Gacha System: Reborn In The Hardest World
Chapter 73: Pearlescent Knight

Chapter 73: Pearlescent Knight

"Good question," Elijah said, squatting down for a closer look. "Whatever it is, it’s responsible for the dead walking around. It’s also keeping us from leaving."

"Wait, what–?" Gael looked over.

The blue-eyed soldier stood up, giving a quiet nod as he looked towards the ruined shop front, "You haven’t tried leaving since you came in, have you? Well, each passage is blocked by that black sludge now."

"Seriously?" Gael mumbled, feeling the weight of the situation.

Elijah shrugged, placing his hands on his sides, "Oddly enough, it seems willing to let outsiders inside of Atlantis. It actually parted when we came through, but closed us in after."

The more he learned about the situation, the more arduous it became. It was a web of problems, caving in those that entered Atlantis—he felt trapped.

Elijah sat down against the wall, looking at the orange, coral growth in the courtyard, "Right now, the objective has changed from securing Marinus to just surviving."

"For Mastorn, or for you?" Gael questioned.

A moment of silence stood between them as Elijah stared back at him before ruffling his own hair with a tired sigh.

"I live for myself. Sure as hell not for an empire’s demands." Elijah answered. "They sent us here without any regard for our lives. So, why should I care?"

"Probably for the best," Gael said, feeding a piece of pastry to the capybara on his shoulder.

"What about you?" Elijah suddenly asked.

The question caught him off guard as he looked at the soldier, unsure of what he meant, "Me?"

"I mean, you’re one of the Heavenly Kings, aren’t you?" Elijah asked with confidence.

Without hesitation, Gael raised his hand as the black-steel dagger welcomed itself into his grip. That immediate animosity brought Elijah’s hands up in defense.

"Woah, woah—wait, you thought I didn’t know? Guy, you’re wearing their uniform," Elijah explained, pointing at his clothes.

A glance down at his all-black, sleek attire, it struck him that he wasn’t exactly incognito.

"Well, you have a point, but...I assumed since you were from Mastorn—" Gael lowered his weapon.

"Oh, that? Well, I can’t blame you for assuming. The thing is, most people don’t really hate Outlanders," Elijah explained.

"Seriously?" Gael asked, looking at the seated man.

Elijah combed his hand through his messy hair, nodding, "I’d say half of the people in Mastorn genuinely do despise Outlanders. The other half act like it out of fear of the repercussions if they don’t," Elijah admitted.

"Most of them have never even met people like me though, have they?" Gael asked, sitting across from the soldier.

Even if it was only a temporary respite, he took the time to compose himself in the abandoned pastry shop. Beneath the weight of waves above, miles from the surface, there was nothing else to do but take one’s time.

Elijah shook his head, "Nope. People can only go off of what they’re told, and they’re told you’re monsters."

"Well, I can’t say I think otherwise for your bunch," Gael said, picking at the blood under his fingernail.

"Hard to blame you," Elijah ruffled his hair with a laugh.

He found himself at a crossroads, conflicted on how to feel as he conversed with the Mastornian. It wasn’t a situation he thought he’d find himself in, though there was no rejecting it.

"What about you? You haven’t tried taking my head," Gael called out. "Even if you’re not a Venator."

"You’ve got the wrong idea. I don’t have it out for you Outlanders one way or the other. That job is for the Venator," Elijah explained with a chuckle, chewing a pastry.

"Is that so?" Gael asked, standing up as he brushed his pants off.

Elijah stood as well, caressing his bandaged wound with a wince, "Besides, I’m pretty hurt here. If we fought, you’d probably—no, definitely, win."

"Well, I don’t think we have the luxury of fighting against each other right now. Both Mastorn and Galios–we’re in the jaws of something terrifying down here," Gael remarked, straightening the coat on his shoulders.

"You get it," Elijah agreed, standing beside him as he tightened his own bandages. "Fighting amongst each other right now would be ignoring the danger we’re all in."

Though he felt conflicted on trusting the Mastornian, there was no lie in his words; that was the only part he could find trust in. Far from land, deep within the depths of an arduous sea, in the mythical city–enemies may find alliances.

–

Neighboring the valley desecrated by the battle with the Celestial, a campsite was quickly formed by the arriving forces of Galios. Between the shore and the northern mountains, tents were raised and supplies carried in.

At the heart of the military camp, the fiery-haired Outlander sat amongst knights of Galios with a mug of mead in his hand.

"You’re saying he turned into a dragon?!" A shaggy-bearded knight in silver armor asked across the table.

Rowan gulped his mead before slamming the mug down, pointing at the knight, "Not a true dragon, but a cross between man and beast! It was freaky, but I pulled through!"

"Beating a Celestial...That’s a helluva achievement," another knight chimed in.

"To Rowan!"

"Rowan! Rowan!"

The swordsmen at the table raised their mugs in respect to the Outlander, whose cheeks were flushed by the booze.

Rowan laughed, bashfully rubbing the top of his lip, "Well, it was hard fought, but I pulled through!"

"I’m sure it was."

The voice from behind immediately stiffened the joyful expression of Rowan into something sour. He looked over his shoulder, finding a man of priceless-like beauty, dressed in exuberant, snow-white armor with floral engravings.

"Lucius," Rowan said the name as though it were a curse.

"Rowan. I’m glad to see you’re in good health. When I heard you encountered a Celestial, I feared the worst," the man of long, silken hair of a silver shade said.

"The worst? You make it sound like you aren’t confident I’d win," Rowan said, standing up from the bench.

He towered over the illustrious knight, dwarfing him in physique as well, though the tension did not fade.