...then he was there; he had finally made it. Eau'Troi Academy - its gates were right in front of him as he awed at it. That day he was finally not alone like he always used to be. Standing among Haya, Patriq, and other people, he finally got the chance to meet thanks to Midas he had met during their time in Cascrender.
Whatever now held him back was gone, and behind him, he felt his fingers trembling as he joined the others and grasped one of the metal bars that made up the gate - he allowed himself to feel excitement, the worries he had from hearing about the eastern regions of the water kingdom fading for the brief moment he stood there with people he could call his friends.
A girl from the upper classes named Ivyda, whom he had already seen during the Cascrender, eventually told them of a place that is hidden and relatively safe from any northerner trying to bother them. Seeing her always made him think back to the time he, Midas, and Patriq were beaten up by northern students on their way to prevent the abduction of some pink-haired girl that would sometimes come by and join them.
During that time, the bitter realization of how useless he truly was hit him. Before that day, being himself didn't feel so much of a problem; actually, it almost felt like he believed in himself once again - he had no idea what would await him as he followed Midas, beaten repeatedly with wooden swords, making every memory he made in his home village back in the desert come to the surface at once.
The death of the old lady, the ritual of being led into a dark corner of the village and being beaten just because of his weakness, and the way he and so many other children were stuffed into a carriage and sent off - all of it came back to haunt him that day. He barely remembered anything from the period of time between seeing his parents cry on the last day he spent in his village and the day he ended up in Cascrender.
What he does know, however, is the sheer numbness he felt as he lay there on the ground, unable to do anything but cry as he was beaten repeatedly by those northerners. Stunned by the fact that even after all of the time that had passed, the fact that he had friends now did not change one singular thing - as if he was forced to serve some role for the rest of his life, as if losing was some sort of fate that would await him no matter which corner of the world he would flee to.
Days began to pass once they settled in the Eau'Troi academy - Midas still had to arrive and eventually did, only a few days later before they had. The man that ran their new hideout, one with the name of Qayid - a member of Ivydas' guild, so she told them - had eventually brought up protesting against the treatment of foreign students at their academy.
That day, he felt some kind of hope - maybe relief too. Whatever it was, Qayid made him want to finally move forward and break free of that role that life tried forcing him into. That same day he was beaten up in Cascrender, he watched as Midas simply got up after their beating; even with Ivyda trying to stop him, he pushed forward - meeting that older student made him want to finally be able to do the same.
But, unsurprisingly, he found himself instantly being targeted by northerners. Unlike in Cascrender, here, northerners didn't even bother and try to hide it - sometimes it was in darker alleys on campus, and on other days they would beat him up in the open. Sometimes knights that patrolled the main building would quietly watch instead of stepping in, as if he were some kind of attraction to watch.
Most of the times, Midas or the others weren't there to stop this; there were days on days on which he wouldn't dare to even set one foot out from their hideout - his pulse shot up the instant he would set foot in the halls. It was clear now; nothing had changed - he still, whether he tried to fight it or not, was still bound to fill the role the world had set out for him to be. Not knowing what to do but crying to himself after one particularly bad beating, he suddenly felt someone approaching him, and as he looked up, it was none other than Qayid.
The same person that once gave him hope to fight against his fate now suddenly helped him up on his feet again; with wide eyes, he stared up at him - simply standing there and listening as he told him about the many people who suffered similar things like him. That day, the invisible distance that he felt towards anyone else, even his friends, was suddenly bridged - Qayid was someone who felt like he was exclusively there, just to tell him that.
He needed to return the favor somehow; he felt the need to prove that he really was capable of becoming much more than the person destined to be beaten over and over again, no matter the cost. Qayid was someone who had shown him the light of the end of a seemingly never-ending tunnel; the urge of finally reaching it became stronger with each passing day as he instantly accepted his offer of becoming his right-hand man.
The world he promised would finally rid him of fear, and this never-ending cycle of humiliation not only he but also seemingly their entire folk had to endure. The same fear and oppression that put him into the mold of a human he wanted to escape from all this time now, and with their rising numbers of people that would join them in fighting against their oppression, this dream they shared became more real with each moment.
But today left him completely out of air; for a long moment he just stared straight forward as their only hope - their leader - was left lying on the ground and now surrounded by knights. The same person who would be the key to live a worthwhile life had now fallen, and the only thing he could do was watch as his wrists were bound together, standing there completely helpless as he saw Qayid be guided off the campus by a group of knights.
