Chapter 58: Fake Honor

Amphere Harrison

During that tumultuous period, Richard had accomplished the extraordinary feat of conjuring yet another portal from the enigmatic realm of Twilight City. Bracing the weight of a fading Airi in my arms, I hastily navigated through the swirling vortex. My sole focus became delivering her to the sanctum of Guardian Haven's Hospital, where her fragile form was promptly whisked away to the Intensive Care Unit. Within those sterile walls, she endured a relentless cycle of surgical interventions spanning three agonizing days. As if in cruel synchrony, my own right eye's sight diminished upon Airi's descent into unconsciousness, plunging me into a world of perceived blindness, leading me to reluctantly shroud it beneath an eyepatch.

Now on the fourth day following that fateful and blood-soaked episode in Twilight City, Airi's precious consciousness remained elusive, entangled in an inescapable coma. Despite the doctors' valiant efforts to revive her, their endeavors proved futile, leaving us resigned to a state of helpless vulnerability, akin to defenseless prey in the jaws of fate.

Taking a seat by Airi's bedside, I meticulously replaced the wilting daisies in the room's vase. Airi had once confided her aversion to witnessing the decay of such delicate blooms. I yearned for her to awaken and bask in their vibrant presence, to grace us with her radiant smile at the earliest opportunity.

The sole sounds punctuating the stifling silence were the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. No longer did Airi's frail form laboriously rise and fall beneath the oxygen mask, a stark contrast to the preceding three days of her sojourn within these hospital walls. Gazing downward, my gaze fixed upon the handkerchief she had long employed as a cherished hair adornment over the past two decades. Self-reproach consumed me entirely; I despised myself for my own insurmountable stupidity.

I had inadvertently brought about the demise of my mentor, staining my hands with his blood. My dearest friend had been gravely wounded, left to bear the weight of my misjudgment. Moreover, the woman who had loved me unconditionally had willingly sacrificed herself on my behalf. Estoff, in an attempt to assuage my guilt, had urged me not to shoulder the blame entirely, but his words offered me little solace. The burden of responsibility now rested heavily upon my shoulders, and the relentless waves of guilt threatened to engulf me completely. My gaze then shifted to the golden dragon-head badge bestowed upon me that very morning, an emblem of honor from the pomp-filled ceremony where I had been lauded for my supposed "heroic acts," notably the slaying of Arcadia's commander, Estoff Wraith. Yet unbeknownst to the oblivious majority, it was all a calculated ruse, a staged performance that only served to intensify my sense of remorse.

As tears streamed down my face, I found the strength to utter the words that had been weighing heavily on my heart. "Hey, Airi," my voice trembled, "I forgive you completely now... Please, I implore you to wake up. You mean everything to me. I'll honor your offer. I'll relinquish my hero status and spend the rest of my days with you in a tranquil province... Just please, wake up..." My grip tightened around her delicate hand, desperately seeking a response. I pressed my quivering lips against her hand, mingling my tears with hers, the embodiment of my anguish. For five excruciating minutes, I clung to the hope that she would stir.

Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing three figures: Duchess Corasell, Kyrie, and Rudolf. Kyrie now acted as Rudolf's caregiver, pushing his wheelchair, as his amputated limbs rendered him unable to walk. Swathed in bandages resembling that of a mummy, my best friend bore the visible wounds of his ordeal. In contrast, Kyrie showcased a minor injury on her chest, a testament to her gradual recovery.

Duchess Corasell bowed her head, concealing her emotions behind clenched fists, her fury suppressed but palpable. "Is it true?" she queried, her voice laden with sorrow, "Did you truly slay Sir Wraith?"

I met her gaze, my response unwavering. "Yes," I answered with unwavering resolve.

Her next question pierced the heavy air, laden with unspoken pain. "Did Airelina indeed sacrifice herself to shield you?"

Once again, I affirmed, my voice laced with grief, "Yes."

Overwhelmed by an unexplainable wave of emotions, Duchess Corasell's eyes welled up, tears threatening to spill forth. "I can't comprehend the reasons behind it all," she murmured, her voice quivering, "But the weight of these consequences should be yours to bear. Poor Mister Gilliard and Miss Elumina... Airelina and Sir Estoff... They should never have experienced such anguish. It is you... IT IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!" Her words reverberated with an anguished fury, a declaration of the blame she placed squarely upon my shoulders.

"Yes!" I rose to my feet, towering over the Duchess, attempting to provoke her with my heightened stature. "It is all my fault! But I never desired for any of this to happen! I bear the weight of my own weakness and hold myself accountable. I wanted to suffer the consequences, to endure every sin and perish in misery!"

The Duchess, her hand poised to deliver a resounding slap, halted herself mid-motion. Instead, she retreated, tears streaming down her face, her sobs reminiscent of a wounded creature. I stood there, isolated and bewildered, the echoes of her departure lingering in the air.

Rudolf finally broke his silence. "You know, Amphere," he spoke with a mixture of anger and frustration, "If I could, I would smash this wheelchair right into your face."

