Without even knowing he had fallen asleep in the first place, his eyes slowly opened, heavy with the coattails of much needed rest. Blinking a few tis, he found himself not seeing the asphalt nor the clear sky, but a tan ceiling above.
"Ah…?" Finn quietly let out.
As he sat up, or more so tried to as he imdiately laid back down, the soreness of his muscles was made clear to him by even that small amount of movent sharply pushing him back. There was a sll of smoke, though after walking through burning towns for long enough now, it was a natural odor.
"G'morning, sleeping beauty."
An unfamiliar, masculine voice called out to him from the right, bringing him to turn his head. By the makeshift bed he was resting on, he saw a man with shaggy hair of a dirty-blonde shade looking at him.
The man looked to be in his late twenties, with a scruffy beard on his chin and a tired look in his hazel eyes, fiddling with a burning cigarette between his lips.
"Where am I? How'd I get here?" Finn tiredly asked, forcing himself to sit up.
At the very least, he could presu that the stranger was not an enemy of his, going by the very fact he wasn't killed in his sleep, nor was there any sense of hostility.
"Ah, this place? Just so old library–no monsters in here, so it's not a bad safe house for now," the man answered, flickering the embers from his cigarette. "I helped carry you here. I'm Magnus, I'm from Ystad–ah, well, Sweden."
There was a slight accent from the man of blonde-and-black hair, though his English was perfect, which was a relief to the young man who didn't know any swedish.
"Finn," the sore man introduced himself as he slowly sat him, sliding his feet off of the propped-up mattress. "Thanks for bringing in. You said you had help bringing here?"
"Ah, yeah. She's out scouting right now, but she'll be back soon," Magnus answered, dropping his cigarette before stamping it out.
"That person, is she–" Finn began to ask.
Magnus answered promptly, "It is your friend, Charlotte, yes."
"Ah…That's a relief," Finn slowly breathed out upon getting confirmation, clutching his own shirt as he looked down, feeling a genuine smile appearing.
It was enough to draw tears to his eyes, hiding such a reaction in front of the stranger. He was glad his companion made it out of that hellish night, though a bigger part of him was glad sobody was saved from that dread.
'We made it, Damian. Maybe there is hope, like you believed in,' Finn thought.
The scruffy-bearded man looked experienced with combat himself, wearing an all-white uniform with straps all along it, bearing the design of a cobalt insignia in the shape of a diamond on its front. From the silver bracer on his arm to the snow-white gloves that bore a sapphire gemstone in the middle, it was clear to Finn that the man was equipped with mystical apparel.
'I doubt there's anybody still alive that hasn't adapted to their system,' Finn thought.
As he picked himself up, stretching his sore arms, he looked around to find that he was sleeping in a tucked-away section of the modern library, within a makeshift room seemingly walled off by black bookshelves.
["Sleuth Status"]
[...Assessing information about [Magnus]...]
[Na: Magnus Hellström]
[Age: 27]
[Designated Class: Cannoneer]
[Level: 25]
"What do you think? Am I capable enough?" Magnus asked suddenly, calling out the assassin's sleuthing.
Finn nodded his head with an honest answer, "Yeah. You're a Cannoneer? That's rare."
"Dunno why I was stuck with this class, but I guess there's no point in questioning that now, is there?" Magnus said, retrieving another cigarette from his pocket before placing it between his lips.
As the ssy-haired man raised his right arm, a small flash of light constructed the weapon; a massive, handheld cannon forged of spotless, snow-white steel with a ring of gemstones along its barrel.
Magnus used the barrel to emit a small fla, lighting his cigarette as he puffed out a breath of smoke before continuing to speak, "I used Sleuth on you, too, so no harm done. An assassin at your level? Honestly, I was kind of scared to bring you along."
"Yeah, I get it," Finn responded, understanding the reservations one would have when approaching such a level.
"So, did you do it?" Magnus asked directly. "To obtain that level, I an. Did you kill anybody?"
There was a serious look behind the swede's eyes, as the question was one that held weight behind it.
Finn stayed quiet for a mont as he carefully thought of how to answer before speaking what he had to say, "Only the ones I had to."
"I see," Magnus accepted the answer, taking a puff again. "That's the way the world is now, anyway."
There was no doubt that the cannoneer was tired himself from the continuous hardships of the new world, none more clear than the bags beneath his eyes. Finn watched as the man walked over to a stuffed bag propped on one of the shelves that had been cleared of its books.
Magnus sifted through the supplies before bringing his hand out, holding a can of what looked to be pineapples as he glanced over at the young man, "Hungry?"
"Yeah," Finn answered truthfully.
The tall, neatly-uniford swede sat down right across from him, tossing the can over. Finn caught it, holding the aluminum between his fingers as he looked over, seeing that Magnus had his own share.
Finn raised his hand as his ebon dagger manifested, using its sharp edge to peel the can open. Without any sort of utensil to eat it with, he treated it like a drink, leaning his head back as he allowed the canned pineapples to slip into his mouth.
It wasn't anybody's idea of gourt, though they made do.
"So, you lived through that night, too? I wonder how the hell I even survived, honestly," Magnus asked, fiddling with the opened can of peaches.
"Yeah, sohow," Finn responded, not caring much to reminisce on fresh mories.
"I get it. I don't really want to talk about what I saw last night, either," Magnus brushed off, stuffing a slice of peach into his mouth, swallowing it before continuing. "The girl ntioned another person in your group–a warrior. Haven't seen him."
The topic in question brought Finn speechless as he sat there, rembering all too well those vivid experiences; the gut-wrenching sensation of sinking his dagger into one he cared for. Before the conversation could continue, a noise echoed from across the library, like that of a door opening.
"It seems she's back from her scouting," Magnus pointed out, glancing in the direction of the sound.
"--" Finn remained silent.
As the footsteps drew to that side of the building, he simply sat there while hearing them co up from behind him. It seed that the library had been ford into so kind of maze, with how the shelves were aligned, bringing the footsteps to have to slide between a pair of the bookshelves.
"Welco back," Magnus greeted while pointing over at the young man. "This one has finally decided to wake up."
Finn hesitantly lifted his head, seeing the young woman of unmistakable hair like that of a clear sky, who looked right back at him with eyes that looked on the brink of crying.
"You're alright!" Charlotte said, quickly sitting herself down in front of him. "I'm relieved–it looked bad when we found you."
"Yeah, I'm alright," Finn responded. "Good to see you're alright, too."
"Did you see Damian out there? I looked everywhere, but…" Charlotte asked, looking down as if already expecting the worst.
The question made the topic no longer able to simply be ignored with silence as Finn sat there, leaning his arm atop his knee. Just looking at the face of his companion who longed for the sa person he did made it impossible to push aside.
Finn opened his mouth to answer, though no words ca out at first, only a quiver of his lips. It felt as though speaking it would place it into reality, even if it was assuredly cented already.
That sparse amount of delusion within him was cast away as he gulped down his reservations, feeling the eyes of the other two on him that wanted closure.
"I…" Finn struggled to speak as his voice trembled. "I…I had to do it."
"Do what? What is it, Finn?" Charlotte softly asked.
Drawing out that cruel truth brought the young man to shake his head as the guilt layered itself upon him. Having to accept that reality made him rethink it all, questioning if there had been any other way.
"Damian is…I…I killed him," he finally forced it from his throat.
Charlotte was at a loss for words for a mont as her eyes widened and her complexion lost color, "What?"
"There was no other choice. I tried–I did, I tried…but, I couldn't do anything, Charlotte. I pushed my dagger through him," Finn admitted, looking at the hand that wielded the blade in that dreadful mont.
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