Chapter 102: Monster

(Chapter 102 Monster)

"What in the seven hells was I doing?"

Tempest muttered under his breath as he navigated the narrow, dimly lit hallways of the House of the Hearth. His steps were heavy, his mind a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts. The events of the battle replayed in his head, each moment darker and more twisted than the last.

"Swinging my sword at children…"

He whispered, his voice tinged with disgust. The image of the terrified faces of the children, the cries that echoed in his ears, haunted him now. How had he come so close to striking them down? His hands clenched involuntarily as if still gripping the blade he had raised to deliver that fatal blow.

"And that young magician."

He continued, brow furrowing as he recalled Lyney stepping between him and Arlecchino. "Why was he there? Why would he stand in front of me like that?"

The courage it must have taken for the boy to raise his trembling hands in defense of Arlecchino and the children unsettled him.

Tempest's steps slowed as guilt began to gnaw at his core. He had been ready to cut them all down in a blind pursuit of vengeance, but for what? His grip tightened, the walls around him feeling more like a prison than an escape route.

"What have I become?"

He muttered, his voice barely audible.

'You are still Tempest. Thank you for not going down that path.'

The soft, gentle voice of Nahida echoed in his mind, a quiet reassurance amidst the storm of his thoughts.

Tempest paused, his gaze softening as he looked up at the dim ceiling above.

"You were watching all along, Young Pasha?"

He asked, his voice quieter than usual, touched by a trace of guilt. The memory of nearly crossing that line still weighed heavily on him.

'I was.'

Nahida's voice answered, kind yet filled with concern.

'I couldn't just stand by... I was worried for you. I had to intervene. Here, let me help you find your way.'

As her words reached him, the doors ahead of him gently illuminated with soft, guiding him forward through the winding hallways. The flickering, verdant glow was a contrast to the dark, narrow corridors of the House of the Hearth. With each step, Tempest felt the weight on his heart ease, as if Nahida's presence was lifting him out of the darkness he had nearly plunged into.

He sighed, his pace steadying.

"I don't know what came over me. For a moment, I couldn't see clearly, and my rage nearly consumed me. Swinging my sword at those children… What would have become of me?"

Nahida's voice remained calm but filled with compassion.

'You are not lost, Tempest. The road back is always open to you. Just keep walking forward, and don't let the influence of your Father and your past guide your hand.'

Tempest let out a slow breath, the green light leading him toward the exit.

Soon, Tempest reached the final door. He grasped the knob and gave it a firm turn, but the door wouldn't budge. Something heavy was blocking it from the outside. With a deep breath, he braced himself and shoved the door hard, forcing it open just enough for him to slip through.

As he emerged, a pungent stench hit him like a slap in the face.

"Ugh, fuck me..."

He muttered, grimacing as the unmistakable smell of the sewers assaulted his senses. A large, overflowing trash bin had been shoved up against the door, leaving him face-to-face with the foul odor.

'Language, Tempest. Language.'

In his mind, Nahida's voice chimed in gently.

Tempest rolled his eyes, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"My bad. Sorry, Young Pasha."

He muttered, stepping around the trash bin with a sigh. He couldn't help but glance back at the decrepit exit of the House of the Hearth, the battle behind him already beginning to feel like a bad dream.

The fresh air beyond the alleyway beckoned, and he knew he needed to keep moving. The path Nahida had illuminated had brought him to safety, physically, at least, but the turmoil within him still lingered.

Tempest walked along the narrow path, the stench of the sewers fading behind him as he ventured deeper into the heart of Fleuve Cendre, the slums nestled beneath the grand Court of Fontaine. The contrast was stark, the opulence above was a world away from the grimy streets he now traversed.

"Can't be seen around these parts…"

He muttered under his breath, pulling his cloak tightly around himself to conceal his identity. The fabric wrapped around him like a shroud, offering a semblance of anonymity in a place where eyes were always watching.

He moved swiftly, navigating the labyrinth of alleys and decrepit buildings, climbing the rickety ladders that led upward toward the surface. Each step brought him closer to the world above.

"I promise, I'll help restore this place one day, and help the less fortunate..."

As he reached a landing and paused to catch his breath, he glanced at the towering structure of the Palais Mermonia.

"I want to see her..."

Tempest whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. His heart raced at the thought of her, her smile, her laughter, her attitude. The desire to reach out to her, to share the weight of his turmoil, pulled at him like a tide.

"Young Pasha, a favor, please?"

Tempest muttered, his thoughts turning to Nahida as he stood at the empty streets, glancing at the Palais Mermonia.

'Yes? Tempest?'

Nahida's voice responded in his mind, calm and attentive as ever.

