Hurt and Heal (Arknights)

Chapter 3: Nearl

A/N: This chapter has been rewritten.

A man sat in front of a large table, his eyebrows furrowed and his mind plunged into chaos. In front of him on the table was a large map with several different-colored wooden pieces representing armies. Anyone, including the youngest tactical novice, could have seen that one side was at a significant disadvantage. He grabbed one of the pieces before looking into a file lying in front of him. His face took on the expression of a beast about to snarl and he tossed the small object far across the room, sitting back in his chair and hiding his face in the palms of his hands, his mind in the darkest turmoil.

He could hear someone approaching the room, and recognizing the footsteps he didn't bother to grab the helmet lying beside him.

The door opened and a woman entered, dressed in a simple yet elegant gown of black and white, her long pale pink hair perhaps her most distinctive feature. That and her sarkaz status. Her face, which had been so gentle, centuries and misery having never diminished the kindness that exuded from it, saddened for a moment when she saw the giant sitting in the darkness.

She approached him and put her hand on his shoulder.

???????: Yur-

Sebastian: No. Don't even think about it. I haven't deserved that name for a long time.

He said his back to the chair, the energy drained from his body, but more importantly from his soul. Once again, the lady was saddened for just a moment.

???????: Sebastian. What's the situation?

Sebastian: We have no equipment, vehicles, fortresses, or means of repairing our weaponry other than this dingy cruiser without a single cannon on board. Your brother's troops outnumber us 10 to 1, not to mention all the support he gets from Columbia, Leithania, Sargon, Victoria and Ursus. The whole fucking world has joined forces against us...

He clenched his fist and his teeth.

Sebastian: Look at them... We were trying to build a nation! A better world! Those we should have been allies with want us dead! And those we should have defended turn against us with the promise of violence!

He banged on the table, creating an immense jolt.

Sebastian: We're surrounded by traitors and incompetents! I should have slit that little bastard's throat with my own hands as soon as I had the first suspicion about him!

Two arms wrapped around his neck, and he felt someone hug him behind his back. Immediately his heart calmed, as did the bubbling ocean of rage that was his soul. He didn't feel that his grief was being shared in the way it might have been, for he felt the arts of sarkaz embracing his soul, and sharing his feelings.

The rage that had been driving him mad was now shared by the lady. And on his side he received sadness, sadness to see him in this state, sadness that he was so right. But also great calm. He would never know how she managed to keep her soul so pure, so ready to share the pain of others.

After a few seconds, this much-needed embrace came to a halt. The sarkaz stepped back, her soft-skinned hand falling on the giant's cheek and forcing him to look at her.

Theresa: Sebastian, you're far too young, and in my opinion far too handsome, to have your face transformed by anger and bitterness.

Amused by the lady's singular way of wooing him while being his most loyal friend, she managed to wring a smile from him, and he moved his hand gently with hers.

Sebastian: Save it for the others.

He said, flashing the ring on his ring finger. Like a harsh reminder to the sarkaz that there was another war she'd lost.