(A/N): After a long hiatus from writing, I have returned!

Now then, I had originally planned to at last continue writing the fourth story in my ongoing Elder Scrolls series starring a racist lizard and a confused person, but back in January as I was putting the finishing touches into The Breadwinner I strayed across a rather sad revelation.

Grand Chase, the first online game I ever got into, is closing down.

I may've grown up and moved on from GC years ago, but that doesn't change the importance that it held in my life. Without my discovery of it in 2008 I can honestly say that I probably wouldn't have ever gotten into PC gaming! D:

So with that in mind, I came up with a short story idea. A final monument to say farewell to the Chase! (Whilst also using a title I've wanted to use for a fic for months xD)

WARNING: Spelling errors, OOC characters, cynicism, language, a small cast, poor attempts at being dramatic and meaningful, an awkward reference to LOTR at one point, a story that is more jumbled than the plotline of "The Angel of Darkness", and insinuations of shippings that may enrage anyone who's into slash!

We All Fall Down

There were birds in Kanavan, flocks of the things.

If the sights and sounds of the bustling metropolitan city ever got to you, you could always spare a glance to the cloudless skies of Bermisiah to admire their beauty. Fluttering wings of all shapes and sizes swooping here and there, dancing amongst church spires and nestling with friends and family. Even toothless you could imagine curled grins of comfort and camaraderie as pairs met with one another - it was a strange thing to imagine.

He'd always been free just like the birds, floating about wherever the wind took him. Cities had never been his thing - their twisted mazes of alleys and crossroads feeling tight and restrictive in their complexity. He'd been verbal and straight to all sorts for the eventful years of his life, stressing his admiration for sprawling meadows and entrancing silence.

But none could hear his chirps and calls.

Not over the racket of reality.

Carriages bumped and creaked over the mismatched cobbles of a layman's path, bustling crowds pushing and shoving through walls of sweat and muscle to get to their destination - work, theatre, whatever the day called for. The tall, noble fellow firmly made his way through the ruckus as blacksmiths hammered away at their craft, and peddlers hustled their audiences.

"Gather 'round now, gather 'round!" a pot-bellied man from the East hollered, patting the flat of his balding head. Mothers with bawling babies strapped to their backs watched on engrossed, youths darting about their legs playing mischievous games. "Now I know you're all busy ladies. I'm sure you've got eventful days ahead, but...!"

The towering young man managed to slip through the cracks of the mass of bodies, making his way through a street that led to one of the many Cul de Sacs that littered the city state of Kanavan. He ruffled his ebon mane with exasperation - if there was one thing that would never change, his hometown would never understand how to deal with foot traffic.

To think that it wasn't even rush hour yet.

Muffled by the thick frames of surrounding homes and businesses, the noisy main road was almost completely silent by the time he'd made it through the narrow path. Like a river spilling out to the ocean the nobleman found a large, circular paving with fancy cottages lining its circumference. He'd made it through the mismatched council housing that littered Kanavan like measles, and reached one of its richer pockets.

It was almost a whole new world - as if you'd materialised across the globe into another time, at another place. He placed his hands on his belt, shaking his head in familiarity. "Still the same size it was back then."

What, did he expect it to grow?

There was plenty of wood in it, mind.

The homes of the Cul de Sac were fundamentally identical in size and design, yet each family had given their territory a hint of personality to appeal to their tastes. Some bore elaborate gardens, others had hanging balconies that could look out as far as the Outer Wall of Serdin - well, if you had a telescope and a pair of stilts that is.

Of course he could spot the plot he sought without a moment's hesitation; wooden training blades and roughed up dummies strewn about the front garden like the aftermath of a brutal massacre. She'd always been eager to keep her mastery of the blade alive 'til her hair turned grey and her knees gave way - she certainly had no intention to make that a lie.

With the jangle of buckles and the tap of the tip of his sword against the perfect pavement, he followed the trail and ascended the stairway at its very end. The decking of the house's veranda creaked with the weight of his thickly soled travelling boots, acting as a makeshift alarm to warn residents of his approach.