"Could you let Teacher know to return to Stormwind? I'll catch up with them later. The operation is over."

Tempest said, his tone steady but underscored by a hint of urgency.

He could almost envision Nahida nodding in understanding.

'Of course, Tempest. You want to see her, don't you? She could already be sleeping by now. I'm still waiting here in your office if you want to talk.'

Nahida replied, her voice a soft reminder of the support she offered.

Tempest paused, contemplating her words.

"I'll take you up on that offer if she is asleep. But right now I... I just want to see her."

He confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The weight of his longing pressed heavily on his chest, and he could feel the pulse of anticipation in his veins. There was something about her presence that calmed the storm within him, grounding him in a way that nothing else could. She was a beacon of hope in the tumultuous sea of his emotions.

'I understand. Just remember, Tempest, it's okay to feel vulnerable. You don't have to carry this burden alone.'

Nahida encouraged gently.

"Thank you, Young Pasha."

Tempest said softly, feeling a surge of gratitude as Nahida's voice gradually faded from his mind. He took a moment to collect himself before turning his attention to the path ahead.

With purpose in his stride, he made his way through the streets of the Court of Fontaine, navigating the familiar alleys that led to the Waterway Hub.

Upon reaching the Waterway Hub, Tempest quickly located the elevator that would take him up to the Palais Mermonia. He stepped inside, the doors sliding shut with a soft hiss. As the elevator ascended, he felt a mixture of anticipation and apprehension coursing through him. Would she be awake? Would she be expecting him?

As the elevator finally came to a stop and the doors opened with a soft chime, Tempest took a deep breath.

"This is the third time already..."

Tempest muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly as he made his way toward the back of the Palais Mermonia. He glanced up at the high balcony that led to Furina's room, a familiar mixture of anticipation and nervousness bubbling within him.

With a determined stride, he focused his energy, harnessing the power of his Pyro Delusion. Flames flickered to life around his feet, propelling him upward as he leaped high into the air. The sensation of rising felt exhilarating, the wind whipping against his face as he ascended toward the balcony.

As he reached the apex of his jump, he transitioned smoothly into a graceful descent, activating his Hydro Vision just in time to soften his landing. The water swirled around him, muffling the sound as he touched down quietly on the balcony.

Tempest took a moment to catch his breath. He approached the door to Furina's room, his heart racing with both excitement and uncertainty. What would he say? How would she react? With a steadying breath, he prepared to take that final step forward.

*Knock Knock*

"My Lady?"

Tempest called gently, his knuckles rapping softly against the door. He waited, the stillness of the night amplifying the anticipation in his chest. When no reply came, he let out a deep sigh, disappointment washing over him like a tide.

"I guess I'll take the Young Pasha's offer then..."

He muttered to himself, steeling his resolve as he prepared to leap back down from the balcony. But just as he was about to jump, the door creaked open, and he turned around, his heart leaping into his throat.

"Is someone there?"

Furina's voice floated out, weary yet laced with curiosity. She emerged, candle in hand, the flickering light illuminating her features. Dressed in an elegant sleeping gown, she looked surprisingly ethereal, her hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. Tempest's heart raced at the sight, he was so used to seeing Furina in her iconic attire, commanding and regal. But now, in her vulnerability, she appeared utterly...

"Adorable..."

He blurted out before he could stop himself, a flush creeping into his cheeks as he raised a hand to cover his mouth, wishing he could take the words back.

"T-Tempest?!"

Furina exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock. The sudden color rising in her cheeks only deepened the warmth in his own. Before he could respond, she hurriedly closed the door slightly, her voice muffled yet tinged with flustered surprise.

"You didn't tell me you were here!"

She called out from behind the door, her tone a mix of exasperation and delight.

Tempest couldn't help but chuckle softly, her earlier confrontation with Arlecchino melting away in the warmth of the moment.

"I'm sorry, My Lady. I didn't mean to surprise you. I just wanted to see you."

"H-Hold on! Just a minute!"

Furina's voice rose in a flurry of urgency as she scrambled to gather the scattered books littering her floor. She had clearly been lost in her reading, and the sight of her tomes, some teetering dangerously on the edge of her desk, sent her into a mini panic.

"I need to change first! Augh! You should've told me you were coming! This is the third time already!"

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as she rummaged through her wardrobe, her hands moving swiftly, searching for something more presentable.

"Do you miss me that badly?!"

She exclaimed, half-teasing, half-serious, her heart racing not just from the surprise but also from the thrill of seeing him.

Tempest stood outside, a fond smile tugging at his lips as he listened to her flustered exclamations. He could picture her, hair tousled and eyes wide with a mix of surprise and excitement, and it warmed his heart.

"I-uh, I didn't mean to intrude."

