Restoration: Cursed Memories(Book 2)

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Chapter 19: Those Who Bring Demise in the Wake of Their Despair(Conclusion)

Alastor skidding back upon his feet, shaking off the impact of the assault. The Tyrant looking ahead, seeing Cyra standing upon her side, her revolver still aiming at him. Those eyes of hers brimming with such confidence.

“You are one to talk father,” she faintly smiles.

“Heh, I guess so,” he agrees.

It is seeming that the hatred they feel towards each other are dissipating over time within such a battle. The Tyrant now being sure that there is at least a chance that she has in obtaining victory, and the proudness he is feeling of how far she pushes. The halfbreed finally understanding her father’s twisted logic. Even more so than that, knowing why he does so many questionable things, such making her admire him once again.

The Tyrant raising his hand, the maiden looking on, seeing weapons of negative energy expanding far and wide for miles on end. Cyra looking around, uncertain on where to even begin. An ability that will make even gods quiver.

“As I said, I am not holding back, Cyra,” he speaks with eyes of confidence.

The halfbreed looking on, witnessing the Tyrant directing his hand towards her. Tension rising inside of her, seeing the weapons floating in the air. One misstep, and certainly all hope is no more. An ability that is on an execution level. The maiden beginning to wonder if there is any hope in avoiding it.

“Farewell.”

Cyra looking on, seeing the weapons locking onto her, soon rapidly rushing towards her. Without a moments time to think, the maiden shedding her physical form, riding the waves of the surrounding energy. As she passes along the many weapons, the assaults appearing endless. Each and every attack becoming faster, seeming more precise.

Alastor looking on in impress, seeing his daughter adapting. The halfbreed continuing to evade, the weapons rapidly colliding down into the ground. Cyra continuing to avoid the weapons, making her way towards Alastor.

Seeing as she approaches him, the Tyrant immediately shifting from an offensive stance to a defensive one. Cyra taking form from high above, extending her claw high. The maiden descending upon her father. The two mighty beings clashing. The impact causing a devastating shockwave to tear through the area. Cyra slowly pushing back Alastor. The Tyrant continuing to resist her assaults.

“Tch...!”

His eyes burning a bright crimson, vanishing in an instant. Cyra feeling his energy, following him into the graveyard of weapons. As she nears, she can feel the entire area reacting to his call. Cyra stopping in her tracks, her eyes widening. The Tyrant calmly looking towards, raising his right hand. Alastor raising his hand to the air, his eyes stern upon her.

“Foolish move, Cyra,” he snaps the fingers upon his right hand.

The maiden looking on, seeing the negative energy circling around her. The attack slowly closing in. Cyra looking ahead, her father extending his blade afar. Feeling the malevolence concentrating all around her. The pressure of her father intensifying by the moment.

“There was only one person that survived this ability, the only person I could not defeat,” he speaks with eyes of confidence.

“Mother...” her eyes widening in realization.

The Tyrant immediately closing in. Cyra finding herself unable to react, the demon striking at her with a flurry of assaults. The negative energy all around her reacting with each impact. Feeling the intensity locking away at her body. The attacks compressing, soon violently exploding. The Tyrant standing there, his eyes expressing some sorrow. Perhaps deep down, he wonders if things can go differently. Seeing the malevolence continuing to pour out into the endless void.

Alastor beginning to see movements, such catching him off guard. The Tyrant looking on, seeing a massive shadowy claw extending out of the darkness. Cyra grabbing his face with her claw, slamming him down into the ground. Cracking the surrounding tiles below.

“Gyah...!”

Cyra looking down at her father, gasping for air, blood pouring out of her. Her wounds appearing to regenerate with great haste. The malevolence repairing the damages that has been done onto her.

“You were once such a proud Tyrant, and a better father, but look at you now. So consumed in your hatred, that you cannot even see that your very own daughter has been growing more powerful by the day,” she faintly smiles at him.

“...”

His transformation soon fading away. The malevolence dissipating into the surrounding void. They look at each other. Both of their bodies seeming as if they will cave in at any moment. A long battle it has been, but finally things are beginning to look up.