There was a subtle sound of commotion as residents realised that someone was at the door. A loud clank was followed by a young woman's voice; firm and authoritative. "No thank you." she said. A mouth appeared at the letterbox, its door open to reveal a pair of lips. "Whatever it is you're selling, we don't want it here." the voice added. The tall fellow crooned over to peek through the opening, only for it to close with sudden loudness - causing him to jump with surprise. She continued to rant, barely muffled by the thick door between them. "We don't want any salespersons, lost children offering quests to find their pets or fortune tellers from the Partusay Seas!"

"How about very old friends?" he asked, lazily fiddling with the hilt of his sword as an artisan would tend to his nails. Goofily scratching his nostril with his pinkie, he grinned smugly at the woman's silence. "Are they wanted?"

What must've been seven bolts cracked and slid as she fumbled through each and every lock that she had installed, the familiarity of the voice grabbing her attention in its entirety. At last with an awkward, drawn out squeal the door creaked open - and a red head upon strong shoulders popped out from the darkness. "... Sieghart?"

The man's thick neck bobbed from side to side as he looked left and right, as if making sure that the red-head was talking to him in particular. Satisfied that no pretenders were about, he nodded like a cloaked conspirator. "... Yeah, that's me." he confirmed. Without announcement the young woman swung her arms around his form, squeezing him within a friendly embrace – much to his obvious confusion. "What happened, did someone die?"

"I'm being friendly." she corrected, rocking on the flats of her feet. Her chin barely managed to reach his shoulder, her voice firm and authoritative as ever. "It's what us normal people do. Now shut up and accept it."

Sieghart sniggered in amusement, "Nope, that's the same old you." he pat her back dismissively, hoping that it'd be enough to break him free from her vise like grip. If one thing was for sure, this was the right place – her brute strength was practically as familiar as her ruby irises. "I was worried for a moment. Been a while, hasn't it Elesis?"

Named at last, she freed him from his mortal bonds – sighing as he wheezed with comical enthusiasm. "I guess you could say that." Elesis turned back towards her home, stepping through the open portal all whilst skipping formality. After a moment she sprung back out, noticing that he hadn't so much as budged from his spot outside. She beckoned begrudgingly, wishing she had a leash for the old dog. "Well come on in then!"

Taking that as a go ahead he eagerly stepped in like a malicious spirit given entry to a home, rubbing his worn soles against the rugged doormat. It'd been a while since his last visit to a family member's house to say the least – several hundred years in fact.

He'd kind of forgotten the etiquette.

Sieghart rolled his tongue in thought, before shooting a curious glance at his relative. "… Normal people?"

Elesis smirked, tilting her head and echoing his words. "Normal people." she nodded at the stairway's bannister, which acted as a makeshift coat rack for a group of jackets of a myriad of sizes. "Either your timing is convenient as all hell or you've been keeping an eye on me: Lunch's nearly ready."

"Wow, really?" he gasped with false enthusiasm, whipping out his arm and checking his wrist for an imaginary watch. He tapped at its face, clicking his teeth to mimic the sound of glass. "At midday? Never would've guessed."

She'd eagerly take a swing at his gob if she wasn't used to the old gladiator's dull sense of humour. Settling on the friendly stock snicker she'd embraced to survive civil life, she continued to signal him as she rounded a corner. Sieghart's heavy feet caused the floorboards to whine and creak in exhaustion, his eyes scanning a row of portraits that littered the walls in an uneven line. One in particular caught his attention – the empowered visage of a male Ruby Knight, bearing the stiff upper lip and furious attitude of his daughter Elesis. After a moment's hesitation he reached for its ornate frame, only for the absent woman to speak up. "Touch anything, lose the hand."

Good advice.

Flexing his fingers at such a close call, he cracked his neck and returned to following her.

In rank and file the pair marched into the lounge, where Elesis dropped her guest off for the moment. "Take a seat if you want, won't be long." she recommended, not even sparing him a glance as she waddled away to the glowing doorway of the kitchen. Sieghart nodded to himself in her absence, pivoting on his foot to face one of three squishy looking - and appropriately red - loungers. A familiar head poked back in with comedic flourish. "… Not literally."

"Come on, that only happened once." he defended, raising his hands at such a vile accusation. After a moment they fell back onto his hips with a dull slap as Elesis gave him a critical stare. To be brutally honest, the house he found it in was abandoned at the time. He pointed at her persuasively, "… It was a damn good chair too."

