[DanMachi/Percy Jackson] Prytaneum

(Interlude: The Flame (3)

He'd closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his face instinctively the moment the blast went off, but instead of a flood of annihilating heat, there'd been something else—the sounds of rain, of rushing water, and of shattered stone. In an instant, he was soaked to the bone and tossed roughly aside by a dozen merging streams before landing somewhere with relatively stable footing. When he managed to struggle to his feet and raise his head, he realized the raise was coming down hard enough that it was hard to see anything. The flames that had lined the street had long since been put out, leaving behind only shattered walls and burned husks, to go with the newly shattered roads.

In that moment, he couldn't help but stare. What seemed like the whole of South West Main Street—or, at least, all of it that surrounded the Soma Familia home—had been torn apart and water rushed up from beneath like a massive geyser. The pillars of water Percy had summoned earlier curved like liquid snakes, seeming to almost rampage in the air as if of their own mind, while the clouds churned darker and darker above them. And all of it seemed headed towards one place; perhaps the most unbelievable sight of all.

Percy was holding back the flames. Not merely hunkering down and enduring them, but well and truly holding them back. He could see the full might of Crozzo's magic sword being unleashed, but not even a spark reached him—instead, the conflagration seemed to be held back by a rising wall of water that encircled it like a glass cauldron. Steam thick enough that he briefly thought it was smoke bubbled up from the center of the warring powers, but nothing broke through.

"Gods..." He whispered to himself, unable to look away. This was his friend's power, he knew. The power of the spirits, maybe—something great enough to meet the full force of his family's legacy head on and match it. He'd known Percy was strong from the beginning, far stronger than a Level 1 should have been, but seeing him here was less like observing an impressive fighter and more like witnessing a natural disaster.

And seeing it made him feel small.

No, that wasn't the word. It made him feel helpless. Useless. This was all his fault, another tragedy resulting from his legacy. If not for him, Lili would never have been targeted and endangered. If not for him, the damage caused her would never have occurred. And if not for him, his already badly hurt friend wouldn't be pushing himself so hard. He'd made this magic sword, made Kazuki, and this was the result. And yet...he was powerless to do anything.

He'd run up to Percy when he couldn't find any other way and shoved his failures onto him, knowing Percy could bear them like they were nothing. And he had, deciding his course immediately where he'd been so unsure and indecisive, marching towards the Soma Familia without a care for the consequences—or, at least, without a care that matched his concern for Lili. He'd tagged along, wanting to be there and fight, to help in however small a way he could, but he hadn't done a thing except be a burden. Percy hadn't said anything, had even agreed to allow him along, but he knew without him saying that he'd had a harder time defending against the first shot because he'd needed to cover for two.

What had happened to his hands was the worst he'd ever seen Percy wounded—and when he acted to clear the streets, sacrificing power even in an emergency like this, his friend had been the weakest he'd ever seen as well. Even with the Magic Potion, he'd thought this was it for his friend, that he'd finally run out of energy, but he'd confidently faced down Zanis and here he was, doing what he'd considered impossible.

Percy, he thought as he watched helplessly. I'm sorry.

And then there was a flash—or rather, a sudden shift in the light. Something broke through Percy's defense, what looked like a small flame relative to the entire blast...or like it was a leak that was being stoppered. And it was right where Percy was, revealing a vague silhouette of his body as flames washed over him.

His eyes widened and he ran without a moment's thought, splashing through the rain before sliding to a halt several yards away, unable to draw any closer. Even through the Undine shirt Percy had granted him, he could feel the horrific heat and knew that if he tried to get any nearer he'd burn up like nothing.

But he had to do something! He couldn't just stand her and watch as his friend burnt—not when he was close enough to hear his screams over the rush of water and roar of fire. But...!

He knelt, cupping his hands to scoop up some water from one of the swallow streams heading towards the wall. He threw it at Percy's burning form, knowing it was useless as the water vanished in an instant, but went down again for another handful—and again and again and again. In that moment, he was sure it was over, that any moment the wall would fall and he'd watch his friend die.

Instead, the flames died first, plunging the street into what seemed almost like darkness with the lack of something so bright. The wall Percy had used to defend the street tipped over at last, collapsing and crashing forward like the wave it was. He may have heard a shriek in the distance, the sound of a house being torn apart, or something else, but he didn't care—his eyes were on his friend, still standing tall right where he'd been.

He didn't look cool, not the way heroes were supposed to after they saved the day. Instead, he looked like a cross between a heavily, heavily cooked corpse and a nightmare, all melted skin and horrific burns. Where he could see the teeth in his mouth, they looked oddly distorted, like they'd been melted together and into odd shapes. His eyes were closed—he hoped—and the skin around them glistened with fluids he didn't want to think about. He was naked, not that it was very easy to tell with his body so burn and misshapen, but he saw glistening metallic trails on his skin, like his armor had literally melted off of him...which it probably had; chalk that up as another set that wasn't up to the task. All told, between the horrific sight and the smell, it wasn't so much reassuring or amazing as it was disgusting.

But...but for a moment, seeing him still standing there despite all that...he couldn't help but think Percy was actually invincible.

