal did use a minimal amount of mana, and her body knitted itself back together. His spell stitched the flesh and bone back together, pulled the blood splattered across her body back where it belonged, and attached her head again… but her eyes stayed glossy, and her body limp. John grasped the iron spikes holding her arms in place with shaking fingers, somehow finding the strength to pull them both free, one after the other. Seras' restored body fell into his arms, and he collapsed against the wall, sobbing violently into her shoulder as the literal weight of his loss fell upon him.

"My illusions will probably be discovered soon, if they haven't already strolled by," Vallya warned the others quietly, though John could hear little else in the silence of the room except his own weeping.

"There are no signs of distress or rapid movement, and no one is headed our way, but…"

John heard the words, but they meant nothing to him. He wasn't sure anything did anymore, or ever would again. He tried to call up anger, rage, hate… anything that would burn away the sorrow. But the loss weighed him down, as if he were suffocating. It was all he could feel, all he could think about.

"John, I know this hurts. I know what that kind of loss is like,” Moira said softly, walking toward him where he had fallen, “...but we need to leave. She would have wanted Lerianna to get to safety. She would have wanted you to get to safety."

"I…"

John didn't know what he could say. Moira's gentle hand on his back rubbed softly, as gently as if she were afraid of breaking him. John's lip quivered when he tried to respond, and he waited to speak again until his wracking sobs subsided enough for his voice to find some measure of even tempo.

"…I know. I know she would."

"Then let's go. We can still escape and be waiting the Order when they arrive… we will make them pay for this, John."

A spark, just a brief flicker inside of him, wanted to agree. Wanted to run out into that hallway right then and there, slaughtering everything in his path. Leaving corpses and violent, slow deaths in his wake as a message to anyone who would dare so much as think of hurting his family again after this. But John just… couldn't summon up the rage. The Shard was flickering and burning, but it was dulled. It was as if he had forgotten how to hate.

John felt empty inside. The spark of the Shard was nothing… nothing compared to the passionate flame that had just died inside of him. Why hadn't he been with her? Why had he let her die? Why was he so weak? Grief and guilt outweighed his rage a thousand fold.

"You're right. Let's make our way outside."

"Lerianna, we need you to step across the door's threshold when we tell you to. I've got a spell that will make them think you're still here - for a little while, anyway. Then we'll be going…"

The words reached his ears but did not penetrate his mind as John stared at Seras, sitting himself down and resting her spine across his lap. He would have to… have to store her body in his inventory to make their escape. No way he was going to leave it there, and he couldn’t carry her like this stealthily. The thought of carrying her with his abilities as a… as an object nauseated him, so he took one last look before they started their escape, gently cradling her head with one hand, closing her eyes with the other. Like that, with her body healed and her eyes hidden, she almost could've been sleeping…

"I'm so sorry," John whispered, running his hand through her hair, along her cheek. Her skin was no colder in **** than in life… for a moment, he allowed himself to pretend that she really was sleeping. That this ruinous day had never happened, that it was all a bad dream. Any minute now he'd relive that morning again, waking up with Seras in his arms, Maera and Mithra cuddling by his feet, and Sophia gently snoring behind him. He'd lift up Seras' hand and gently kiss it awake, planting his lips where he knew the ring was on her hand, even if he couldn't see or feel-

"The ring… I need to get her ring," John mumbled to himself, running his hands along her fingers. He felt nothing, but would he have? If she died the ring would've become visible and tangible again… unless she wasn't wearing it…

"John, we're ready," Moira said, gently but firmly reaching under his shoulder.

"I need one second… Seras was smart, she would've waited until they searched her pockets before taking it off and putting it there before they could find it on her finger. She would have kept it off her finger so it was more warded… she would have…"

John's fingers rifled through Seras' pockets as fast as they could, though his muscles were still twitchy and having difficulty responding. It was a trickier affair than normal because of the vampiress' taste in overly-pocketed garments… but eventually John found what he was looking for. At the bottom of one of the left-side pockets, still invisible but found nonetheless as John touched it warily. It remained invisible until the moment that John pulled it free and slid it onto his own finger; he had to use his middle finger to make it sit properly, even with Seras always wearing it over her gloves.

