Was this a rather confusing moment? This was a rather confusing moment. For the both of them. The Slayer and the Harbinger. Two completely different paths, two completely different fates.
But the pain was the same. Strange. Trizyk could only give an uncertain stare at Flynn right nowâ Nothing he said made sense to even himself. But he felt like he should. What was happening to him? Wasnât he supposed to be a grotesque abomination his whole existence? Then why did these thoughts try to resurface from the back of his head whenever it came to both the Doom Slayer and the man he always visited in the catacombs?
âYOU. ARE ASKING SOMEONE WHOSE MIND IS BEING EATEN BY THIS DAMN REALM EVERY DAY. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. AND HE WANTS TO KNOW THAT TOO.â This was all Trizyk could say in this. He couldnât say something that would convince anyone like Flynn. Like he could anywayâ He was a monster. He had been a monster. He had no excuse for what he had done and whenever the chance struck, heâd feel some form of guilt creeping over him. Though it wouldnât last as long due to the nature of Hell in a soul tainted by its machinations.
âI COULD TRY AND SPILL OUT WHAT LITTLE I KNOW FROM A LIFE I MIGHT NOT EVEN HAVE NOR REMEMBER HAVING.â Trizyk could feel his own voice shaken. This was odd. And not in a good way. At all. âBUT WHATâS EVEN THE POINT? IN THE END, I HURT YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE ALL THE SAME. NO AMOUNT OF EXCUSE WILL EVER CHANGE THAT. ALL THE DEATHS I HAVE FROM YOU, I RIGHTFULLY DESERVE SO.â Sounded like he couldnât forgive himself to some degree. It wasnât making sense. It didnât make sense. But why did it feel like it didâŚ?
Demons didnât ever show regret (or if they did, not as much), let alone like this. Only pretty much anyone else would. So how could an oaf like TrizâŚ
Trizyk fell silent again, likely reminiscing another flashback of sorts.
The Night Sentinel couldnât move his bodyâ Everything hurt. He had so many gashes and stab wounds, all which drew out a lot of blood. His barely alive eyes could only stare towards some demons. Looked like he was laid upon a pedestal of sorts, fresh blood still spreading beneath him.
What began as a search for a missing Argenta turned into the worst failure in Trizyk Eindrideâs life. Not only could he not find his superior, he was caught in a one-sided skirmish against those abominable creatures. And the strange realm he found was never a pleasant one to begin with either. First was the sickeningly crimson skies. And then the faint smell of burning brimstone.
And then the injuries he, more or less, succumbed to.
He could only listen to what the creatures present were speaking about.
âItâs no use.â One of the higher-ranked demons spoke. Looked to be an Arch-vile. Masculine voiceâ Had a crown designed as they were thorns. âThis stranger might pose a danger to us if he remembers the reason he will turn in the first placeâ His soul simply cannot be processed, no matter what. He is just this persistent.â
âWhat do we do then, my King?â Another asked him. This was a Summoner alright. Female, if one were to recognize the voice. What were these two planning to do with him?
âMark him with a mind-inhibiting spell. Thatâll prevent him from fully recovering his memories.â Oh no. Not this, and not now.
âAnd the Hellwalker?â
âEven if he is found by this man, he wonât be able to recall anyway.â The Arch-vile flashed a wicked smile. âIt would be ironic if a demon is guarding the sarcophagus the very one he had failed to search for, all while he forgets.â
They⌠They were talking aboutâŚÂ âSer Eltanin was caught? Oh gods, noâŚâ
Dread and despair set in once he heard their plans. Oh, did Trizyk wish to run away right now, but he lost too much blood to get back on his feet. Or to stay alive for that matter. His eyes began drenching with tears. He didnât want his life to end like this. He would rather get Eltanin and escape.
âSer Eltanin, Iâm sorry. I failed you.â A thought ran in him as life would soon escape him. âI should have never get involved in this⌠IâŚâÂ
It hurt again. What was happening to his body? His still fresh scars began feeling as if they were burning.Â
It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. Would anybody at all come save him?
But there were none aside what he heard to be a now trapped Eltanin, and himself. He could never forgive himself for such a failure. This was a regret he would bear, but it wouldnât be for long before everything would be taken from him.
However, something still sparked in him. Hatred. Vengeance. And both towards the demons.
âNar Mi va-en da'nan gen'ias.â His eyes managed to glare at the two demons as he was about to die from the ritual forced upon him, though they escaped their notice as the conversion ritual began. âNar Mi va-en da'nan gen'ias.â
Trizyk was still dead silent as he froze. He now found the reason he was here. It was hard to understand why such a memory surfaced in him after all those eons.
It would be much harder to mention this to the Slayer. It would make things far worse for the two. It would be better if he would just kill Triz and be done with it.
But the Harbingerâs eyes couldnât lie. Was he⌠Was he⌠Crying? No, what was wrong with him? Demons werenât supposed to display regret.
