Arthur was aware of his intrepid consciousness which experienced a vision of the exam, and also that his body still stood waiting in the black room aboard the Razorback. But what had been the point?
That day had been the second worst of his life, eclipsed only by his father’s death. Seeing it again was worse than living it, for now it was lacquered in despair. And if anything was more disconcerting than being dragged through a terrible memory, it was standing here in the aftermath, waiting.
Though the colors and shapes had gone, the darkness surrounding him still felt fabricated—something conjured inside his own mind. His awareness quested outward, seeking the maker of this torture.
Why?
His question echoed in his head and in the dark around him; a maddening silence followed.
Why?
He asked again, his voice rippling the inky black like waves. He followed the waves as they lapped, stacked, and crashed, against a darkness within the darkness—a cliff whose gargantuan presence loomed above him.
Impressions came to him—impressions, for they weren’t coherent thoughts. This was not about failing an exam, or even piloting a meck to deliver his crew safely from an asteroid. So what was it?
Not Worthy…
This time he heard the voice as a tumbling boulder, devouring the mountain as it carved a path from summit to valley.
The Everwar—this impression clearer than the others—these visions were about ending something so that something greater could finally come.
The impressions swelled.
Not Worthy…
Arthur felt a tug toward some hidden path behind him—a way back to the terrestrial world where his body waited. One step, and he would return, for the test that was not a test was over. And he had failed.
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What good was a test, he wondered, when the judgment of worth rested on something he could never change. He watched the exo exam again—this time in a flash— and saw not only the failure but his reaction to it.
The presence—the owner of that rumbling voice—did not approve of Arthur’s behavior, of his suffering, for if this was how he faced his own ruin, how would he react when confronted with the Everwar?
Could he have forced his younger self to act differently? He tried—hadn’t he? He tried to keep himself from making the mistakes but all he could do was watch while heroes became villains and the world became a shade.
Not Worthy…
The invisible path behind tugged even harder, the presence grievously wanted him gone.
Arthur knew mystical things were occurring all around him, but Arthur refused.
Daiko Hitori’s words, The Dragon’s hot breath, searing his face.
Arthur had given every inch of his life but the mortal tether that bound him here—wasn’t that enough?
Not Worthy…
The path behind pulled harder. Though he took no steps, he was sliding backward, and the monolithic presence began to turn away—a mountain receding into the dark cosmos, leaving him to the fate everyone had always predicted.
Other voices swelled—his own anxious reassurances blanketing him like a suffocating quilt: you tried, you came further than most, others will take care of it, wait, watch, be.
The heat which had become a lifeline in the darkness, climbed into his chest.
“Do right, fear nothing.”
His father’s words were a spark to tinder. He may not have known what the right thing to do was—not here at this moment—but he knew with certainty that giving up was not it.
All at once he came to a realization.
I’m meant to do this!
This was not a place for words, those belonged to a somewhere else world. That somewhere was near, down the path behind, where he could feel the weight of standing still for far too long. The trembling of real muscle, creeping toward unbearable.
He pulled upon his desperation like a bow string, aspiration sharp as any arrow, and shot toward the clouds, to the black invisible summit above.
The silence that followed was harrowing, and he threw himself into it.
“It’s the right thing to do!”
He remembered the way his father had told him those words—his tone, his conviction, his love—and poured it into the darkness.
“I’m not afraid!”
His words struck against something impenetrable. Then, the presence turned its cavernous curiosity upon him again.
The path behind ceased its pulling.
The presence spoke. He listened far too long for so short a reply.
Show me…
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