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[SP-F1] Courageous Beyond Measure V (Complete)


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Waking up to the sight of McGonagall had somehow felt even worse than the tribulations he'd been put through in his sleep. There was a certain level of recognition that his partner was speaking- his lips were moving- and yet, the words flew right over his head. Nothing more than white noise in the background, sounding too muffled and distant to possess any real meaning. Again, Azide closed his eyes as darkness recalled him back into its shadowy depths. However long he had passed out the second time around, he was not certain. But when he'd finally stirred, the sun hung significantly lower in the sky than he'd remembered.

Edited by Azide
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Gone was the cold sweat which had drenched him the first time around- this had been a dreamless sleep. Not peaceful, exactly. Just... quiet. Semantics aside, he had not awoke with the usual feeling of refreshment one would associate with sleep. Rather, he felt nearly as drained and tired as he had towards the end of his nightmare. Though psychology was considered a soft science amongst academia, the topic certainly piqued his interested nonetheless, and he was vaguely familiar with the theories detailing the meaning of dreams. "It might mean nothing at all..." he reflected, as the imagined hydra flickered in his head. "But what if I'm still afraid?"

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Whatever his personal feelings might be, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be there when the time came. As a latecomer, or rather- a veteran who had simply made a late return, he had not been present for Oikawa's meeting. Because of this, combined with his old friend's recent disappearance, it had not slipped past him that he knew precisely nothing about the coming boss battle. All he knew was that it would take place on the eleventh floor, naturally. The fact that this was a floor he had scarcely explored was only the icing on his cake of ignorance.

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Still, it was odd that his mind had conjured the visage of Molten Hydra, rather than Yamato no Orochi. Perhaps it was a matter of luck, as these were the only two bosses with which he was particularly familiar. There had been passing mentions of various others, such as the Phoenix of the eighth floor, though there was little documentation overall. Or perhaps his mind had grown tired of taunting him with the issue of Yamato, and had decided to go with something fresh. Either way, it had made for a most tiring bout of sleep.

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This time around, seemed to be absent from the immediate vicinity as he pulled himself to his feet and paced around. The fact that McGonagall had allowed him to lay there completely unprotected annoyed him to no end, and his arms remained tightly crossed as he skulked about. The only positive spin he could put on things was that the fall had not lowered him to the level of McGonagall. To even consider that possibility made him shudder to no end. "Yes, at the very least... at least I'm not McGonagall..."

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Deciding it best to remain where he was, on the chance that his partner would return, Azide sighed and took a seat against the side of the cliff. From there, he proceeded to take out a paperback from his inventory and began to peruse the dusty old pages- it had been months since he'd last cracked its spine. For what seemed like hours, he allowed himself to enter the exciting world of online relationships. At first glance, it seemed like a frivolous topic, what with everyone being stuck in a videogame and all. But if one really thought about it, this was an online game. At least, this was how he had justified it in his own mind.

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While he occupied himself with his texts, an occasional squawking would call out from somewhere above the cover of the clouds. At first it had been a slight cause for alarm, and he had even taken to flipping through the pages with his dagger firmly in hand. But as he lifted his head time and time again, there were no birds or anything of the sort to be seen. He reasoned that if he could not spot the creature, perhaps it could not spot him either. And so he'd learned to filter out the screeching until it too had faded into the background, and there was nothing more in the world than himself and his book.

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Finally, Azide closed the book, having finished the publication cover-to-cover. It had been interesting enough, though he felt that not exactly all of it was applicable here in Aincrad. Perhaps it was because it had been authored before the sufficient advancement of virtual reality, but he couldn't say that Skyping or instant messaging seemed particularly helpful in maintaining a feeling of presence- it was so much more effective to simply drop by a person's shop. In fact, it occurred to him he'd never really stopped to think about how far away each of them really was in the other world. Though he'd loathed the virtual world at first, the lines between virtual and world grew fainter and less clear with each day that passed.

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In the past few months, familiarity and a level of comfort had undeniably taken the edge off of the driving hunger for escape. While it made his day-to-day life and interactions more pleasant and even satisfying, he was not sure whether to accept the slow change or to reject it out of hand. It seemed ridiculous, in a way. After all, what sort of a man wished to be hungry? In this world, he had slowly been rebuilding his own identity- a career as a promising alchemist, a short stint as the head of a booming guild, and a potential to reshape the world with his own two hands.

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And yet, to lose that hunger seemed to fly in the face of all he had stood for all of those months back. No matter how he reasoned things, the fact of the matter was that he had grown content. Yes, he had made a recent fully-fledged return to the vanguard, but what did that really mean? Truthfully, he wasn't exactly certain. Of course, part of his motivation was clear: he felt obligated to prove himself after what had taken place shortly before the tenth floor raid. He supposed another factor could be attributed to pride- the need to prove his own competence to the general populace.