Yet in that same moment, the sounds of running water that he'd heard and the rushing of the geysers both abruptly vanished, bringing an odd and ominous silence over the street, at least to him. Soon, only the rain remained and even it changed, lightening and yet stinging painfully against the cuts and scrapes he'd gotten somewhere. Like salt water, he thought. Or maybe tears.

And then his friend began to tip over.

"Percy!" He shouted, heart nearly stopping in his chest as saw his friend fall—but that was nothing compared to what he felt as he closed the distance in an instant and caught him before he hit the ground. Perhaps it should have been expected, but he didn't so much as twitch, even though simply touching him at a time like this should have been agonizing.

He's just unconscious, he hoped and prayed. After stopping something like that, who wouldn't be? A blast like that could have killed Level 4...no, maybe even Level 5 monsters; it was no surprise it took a lot out of him.

But he didn't draw breath.

With shaking hands, he lifted his fingers to Percy's neck. It took a moment to figure out exactly where he was supposed to check, his friend was so badly burnt—and harder still to figure out if he was feeling the right thing, with his skin now so bizarrely textured. But even after ten beats of his own hammering heart...there was nothing.

"No," He said, shifting into full on panic. "No, no, no, no, no!"

For an utterly terrifying moment, he wasn't sure what to do, half expecting his friend to simply disappear then and there, to collapse into water and fade away. When a moment passed and nothing happened, he became even more terrified because he still wasn't sure what to do.

Get his heat beating, he managed to think through the rising panic. I've gotta get his heart beating.

He was no doctor or healer, but he'd gotten some training on taking care of wounds and picked up a bit more adventuring solo. Unfortunately, most of that training revolved around bringing and using potions properly. Fortunately, he had a few potions, the ones he'd kept on him since earlier today instead of giving to Lili to carry, just in case something went urgently, pressingly, horrifically wrong.

Like, oh, now.

He drew the potions from his side holsters, uncorking the first and stopping. Potions, besides being drunk for a general healing effect, were designed so that they could be applied directly to an injury, in case there was a need to heal something specific. Sadly, he didn't have enough potions for Percy's everything, so he had to decide where he was hurt worst. Sadly, that was still pretty much everywhere.

Head, chest; get him breathing.

Without giving himself any more time to be paralyzed or indecisive, he poured the contents onto Percy's chest and face, watching the potion sizzle and hiss on contact. The basic potions someone like him could afford and generally needed weren't even vaguely up to the task of something like this, but he still put his hands over Percy's chest and pushed down, trying the remember how this was supposed to be done. Push down fast, several times a second, but not too hard because breaking ribs wouldn't help—and fuck, but Percy's bones felt entirely too near to his skin, like the meat had been melted off of them.

Was it...twenty compressions? Thirty? Let's go with thirty. Then tilt the head back and breath into the mouth until the chest rises, that he was sure about—but how many times? Twice? And then repeat the whole thing over again and keep doing it until help arrived.

And where the fuck was help, anyway? Where was everyone? How long had it been since the first blast when off—a minute? Thirty seconds? Either way, after something like that, shouldn't someone have been here by now? Or had the second blast scared them? Maybe they were making preparations in case of another blast or trying to handle the evacuation or something, but damn it, his friend was going to die! He was doing this, but it wasn't working and this was the third time!

Unfortunately, for something like this, that was pretty much the only thing he could do. Pump, breath, add another potion to the mix—

The High Potion, he remembered, eyes widening as the memory got through the panic. He still had the potion from that quest, had it in a special holster for an emergency, and if there was ever a goddamn time—

Scrambling to get the potion free, he'd just gotten it into his hands when a voice interrupted him.

"Give...that..." It said and for the first time since Percy had fallen, he looked away from his friend—and he saw the man responsible. Zanis Lustra, the man who'd caused all of this, stood in front of the rubble of what had been the front half of the Soma Familia's house. He could see where the rubble had been shifted for him to escape, but was more than a little glad to note that he was worse for wear. One of his eyes was closed and he was bleeding from a nasty cut above it, and he sort of hobbled towards then, taking surprisingly ginger steps that made him think something, or a lot of somethings, were broken. Better yet, where he'd had Undine Silk to protect from both fire and water, shielding him almost entirely from the heat and steam, Zanis had been all but bare in comparison. The only defense he'd had was distance and the rushing power of the magic sword, and even then...what few parts of his skin weren't burnt were an angry shade of red, as was his face.

The only downside was that he was still alive.

"What?" He demanded, not understanding the words.

"Give that...to me..." Zanis rasped, looking towards the potion in his hands.

He stared. He couldn't help it. It was such an absurd request, that it honestly baffled him. How dare he even ask, after all of this—after taking Lili, using his magic sword, hurting so many innocent people, and maybe killing his friend. He did all that and he wants help.

"Fuck you," He said, uncorking the High Potion and upending its contents onto Percy, the guy who actually deserved it.

"You...bastard..." Zanis seemed to growl, glaring at him despite the condition he was in.

"That's my line," He growled, lingering by Percy's side for just a moment before rising, reaching for the sword on his back. "Just hurry up and die, you piece of shit!"