"Really." she said rather than asked, disappearing into the confines of the kitchen once more and continuing to ramble as she tended to her treats and tonics.

Sieghart didn't really pay her much attention as he examined the room around him. It was homely - had that family feeling to it, not smelling fresh yet smelling warm in a strange way. If you knew Elesis you'd be able to tell that it was her house from a mile off, all manner of glistening blades and celestial armours adorning the walls in their tens. A thin rapier with a sapphire pommel stood out against the red, its ornate design otherwise typical of blades of its type. He reached for it, eager to get a feel for the grip and-

"Stop."

As if caught by a lasso Sieghart froze mid snatch, pulling away like a string of elastic. He put on his best innocent face – the one that'd always got him his way as a boy. "Stop? Stop what?"

She hadn't even left the kitchen.

"You've been silent for too long." she pointed out deductively, the slap of feet against roughs tiles indicating that she was walking about in the kitchen. After a brief silence, the sound repeated as she returned to her initial place. "Means you're touching something."

"Good lord, are you my mother?" he grumbled at her well-placed suspicion, leaning back to stretch his perpetually aching bones. He scanned the ornaments of the living room once more, making sure to stick to his relative's strict "no touch" policy. Another beauty grabbed his eye. "… Is that a sigil?"

Elesis thudded through the kitchen door with a platter of roughly made sandwiches clenched between her burly fists. She wasn't the sort of cook that cared about aesthetics – a little mess didn't make it any less filling. She followed his stare, "Yes." she confirmed, the pride of her smile betraying the reserve of her voice. "One of the highest military decorations you can get, you know."

"Always the soldier." Sieghart snickered, remembering the naivety she'd once had in abundance. He did his best to subtly glance at the food she bore – he was absolutely famished; death's door was in clear sight! "How'd you get it?" he shuffled back, "Collect three-hundred shards of some random thing within ten minutes for some weirdo or…?"

"It's a rank, Sieghart." she answered with restraint, fitting that mother analogy of his more and more with every passing moment. Elesis set the tray down, hearing the bounce of springs as Sieghart flopped onto a sofa of his choosing. The house was quiet today, as was the rest of the Cul de Sac. "Knight Master." she noted, taking her own seat and cradling a steaming mug. "I wear it at work."

Sieghart had quickly found sandwich that appealed to him and shoved its triangular shape into his gob, keeping his ears open for what she said. Rest assured he began to mumble and grumble with muffled confusion at her words, dropping his snack onto his splayed hands. "You're an officer now?" he asked with surprise, his eyes wide as he awkwardly coughed out a few chunks of congealed bread. She nodded, to which he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "That's damn well laughable."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snarled with insult, becoming only further insulted as Sieghart seemingly ignored her and returned to gnawing on his soggy and ragged sandwich. "It took me a damn long time to build the reputation for that job, it didn't come easy. I mean sure it has its ups and downs, but once you think about it it's something I've got a passion for and-" her rant paused as her long lost relative smirked goofily. "… What is it?"

"Just you… Suddenly sounding like a responsible person." he exhaled pleasantly, shaking his food over its plate to let loose a few clingy crumbs. Elesis raised her chin in thought, thinking back on the sheer nonsense she'd just dribbled everywhere. She'd sounded like a fresh recruit, eager to defend her honour. Sieghart noticed her reaction, taking another loud bite. "You weren't like that back in the day."

Those young summer days.

Steam continued to rise from the still waters of her mug. "It's been a long time." she admitted, gently blowing at the dancing strands of translucent mist. Their colours rode the current, gliding off to new heights. "I'm not quite as hot-headed as I used to be, but it's not far off."

"That's good." Sieghart smirked, encouraging his distant relative as her lost father once had - as he had from the moment she'd stepped foot out of Serdin long ago with nothing but the clothes on her back and a dull blade in her hands. "That hot head of yours is what makes you so proud." he reminded, himself respecting the Ruby Knight's strong and indomitable will against insurmountable odds. He felt like ruffling her hair in that condescending way, yet he stopped himself - reluctantly. "A little bit of arrogance isn't a bad thing."

