Disclaimer: I don't own, and so on etc.

A/N: Firstly, apologies for any mistakes and whatever - I have checked it over (countless times xD) but now I just want to get this uploaded and out of the way before DW7 comes out. Secondly, there should be no spoilers (unless you've never heard anything about Wu Zhang Plains or haven't played the stage before? o_O;). Lines in DW6 are sort of referenced, but this is still fine to read even if you haven't played that game. Thirdly, um.. enjoy..? xD;

Benight

The night was a balmy one – the wind calm and cool, the whole weather an indulgence in moderation. The unlit sky was untroubled by the apparent absence of the moon, and not a sound of discord broke the quiet harmony.

It was hard for the land to lose that stillness; perpetual through the good and equally accepting of the bad. No matter the destruction that befell it, all was surrendered to time, regret eventually swept away before that constant serenity. It was the highest level of concordance... and oh, how it proved so elusive to mankind.

Men, capable of such disunity; who tore into each other and cut and burned and bled and died... Possessed such an instinct for rank destruction, but most of all were cursed with the inability to stop the desolation that gnawed at themselves because of it.

It was the direct opposite to that which underlaid Nature, but.. perhaps this was fate. Nothing more, nothing less and unavoidable – you had only to take your side in it.

Not unexpectedly in this age each side led to war, and this was the most critical battle in it so far.

The landscape of Wu Zhang Plains kept a hold of its calmness, though to the men within it there was palpable unease; a heaviness which thunked in your stomach like a dull weight (or three). The current inactivity was an electric embrace; sleep came easily or the whispers of death were just too much to bear.

In irony which was hardly unfamiliar by now, the 'Sleeping Dragon' was contradicting his nickname. He sat at his desk, piles of paper and books keeping him company in the hushed room. The only illumination nearby was the glowing candlelight, struggling in the breeze as the shadows danced in response.

As ever though, this environment served as but a simple backdrop to the man who occupied it. A place for accumulation, and the air had long blanketed the unease with grit and persistence – the amount of diligence to be found here would make the most hard-working man cry.

However, fatigue had since clouded over. How long had it been? Zhuge Liang had to admit time regularly lost its relevance when there were tasks like this to be done. And truthfully, it did not phase him how late it now was – the working 'day' being just that was but a distant memory. He did not mind – he understood the multitude of things that had to be completed, and that he was the one required to see to them.

There was but one hindrance. The trial that soon followed nightfall, where elements inside and out turned against him; cascading deterioration unleashed which you were only permitted to delay rather than quell.

Soon – and yet sooner and sooner with each passing day.

It was a balmy night, the cool turned chill now sunken into his bones. His hands shook as the brush moved across the page.

Keep going.. Weariness was to be expected, but he could conquer this. He could conquer this.

(He had to). Sleep had to be denied, for just a while longer. This work was not going to get finished by itself.

His eyes were fixated on the paper before him, brows furrowed – it was all about the focus.

Keep focusing. Keep going.

One at a time; step by step which would build into the final outcome.

Do not stop for even a moment.

Another paper moved to one side, any side, for an additional one to replace it in front of him. Perception flagged and the scenery blurred but no matter; he knew where the ink was anyway.

Keep going- but-

Persistence was only getting him so far.

Then it had to be further. Hold up. He needed to redouble his efforts; he had to hold up – this would be the most important battle yet.

His chest was aching, throat sandpaper like the grains that were slipping away. ..Come what may, he was not scared (cold in mild weather) – however...

He was running out of time.

His body was failing him.

No. Not yet.. Not yet! Let it fail, that was irrelevant, just.. later – later, it could stop; he could rest when it was over. ..He had promised, in any case. He had made a promise, he still had to do-

Cough cough cough.

Another paper pushed aside, the handwriting would have to be forgiven. It was hard to be neat when you were violently shaking, after all.

Coughcoughcoughcough Water, there had to be some around here somewhere. But no, the only liquid was the sweat which he was coated in coughcoughcough Oh well, he was just going to have to push on without any.

Keep going. Keep going. He could do better than this, had devised so many brilliant plans and strategies and yet was unable to control his own body? Foolishness. He.. had. To do. Better.

They were relying on him.

Hold on.. Not much more. Keep going-

Engulfed by that hollow wave; heaviness of the air pressing, always pressing down on him..

..But he was tired... He was so tired. ..Why couldn't he just..-

Do not forget your duty. Shu came first.

No matter if your soul drowns in it.

It was probably not much longer, though. Perhaps this was his own fate nearing; perhaps his time was drawing to a close. The possibility loomed, interwoven in the leaden air – the voices of the dead.. he would join them soon.

How they clamoured from beyond the gloom..

Soon. Only soon, though – preparations were in place for that time. But it was not yet.

Not yet.

Not yet.. Keep going. Just a little bit longer.

The inkbrush slipped from his hand – or perhaps it had been gone a while.

Just a little bit longer...

..Just a little bit longer...

Just a little bit...

Longer...

...

The candle flickered out, plunging the room into darkness.