The moment the ring was seated on his finger, it became visible - though he knew it would only be to him. He smiled up at Moira gently, flexing his fingers and hoping she didn't think he was insane.

"Okay. Okay, I'm… I'm ready to-"

"John? John, I don't have much time."

John froze in mid-sentence as he heard the unthinkable… as he heard Seras' voice, coming from the ring. John watched Moira's eyes go wide - she'd heard it too.

"John, listen… I dunno what they want us for, I dunno why they took us captive. Think I ‘ave some ideas, but… They threw us in 'ere together without sayin' a word. We did all we could back by the ‘ouse. We got the kittens safe, but they caught Mithra. She fought like a bloody champ… reckon if you'da seen 'er fightin' for the lil' babes, you'd 'ave been so impressed. But when we were tryin' to rescue 'er, they got the best of me an' Lerianna."

"How did she-" Moira began, but John interrupted her quickly as the voice paused.

"She was… she was learning magic," John explained, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. "I didn't know this much…"

"Look, you're prolly on your way 'ere right now. I know ‘ow you are… prob'ly all 'righteous fury' that'd make the red'ead look like the calm one. She'll prob'ly 'ave to stop you from runnin' in 'ere all alone, and gettin' yourself caught. I know you'll come for us, John."

"John, we should go. I know this is important, but you can listen outside-"

"Wait, just… just wait," John pleaded, voice weak but growing stronger. He didn't know if Seras could actually make the message repeat, and if these were her final words to him… he had to burn them into his soul.

"But… I can't wait. They took Mithra earlier, did somethin' to 'er. Dunno what, but she's not the same. She's scared pretty badly of us, but she's bloody terrified any time one of the guys runnin' the place comes in 'ere. Freezes up, can barely move, and I… I won't let 'em do that to 'er again. Or to Lerianna… I can’t watch ‘em do that to the people I started to love thanks to you.

“And you know me, right? I don’t know the meanin’ of givin’ up. No way I can take 'em all, but you can't blame a girl for tryin'. I can't just sit 'ere and let 'em keep doin' that until there's nothin' left of us for you to save. I'd rather… I'd rather die knowin’ I fought for what we ‘ad than let it all slip away.”

"No, Seras, I was… I was on my way, I-"

"I… I was gonna use this spell to make you a nice present. Somethin' to always 'ave on you, with a nice lil' pick me up to 'ear whenever you were away from me for too long. Tellin’ you ‘ow much I love you and miss you. Wish this one could be nicer… but I needed to do this. I need to thank you."

"No, Seras, don't thank me. I failed you…"

"You didn't fail," Seras' voice said, and John heard a chuckle. "I know, I know, if you're 'earin' this I prob’ly went down swingin', so you prob'ly just said you failed, right? But you gave us all life, John. Without you we wouldn' even be 'ere in the first place, we'd 'ave never seen that beautiful world you're buildin'. You stay safe, and keep buildin' that world, John. I… I believe in you. You're gonna make that one a beautiful place, and you're gonna change this one too. You taught us all how to be strong… and how important it is not to be afraid to fight."

"But not like this…"

"They're… they're comin' back. I can ‘ear footsteps. No idea what they've got in mind this time… but I'm not lettin' em take Mithra again! I love you, John… I love you so much. I swear, whatever 'appens from 'ere, I'll find my way back to you someday. You taught me to fight, so I'll never stop fightin'! Never! I love you so much, John!"

Seras was sobbing by the end of her message. The last thing he heard was the rustling of a pocket…and then the ring went dark again. John just stared at it for a long moment. The tears had stopped. The room was silent. John felt a warmth in his chest, like his heart had finally started to beat again for the first time… and then the room was punctuated by the soft 'ding' sound of a message popping up in front of him.

Shard of Bishamonten: 100% Integration
Shard Activation Now Under User Control!
Shard 100% Activation Effect Gained: Cruciare has temporarily become Lifetime of Penance!
Shard 100% Activation Effect Gained: Barrier has temporarily become Field of Judgement!