All of their preparations, their gathering, the weapons they gathered, and the strategies they had planned were all for nothing - he felt his fingers twitching and his eyes swelling at the sheer thought of all of their efforts being in vain. He had to change something - he had to somehow steer it around himself. Qayid laid trust in him, and he knew that once they were successful, the shackles of his destiny would finally spring open.
So he moved; he simply snatched the weapon off of the first of their fallen comrades' bodies he came by and ran off into the main building - he had to make a lasting change, something that would finally matter, whatever it would be, just something other than suffering under someone who was stronger than him - he had to win, no matter the cost.
Then there he was; life actually had granted him one of the many wishes he so desperately pleaded for to be heard by someone - grabbing the dagger like it was the key to a door to his freedom, he headed straight towards the now head commander's son. Finally, he got his revenge for having to suffer; finally, he got to take from the people that were so clearly beyond his league.
...
"Jakal...! What do you think you're doing...!"
"You don't understand...! He would've killed you the moment you turned your back on him! Besides that, they already have Qayid, so I... I just had to do something..."
"He was not hostile towards us, you idiot!"
Holding onto his forehead as he looked down at Jakal, he didn't know what would happen next, frantically looking between Jakal and Fils, who was beginning to lose more and more blood. Foulard's face was completely pale, frozen on the spot as he stared down at Fils' body on the floor - still needing some time to realize what actually just happened right in front of him.
Jakal's fingers dug into his scalp, looking completely lost as he knelt there on the ground, almost ripping his hair out, judging by how stressed he looked. Suddenly, before anyone was able to speak, Fils grabbed Midas by his collar, pulling him down with the last bit of energy he had left - trying to gasp some air to speak - as he held him there.
"You... need to get out of here... before he finds you."
"Who...?"
"My father... he will see me and... kill all of you and everyone you know if you don't get yourselves out of here in time. Hurry..."
His head already slumping, Midas felt each of Fils' fingers slowly give out one by one as he eventually collapsed on the floor - laying there completely motionless. Hearing Jakal hit the floor with his fist repeatedly at their defeat made Midas truly realize what would happen next if Fils' words were true.
His pupils shrunk, sitting there frozen as he realized who the father of the child was that was laid out there in front of him - he might withstand a blow from Gunvar, but fighting someone like the head commander of the knighthood was simply too much to handle, even if Gilt was there to help him. Without any gear and with his mana already beginning to burn out, his chance of survival was more than just slim - knowing this sent a cold shudder down his spine.
As he turned to Foulard and stood up to leave, Gilt suddenly streamed out of him - the golden skeleton forming in the fraction of a blink of an eye, its hand already grasping his collar. With Midas still registering it was there, he felt himself suddenly being flung forward right through the hallway of the building - the repeating columns and windows passing by his sides in a blur of color as the air made his clothes flutter.
Still airbound, Midas glanced behind his shoulder as he registered the sound of the heavy wooden doors being blown out of their hinges - widening his eyes at a young man with a scar that ran across his cheekbone, the same one Alma left behind during their fight. The sheer density of mana that belonged to him quickly filled through the hallway, violently filling the space, making Midas feel the sheer wrath of the man who only needed the timeframe of someone blinking to suddenly stand on the exact same spot he knelt on.
Crossing his forearms and ducking his head, Midas balled up his body and burst straight through one of the windows - his ears still ringing as he saw himself fly over sets of perfectly formed hedges, landing right on the paved pathway that lead through the garden of flowers. Groaning, as his back ached from the fall, Midas eventually got up onto his feet.
"Do you think you could help me...? In case we do fight?"
"Boy, it's not as easy as you think. Taking over your body momentarily only works if your own control over it is weak enough; even then, I would most definitely lose against that man."
"Cant you reattach my limbs should you be cut...? Qannas made my head burst open with his attack... and you were able to regenerate it from what Foulard told me."
"You're a fool if you think this has no cost to come with. I use mana to regenerate, of course; I have my own pool of it, which I can regenerate over time - gold is the best material to store mana in, and my current form is completely made out of it; however, after regenerating your skull, all of it has been burnt out."
"So if gold stores mana easily, what about your regeneration...?"
"It's always going to be slower than yours; gold can store a lot of mana, but my regeneration will always depend on yours since I draw a portion from your mana into me."
"Great... so if my arm is gone, it really is gone..."
