Arthur sat up fast and quickly stood up, backing away defensively from the clearly agitated Aziel. His bare feet scraped against the cold stone floor as he created distance between them, his body tense and ready to move despite his weakened state. The morning light cast long shadows across the temple interior, highlighting the growing tension between them.
"What the hell is your problem anyway? Why do you even care? You don't know me... we're not friends. We never talked at the academy, so why?" Arthur's voice cracked with emotion, genuine confusion mixing with his defensiveness. His hands trembled slightly at his sides, not from fear but from the effort of standing after days of physical and emotional exhaustion.
Aziel took another stomping step forward, electricity crackling around his clenched fists as his emotions fueled his power. "It won't sit right with me to leave you to die here, and I never do things that don't sit right with me." His reasoning was simple, delivered with the unshakable conviction of someone who lived by a personal code that needed no external validation.
Arthur's face filled with surprise at Aziel's immature reasoning, his mouth opening slightly as he processed the childish simplicity of it. "Well, that's not my problem." He crossed his arms over his chest, a physical barrier to match his emotional one.
Aziel sighed and palmed his face, dragging his hand down over his features in exasperation. When he spoke again, his tone had risen, frustration evident in every syllable. "That's it... Look, I'm sorry about whatever the hell happened to you in this realm to make you so desperate to die a useless death, but for the love of god, man up already and stop your fucking whining."
Aziel was practically yelling now, his voice bouncing off the ancient stone walls and amplifying his anger. Arthur's face transformed from surprise to fury as he stepped forward, closing the gap between them with newfound energy fueled by indignation. "What did you just say?" Each word was laced with quiet rage, a dam about to break.
Aziel was now no more than a foot from Arthur's face, close enough that Arthur could feel the other boy's breath on his skin. "You heard me." The challenge was simple but weighted with confrontation.
Arthur's head felt like it was going to explode with anger, blood rushing to his face as his voice rose to a shout. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW!?" The question echoed through the temple, disturbing the silence that had reigned there for who knew how long before their arrival.
Aziel laughed maniacally, the sound harsh and jarring in the confined space. "I know that it's about damn time you grow up... whoever died in your pathetic life did not do it just for you to give up the chance at life they gave you." His eyes burned with intensity as he continued, each word striking like a physical blow. "So stop crying and trying to repay them with your death... Repay their sacrifice with strength..."
He stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "Why did they die? Were you too much of a coward? Well, live with bravery from now on! Were you too weak to save them? THEN GET STRONG..." His voice rose again, passion overtaking reason. "GET SO STRONG THAT NOBODY CAN TAKE ANYTHING FROM YOU AGAIN! THAT YOU NEVER LOSE ANYONE OR ANYTHING AGAIN! BECOME STRONGER THAN ANYONE! NOT FOR THEIR SAKE BUT FOR YOURS!"
Spittle flew from Aziel's mouth as he continued his tirade, his face turning scarlet with the force of his emotions. "Do it because as long as there's someone stronger than you... as long as there's someone above you, you'll never be able to truly protect yourself or anyone! You'll never be able to truly live freely!" He paused for breath, his chest heaving. "And isn't that what they died for? So you could have the freedom to live?"
Aziel's voice became almost pleading despite its volume. "So stop fucking whining and crying and LIVE, for them, for yourself! Get strong and don't let anyone take something from you again... Find your will, live with spite, spite of those stronger, of those who have what you want."
Arthur's back was pressed up against the wall in shock, cornered physically and emotionally as Aziel's beet-red face screamed at him from no more than a couple of inches away. The words reverberated in his mind, each one finding purchase in the soil of his grief and taking root.
"I'm leaving first thing tomorrow morning," Aziel declared, his voice hoarse from shouting. "I won't force you to come, but I shouldn't have to if you have any respect left in yourself for the dead." The statement hung between them, a challenge and an opportunity wrapped in harsh truth.
Arthur wanted to hit him, to hurt him, to scream, to say he was wrong. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white with restraint. But he couldn't act on these impulses... because Aziel wasn't wrong. It just took someone screaming at him for Arthur to finally get it. The realization struck him with the force of a physical blow, crumbling the walls of self-pity he had built around himself.
A tear streamed down from Arthur's empty eyes as he slid down the wall slowly until he was sitting on the floor, his legs no longer able to support the weight of this revelation. The cold stone beneath him grounded him in reality, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil swirling within.
Aziel glared at him before hastily turning around and stalking back to his position against the opposite wall. He sat down heavily, arms crossed over his chest, pointedly not looking at Arthur anymore. His message had been delivered; there was nothing more to say.
Arthur looked down at himself as tears slowly trickled down his face, creating dark spots on the dead monk's robes he wore. This was a lot for Arthur to think about, so that's what he did. For the rest of the day, Arthur did not move, he did not speak, he simply thought—about Luke, about strength, about living, about spite, about his parents. The temple remained silent save for their breathing, the occasional shuffle of movement, and the distant sounds of this dangerous realm filtering through the ancient walls.
Then, as night came, darkness crept into the temple, wrapping around them like a shroud. Arthur finally surrendered to exhaustion, his body and mind worn from the emotional crucible of the day. He slept fitfully, dreams filled with roses, lightning, and faces of the dead.
And as morning rose, painting the interior of the temple with golden light once more, so did he—both physically and spiritually. Arthur stood up, something new burning in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Something that looked suspiciously like purpose.