Cross and Conflicts

CHAPTER XXXIII: Beginning after the End

Have you ever imagined how your death would be like? Well, Noumenon while she gazed up angry and resolute to Cross thought about hers. Again. During the traumatic episodes of her life—during the days when she was terrified that her father would kill her after she witnessed how he murdered her biological mother—it was only natural to envision how she will be made to leave this world.

 She reckoned it ridiculous when there are supposed to be a lot of years ahead of her, but who can say for sure? Especially when she forced herself to go against a psychopath in order to gain a scant favor. This has made her more uncertain about the future—if there really would be one waiting for her.

 Death is a lethal surprise because one will never know when it’ll strike. For her, maybe it’s now that she made an opponent out of the master murderer. Or if she’s fortunate, maybe tomorrow or days later—maybe even years later.

 Everyone knows that his or her life will cease. Even the world has its doomsday. It’s just that Noumenon’s might be earlier than scheduled.

 To Cross who’s someone notoriously known as the deliverer of death, he won’t ever be able to relate to her fear. There’s nothing special about it; to him, it always means one less living thing on earth.

 She spat blood to the floor. Slowly, like a fawn that’s doing her best to stand after being born, she got back on her feet.

 The next thing she uttered perplexed him. She didn’t only want to stall time; there was something she wanted to know. In a weak tone, she asked “Tell me, Cross. When should a person die?”

 He frowned, not because he has no idea how to answer that question, but because it felt as an inquiry directed to the alter ego he introduced to the general public.

 “When he is old and has made himself a history?” she continued, “When he has decided to be eased out of the troubles in his life? Or when he is sinful enough to provide the world another flaw?”

 Her riddling questions hung on his mind. As the acclaimed master murderer, he has placed no thought about any of those. 

 It was Noumenon’s turn to smirk. “It looks to me that you’re not very keen about things like those. Well then, Cross, let me tell you this: a person should die when he’s ready.”

 With her point, he simpered. “So, are you ready?”

 “I’m not, and I’m going to survive tonight.”

 Immediately, once again, she pointed the gun at him.

 Bang! Bang! Bang!

 Though unsure of her aim, she let out shots to his chest.

 He, on the opposite side, understood that she was doing everything she can to give justice to her intrepid speech. Yet to him, this match has become dowdy, and this was wearing her down. The accumulation of her injuries should have incapacitated her already; nonetheless, her willpower isn’t giving her the green light to give up. 

 Still, he just swatted the bullets away. But what occurred after was the least he awaited to be her audacious move. Following the bullets was her jumping over to cling to his body. He was utterly taken aback as they both fell down to the floor. She had wrapped her arms around him tight—an embrace of desperation and something unintelligent. 

 “Ngh!” she grunted. “I’m not going to let you kill me today!”

 He didn’t see the need to struggle to break free. It may have been uncomfortable, but she wasn’t doing herself any good—at some point. Yet, he wanted to see how she’d push through this. This effort of hers resembled that of the boy’s which flashed in his mind. Fascinating.

 So, he just lied there and didn’t move. He allowed her to dominate that moment. 

 Noumenon sat on his abdomen while she realized that he was allowing her to own up to the rare chance that he’s giving her. He was testing her for the finality of this match if she really is capable of killing someone.

 He grinned to her. “Now then, what are you gonna do now?”

 Her breathing became heavy while she bit her lower lip hard. Her hands were trembling. She was afraid of him no more, but she was horrified at the possibility of hurting another person. No matter who Cross was and whatever he was responsible for, he’s human, and he’s breathing and living before her eyes.

 In her reluctance, she still raised the gun to his face.

 Bang!

 A thin red slice surfaced on his right cheek as the bullet grazed past it as the metal hit the floor.

 “Hahaha!” Cross laughed out loud.

 Noumenon, now more perturbed, dropped the weapon and scrambled to get off him. She retreated to a distance. She had failed to land a shot on him even in her earnest.

 He stood and lightly touched the fresh wound on his cheek. Then, to her, he only said, “Fine."

 Hearing his words didn’t bring her joy. She simply interpreted that as their bout ended, it was the beginning of her vengeful journey.