Elesis scowled neutrally. "Seven years…"

It hadn't actually felt that long since the day that everyone had separated, which initially worried her. She'd always thought that she'd never bounce back from the lows, but to be frank she'd found other things. True – without a doubt – she missed it with all of her heart, but there was no point in longing for what was gone.

Yearning makes the heart shrivel.

Sieghart eyed her silently as she reflected, the city birds whooshing about and tweeting incessantly as if it were a new day – a bit late for that, he reckoned. Down to a crust, he stubbornly cast the edges back onto the plate. "Seen anyone since?" he asked, folding his muscular arms. He hadn't heard so much as a peep from any of his old colleagues for years, although he'd always figured that none of them particularly liked him outside of is combat experience. Sometimes he wondered why he stuck with them. "Everyone went their separate ways and all, I… Haven't had much time to ask about."

You always were a liar.

"Every now and then." she confirmed. She'd been fundamental in repairing the awkward rift between Kanavan and Serdin after Kaze'aze had started the war between them, as had Lire and Arme among others. The alliance that followed the war had always been uneasy. Even if it was unintentional, few men would stand on equal terms with the people who had murdered their friends and broken families. Even then in spite of their efforts, many men and women of Serdin and Kanavan made sure to never turn their backs on foreign countrymen. Elesis rested her elbow on her chair arm, tapping her chin with her fingers in a Conan-esque pose. Sieghart spotted a golden band wrapped around her middle finger, adorned by – of course – a ruby gem. "Save for one man in particular."

He knew who it was in an instant. To be honest it was obvious that it would happen someday, but that didn't stop him from feeling his jaw resting on top of his toes. "You're yanking my chain." he said urgently. He hit the sofa cushions with his palms like an enthusiastic child. "What?"

Elesis raised her eyebrow so high that it seemed to get lost somewhere in her fringe, flashing her finger at him clearly, "I'm married?" she pointed out. Sieghart reeled back as if this was a secret being freshly revealed, gasping in frowned, "I have a daughter?"

A lot can happen in seven years.

"News to me!" he snickered conversationally, leaning forward with boyish intent. His fingers drummed at his thighs. "When did this happen?"

The new Knight Master blinked, the steam of her drink at last simmering to a lazy crawl. "Sieghart, you were there at the wedding." she murmured with blunt confusion, honestly wondering what Sieghart was missing. "You already met my daughter at her first birthday."

Hiccup.

Sieghart nodded a few times. Then he nodded a bit more, letting his eyes dart back and forth as if searching for answers. Eventually he took a long sip from his own mug, before shrugging his shoulders. "I've… Been busy." he said between a sigh and a friendly chuckle you'd reserve for job interviews. "You know what it's like. You forget these things – they all blur together."

That only made her furrow her brow in suspicion. He was clearly off – you didn't need to be a Warlock to work that out. Elesis had been questioning it from the start, yet only now did she feel that it was truly appropriate to ask. She tried to find his white, potent eyes. For some reason they refused to meet hers. "What are you doing here, Sieghart?"

There it was.

The tone had shift from white to grey.

The gladiator shifted from a modest sip to a full-on slurp, noisily drinking from the edge of his mug. His eyes cast low, he eventually lowered the cup and held it between his clasped fingers – stroking at the brown coffee stains left on its rim. After what must've been a full minute, he absently shook his head and formally registered what had just been asked. "Mmm… Sorry?"

Their eyes at last met; she could practically feel his unease. "What are you doing in my house?"

He chuckled forcefully, struggling to hide the pained wheeze that it started turning into near its conclusion. "Sitting with a friend." he pointed out comically, raising his empty cup in salutations – making to sip from it again despite its emptiness. "Drinking a drink?"

Elesis grimaced bitterly, lowering her brow in dominance. "Ercnard."

"Don't call me that." he muttered offhand, almost as if the phrase had spouted from him naturally.

She rolled her eyes with rising impatience, unblinking. "Sieghart."

"What?"

"Seriously."

Licking his lips, Sieghart returned to letting off long, deafening sighs. He must've been practicing them before he arrived, because he was exhaling at every given chance. The taste of coffee on his tongue had gone foul over time; bitter and repulsive. "What's wrong with visiting my favourite living relative?" he grinned snarkily alongside a charming chuckle. But Elesis wasn't chuckling with him, much to his chagrin. "… Well, probably my only one…"

That glare just refused to let up, soldering and fixing like iron in a forge on the crumbling nobleman. "If there's one thing that becoming a mother has taught me, it's that kids are awful liars." she told him, hoping to provoke a response. When none of particular interest came, she continued to hammer him with the same question as before. "What are you doing in my house?"

