A Wayfarer's Pilgrimage to Extraterrestrial Lands: 0 Chapter 4: Short Story 0.07

Read chapter 4 of A Wayfarer's Pilgrimage to Extraterrestrial Lands: 0 by Zenostromz on NovelPedia.

"Tell me, if you were able to go back in time, will I be able to remember you..?" There was no response, not even the sounds of dust flying through the wind. The air was empty and desolate. Buildings that were considered the apex of architecture—gone, reduced to piles of rubble and ash. The clouds continued at a slow pace as if everything had slowed down. The smell of blood and concrete enveloped the area like the mist. Smoke continued to rise from the gaps on the floor. My eyes darted around the place—no idea where to look, avoiding and tantalizing what was in front of me. My senses, numb and weak—each breath was a surge of electricity running from head to toe, weakening as it reached the soles on my feet and tips of my fingers. Suddenly, a hand—so soft and tender was pushed against my face, slowly yet weakly, it tried to make me look in a certain direction. It was in front of me. No, she was in front of me. A smile so forced that it hurts to look at, her hair as white as snow, dangled on the floor as the ends were burnt. "Will you still love me... Even if you don't know me, after all we've been through?" Her expression pleads—eyes carved from ice, melting as she held her final breath. Those were her last words as her body freezes. In the end, she was worried about me. Worried that we won't be able to meet again, never considering her own feelings—yet putting it aside just for me. "..." I never moved an inch as her body returned back to the ground, nothing remained except a part of her smile in my heart. "2377, February 14." It was valentine's day today. It's been 20 years since the beginning of the end of humanity. For long have I endured to live another day, only to die on a land I never know. It has been 15 years since the birth of 'Morph,' A weapon that bloomed it's potential too late. and 5 years since I met her. In those 15 years, I was in despair. Anything close or related to me was annihilated in an hour, in days, or even in minutes. I struggled, cursed at the heavens for my situation. I only turned 13 at that time, 6 months after my birthday. Our house, mom, dad, my little brother, our dogs and cats—all of it was gone except for my little brother who I swore to protect. He was only 6 years old, and he stayed that way—frozen in time, even after 15 years. The time where I stood in front of his lifeless body, covered in rubble as he tried to escape. Before I knew it, I stood up—surrounded by a horde of statues, resembling various religions—all of them united, just to kill me, the last remaining person on Earth. 'Morph.' A condensed air of pure black appeared behind me, floating aimlessly as it shaped into a blade without a hilt. As I swung my hand against the horde, their heads flew like confetti. My blade traveled like lightning, swinging through each neck faster than the other. Even if waves of them came right at me, they'll never reach me as long as I can still think. 'Morph' is a biological weapon made from remnants of ancient statues that was implanted directly into our mind. It serves no purpose other than to attack, defend, and support. In the past, the statues were vulnerable to human technology. But now, as the decade passed, not even a nuclear warhead will be able to destroy a horde of statues. That is why the last of our people were able to come up with a way to defeat them due to years of hard work—it is to use their own materials against them. However, in my case, the ancient statue that was extracted and injected into my brain had no records in history, something uncommon from others, not necessarily powerful but its creativity is more versatile than normal—as it allows us to think freely instead of binding into one class. Those who had been injected with an ancient statue with no history are called, "Nullborne." 'Well, it doesn't really matter anymore. I'll be dead in a few minutes.' Waves of statues never stopped, it never wavered—it kept growing to the point where I was overwhelmed. The diameter that I