“Haha...you look like you’ve seen better days...” he weakly smiles at her.

“I can say the same to you old man, heh...” she kneels to him, releasing his head.

The arm of the maiden returning to normal. Cyra looking to her father, seeing his expression growing grim. This taking her by confusion. A moment ago, they have been enemies. Now it is appearing as if they are starting to see eye to eye. The halfbreed can only wonder what has him feeling such.

“Cyra...”

Alastor looking away for a second, soon turning his attention up into the endless void. This void continuing to remind him of such horrid times. Those many years ago, the feeling of helplessness. Unable to protect which he most love. The inability to keep his family together.

“What is it...?” she props her head in confusion.

“I have spent so much time...being consumed in my own sorrow. You’re right...I never even saw how strong you’ve become...and using reason as a means as well...” he regretfully speaks.

“...”

Cyra wondering where her father is going with this. It has been years since he has ever been remorseful for his actions. It will have been good enough for him to settle down with his hatred, but this, it is definitely peculiar of him.

“I guess...I am proud of you...”

Hearing those words, some emotions coming to her eyes. Those words in which she will never think to be possible to hear, but here he does say it. It is nice, but also conflicting really, for her to witness such a thing.

“Cyra...” he looks towards her.

The maiden looking into her father’s eyes in confusion, wondering what else he has to say. It has been so long since she has ever taken interest in his words. Perhaps much too long in all reality. How cruel time can be, but at least there can be a moment in which they can share once again.

“Be wary of, Odin...”

This taking her by some alarm, why will her father warn her of a god? Certainly she knows to take caution to them, but why a specific one? For years it is appearing that the Tyrant has been keeping careful note of what is happening all around.

“What do you mean?” she questions.

Slowly inhaling and exhaling, the Tyrant looking up into the endless void once again. The devil knowing that it will have been only a matter of time. However, it is better that she knows. There is only so much he can do himself as well. Even more so than this, there are certain things she should be aware of.

“When you were young...your mother drove him out. Shortly after then, you fell ill. I did years upon years of research, it was a forbidden spell, that only exists in the realm of the gods. The only one who will have benefited from your death, and the disarray of our family, is him...” Alastor distantly explaining.

Hearing those words, her eyes widening in shock. Everything happening, her life falling into such despair, the trigger being the old fool who is residing in the realm of the gods. Cyra hanging her head low, and even though such is filling her with so much rage, there is still more she requires to know.

“Why?” Cyra questions with sorrow in her voice.

“Wish I can say really, but I do suspect it is because your mother opposed him. He may not have known about our marriage...but certainly he knew he could put us out of commission by targeting you...” Alastor looking towards her.

Cyra’s fists shaking in frustration, hearing those words. Knowing why she continues down this path. Her desires may be to return to such a time, but that wish of hers is indirectly tying to the past, where such nightmares exists.

“You may be powerful, but admit it, you got lucky this time,” he teases.

The maiden holding her hands to her chest, protesting against her father. How the old man can never admit to anything, it is agonizing really. There are some things that will never change apparently, and this is one of those traits of his.

“You are unbelievable old man!” she yells in frustration.

Alastor merely laughing, the maiden soon realizing that he is simply trying to lift her spirit. Now that she thinks about it, this is the father from her childhood, the one who will make her mad to have her laugh. Despite it all, the halfbreed ending up laughing as well. Those older times becoming a reality once again.

“Forget about the old fool for now. Right now we will all be dead if Ultima succeeds. I do apologize for my part in this, but...I assisted...hoping Ultima will also kill that bastard for what he did to you, and your mother...” Alastor looking away.

Cyra looking towards her father, understanding why. Perhaps he may not have the power to stand against the gods for long himself, but certainly a higher power may do the trick. Even if it means sacrificing everything else to make his one desire possible.

“Right...” she slightly looks away.

“So that Valor, your new boyfriend or something?” he teases her once again.

Cyra looking to her father, the maiden protesting once again. Much like in the earlier days as a child. Oh those days she misses so much. It is appearing the Tyrant still knows how to rattle her. If only things may have gone differently.