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But he'd known what his answer should have been right away. The first answer to cross his mind should have been, "I want to go home as quickly as possible. I want to get out of this mockery of a world." So why did the words come so late, so hollow? They had slowly become something of a formality- akin to uttering a quick bless you when somebody sneezed. He did not doubt that those words had meant something very real to him at some point, but they rang empty today, and had rung empty for quite some time.

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Sure, he had gone through an unpleasant episode in which he'd turned his back on all of Aincrad; for months, he had stowed himself away so well that even his former guildmates had been unable to find him. At least, until they had. But in the end, he had learned to reluctantly love this world once again. It was an uneasy, fragile and unrequited love, but a true one nonetheless. He loved the sense of wonder that came with each new floor, and the battles which challenged him both physically and mentally. Not to mention the distinct feeling of power he held in this world, where law and order lived and died at the end of a sword.

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Beginning to feel as if he hadn't actually done anything in quite sometime, Azide glanced down the valley just in time to catch sight of a man at the very edge of the horizon. Of course, it could be none other than McGonagall, and so he was not particularly excited. Still, it had been a while since he'd done anything unrelated to dreams or introspection, and so he began to make his way to the approaching figure. Eventually, he couldn't help but notice that McGonagall was carrying something. He squinted and deflected the sunlight with the flat of his hand and found that the man was in fact cradling a whole lot of things.

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"McGonagall!" yelled Azide as he stormed up to the towering man. His movements were quick, yet shaky as he pointed a finger at McGonagall. "I can't believe you just up and left lying me there while I was out cold!" His brow was furrowed furiously, and he wore a frown so fierce that his lips were left quivering. It wasn't often that he allowed himself to become visibly angered, but this was a new low even for McGonagall. Shaking his finger wildly, Azide continued to bark at the poker-faced man, "Look, I can't believe you. This is a new low, even for a good-for-nothing bastard like you."

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McGonagall stepped back as Azide marched up to him, and took yet another step backward when the brown-haired boy started pointing fingers. His eyes opened wide, so that he resembled a deer in headlights, and his mouth was left to gape as his jaws went slack. For a long while, the two stood there wordlessly- one with no words left to say, while the other stood at a loss for words. Then McGonagall broke the standstill as he turned his gaze toward the ground and exhaled a long, drawn out sigh. "I thought..." he stammered, in a voice more fitting for a mouse than an elephant. "I thought-"

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"Apparently not," said Azide. Though his voice had been level, it would be more than a stretch to calm the venomous words which had dripped from his tongue either calm or collected. Azide was seething- not just about McGonagall's most recent act of recklessness, but over everything that had happened after they'd left the Town of Beginnings. At that moment, McGonagall was the ravine he'd fallen into. Just like he was the pack of mobs that had attacked pinned them against the cliff side, or even Molten Hydra himself. Worst of all, he was McGonagall.

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Too angry and furious to concentrate, the sounds of loud squawking managed to slip past the mental screen of Azide, prompting him to look up. He was surprised to actually be greeted with the sight of some sort of bird which circled continuously above at a height roughly level with the lowest hanging clouds. Sure enough, the avian was descending at high speeds in precisely their direction, though McGonagall did not look the least bit alarmed. Dismissing the man's lack of a reaction as typical McGonagall, Azide drew his rapier and kept the blade steady at hand until finally the bird came to hover above tree-like McGonagall.

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Soon after and with little hesitation, McGonagall extended his forearm out and at an angle in front of him, as if he were waiting for somebody to hang a towel on him. With a deftness that made the maneuver look as if it had been carefully choreographed, the speckled bird docked down upon McGonagall's arm and perched there as if it were a branch. "I sent Jamie up above to keep an eye on you," he offered sheepishly, petting the bird's head with soft strokes as it cooed contently.

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With his remaining free arm, McGonagall set aside the sack which had laid nuzzled in his massive arms. As the sack was placed against the ground, a glossy red orb slipped out through the top and rolled across the ground until coming to a stop against Azide's boot. The bird launched back into the air as McGonagall stooped low to the ground and ruffled through the the humble bag his sausage-like fingers had found what they'd been looking for. From out of the bag, he revealed a fresh looking orange, with a leaf still stick to the end of its stem. He stood back up and tossed the piece of fruit lightly into the air before catching it in his palm while Jamie circled in the space above them.

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"I thought you would be hungry," said McGonagall, looking between Azide and the orange.

Azide looked down at the sphere resting at his feet. It was a round and shiny apple- coincidentally his favorite fruit. Where had this man even managed to find one on this floor? But that was beside the point right now. He didn't wish to look back up, and meet his partner's gaze. But then his stomach growled, and he clutched at it feebly. In a calm, tired voice, he spoke to McGonagall without removing his eyes away from the forbidden fruit. "I feel like I haven't eaten in days," he remarked, bending down low to take the glossy fruit into his hand.

For a few moments, he had heard nothing in response, and thought perhaps that he should consider giving a real apology. But then, McGonagall's voice broke the silence. "Well, the funny thing about that is- er, well. You haven't."

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