Sieghart stared into the remnants of his mug, swirling the thick gloop incessantly in thought. He shrugged at first. Then he tried to speak, only to pull himself back at the last moment. The Knight Master watched on as he returned to gazing into his drink, before like a needle had merely been thrown from a record player he began anew. "I miss it." he said, "Six-hundred and seven years I've walked now Elesis. There's a lot of hours in a day." he glanced at her for a few seconds, yet her fury quickly threw his gaze to the carpet once more. "… I'd give away five centuries to turn the clocks back."

"It's over, Sieghart." Elesis reminded. The Grand Chase had been tasked with the sole goal of stopping Kaze'aze and in turn giving the world a few more years of peace before the next diabolical terror challenged humanity. They'd done just that. "We won."

All that did was make him scoff, a loud clink accompanying the settling of his mug on the coffee table. "Well whoopee doo." he growled, glaring at her under his bedraggled hair. He clapped his hands in mock applause, mimicking the cheers of a crowd with pursed lips. "The Chase is over."

"And what, that's why you came here?" Elesis snarled in response – a proud lion to her relative's grungy fox. She was disappointed in the so called "hero" of Kanavan, that was for sure. She'd seen more balls in raw recruits. Female raw recruits. "You came here to have a little sulk?"

A bitter grin spread across his lips. "Not a sensitive bone in your body." he laughed dryly, slipping his hands into his deep pockets. "That's my girl."

The sofa creaked as Elesis swung her weight, rising to her feet with grandeur abounds. Her arms folded across her chest authoritatively, her eyes downcast at the feeble man before her. "If that's you done, you can leave." she offered, thoughts of her daughter and husband fresh in mind. She didn't want him to see them – no doubt he'd warp their minds with despair and anxiety. "They'll be back soon."

Sieghart's eyes widened in alarm – this wasn't how it was supposed to go. She was suppose to help him, wasn't she? "I need your advice, Elesis." he hastily admitted, like a failing comedian trying to win back his dispersing audience. Suddenly the tables were turned, with the gladiator trying his best to catch the knight master's vacant gaze. "That's all I ask."

The Legend was true.

Once.

"Wow." Elesis mumbled bluntly, showering the man with contempt and judgement. Sieghart scowled as the smug treatment he'd given her so much in the past was reflected back at him. Suddenly it wasn't so funny. "Ooooohhh wow, give me a moment. Let me just cherish this…" she backed away, fanning at her face for the briefest of moments. Confident that she'd milked it for all its worth, she returned to business. "… What is it?"

"How did you do it?" he demanded, his teeth gritted in seething impatience – not just at her, but at the state of his life. He leaned forward in his chair, yet Elesis remained proud at her feet; she was still as stubborn as a boulder. "How could you abandon it all – the friendships, the fights, the fantastic journeys – just like that?"

"I grew up, Sieghart?" she proposed, bewildered by how he didn't seem to understand the concept. She was sixteen when she'd joined the Chase; back then she was more comfortable with a blade than she was with a bra. "I grew up. We all grew up, unlike you." she noted. Sieghart shook his head and kept that smug little smile of his, as if everything she was saying was absolutely wrong. "Life isn't all fun and games. No one can journey the lands forever – not even you."

To that all he did was wring his shoulders, as he had done so many times before. He'd lived this way for several lifetimes – no one else could make that claim. "Six hundred years is a start." he scratched his ear, leaning back and heaving his boots upon the table loudly. "I've got a long time ahead."

Elesis glared at the crossed pair of legs lounging on her coffee table, her relative showing the utmost disrespect for her words. You'd think motherhood would prepare her for this – he was a complete child, through and through. "… You're right." she agreed. As a Highlander he would have centuries more ahead of him; would anyone want to spend eternity in despair? The Ruby Knight firmly grabbed his feet and pushed them away with a squeak of glass against leather. "All the more reason to let it go."