“Hah! Perhaps in his dreams maybe...” she speaks a bit shyly.

“Heh.”

It is feeling nice, to simply be a father for once. Perhaps if their life have gone another way, then certainly he will have been there through every possible heart attack a daughter can bring their father. Alastor looking towards his daughter, seeing tears coming to her eyes.

“Come on now you big crybaby. I didn’t raise a wimp now did I?” he smiles at her.

The maiden nodding her head from left to right in agreement, a smile coming to her face. Cyra wiping the tears from her eyes, looking down to her father. Indeed the Tyrant raises someone capable of enduring the harshest of obstacles, not someone who is too soft for the worlds.

“Cyra...there is one way you can defeat Ultima Weapon,” Alastor speaks more seriously.

“Huh...?”

If there is a chance to defeat Ultima, then certainly she must know. Even as it is standing now, the chances of success are abysmally low, but perhaps there is a way to raise those odds. Maybe not in their favor, but enough to give them a more possible fighting chance.

“Your power has the ability to devour, and assimilate others power into yourself.”

Hearing those words, her eyes widening in devastation, knowing all too well what her father is suggesting. Wondering how he can even do this. After they have finally come to see eye to eye after so many years.

“Y—you can’t be thinking to...!” her voice trembling.

Alastor looking to his daughter, knowing all too well that no matter what he does, she will never think to even do something so horrendous. However so, he knows due to the current situation, there is little to no chance of her success.

“I have done much wrong in my life...if there is anything I can do to make up for it. It will be to save the life of the daughter...whose mother gave her very life to save once before...”

Hearing that voice, her heart screaming out. Wondering how he can return to being that father she loves so much. Cyra hanging her head low, tears falling from her eyes. Of all the things he can ask of her. This is definitely the most horrible one yet.

“Come on now, we had a lot of good times, maybe...” he jokes.

Cyra can only look at her father, the Tyrant continuing to try and make her smile. In war, there are those standing as a doorway towards the future. Still, this is too much, even for her. How much more blood must stain her hands? Even those of her own? When will this madness cease? Her heart continuing to cry out.

“Heh...I am certain you and Valor would have gotten along great...” she looks to her father with such painful eyes.

“Haha, I’ll take your word for it...”

The arm of the maiden radiating an intense malevolence. The darkness tearing away at her right arm. The halfbreed hanging her head low. Her arm transforming into a massive, shadowy claw of a dragon as she raises it high. Cyra looking down at her father. The Tyrant looking on, smiling in approval. Hesitantly lowering her claw towards her father. Her eyes clearly of conflict on this. Grabbing hold of his head, tightly clawing into him.

“I take no regret in this...you have been a horrible father...but still...if only...!” she speaks with a heavy heart. her head hanging low.

“I am fine with this...I am sorry, Cyra...perhaps in another life we can make things right...”

Her eyes widening in grief. Wondering if there is anything she can do. Perhaps there is, there might be one thing. Though, she can only wonder if it is possible. Tightening her grip, screaming out in agony. A pain incomparable.

“HHAAAAAHHH!!!”

The body of the Tyrant slowly turning into stardust, a smile coming to his face. Perhaps even down to his final moment, he is not a bad person. There is more than one party at fault here. No one is really right or wrong, such is the penalty that comes with war.

I am proud of you...Cyra.

His body turning into pure crimson energy. The halfbreed standing from the ground, holding it within her claw. Cyra looking upon it with such teary eyes. The maiden holding the energy to her chest, assimilating it into her body.

“You may have been the worlds worst father...but you weren’t so bad...”

The pain of devouring her very own father being indescribable. It can be in comparison to ripping out one’s own heart. The grief within her, after finally coming to an understanding. To think this is how it will end. Around every corner, there appears to be darkness. However, can there be no other path?

Father...in the end you were not so bad. I just wish...we could have had a normal moment like a normal family. What I wouldn’t give to have those days once more with you and mother. You may have been lost to your grief...but in the end. I saw him once more...that father I always loved so many years ago. I wonder...can things be different...?


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