Chương 73: Chapter 72 - What is Your Name?

The pain was a distant, deep throb. Lucid felt heavy, like he was sinking through layers of thick, dark water. Pressure built in his ears, in his chest. The world was muffled, blue, and cold.

"It hurts..." The words reached him, distorted, as if spoken from the other side of a vast ocean. But he understood them. A voice. Not his own. It was a voice of pure, crystal sorrow, a sound too beautiful for the pain it carried.

"It hurts..." He sank deeper. The need to find that voice, to soothe the divine sound trapped in this blue despair, became a physical pull in his chest. He had to save it. The voice sharpened, a shard of pure agony.

"IT HURTS!" The scream shattered the water. Lucid's eyes snapped open. He was lying on his back in a shallow, warm puddle. He pushed himself up, his hands sinking into something soft and yielding. Water. His vision was instantly flooded with blinding, sourceless light. A white sky, empty of sun or cloud, glowed above an endless, flat expanse of perfect blue. He was standing on water. It held him firm, a reflective sapphire plane stretching to a seamless horizon. The silence was absolute.

"Alice?" he called out. His voice was small, swallowed by the immense stillness. No answer. No hum in his mind. The connection was a silent void. He was alone. He touched his stomach where the horn had struck. No wound. His fingers came away clean. Then he touched his face. The familiar, swirling mist was still there, clinging to his features. He looked down at the water's mirror-like surface. His reflection was obscured, a hazy silhouette in the fog. A faint disappointment flickered, then was gone. Movement.

To his side, the water parted without a sound. The narwhal rose. But here, it was transformed. Its hide was a living tapestry of iridescent blues and shimmering purples, light dancing across it in patterns that had no name. Its horn was a spiral of crystalline radiance. It was the most breathtakingly beautiful thing Lucid had ever seen. Its beauty was a force, washing over him, pushing aside fear and confusion with a hypnotic, calming awe. He could not look away.

"It hurts..." The voice resonated directly in his soul, clear now, filled with an ancient, weary sadness. The magnificent creature dove, slipping beneath the mirror surface. It moved in slow, graceful circles just below, painting arcs of swirling color in the deep blue. Each pass was a silent, mesmerizing ballet. Lucid stood, a tiny statue, utterly captive to the beautiful, suffering giant sharing its pain through a dance of heartbreaking elegance.

"It hurts." The narwhal rose again, closer now. Its horn, glowing with soft light, pointed directly at him. It was massive. He felt insignificant before its divine presence. He raised a hand, drawn by an irresistible need to touch such beauty. His fingertips grazed the smooth, cool surface of its horn. A shock of pure, gentle energy tingled up his arm. He wrapped his hand around it, holding on, stepping closer. He lifted his other hand, caressing the luminous spiral.

Another sound escaped the creature, a deep, resonant hum that vibrated in his bones.

"Human..." Lucid was completely lost now. Any thought of Alice, of the train, of Ayame, was buried deep, a faint memory under layers of mesmerizing blue light. This creature was in pain. It was hurt. It needed to be healed.

"Don't speak anymore," Lucid murmured, his voice dreamy.

"What is your name? You seem hurt. Let me carry your burden." A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. A deeper resonance answered, a name that felt like the concept of a deep, cold sea.

"Neptune, my child." The whale, Neptune, brushed past his hand, and Lucid stumbled, his head dropping low as if under a heavy weight. The narwhal dove and swam a slow circle around his standing form before resurfacing directly in front of him. Lucid stared into the middle distance, his gaze empty. A change began. The horn in front of him shimmered. A head formed around it, then a neck, a softly curved body. Scales melted into smooth, pale skin.

Arms formed, legs, a cascade of deep blue hair that curled down a bare back. A woman now stood on the water, her eyes the same deep, endless blue as the void-whale's. A single, elegant blue horn curved from her forehead. It was Neptune. Lucid looked up. His eyes were vacant, the sharp clarity he usually carried gone, replaced by a docile, accepting haze.

"Human child," the woman spoke, her voice the same melodic, sorrowful resonance.

"I have been alone for so long."

"My child do you know how long eternity feels like..."

"Come to me, spend eternity here with me. Offer me your soul. It is the most noble thing a human can do..."