"We're a stubborn bloodline, you know that Elesis." Sieghart reminded, rebelliously raising his feet again to comically make a point. His lower lip quivered in reflection, his eyelids fluttering inconsistently between collected calm and unbridled rage. "I wouldn't let death take me for decades and decades because I had a purpose. I had an aim." their eyes at last fixed upon one another, just in time for the gladiator to laugh in her face. "… What have I got to fight for now that the story's over? Honour? Friendship? Ha."

Elesis found it pathetic. She'd met many a selfish person across the world in her travels, yet for someone she was once told to idolise to be so wanting was beyond her comprehension. "The Grand Chase was a fantastic thing, but it came in the wake of something horrible." she pointed out. She'd gladly bet a gacha on the odds of finding someone who hadn't lost friend or family in the bloodbath that Kaze'aze had brought upon Bermisiah. Somehow Sieghart seemed to be missing that part of the "good old days". "You want it back? Want the Ascendant God, Archimedia, mindless death and destruction; all of that hell again?"

Death was sweet.

It made him feel alive.

He merely looked at her, refusing to effortlessly pull his head from the soft and weightless sand he'd buried it in. The Knight Master at last returned to her seat, glaring at the worn marks her relative's thick heels were leaving on her favourite table. "It was good while it lasted." she accepted, much to Sieghart's acknowledgement. To say that she didn't miss the freehearted spirit of her adventuring days would be the most blatant of lies. "… It was perfect while it lasted."

Somehow he turned her words against her, suddenly changing the topic from reverie for the past to jealousy towards the present. "You can say that so easily." he sneered with feral bitterness, the glint of countless sigils and medals across the living room walls constantly bothering his eyes. He'd had them all – once. "With your home, your family, your kid, your damn job." Sieghart's shoulders sagged with suspicion, the calm before the storm nearing its end. "You've got something to live for, Elesis."

Elesis asked yet another question. "And you don't?"

The pair of boots squealed with friction as they were pulled from the glass case of the coffee table, slamming onto the carpet with a thud of anger. "No!" he fired, his nostrils flared with indignation. "Not at all!" he spat, struggling to recall the last person he truly lived for. "Because unlike you, all of my friends and family have been stinking up in crypts for half a millennia!"

Was it wrong that he'd forgotten their faces?

Every mother and father, every saint and sinner.

Every brother and sister, every lover and foe.

He was beyond her. Even through her stubborn nature Elesis could comprehend that the man before her – Ercnard Sieghart, a distant forebear – was beyond her in every way, shape and form. She raised her chin with a shudder while he buffeted her with illogical rage; to think that he would've been the first choice for Knight Master if he wasn't the disobedient whiner that he always had been. She rested against her palm, staring at him derisively with the phrase "Are you done yet?" befitting her exasperated expression.

Sieghart let his heart calm for a moment, feeling the thundering pulse within his throat. "Shit…" he exhaled in surprise, to which the young woman rose a judging eyebrow. He smirked wryly, shaking his head. "… The kid's not around, I'm not apologising for that."

Sighing to signify a compromise, Elesis rested her hands upon her lap. "Remember Lass?"

"The gay one?" Sieghart asked, trying to piece together the bloke by name. To be honest he hadn't known most of the Chase's names from the start – yet they all seemed to know his. "White hair, smug?"

Elesis tilted her head in mild bemusement, tossing about the words in her head. "… Probably all of the above." she settled on. Steering back towards the situation at hand, she returned to trying the make the point she was after. "You know what happened to him, don't you?"

"He was so tragic, wasn't he?" Sieghart whimpered and tutted with snarky sarcasm. Lass had always looked down on people – looked down on him. He didn't find the two-bit thief particularly pleasing to associate with, and wasn't one to pity his dull life story. "What's it matter?"

Through adversity and hardship Lass had found a new lease on life – to this day he lived in Serdin, operating the guilds and keeping the peace. If he was able to forge his own purpose, why couldn't Sieghart? "He found a reason to keep going."

"The Chase?" Sieghart figured.

That big red head shook again, alongside a gentle jangle of amulets and jewels. "If there was one thing I liked about him." she put forward, recalling the one fundamental trait that rose above all of the young man's flaws. "It was how he always made his own path."