He said, his voice softening.

"But I really did want to see you. I guess I just can't help myself."

He replied, leaning casually against the doorframe,

"Besides, I think you look lovely no matter what you wear."

"I know! I am beautiful! Thanks for reminding me!"

Furina shouted, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

As he waited, he could hear the soft rustle of fabric and the faint clink of jewelry as Furina finally found a more appropriate outfit.

"Just give me a moment!"

She called again, her voice muffled but carrying a sense of eager anticipation.

In the end, Furina had chosen to don her usual outfit, though her iconic hat was conspicuously absent. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she finally opened the door, revealing a playful smirk on her lips.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Can't a woman just get some beauty sleep nowadays?"

She teased, arching an eyebrow.

"What brings you to disturb my slumber, hm?"

Tempest glanced into her room and noticed a half-empty wine bottle carelessly perched near her desk, its contents reflecting the flickering candlelight.

"Sleeping?"

He asked, a hint of amusement lacing his voice.

"Hm?"

Furina followed his gaze, her expression shifting from playful to slightly embarrassed as she noticed the wine bottle.

"Augh! Forget that!"

She exclaimed, waving her hand dismissively, a flustered look crossing her face.

"Just come in already!"

She stepped aside, inadvertently leaving the wine bottle in plain sight, her earlier composure slipping as she ushered him in.

As Tempest stepped over the threshold, he couldn't help but chuckle at the chaotic charm of her room. Books were strewn about, notes covered the desk, and the atmosphere felt alive with the remnants of her late-night musings.

"It looks like you've had quite the evening."

He remarked, glancing back at her with a teasing grin.

Furina rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"You have no idea. But it's all worth it for a little peace and quiet... until you came barging in, that is."

She crossed her arms playfully, her earlier embarrassment melting away in the warmth of his presence.

"Hm?"

Tempest murmured as he accidentally stepped on a book lying on the floor, titled The Curse of Fontaine. He bent down and picked it up, curiosity piqued as he flipped it open while Furina was preoccupied with putting away the wine bottle.

"Huh?"

His eyes scanned the contents of the page, growing more confused by the second. In bold letters, he saw the prophecy: 'The Archon will be the only one left weeping on her throne.' It was a phrase he had heard before, a dark omen that loomed over Fontaine. But what caught Tempest's attention wasn't just the prophecy itself, it was the frantic handwriting scrawled all around it.

'Why me?!'

'How do I stop it?!'

'Why do I have to suffer?!'

These desperate words were scratched into the margins of the page. And unmistakably, it was Furina's handwriting. Tempest's breath hitched as he turned the page, only to find a disturbing sight, the next few pages were filled with nothing but frantic, chaotic scribbles. The strokes of the pen grew wilder and more erratic, as though written by a mind on the edge of breaking.

Tempest could feel a sense of dread creeping over him, seeing Furina's pain laid bare in such raw form. Before he could fully process what he was looking at, or ask the question that was forming in his mind, Furina snatched the book from his hands.

"My La-"

He began, but Furina's eyes snapped toward him, all playfulness gone. Her expression had hardened, and there was a chill in her gaze that made Tempest freeze.

"Mind your own business."

She said coldly, clutching the book tightly against her chest.

"Don't ever touch things in my room without my permission. That's an order, not a request."

Her voice, sharp and unwavering, struck Tempest like a dagger. Furina swiftly turned away, walking over to her bookshelf and sliding the book back into place, her movements rigid and controlled.

Tempest stood there, rooted to the spot, his eyes never leaving her. There was something deeply wrong, something more than just embarrassment or irritation. He could feel it. The way she kept her back turned to him, the way her shoulders seemed tense, almost trembling.

"Lady Furina..."

Tempest's voice softened, concern lacing his tone. But she didn't respond. She stood still, her back to him, her hands resting against the bookshelf as though it was the only thing holding her up.

The silence between them grew heavier with every passing second, a silence that said more than any words could.

"Now, what brought you here, hm? Oh my me, what happened to you, Tempest? Your clothing is burnt..."

Furina said, her playful tone returning as she turned around to face him. It was as though the tense moment from seconds earlier had never happened. She examined his attire, her eyes widening with exaggerated concern as she noticed the singed edges of his clothing, remnants of his fierce confrontation with Arlecchino.

But Tempest barely heard her words. His mind was still processing the sudden shift in her demeanor. One moment, Furina had been cold, distant, practically pushing him away. And now, just like that, she was back to her usual, playful self, acting as if nothing had occurred.

The unsettling change left a bitter taste in Tempest's mouth. He couldn't shake the feeling that this carefree demeanor was nothing more than a mask she wore to cover up something darker, something she didn't want him to see...