Instinctively, he looked back at the sarcophagus. Should the Slayer be told about it? Probably not, but he was tempted to.
At least his mind was free now. What harm could there be by telling the truth? Well, there might be some things that would hurt him and the Slayer both, but keeping it hidden would hurt them more.
âIT⌠IâŚâ He began speaking again. âTHAT SARCOPHAGUS. I KNOW WHO LIES TRAPPED THERE.â
ââŚTHE GOVERNER OF BETHIAâ AND THEN HEBETH. I WAS⌠I WASâŚâ Another hesitation, though it would prove short. âHIS ASSISTANT.â
Admittedly, Flynn didnât expect that sort of answer. He didnât expect any answer. He only expected rage. Fury. And a lot of missiles heading his way, but they never came. Staring at Trizyk, he managed to mutter a weakened, âTell me.â Though, once he was met with silence, he could see it-- that look on that demonâs face weirdly reminded him of his own expressions, something that admittedly horrified Flynn-- they reminded him of the times he went through those episodes, seeing things, getting flashbacks to times before where he was now. . Surely, Trizyk was dealing with some kind of flashback.
So when he saw how he acted now, hearing everything the demon uttered, all those words that spewed forth from his mouth. . The last thing he said had hit him hard.
This was. . His ancestorâs assistant. And from what Flynn had attempted to study lately, this meant that he shared a last name with the Eindrides. From what he could tell. Hell, his little bits and pieces of research were most likely wrong, but Flynn couldnât really wrap his head around that right now. The news he was given left his bloodshot eye wide, but there wasnât any bloodlust to it. Instead. .
He just hunched over. squatting down, squeezing his eye shut. He always found it easy to just dismiss what the demons said. All of them-- at least, mostly, until the things he heard from Sthusa hit him, but hearing this, it felt like he was going through the Betrayal all over again.
â. . No.â He managed to sputter out, â. . no, no, youâre kidding me. . this would mean youâre-- that youâre a. . Sentinel. A Night Sentinel, r-right?â He swallowed hard, peering up at the Cyberdemon for a moment.
â. . fuck me.â He mumbled, lowering his head again. He needed. . A while. A long while. When heâd get back to the Fortress. . he knew heâd need a break. .
Managing to get up, though, and wiping the blood from his mouth, he started to limp along. His guns had been on the ground, away from where he was thrown, but once nearing them, the Slayer just picked them up, studied them to check for damages, then had moved to get them back on his person. However, he. . Didnât aim them towards Trizyk. Instead, his head moved to look at the sarcophagus. With a wheeze of a chuckle, Flynn lulled his head back.
â. . Think what I hate the most is that I believe you. .â He managed to mumble, âYou arenât lying about it. . Itâs real. You really are a. . Sentinel.â He weakly sighed, mumbling, âMaybe I kind of thought that there was something up with you-- especially when we interacted more. You didnât always wanna. . blast me to bits. You just wanted to talk.â He started to try to move past him, and it was obvious that the Slayer had been even more weakened after the throw, horrifyingly enough-- his hands had to move to try to press down onto whatever surface he could, just to support himself.
Although the Slayer had seemingly zero limits-- just enough damage could definitely bring him down, no matter how tough it was.
â. . let me get to the sarcophagus. You arenât gonna be able to fix shit with what you did to me and my goddamn family,â He spat as he said that, squinting his eye a little. . why were things spinning?. . fuck, he needed his helmet-- fuck his helmet right now. He didnât need it. Yes he did. Fuck.
âBut you still have some form of a soul. Help me get this goddamn sarcophagus back to the Fortress. . old man.â No demeaning name about him being a demon, and for once, Flynn didnât sound entirely hateful.
He was just tired, but Flynn knew he had a job to do, even if he still held a hate for Trizyk, a hate that wouldnât end for a long, long time. Perhaps, then, itâd be time to figure out a game plan on how to get this poor bastard back to normal and on the right track. The Slayer despised demons, but he knew regret when he saw it. And he saw a lot of it with him.
â. . Donât give a shit what Xyg and everyone else in this shitty House thinks.â He said, his hands being gently placed onto the sarcophagus. . The Governor of Bethia. Hebeth. . He had a lot of questions to ask Trizyk, if Flynn didnât pass out, that is. âI want this goddamn man to be able to let the first thing he sees be the god-damn stars. Not this fucking Hellscape. . understand me?â
. . Flynn was getting impatient, fast, so he didnât exactly wait for Trizykâs response when he raised his voice,Â
âBy God,â He spoke up, âI will not even give you a choice-- you WILL help me. . Then Iâve gotta. .â He faltered a little in his words, his eye noticeably becoming a bit more lidded, and he slumped a bit more against the sarcophagus.
. . drowsy. . things were getting cold. . needed a medpack. . a big medpack. . a really big medpack. .
â. . figure out all of this shit with you and what exactly they did to make you into a fucking Harbinger.â