Journey of the Son of Ares

Uzbec burst into motion. He rushed to the steel door and worked the complex set of locks before he left the room for the first time.

Amadeus only looked on with a satisfied smile, knowing he would come back. Aurelius would scour the premises. Uzbec knew he couldn't escape. And he didn't want to.

It had been clear to Amadeus for some time what would happen in the case of a situation like this, and he was fine with it. But even though he had gone against Aurelius' wishes, he would fulfill his last one.

So even as he was strapped to the chair, he outstretched his fingers and suppressed the winces of pain. He closed his eyes and felt his hands move beyond the hyperwire that had restricted his world for long.

Then, without opening his eyes, he saw as the sleeves of a fitting black suit appeared around his arms that he lowered to touch the keys of white and black. He looked to the side and smiled at the crowd.

They were in a luxurious gala. The stage was dark wood with tall crimson curtains on the sides. The audience stretched, but all faces Amadeus knew. All the pleasant people he had met as well as those of whom he had heard. It was a gathering of the finest people all in fabulous dresses and suits, seated under golden chandeliers and in front of black tables that reflected like the grand piano in front of him.

At a table in the front was, Aurelius surrounded by an older woman and a boy his age as well as a young woman with ash brown hair and and her eyebrows raised in muted expectation.

Beside them sat a couple in each other's arms. His mother wore loop earrings while his father had a black leather watch that he fiddled with when he was nervous on Amadeus' behalf. At the same table sat his grandmothers who poked at his grandfathers to stop their conversing as the performance was beginning.

Then there was Zyra wore a smug grin in her magenta dress while Damian—the only one in a navy blue suit—was waiting to see if Amadeus was all he was cracked up to be.

Then there were Amadeus' acquaintances from the bars which he frequented as well as his old master, sitting with his daughter, the only woman Amadeus had seriously loved. His master nodded at him while her daughter gave him a shy wave like the one she had given him when he had last seen her.

He nodded back at all of them as thank you for being there for him in his most important moment, and thus, always and forever.

Then his fingers pressed down and began to travel the distance to the listeners' souls from his own with only the slightest hope it would reach them. And when it did, a connection was established to never be broken.

The pace rose and rose, but stayed coherent and Amadeus could feel the eyes on his widen in wonder of how many hours he had spent just so every note would sing at the right moment. Then as it slowed, it became calm and there was space to reflect on the music being played. To process what the world had given them.

That was the beauty in the moments of calm that happened in between periods of life. Moments of such pure existence and truth that it made all the other life lived feel like a lie. But a blissful lie.

Life was lived and cared about so deeply for the moments of peace where one could look back on what a play it all was and marvel at how it was all so perfectly constructed to lead to that single moment. The moment of reflection you owned forever above all experiences. The moment of acceptance.

Amadeus looked down at his hands launching all over the keys with such perfection he would never have believed it was possible. He couldn't explain it. He could just feel it. How right every movement was to his hands. It was as if his soul was leading him toward one way and no other could do.

Then his attention turned to his right hand. The fingers began to hasten with no effort of Amadeus'. And then his left hand joined and they went on a journey together.

The sound of so many notes at such a pace was incomprehensible to the mind as anything, but a whole, so the mind constructed an image. To Amadeus, it was a moving picture of life.

The ups. The downs. The everything. Accepted as a whole.

It was the acceptance of the world and embracement of all the good it has done to him that freed the soul of the putrid sludge it was infested by on the account of others.

When a man thought more of his enemies than his friends, he became his own enemy.

And Amadeus was not an enemy of himself any longer. He still felt hatred as pain radiated from his hands and drips of blood stained the pristine white keys of the piano. However, the hatred was no longer him. It was something made external. Not because he pushed it away, but because blissed pulled him harder.

It took him and he ran along. He looked up and saw the candles of the chandelier above turn to stars that shot down at the pace of his fingers raced back and forth through the keys.

There was a crashing sound and Uzbec's voice was heard. "What are you doing?" It was one of annoyance, aggression spewing out as he rushed back into the room with panic.

"Playing," Amadeus responded absent-mindedly without letting his fingers stop even as he came to a calmer place. Even as the music slowed, it had to stay alive.

"Playing what?"

Amadeus' face twitched at the man's ignorance. "Impromptu."

Uzbec said something more, but Amadeus didn't listen to his insignificant babble as his pace started to differ before rising to its crescendo once more and his fingers raced up the keys as his audience caught their breaths. Then down and up again with strong notes before coming down to a quiet and peaceful waltz. Then it was ended. In somewhere far away, he rose from his seat and walked slowly to the center of the stage.

First, he noticed Damian's slack jaw. Then his eyes went to Aurelius who wiped his clear eyes. His mother and father were whispering to each other and his grandparents were making signs of praise his interlocked hands.

Amadeus smiled but was jerked back and his eyes flung open. The back of his head hit the back of the cold chair.

