Kismet’s Tale

      Mavin sat cross-legged in the sleeper room’s bed while staring at the blurring scenery, vistas, mountains, and villages. He had not fallen asleep. He couldn't sleep easily and he had enough of sleeping. His body was tough enough to endure hours of no sleep.

He wasn’t tired, although he does feel hungry because of the regeneration factor that he had, of course, if he wishes to, he could go on for weeks without food at all. But that was not living, Mavin told himself. Although he had grown used to the boons ever since he acquired most of them years ago, the after effects of having such physical abilities made Mavin curious. 

It did make him physically strong, and durable. But mentally he couldn’t find any difference other than his greater senses and reflexes. His memory was a bit juggled because of the regeneration process, and although he had forgotten some parts of what he did before due to dying.

Death was something he had been concerned about. He truly did die when his insides were melted, and only through his regeneration factor that he survived after so many years. He was sometimes awake within those years, but the shock of pain would cause him to go into a coma. Every part of his body, every orifice and cell was screaming in pain for the last years.

He could be awake for two minutes, but all he could feel was the burning acidic pain. It felt like he swallowed his own blood. The pain was like burning needles stitching his entire body until there was nowhere for the body to be burned. Each needle was burning. He couldn't even scream because the pain would shut him down. Mavin couldn’t remember how much he tried to move his body, only for the assault of pain to force him to wake up.

When it was happening, Mavin begged for God to save him. To forgive him for this suffering so that he could do well. But the next time he woke up, he forgot, and all he could think was how painful it was. Mavin believed that the reason he lost his memories was because he was protecting his own body. He was protecting his own in hopes that he could recover safely, and be free from the damage.

The chronic pains that had started were gone. But there are times where he would just feel that head-breaking pain. Being active seems to mitigate the chronic pain, since he would not be able to focus on the pain. Nonetheless, it made Mavin weary, and he only felt tired when feeling the pain. One of the reasons he couldn’t find himself sleeping was because he thought that sleeping would once again make those chronic pains active. Regenerating for fifty-seven years and being in a semi-conscious state all the time, robbed of all his senses, then snuffed out of the ability to breath made it felt like it was punishment. Great power comes at great cost, and if this was the price, then it was better than most of the ones who had to do so much more.

To sleep was to feel his wounds heal again. If it wasn’t for his regeneration factor, he would have come out of the coffin with a body made of nothing but scars. Still, he didn’t want to think too deeply about the years that had passed. The people he had abandoned, and the time he had missed. He thought to himself that Kismet's artifact was gone now so perhaps he might be able to do something other than worry about the fate of the world around him.

Then again, he was doing all of this for the sake of his own, he reminded himself. Nonetheless, he felt like his limbs would give up despite all the strength that he had in him. He didn’t know why he felt tired when he could possibly run miles without breaking a single sweat. His limbs felt weak despite his arms being able to carry tons.

Mavin was tired. Sleep was tiresome and it reminded him of the aching pain that happened during his regeneration.  He could complain about it all day, but this experience was something he had to keep to himself. Who in the world would know the feeling of being burnt and melted alive? To have one’s body reconstructed, cell by cell, producing a pain that would cause him to lose his consciousness.

Not to mention that during regeneration the dragon’s blood that he took in was not easily contained, and kept on destroying his body inwardly until his body evolved to adapt to the poison. Said poison was part of him now, and was something he could produce if he chose to.

Not that he was glad of it. It has been a long time since he found a quiet place. He still remembers how the Webman Company dreamed of building a continental train. Not to mention that they are able to construct a bullet train on top of their old rail, creating fast and convenient transportation. The train didn’t stop and from the looks of it, the ticket for the train was worth the price.

It was stable and the view of the changed world before him made Mavin feel old. Years had passed and he felt alone. Aunger’s journal didn’t help. What happened to the Empire, to Lazon, and all those who he trusted made him feel useless. As if the toil he had done meant nothing. Lazon was still prosperous, but the loss during the civil war made him uncomfortable. All he had accomplished was the destruction of the demifiends, and the death of the exiled one. At least he had done something, and yet it seemed the world still headed straight for war. He had his thoughts on why it did happen, and perhaps the Crown Prince saw the need to control the armaments made by Lazon. Peace was momentarily and the treaty in Flost was just a momentary break for the regions.

In the end war had come and took the lives of many. Mavin don’t know what made things like this. But he was sure that he would have at least done something to take care of the root of the problem. He wasn’t there to take care of the problem. Those who he found strong and reliable paid the price. Mavin was sure they could take care of the problem. He chose them for the very reason that in the event that he doesn’t make it. Lazon would have the valuable units to help it. Units that should have been helping Rene and Kristine instead of Lazon and Lady Mildred.

It was a burden that he had left them while he took the easiest part of fighting a being above an Archmagi and beyond any Imperator. Lazon survived, and yet at what cost? The Old Empire fell, and a Confederacy was made. Mavin thought he’d be happy about such change, but at the cost of so many lives...the sacrifices of the hounds and his people made him think that he should have done more.

Mavin didn’t regret what he did however. The exiled one had to be dealt with. The demifiends had to be crushed before they could be used by the demikins to wage further war. But the early discovery of the nuclear armament made it easy for the known continents to shatter Feri and Boria, the two islands where the demikins lived.

Although Mavin could somewhat guess that some of the events may still happen because of how things are relatively unchanged. Mavin thought to himself that someway or another, he could just watch instead of act.

Apathy and inaction was something Mavin despised. He loathed being unable to do anything other than have the patience to let it go fate’s way. His goals had been long finished, and though there are certainly more he could do.

Mavin for the first time wanted to just take a moment to rest. It was so tempting to just drop everything and find his own way. Not because of his self-imposed mission, not because of anyone, but because a friend had robbed him of that goal.

Aunger took care of the problems before he could wake up. The missions that were going to keep him going and busy for some time were nowhere to be found. It may be a favor to some, but it was something that bothered Mavin to his core.

Without those missions, what would he do? He already took care of the Kismet’s Tale and now he was left to face the fact that he has to deal with living on, not knowing what may happen.

It was a purpose that he was robbed from.

It was funny how without the ‘memories’ being able to help him now. He felt truly lost. In the world that had changed too much after so many years with only a few that he could identify.

Mavin Tomas found himself afraid of losing purpose. A goal to which he could strive on in order to keep on going.