"If you're trying to be spiritual and godly, that flew right over my head." Sieghart sighed in defiance, chuckling to himself with his usual smugness. His hands clopped together with a dull and unenthusiastic clap as he bowed his head to her superior reasoning. "Well done."

"Stop it." Elesis seethed, he brow furrowing with spite. She could taste the venom on her tongue – she hoped he could too. "Stop dismissing everything with jokes, like all of this doesn't apply to you."

"Why not?" he asked honestly, hiding any fear or doubt behind the very same shield of a careless layabout. Elesis rose to speak, yet he interrupted her words in an instant. "Normal people?" he assumed, grimacing in disgust – he was what he was. "Normal people don't know their great descendants personally. Normal people don't spend seven long years journeying from Xenia to Archimedia fighting beasts all the way."

We aren't normal.

Stop being what you're not.

Sieghart's scowl remain fixed, a shadowy blackness shrouding his visage. "Keep looking at me like that; all high and mighty, go on." he taunted the Knight Master, condemning her trophies and titles that came from bending her knee. He was absolutely free - she could never even dream of that. "Because I won't believe it. Not one bit."

That didn't have the effect he well and truly desired, his distant relative glaring into his eyes with unshaking confidence. She didn't even flinch, a wave of contempt empowering her fury. "You're all over the damn place." she criticised, her lip twitching resentfully. "You know that?"

Sieghart's eyes at last dropped, finding sudden interest in her feet. "… Why the hell did I even come here?"

"To whine?" she suggested, her fingers tapping against her bare arms. "To complain about things for the sake of complaining?" she pressed on. The Knight Master had hoped that he'd at least spare her an answer, yet he couldn't even do that much – he was disappointing, to say the least. Elesis returned to her seat with intimidating calm. "Get out."

With that he spun on his heel and took off, marching away with smug self-satisfaction evident in his swagger. That feint of pride was smothered by the waters of sorrow as he came closer and closer to the door, realisation of his childishness coming in droves. Sieghart shuddered with fear, considering the consequences of the words he'd just uttered – wasn't this how it usually went? Wouldn't she accept him; as friend and family? He looked back at her pathetically. "… Elesis?"

She hated him. She hated who he was, and what he was turning into. The man that stood before her stinking of fear and indecision wasn't worth the time – he wouldn't stand up and solve his own problems as he often had before. And if someone won't stand for themselves, is there truly any point in holding their hand? "Help yourself." she offered as advice, gritting her teeth to douse the fires. Where his fight had gone, only Samsara would know. "Then I'll help you."

Sieghart nodded forlornly, somehow knowing that those disgusted and fed up words would be the last his descendant would ever bandy with him. She didn't look up at him as he left the room, pulling the door closed in his wake. "… Thanks for the drink."

The gladiator and Highlander whipped out his coat from the bannister, his soles thudding on the veranda as he rushed through the corridor and out into the front garden. That attitude of his had been his undoing – all of this time he'd spent whining and searching for excuses to blame for his own problems, he hadn't even dedicated a single waking moment to sort out his own problems on his own initiative.

Maybe Elesis was wrong – he'd changed aplenty since the days of the Grand Chase. He'd changed from a confident warrior who fought for his independence against the insurmountable to a whining coward, disillusioned with the world and forever bleating of his past triumphs from behind closed doors.

A lone tenor who couldn't face the music.

The Grand Chase had ended, that was a fact. He was too used to it controlling everything in his eventless life – he didn't want to accept the end because he hadn't wanted it to end.

But it had ended.

And now he was left with nothing to turn to. Just an eternity of nothingness; a purgatory where he meekly await the day that someone could cure all of his problems. He paced down the path darkly with his trembling hands stifled in his coat pockets, the timeless stones spilling out to the Cul de Sac.

He hadn't chosen to live forever.

The cobble path looked a lot dirtier from here.

X

(A/N): Hurrah for god awful metaphors!

I won't ramble, I do that in A/Ns too much. I only hope that the many GC veterans that are being forced to move on to the dullness that is Elsword can accept that you can't stop change, and continue to remember the fun 7 years that Grand Chase had in the West!

And to the game that marked a massive turn point in my life, I bid you an honoured farewell – despite our ups and downs, you were there; that's all that counts in the end!

Long Live the Chase!