"You're going to help me survive this," Uzbec whispered as he held Amadeus' forehead from behind. "Try to say a word to him and I slit your throat. Understand?"

Amadeus close said nothing.

It was true that Aurelius would let Uzbec go to save him and Uzbec would be able to escape somehow, and if he got away with what he knew, Aurelius' family was as good as dead and his war against Nexus would be ruined.

But as it stood, that wasn't going to happen.

Both Amadeus and Izbec held their gazes forward as sounds of slaughter began to carry through the heavily reinforced door. Uzbec had surely prepared his forces somehow. Amadeus could figure that his plan relied on being able to inflict some kind of wound on a slowed-down Aurelius with the help of him as a hostage so that he could escape with the information he gained from the meeting.

It was a solid plan. Amadeus had figured that Uzbec's base was based inside a Nexus branch that was boosted by Orpheus' resources.

However, Uzbec didn't know what he was dealing with. Amadeus saw as the man began to turn pale at the approaching screams that were cut off by the sound of slices cleaving through bodies into the very construction of the building.

He was coming and fast. Faster than Uzbec could have imagined.

"What the hell," Uzbec muttered under his breath as a multitude of roars were all cut off. Tens at the same time and then the sound of corpses slamming into walls with a crush.

There were no roars after that. Only screams of horror and suffering. Ones Uzbec specialized in evoking, but ones that shook him in his soul. Because they were left short, unsavoured. The one evoking them did not care for them. He did not inflict pain for its own sake. Pain was a mere consequence of the death he wreaked in his wake.

Amadeus sluggishly tilted his head up to look at Uzbec in his wide, frenzied eyes. "Karase aki," he reminded.

Uzbec's eyes jumped to Amadeus before he slammed a hand on his mouth, unwilling to hear any more of his unavoidable demise.

But he heard it still. It was close. Right at the door. No more soldiers or guards. Just him, his hostage and his soon-to-be killer.

Amadeus gathered the drops of blood on the armrest of his chair to the tip of his finger and left his message unbeknownst to Uzbec.

Then he closed his eyes once again and saw the crowd. Only now Aurelius was shaking his head. Telling him not to do it. Of course, he understood, but he didn't want to.

Still, some things had to be done, and in a way, it was all perfect.

Amadeus bowed with unending gratitude and was met with overwhelming acclaim. His hearing was taken over by the applause and he looked up to find that as far as his eyes took him, he could see nothing but people he was grateful for and those who were grateful for him.

They applauded his genius, his courage, his fullness of being, and most of all, his ascendance.

Truly, the ultimate rebellion against life was a happy death.

He slowly opened his eyes. Uzbec had taken his hand off his mouth and now held a knife firmly to his throat that was already dripped with blood.

Then there was a bang at the door. One that would have taken the full strength of a soldier, but for Aurelius it was delicate.

"Open the door," Aurelius' low voice carried over.

Uzbec wore a straight expression only to be crumbled by a shiver as Aurelius punched the door so hard it bent inward and it sounded like a building had been dropped onto the ground.

"Do you want advice," Amadeus asked.

Uzbec glanced down, drained of humor. "Shut up."

Amadeus didn't listen and said his piece. "When you intend to torture someone, check the teeth first."

There was a moment of quiet before the flash in Uzbec's eyes as he realized it. That flash contained more emotion than all of what he had shown previously combined. But too late. Too slow.

Amadeus had already enhanced his jaw and ground his upper molar inside which some powder had been allocated years ago. By the time Uzbec forced his mouth open, it had already mixed with his saliva and he swallowed. The poison worked fast and began to corrode his organs. It wasn't pleasant, but nothing like the horrible external sufferings Uzbec had subjected him to.

The experience was given solace by Uzbec's face as he stared down at Amadeus with his animalistic eyes, turned into ones of small prey. He'd told Amadeus that he had killed an adult soldier at the age of 12, but Amadeus wagered he felt more in danger now than he had back then. Surely he could try trading blows with Aurelius, but he knew how it would end. They all knew.

'One less burden for you. One less burden for the world," Amadeus issued his final apology, hoping Aurelius would somehow grasp it.

That's when the door exploded and his figure was revealed.

Fortunately, right before Amadeus's mouth flooded with the taste of blood and his eyes rolled back into his skull to never return, he saw it.

He stood—the sharp shoulders of his dark attire wrapped in a cloak—at the end of a hallway which had its wall painted with smears and floor riddled with broken bodies. Amidst flickering lights, Aurelius stood bloodied but detached like a man carved to perfection by the all-mighty himself. His glaring blue eyes gleamed through even the patches of darkness when the lamplight tried to escape down the hall. He looked at Amadeus with crushing emotion, but he pushed it all away. Then he flicked his gaze up at Uzbec and there it stayed, deadset as Amadeus faded away, his mission complete, assured that evil would be eradicated while his applause continued.