"Honorable."
Maximus' eyes shot open within a grandiose amphitheater, he was standing, German great sword sheathed.
He looked to the left and right, at the empty seats that stretched beyond the constraints of his vision.
Yet he could see the one thing he despised most of all, hanging from tall marble pillars, the inverted Buddhist symbol of good luck. The swastika, black on white on red, in it's most blatantly disgusting form.
He heard a whimper behind him. His heart seized at that familiar sound.
He turned to find Charice slumbering on the grainy sand. Curled up like a fetus, he was crying in his sleep.
Maximus rushed to his side, almost failing to stop his momentum, and knelt in front of his beloved. A part of Maximus felt relief Charice didn't see the symbol that inspired such hatred in him, that maybe Charice would never know.
"Ah… I…" He choked on his words and reached down to touch Charice's silky hair. He hesitated, if he woke up now, he would see the truth…
He could not see this.
He was beautiful, serene, perfect. Perhaps a little too perfect, even.
But before he could doubt the sleeping man, a steel gate behind him rattled open, revealing Maximus' grandfather, the red stars above growing bright as he gripped his shotgun.
Maximus blinked in disbelief at the sight, eyes stinging with frustrated tears.
It looked around, brilliant red eyes flickering with sickening amusement. But his grandpa had blue eyes, what was-
"Hahaha-" It laughed roughly, the visual of his stoic grandfather doing that in the past made Maximus shiver uncomfortably. "-How creative your mind is, boy."
"What?" Maximus stood up straight, between Charice and this being, and it chortled at the sight.
"You made this." It gestured around. "We would have made a more peaceful greeting, but… Different people, different languages. Yours is brutality, how fitting."
Maximus shook his head reflexively, he would never be like those who came before him. Never again.
"What are you even talking about Alexander?" He spat his grandfather's name. "You're just a fucked up illusion, I-"
Its eyebrows raised, as if it was curious. "Do you also like to lie?"
Maximus didn't answer, instead, he clenched his fists. The swastikas swelled as he did so. He looked at them with anger, trying to make them burn with his mind. If this was a dream and he was aware of it, he should e in control of it.
But apparently, his mind wasn't an obedient thing.
Alexander grinned but said nothing, as if proud of his handiwork.
Maximus couldn't be rid of his past so easily. Of his legacy, even.
'He's gone. I made sure of that. He cannot harm me anymore.' Maximus reminded himself, using these observations as proof to shield the small part of him that trembled in his mind.
So why couldn't he stop shaking?
'I won't let him destroy what I've made of myself.'
"Why are you doing this?" He addressed the being, but more so his own brain. After all, if this was a dream, what was the point of it?
"I-"
His jaw slammed shut. The being spoke with trembling pupils.
"We aren't a product of your mind, fool."
Maximus' eye twitched, that was not a figment of his mind, could it be...? No way!
…Still, he cared most of all for the being behind him. So he assumed the worst.
"Who is he I wonder?" The being asked, pointing its shotgun at Charice, slowly walking closer with an amused smirk.
A river of sweat poured down Maximus as he postured defensively.
"No one. Just some random person. Nothing a… God should concern himself with."
"Liar." They let out a raspy chuckle. "We know that he is proof."
Maximus paused, confused. But something inside him boiled with anger as he realized what they meant.
"He isn't."
Maximus resisted the urge to swing his Zweihänder at it.
"So violent Maximus. Who raised you like that I wonder?" It rested the shotgun on its shoulders.
Maximus couldn't hold it back anymore. With a silent snap of patience, he stepped forward.
"You fucks didn't do anything to help me, that's for sure." His veins swelled and heart stomped in his ribcage, adrenaline fueled every enraged word. "You have no right to judge me!"
They nodded, and Maximus paused in shock. His throat had seized up as the flags blew high above, and they rolled their eyes at them.
"You are correct, we don't understand any of you or this." They casually gestured at everyting around. But Maximus felt no gratification or relief. His body stiffened in fear, but all he could make of it was that familiar feeling of helplessness.
"The Consort has the right to judge that." They motioned with the gun at the flags. "But those who should judge, you kept in the dark." For the first time, Maximus saw a true emotion, one not filtered through poorly masqueraded humanity, but instead forced into the world.
The sky above screamed with thunder and breaking steel, the code of this place defecting and glitching. The flags shredded themselves as the world bent around the puppet of Alexander.
"And he still prays for you." They spat. "We knew he would, we always knew… Yet our thoughts are not at all soothed by the time we had to anticipate."
The world snapped into place, Maximus slingshot into a nearby wall.
"You don't deserve him."
They pointed the shotgun at Charice.
Maximus went pale as he realized what they were about to do, and with a desperate roar, he launched himself with all the strength he had toward his beloved.
The amphitheater wall shattered and collapsed like clay, Maximus' ears rang and body went numb. And just as he arrived-
It fired, piercing skin and shattering his armor. With every drop of blood he felt himself grow weak, but he didn't despair. Instead, he knelt over his sleeping love, and tried to speak and wake him up.
He couldn't. Only gurgling and frantic twitching filled his body, but still, he found the strength to shield Charice with his body.
He saw his beloved open his eyes, which glowed like a pair of blue stars. And Maximus realized this was not Charice.
The Gods mouthed to him with a hand tenderly trailing down his cheek, "You pass."
Its hand fell to his breastplate as he gulped down blood, he wanted to pass out, but something kept him here. The imitation of his beloved reached its hand through his chest and to his heart, and pulled out a bright red string that crackled and snapped frantically.
It smiled, soothing the string with a soft hand, and Maximus felt his heart shudder and gasp.
"Follow the light."
The string was released, it raced up the sky like a bolt of thunder, and reached for something small, pink, and unique. The cold sting of a shotgun barrel pressed against the back of his skull.
He, through with a broken voice and tears flooding down his cheeks asked: "Is he-"
"Go."
A gunshot, and then the darkness claimed him. And when Maximus opened his eyes, it was a beautiful sunrise that met him, the sky painted a resplendent hue of blue.
An aurora stretched across it like a dancing string, leading him toward a flat-topped mountain range that loomed in the distance.
It was time to go home.