Chapter 10:
" William Campbell, The Pursuer"
Arc 1: Chapter 10
POV: "???" + William
"Mission given is mission fulfilled, always."
That was William's world.
That was his law. In the war, those four boys paid the price for their "lightness." Only one survived. William saw in that the brutal confirmation of his philosophy.
The post-war was a desert. No one at home. No friends. No purpose beyond work, and no boss who could tolerate his intransigent nature.
"Everyone found me boring."
It was the epithet of his life: "boring." Efficient. Dead inside.
Until an old woman at a bus stop, with the simple wisdom of those who have already lost everything, suggested: "A dog, my son. Or a cat. Something to care for."
He adopted one. A mutt, full of life and need.
And, against all logic, against his own creed... the dog made him smile.
"This... this really makes a difference?"
It was his last genuine question as a human. The seed of a doubt about his own fortress.
And then, the memories dissipated, washed away by the next wave of pain and by the roar of the Pursuer that still held him prisoner. The curse, the empty shell of William, heard the ghostly screams of his own victims echoing in his consciousness like an eternal torment.
"IT'S NOW, LUNA!" Raphadun's shout cut through the chaos.
Empty, with the last breath of his strength, extended his hand toward the wolf attacking Raphadun. Not with violence. With a touch of reconfiguration. The beast shrank, howling, transforming back into the confused and frightened bulldog, sparing Raphadun from a fatal blow.
And Luna arrived.
Not running. Gliding like a personified ray of light.
She emerged beside the staggering Pursuer, her fist enveloped by an aura of Definitive Light so bright it outshone the infernal scene itself.
She did not shout. She did not utter vengeance.
Her face was a mask of pain transformed into purpose.
The impact was not a thud. It was a sudden silence followed by an explosion of white and pure light. The Pursuer was hurled against the platform wall like a rag doll, its form beginning to unravel, the curse disintegrating under the contact of primordial Light.
And then, the lady broke.
The coldness, the determination, the queenly pose collapsed. Luna advanced on the fallen body and began to rain down punches.
They were not warrior strikes. They were the punches of an orphaned daughter, of a child who could never say goodbye. Frenetic, uncontrolled, each accompanied by a hoarse sob, a choked word.
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"Why... did you... take... them... from... me...?"
Belated vengeance finally found its target, but the taste was ashes and tears.
"Say I'm weak now! I WON!" Luna's cry was a triumphant and shattered howl, mixed with laughter and tears that washed the dust and hatred from her face. She raised her fist, the Definitive Light shimmering on her knuckles like a star about to explode.
It was then that a cold metal hand enveloped her wrist.
Empty dragged himself across the ground, a broken trunk without legs, but his determination was an iron anchor.
"You're... still alive?" Luna snarled, trying to pull away, but her divine strength was fading now that fury gave way to emptiness. "LET ME DO THIS! LET ME! I HATE YOU! YOU'RE A MONSTER, YOUR BODY IS THAT OF A MONSTER! THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE, EMPTY!" She screamed, only screamed. She could have attacked him, but she didn't; she let him go.
Empty would never understand the insults. His eyes, visible through the cracked helm, were fixed on another point: the bulldog, motionless, not breathing, a small heap of fur beside the defeated Pursuer.
He crawled toward it, leaving a wet trail on the stone floor. Raphadun ran to restrain Luna, who pointed at Empty with contempt born of misunderstood pain.
Empty extended his hand over the animal.
And then it happened.
Not darkness.
From his metal palm emanated a light. Not Luna's blinding, warlike light. It was a soft, warm, golden light like the first ray of morning sun after a long night. It was pure, uncontaminated light, the essence of healing.
"That... is Light?" Raphadun's voice came out in a whisper of pure astonishment.
Raphadun's voice came out in a whisper, but the question wasn't meant for anyone. It was the kind of thing you say when your brain refuses to process what your eyes are seeing.
Beside him, Luna stopped fighting.
Not because Empty was holding her back—because she simply froze.
Her green eyes, still brimming with tears of hatred, fixed on Empty's hand. On the light. On the impossibility.
"HOW?"
The word escaped like a gunshot. Unlike her brother, hers wasn't a whisper—it was a demand. A plea. A desperate attempt for someone to explain the inexplicable.
"You're... you're made of..." She choked. The words wouldn't come. How do you name something that shouldn't exist?
Raphadun took a step forward, unsteady, as if the ground beneath his feet had ceased to be solid.
"This defies... everything." He pointed at Empty's hand, and his finger trembled. "Light is impossible for you..."
Under the touch of that impossible light, the dog's chest rose. It gasped, opened its eyes, and with an excited "Au!", began to frantically lick Empty's hand. Then it ran, its small paws slapping the ground, straight to the fallen Pursuer.
But neither of them saw.
They only saw Empty.
And he, as always, only watched. Without explanation. Without defense. Just... being.
"What are you, Empty?"
The question in Luna's mind was no longer an accusation. It was fear. Not of what he could do—but of what he was. Of what that meant for everything she thought she knew.
The silence that followed was larger than any answer.
And then the dog licked the Stalker's hand, and the golden light began to envelop them, and Luna looked away—not from disinterest, but because she could no longer face the abyss Empty had opened before her.
The Persuer, feeling the familiar and soft warmth of that contact, was thrown inward. The last barriers of the curse dissolved, and William plunged into his final, truest memory:
"I wanted to feel, even believing it was weakness. That dog... was the first thing I cared for without expecting anything in return. I, who had killed, was there, hands dirty with kibble, feeling something that was not duty nor hatred. It was... care. Great hypocrisy on my part."
"He was fun. But did that change anything? Until the day I saw the last of the four boys. At the funeral of our comrades, he was there... with a family. With a wife who loved him, a daughter who admired him. He came to me, that boy I had despised, and thanked me. Said my discipline, however harsh, had inspired them to survive. And in that moment, surrounded by the life he had built, I understood. True strength was not the armor of isolation. It was the courage to open up, to love, to cry. There was no weakness in love. Only in fear of it."
William, finally conscious within the nightmare he had created for himself, embraced the dog. It was not an embrace of redemption—the blood on his hands was too real for that. It was recognition. A human farewell, granted by Empty's impossible touch.
A voice, soft, tired, deeply human, echoed in Luna's, Raphadun's, and Empty's minds—not as sound, but as a feeling planted directly in the soul:
"There's no problem in smiling..."
The forms of the Pursuer and the Wolf began to dissolve. Not in explosion or darkness, but in particles of soft golden light, the same as Empty had emanated. It was a peaceful dissolution, a rest finally achieved.
Luna fell to her knees.
"It's not fair..." she sobbed, the hatred draining away and leaving only raw, childish pain of loss. And Raphadun, seeing Empty's shattered body, his runes pulsing weakly, acted. He was not a healer. But he had Luna's Light beside him.
He placed his hands over the remains of Empty's breastplate and concentrated. Not on his own power, but on channeling Luna's Definitive Light, soft and persistent, into that body that paradoxically generated light yet was made of pure darkness. It was an act of faith. A last miracle, attempted at the edge of the impossible.
