InsaneJournal

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Troubled green eyes gazed at the majestic form of Luther Lansfeld critically. Fayt noticed the level of stress, agitation, extreme madness and irritation that radiated off the Creator in waves. His golden hair seemed to gleam under the several luminous lights of the Workspace and his blue eyes were bright with wildness.

An unbecoming scowl formed on Luther’s mouth as he faced Fayt and his companions, and he gestured his hand at them, declaring, “You are all Data. Nothing will convince me otherwise.” Fayt found himself strangely mesmerized and spellbound by the shape of Luther’s shoulders and by his white gloved hands. How many worlds had he destroyed with those meticulous hands? How many times had he acted as the igniter of Destruction instead of being the Creator? 

And yet this truly was their Creator. Luther had left them with no choice but to battle him and this was their only chance of doing anything, of saving their own universe from the wrath of their devilish God. And so Fayt glanced at his companions, looked into the determined eyes of Maria, Mirage and Cliff, nodded at Nel and Albel, smiled briefly at Sophia and Peppita and all charged at the Creator.

Everything felt surreal. As Fayt fought against Luther with his friends, it seemed as though he wasn’t really in the battle. Instead he was watching it with curious eyes even though he was helping his companions and using all the skills he had learned against Luther, dodging and parrying Luther’s attacks, shouting spells and performing at his best, at his full potential not only because he would die otherwise, but also because he had no choice.

Nel and Albel seemed to be the fastest members of the group besides himself, and they rushed towards the Creator, lashing out their preferred weapons and spells. Luther glared at them both and swung his ridiculously long spear, sending them both flying above Fayt and crashing against the glassy floors of the Workspace. Screams of shock and pain erupted and Fayt ran to those who needed his help, disregarding his own safety.

For a moment, he had forgotten himself as the watcher and so did Luther. The Creator dashed towards him and Fayt gasped, eyes widening at the sight. There was gracefulness in those movements and in the way he hovered in the air with those corrupted wings of white. The next thing he knew, one of those hands wrapped around his throat and squeezed. He barely felt the ground with his feet and he choked, perspiring slightly.

He gazed into those blue eyes once more and was struck by the madness that was there, and yet there was something familiar in those eyes, something that was fading away. A little spark of a conscience maybe. There was another incantation of a spell and consequently, he fell to the ground unceremoniously, breathing all the air he needed and rubbing his throat tenderly.

He glanced at the Creator and despite the madness in his eyes, he could admire him from afar-- admire the pure strength that radiated off him, admire the light that would soon burn them, not save them and the wings that didn’t shelter them, but strike against them. He was anything but a God. The disillusionment that had settled within Fayt recently worsened and he bit his lips. He teleported, appearing right in front of Luther.

They fought against each other as though the others didn’t exist around them, eyes locked on each other's. That was when Fayt was reminded of his goals and his role in this twisted game. He was the enemy because he was the embodiment of Destruction. Luther was the Savior because he was God, and yet that wasn’t the case. Luther was the one who tried to destroy them all and no reason could ever justify such actions of murder and injustice.

And they, being opposites, bounced off against each other; Fayt skidded against the floor and Luther rose, staring down at him with a strange look on his face. In that moment of silence, Fayt’s friends tried to exert their power and all jumped after Luther, but once again it was useless. Luther twisted his spear, and laughed manically, flinging them all away from him as though they were useless toys and unwanted possessions.

Fayt tried to help them; he really did, dashing over to them, performing healing spells and giving them life, but once again, his own life was endangered. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, a warm breath tickling his ear.

“Give up,” Luther whispered in a husky voice. “Despite your so-called advantages, you are no match against true power.” Fayt froze, feeling not only the warmth of the Creator’s body seeping into his own, but also the immense, intoxicating power. He could almost lose himself in it, but he couldn’t be tempted because he was the Hero, the Chosen One.

“Never,” Fayt whispered back, his hand gripping tighter around the hilt of his sword. He managed to twist himself around, eyes locked on Luther’s once more, and Luther just smiled. “We’re not Data,” Fayt said, but he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, himself or Luther. “We’re more than that.”

“Foolish fallen angel,” Luther murmured in mock pity. “You’re anything but that.” Suddenly he lashed out his hand, fingers literally penetrating into Fayt’s flesh. Fayt choked again, trying to break free; he gasped, looking at his body, watching it go static as though he really was what Luther had defined him. Fire burned in his blood, pervading his body and swallowing him whole. He screamed in pain; it felt so real and he was deteriorating. 

And then he was gone.

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Luther watched Fayt disappear with his very eyes, and heard the gasps and screeches of horror from Fayt’s companions. He smiled in victory and waved his hand. Piece by piece, like the Data Fayt was, he returned, adorned all in white with his own set of white wings. His new creation took a breath and then released it, opening his eyes.

They were void of emotion, completely and utterly glazed.

He was reborn.

“Fayt!” one of Fayt’s friends yelled in shock; Luther looked for the origin of that voice; his gaze landed on a brown-haired girl, Sophia Esteed. Yes, she was the childhood friend of Fayt, but no longer because Fayt was his. With a graceful wave of his hand, his new creation flew towards him. Luther embraced him, hands sliding down Fayt’s backside in a possessive manner.

He buried his face in the crook of Fayt’s neck, breathing in the scent of his creation. Fayt was pure now, untainted by the corrupted masses of the Eternal Sphere. He smiled softly and said to Fayt in a quiet voice, “I want you to eliminate them.” A shiver coursed through Fayt’s body, but he couldn’t tell why that was so. “Take them all down. Do what you are meant to do.”

He let Fayt loose and watched with pride as his personified weapon did what he was told. Obedience, order, righteousness and justice were at his hands now. He admired the speed of his creation as Fayt crashed into his former friends. He also admired his efficiency, the way he used all the spells he had learned as the occupant of the Eternal Sphere against them.

Like Runic pieces, they all fell down one by one. Sophia was the last. She stared at Fayt, clutching her hand at her heart. It had probably broken her heart, Luther figured, to find her childhood friend like this. Fayt gazed at her, unable to seemingly recognize her, and brought down his sword with deafening sound of a squish.

Another scream echoed across the Workspace.

Luther smiled again and descended to the ground, ambling his way over to his new creation. He embraced him once more, his cheek resting against Fayt’s. “Such excellence,” Luther murmured, lips brushing against Fayt’s briefly. “Well done.” He took Fayt’s gloved hand and glanced at him.

He missed the strange spark in Fayt’s glazed eyes and the subtle stiffness of Fayt’s body.

“Come with me,” Luther said softly. “We have a new universe to create.” He watched Fayt closely now, noting the way his hands balled into fists, the slight twitch of his lips and the brief flash in his eyes. Luther frowned and brought Fayt close to him, looking him over.

The program he had incorporated with Fayt should have worked. How else was he able to obey Luther flawlessly? His frown deepened and he watched Fayt again. His soft lips parted, as though Fayt was trying to speak, trying to break the silence of death that had settled in the Workspace.

“Why?” he uttered, looking at him with those same troubled green eyes. The fire in them returned, burning fiercely. Dammit, Luther should have known, but at least his job of eliminating the viruses of the Eternal Sphere was done.

Luther couldn’t answer him. Sometimes silence was better.

Fin.

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A/n: I had this idea forever actually, and yeah. I wrote this at 1 am again and finished at 3: 21 am. I edited at 6 am. Woot!