NOVEL SIMPLE Chapter-153 Lightbulb
Ewan wandered from the edge of the city to the flooded port and back to the plaza. He healed one, rescued another, yet many succumbed to their wounds. The death and the carnage were the norm, the grim atmosphere gripped the city. When the sun settled down, however, the survivors found their own way to deal with the pain and the despair as they always did.
Bonfires blazed in the alleys, in the streets, in the plaza. Slabs of meat sizzled against the tongues of flame. Tankards of ale made the rounds. Men and women mingled; they danced, they laughed, they flirted, and they sang. They were bold and hearty. No one minded the boundaries tonight. The flickering fire lit up the city, and the shadows danced with them.
Tales of the brave and the stories of the martyrs spread from one to another. The heart of the portrayal became spicier and spicier with each version. A man fought five enemies on his own, and the same man killed a hundred alone in the words of the tenth person. Their exaggeration couldn’t stand against common sense, but no one cared. They lost themselves in the moment and burned brighter and brighter, as if tonight was their last night—it might well be.
“I heard you saved Norton.” When Ewan watched a party from afar, Kiev walked up to him, matching his shoulders.
“I just did the obvious,” Ewan said. “Nothing special.”
A burst of drunken holler from the party drowned the moment of silence between them. “Thank you,” Kiev said as he stared at the bonfire with him, his words almost lost among the cheers.
“You’re welcome,” Ewan said with a smile.
“I had a couple of days to cool off,” Kiev said. “I have calmed down now.”
“And?”
“I haven’t changed my mind,” he said. “But I respect your decision. I won't force you anymore.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Ewan said. Better a friend than an enemy, but better a tool than a friend. Though Ewan’s position never changed, the cascading events cemented his perspective. Like his sister, emotions led this man, he was far too prone to impulses, especially when it concerned his ideals. The echo chamber around him never contested his point of view, so anyone who did, became his enemy.
Ewan couldn’t be any more contrasting. He challenged the man’s outlook on each turn. Thus, he was only good for his connection with the Governor, Ewan didn’t plan on doing any business deals with Kiev anymore.
He looked at the stars and the moons and their serenity. His thought triggered an introspection. Perhaps he too lived in an echo chamber. His ideas and his mindset were his own, based on his life events. No one influenced them, but no one disputed them either.
There was no right or wrong, only actions and their consequences and the strength to withstand them. He made his choices and lived with them. Whether it was the outlook that would see him with a long life though, only time could tell.
“Things aren’t looking good,” Kiev said. “We almost lost Uncle Tron today. He’s Step 1. He could’ve been the first casualty of that level. We haven’t had any deaths at that level since the last disaster.” He took a deep breath and murmured, “When my family died.”
“It’s fortunate he survived then.” Ewan peeked a glance at him and pulled away from his mumble. He refused to touch the man’s sensitive wound. He could neither console him nor wished to gouge his scars. It was a capricious variable he didn’t wish to deal with.
“More like they let him live,” he said. “They drive us to the edge, but they don’t push us off. The whole raid stinks of deception.”
Ewan’s mind went to the cave and the distraction needed for Rain to win it. But the current development dropped his confidence in that thought. The raid was already attracting the authorities’ eyes, there was no need to take the risk and push a Step-1 to the edge for it. If their target was indeed the cave, they could’ve sent someone else if Rain was out of action. So, the most likely scenario was that the cave was Rain’s personal agenda, and the raid stank of an unrelated conspiracy—albeit it gave him the opportunity to sneak in.
“Did Sir Governor say anything about it?” Ewan asked.
“I haven’t seen him since the raid began, he doesn’t let us in. I have no idea what he’s thinking,” Kiev said, grunting an exhale. “Everything could be solved if he came forward, but he’s doing nothing.”
“Doesn’t the enemy have someone who can match him? He’s probably fighting his own battle. Without reaching his level, it would be hard for us to fathom their means.”
“Quashing this whole thing would be a matter of waving his hand if we could just solve his age problem,” Kiev said.
Ewan smothered a scoff in his throat and went back to watching the bonfire fest, disregarding his insinuation. The stories and the tales had taken an implausible turn by now. The mortal man who slayed a hundred on his own was now a hero who defeated a squad of Ashevas alone. They sang the praises of his bravery, of his selflessness, and of his sacrifice.
May the lord of smiles guide his valiant soul to the promised land and bestow upon him an eternal and happy life, they all hollered together.
The rumors and the gossip buried the truth, barely carrying its whisper with each change. The man might be faint-of-heart, but they talked of his courage. He might’ve survived the onslaught, yet the songs of his righteous death rang aloud. He might not even exist, yet he was the hero of the night. Untamed imagination and the desire for validation took the rumors far away from the reality.
Rumors…
A lightbulb went off in Ewan’s head as his thoughts cleared up, and he lost the ease in his posture.
One night, the villa that always brimmed with life with a happy family stilled into a tragic silence. The bloodbath, the buried corpses, and the bizarre scene of a dead child beside the grave didn’t convey the truth, but instead sparked the stories when the talk of the incident fanned out in the city. From one mouth to another, the rumors spread, seasoned with vivid and wild imagination, and finally took form of its current twisted version. And the Mystic-Anima picked it up…
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