"I will cherish you, protect you, and weave you into my being. Hurt will vanish, anger will dissolve, and sorrow will be forgotten. You will feel only my presence, your deity, holding you close." He walked toward her, his steps slow and deliberate, his arms opening as if for an embrace. Of course he would. She was mesmerizing. He had to protect her, to cherish this divine creation. She opened her mouth. A deep, clicking whistle echoed. Her teeth were sharp, points of polished bone.

Her tongue was a dark, royal purple.

"Human," she said.

"My existence is of no need to mankind." Lucid walked closer, drawn into the orbit of her tragic beauty. He wanted to hold her, to shield her from the world that had no use for her.

"Come to me, my child," she crooned, extending a hand.

"Come, share this quiet space with me. For the end of the world is nigh. This is the least I could do for you." He stopped. His body locked up. A tiny, frantic spark of self fought through the beautiful blue fog. He slapped his own cheek. Once. The sound was flat on the water. A second time. Harder. A third time. A stinging jolt of real pain. He staggered, wobbling on his unsteady feet on the water. He took a deep, ragged breath, as if breaking the surface after a long dive.

Neptune watched him, her head tilting in mild curiosity.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Lucid yelled, the roar tearing from his throat. His posture straightened. The vacant haze cleared from his eyes, replaced by their usual sharp, wary focus. He looked at the woman, truly seeing her now, taking in his impossible surroundings.

"Hey," he said, his voice rough but steady.

"Whatever you are, it's not nice to kidnap people. I suggest you bring me back to where I was before I have to get unpleasant." Her perfect blue eyes widened slightly, as if a small, insignificant insect had just refused to be crushed.

"You broke my hex, human." She sounded more intrigued than angry.

"A curious child." She walked closer. She was tall, three times his height. Her presence was overwhelming, a pressure of ancient power and profound loneliness. But Lucid didn't flinch. He had fought stranger. He had a goddess in his head, an Oni at his side, chains made of will. This was just another problem. With Alice. The thought was a hiccup in his resolve. A split-second of doubt. The creature sensed it. Her will seized the opening instantly. The clear, blue sky above them darkened to a deep, mournful indigo.

The reflective water lost its luster, turning the color of a deep, lightless sea. Lucid's newfound clarity vanished. His gaze dropped, distant again. His body slumped.

"I have been trapped in this form since the dawn of time," Neptune's voice washed over him, filled with a grief as deep as the ocean.

"She cast me down here, in this shape, doomed to forever roam the Scattered Realms. I look upon you humans as precious children. Yet, you can be so cruel. You lost faith in me and my brothers and sisters. I have no reason to exist." She bent down, kneeling on the water to meet his lowered eyes. Her hair, soft as blue silk, brushed his shoulders. Her scent was of salt and deep, cold places.

"So please, my child," she whispered, her voice a tender, heartbreaking plea.

"Return your favor. Let me save you. Offer up your eternity here, and be safe. You cannot fight the world. So confide in me." She lifted a hand, her fingers cool and smooth, and reached to touch his mist-shrouded cheek. The moment her fingertips made contact, her large, graceful hand went utterly still. A ripple passed through the water. Neptune's serene expression fractured. Her blue eyes, deep as abyssal trenches, widened in shock, then softened into something like profound, aching sorrow.

"My child..." she breathed, the words filled with a new, raw understanding.

"How much you have gone through..." A torrent flowed from the point of contact. Not her memories into him, but a glimpse of his own struggles, his pain, the sheer, relentless weight of his experiences, flowing into her. It was an impossible burden for someone so young to carry. The deity looked at him, re-evaluating the insignificant human before her. A soft, cool blue light emanated from where her fingers touched his cheek, enveloping his head in a gentle glow. It felt nice. Soothing.

Like cool water on a fevered brow. Then her eyes shot open wide, the sorrow replaced by pure, unadulterated shock.

"This... this cannot be," she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. She pulled her hand back as if burned.

"Your fate is... non-existent. You are a still ocean. Clear as day, yet with no current, no destiny written upon you." She stared at him, her lips parted. She took him in, not as a lost child to comfort, but as an anomaly. A cosmic irregularity. A slow, strange light kindled in her deep blue eyes. Not pity. Not hunger. Something like a fierce, desperate hope.

"Then," Neptune said, her voice dropping to a reverent, powerful whisper.

"You have a chance. A true chance." She leaned closer, her presence no longer just lonely, but charged with intent.

"To defy her. To avenge them all."