Flames felt like they were coursing through John’s body, igniting every part of him that had been numbed by his grief. But though his body was alight, he suddenly found it impossible to move. Still kneeling on the ground, still clutching Seras, he found himself unable to move anything except his eyes, head locked in place. He tried to glance around and see the others, but all sound and motion had ceased in the room as far as he could tell; even Moira’s shadow was still. It was as if time had been stopped for all but his own mind… that, and the man who strode up and knelt beside him. The same man John had been seeing all day, ever since the Albidians assaulted him. But now, for the first time, as he knelt beside John so closely their knees were touching… he spoke.

"It has been centuries… and this world still has not changed."

The man's voice was rough, but seemed more tired than strained. He locked eyes with John and sighed, reaching toward his hip. Slowly, he began to draw the blade at his waist, one inch at a time, carefully holding it in both hands when at last it was fully drawn.

"It would seem that the horrors of this world must still be carved away by hand."

The man's blade was a work of art - from the gold at the hilt to the waves in the metal, even to the way the man held it. Like an extension of his own arm… like he was more comfortable holding it than with it sheathed. He stepped over to John and raised up his blade, point downward, clasped in both hands.

"My time is gone now, John Newman, but you still have a chance. This world is still yours to change, if you have the strength… if you can bear the loss. But this world is cursed now. It can only ever be changed by the cut of a blade."

The man let out a deep breath as he rocked back on his feet, sighing with his head toward the ceiling. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, almost as if meditating. When he opened them again, his gaze was razor-sharp, and his voice started to gain back the intensity it lost.

"I had thought when I first came to know this shard that it was an evil thing. That its anger and rage were the product of malevolence, that it knew only pain and suffering, and inflicted only the same. But this shard was not born out of a desire for malice… it was born as a consequence of it. This shard was never meant to cause you to hurt the innocent, John. It was born from a desire to cull the wicked."

The man lifted the blade in one hand and turned it downard, stabbing directly into the tile in front of John, only inches away from the wall they were knelt so near to. With the blade firmly embedded between John’s knees, the man turned his attention again to the Gamer. The graying warrior leaned over, gently taking one of John's hands, pulling it off Seras' cheek. John wanted to resist, to keep holding his lover but couldn’t find the strength to move on his own, even as the man wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the blade.

"That hate… hold onto it, John. Blunt the pain, numb the sorrow, bury the despair. There are forces beyond what I thought possible, sewing discord and chaos where order and level heads once maintained peace. The Abyss is cursed, John Newman, and it was designed that way. Burn it down. Burn it all. Become the mightiest in the Abyss, and you will find the source of this pain. Perhaps you can end it, where I failed…”

John felt heat running in different directions - fire burned through his hands and into the blade, from the blade into him, and from the other man's tight, fiery grip into his own stilled fingertips. The fire that was burning through him also coursed through this man, he could tell it now. The name was on his lips, but he could not move them to speak it. He had never met this man, but he knew him now, unmistakably - in a way more intimate than most.

Isamu Masanori

"Go, John Newman. Tear apart the very fabric of this world, and rebuild it with honor. And… one last thing. When you see Himiko… tell her I still love her. Tell her I’m waiting, but don’t let her arrive too quickly, John Newman. Or I’ll never forgive you.”

John blinked and the man was gone. The blade embedded in the floor had somehow become replaced with his own, even though he'd dropped his sword several feet away, well out of reach. Time slowly began to move again, and with the man and his blade gone, only one thing left of their interaction remained.

Rage. At last overpowering his grief, John Newman had remembered something deeply important. Something he had forgotten in his sorrow, but something returning to him now with such intensity that it began to stain his very worldview. His vision ran as red as the boiling blood coursing through his body.

John Newman had remembered how to hate.

"John, we need to move- how did you get your sword back, wasn’t it over-? Never mind, another new trick, then. We need to-"

"…gonna… every last…"

John started to mumble to himself, his body beginning to respond again. As if being thawed out, the fire slowly returned the full control of his muscles to him from that frozen state in his strange vision. His grip on his blade tightened until his knuckles turned white and he could feel the blade's grip biting into his palm.

"John, quit mumbling, I'm serious!"

"I'm gonna… I'm gonna…"

"John, spit it out and let's-"

"I said…"