I nodded, my voice tinged with self-awareness. "The Duchess is correct." My gaze fell upon the golden badge clenched tightly in my hand. "I have no right to retain this honor and live as if I were a true hero."

Rudolf interjected, his voice laden with a touch of understanding. "You must understand, it wasn't solely for your sake. She is in a fragile mental state, one that drives her to assign blame. But in due time, she will come to recognize the significance of Airelina and Estoff's sacrifices."

"Sacrifices?" I let out a bitter chuckle. "They sacrificed themselves for me, all for the sake of a counterfeit honor?"

Rudolf's response carried a hint of wistfulness. "That fabricated honor serves a greater purpose, Amphere. It paves the way for the passage of the Dragonoid Rights Bill. While it may feel like a moral and emotional defeat, it is, in fact, a strategic victory. I can almost imagine Estoff's laughter from beyond, as he revels in the unfolding of his master plan, sipping his beer in satisfaction."

Turning to Rudolf, I posed a question, tinged with remorse. "And what about you? Don't you despise me? It was my foolishness that caused you and Kyrie to suffer such grave injuries."

"No one hates you, believe me," Rudolf reassured me. "If anything, you should be the one harboring resentment, considering I nearly pierced your heart. I understand the weight of that experience. It felt as if I had just taken the life of a cherished comrade. It's an utterly vexing ordeal. Nightmares plagued me, and I couldn't help but contemplate the terrifying possibility of accidentally shooting Kyrie next. But after a day of agonizing, I realized that worrying is utterly futile. You have to rise above it, leave behind the self-pity, and embrace your role as a man. Don't dwell on past mistakes; focus on the future."

My eyes widened in awe. This man, who appeared unassuming at first glance, delivered a speech surpassing the overzealous motivational speakers. Suppressing a chuckle, I looked at him with a smile. "You and your movie references should probably be tossed in the garbage. Nevertheless, thanks, man."

We exchanged a fist bump, and Kyrie's face lit up with a beautiful smile, witnessing the reconciliation of two best friends.

After a few minutes, Airi and I were left alone in the room. Once again, my gaze fixated on the handkerchief, evoking cherished memories of our shared moments. She was as adorable as she had been at the tender age of five. I never could have fathomed that we would cross paths once more. Destiny, indeed, has a playful nature.

And then, in an instant...

The heart monitor emitted a prolonged beep. Airi's heart had ceased to beat.

My mind went blank, as if my entire nervous system had shut down. I couldn't fathom that this could be the end for Airelina.

The medical staff swiftly responded, their voices blending into a blur of incomprehensible numbers and jargon. They retrieved a defibrillator, delivering multiple shocks to Airi's still heart—twice, thrice, and even a fourth time. Yet, despite their valiant efforts, her heart remained silent. My eyes widened, absorbing the gravity of the doctor's words.

"Time of death... Ten forty-four AM."

A surge of agony coursed through my chest, echoing within the depths of my mind.

What in the world is happening?

Why is this unfolding before my eyes?

...Airi...

A firm tap on my shoulder jolted me out of my sorrow-stricken daze. It was Richard, persistently seeking my attention throughout. "Amphere!" he called urgently, his voice laden with determination. "Take Airelina's body. I know a way. If the Holy Guardian was able to bring me back, there's no doubt she can revive Airelina!"

Richard's words struck a chord within me. He had indeed been revived through the Cathedral Exa's experimental procedures. There was still a glimmer of hope to reclaim Airi from the clutches of death.

Without a moment's hesitation, I detached the electronic monitors and removed the dextrose tubes connected to Airi's frail form. With utmost care, I cradled her in my arms, adopting a princess-like hold. Whispers of reassurance escaped my lips as I murmured, "I will save you, no matter what." And with that, we leaped into the portal that Richard had conjured.

Upon our arrival, the Cathedral Exa materialized before us, a haunting sight of crumbling ruins, with vines snaking their way along its medieval brick walls. Hooded priests, their faces obscured, moved about the premises.

Richard raised his hand, signaling our path, as he sprinted down the dimly lit hallway. I followed suit, my breaths coming in labored gasps, propelled by a mixture of adrenaline and desperate hope.

We sprinted through the dimly lit, winding spiral staircase that led us deep into the heart of the Cathedral. Though I had conducted extensive research on this place, I had never come across any mention of this particular area. As we reached the end of the staircase, my astonishment grew exponentially when a colossal wooden door, adorned with a sigil depicting a crucified dragon, barred our passage.

As if sensing our presence, the door swung open of its own accord.

Beyond its threshold lay a sight beyond imagination—a spring brimming with ethereal, glowing blue waters. Golden particles of light danced gracefully in the air, imbuing the space with an otherworldly ambiance. And there, at the center of it all, stood a breathtakingly beautiful woman, approximately twenty-five years of age, garbed in the regal attire of a priestess. Her silver tresses cascaded around her, framing her captivating crimson eyes with their haunting black sclera. She extended her arms toward me, an air of anticipation enveloping her.

"The boy has finally made his appearance. I have waited for you for a long time, Amphere Harrison." Her voice, both melodic and commanding, reverberated through the sacred chamber.