Muttering to himself in a bitter tone, Midas stayed on the path; the garden left him completely exposed from above - frequently glancing up at the windows, he tried to see if the head commander could be standing behind any of the colorful mosaics. To reach the aged wooden shack where he originally found Fudula, he needed to take advantage of the seemingly dormant Null-Ability that lay over the garden. Null-Ability that laid over the garden.
From what he had remembered of the head commander, his sword and his fighting style were oriented around speed - meaning he would most likely avoid any of his attacks with ease, and without Gilts' higher sensitivity for mana, he would most likely never even see him coming. Already seeing the aged building on the horizon, Midas turned his head sharply towards the sound of a crashing window - able to see the blur of Jakal's body beging slammed right into the same building he was trying to go towards.
Feeling his blood run out of his cheeks at the sheer strength of the man he had now made his enemy thanks to Jakal's actions, Midas tried to launch himself forward, using an angled stone pillar to launch himself into the rubble that was once the building. Landing, he immediately was forced onto his knees - hitting the floor now had twice the impact as whatever this foreign technique was pressed down onto anyone that would detour from the paved pathway.
Getting up with a labored movement, Midas' pupils narrowed as he saw him finally standing in the field of flowers right in front of the wooden rubble that once made up the shack. The blonde young man already had his saber drawn - the sleek, pointy metal rod reflecting the shine of the sun, almost too good - before Midas had to press his lids shut as it eventually blinded him too much.
Unable to see for just a fraction, Midas felt his hands already bound together once he widened them again - staring up at the head commander who slowly approached him, the mana pushing down onto him did slow him down noticeably, but even with it, the man would most likely be fast enough to win against him without much of a struggle. Feeling his feet slowly loosen touch with the ground, seeing the man slowly move his hand upwards, Midas simply stared back at him with fletched teeth.
"You were there... in Fort Hij'Shama. I recognize your mana."
"...I was one of the prisoners."
Breathing shallowly, as if he could be punished for it, Midas' eyes narrowed to closer the man came - seeing him grab Jakal, who was already knocked out by the sheer strength of the blow, by his neck and lifting his slumped body up - shadows falling over his stern eyes as he mustered the boy he held onto.
"Do you know how painful it is to loose his only son? How much dedication it takes to go out and potentially see him the last time with each moment you step out into battle...? No, your kind doesn't know anything when it comes to building up and putting effort into things. You all think only of yourselves - even the people in power and their bad excuse of a rule they have over your split-up territory are an example of your failure."
As if speaking to him, the young man tried to reach Jakal with his bitter words. Midas was quiet; he was right - Qayid and Jakal sought themselves after a world where they might've been free from discrimination, without considering where the people native to this kingdom would end up having to go. He too wasn't any better, of course; if it meant rescuing his friends, he would slay multiple of the same men that work under him.
"Do you seek revenge for the man that I have killed that day...?"
"...not anymore."
"Are you scared of what you would have to face in order to do so...?"
"Maybe. To be honest, this man fits your description. So it wouldn't be worth the risk."
"I see..."
Turning back to Jakal, he tightened his hands' grip on him, a vein visible on his forearm as a popping sound rang from the neck of the boy he held onto - unmistakably having broken Jakal's neck and taking his revenge. Making both of them drop onto the ground, Midas didn't even risk looking up at him - his stern eyes fixed on the floor as he felt the young man look down onto him for a prolonged amount of time, grimacing sharply at the idea of him knowing what he did in the plant kingdom festival. Midas didn't move a muscle until he felt that his eye was off him.
As if struck by something, the head commander's eyes quietly widened for just a moment, quickly blinking the shock away, and the young man slowly turned towards the main path and gave Midas one last glance. Slowly, he continued to walk, hearing his soles using the stone slabs that connected what once was the wooden shack with the main road - Midas cautiously moved his head to look after him.
Sitting there, Midas groaned slightly to himself as he reflected on how out of hand everything went today - rubbing his temples, he glanced at Jakal's body, which simply lay there beside him. Hoping it was now over, Midas promptly got onto his feet and onto the main road - his hand over his heart, as he felt it still beating rapidly.
Overlooking the gardener, who suddenly stood beside Jakal's motionless body, Midas made sure to keep going; he had to get to Skye and Fudula, then Haya, as soon as he could. The feeling that he knew of him working with the pirates just didn't want to leave him as Midas kept his head hung low - his trembling fingers clutching the fabric of his blazer as his eyes emptily stared down onto the ground.
If his worries came true, he would need to find a counter against waterstones.