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Quaetro remembered the first time he felt interested in the blond chick. Their two teams stood across from one another, waiting for the countdown of the test to access the 29th floor to begin. Wangnan stood in the center of his team, fiddling with something on his hand. Despite his shaky knees, Quaetro recognized the determination in his eyes. Chang, his first and only friend since the fifth floor, asked, “So, got an interest in any of them?”
Quaetro giggled, “That blondie, he reminds me of a chick! I want to roast him and see if he smells the same as a burnt chick too!”
Chang smirked, amused, “Alright, you can go after him if you want.” Above them, the buzzer announcement for the test to start rang out, and Quaetro took chase after the blond boy.
~ < > ~ < > ~
The next time he learned something about his chick, it would be at the workshop battle a month later. Hearing the chick act cheesy really fell on deaf ears to the redhead. What could this blondie do to help a slayer candidate that likely wouldn’t glance back at him long enough to say thank you? They were up against FUG, they shouldn’t have a chance, certainly not this weakling. Still, the chick spoke so strongly, as if it would take tower in its entirety to stop him from his goal. He stood as a brutal reminder that the chick was just that, a baby chick that has yet to grow. Quaetro found himself intrigued to see what a full grown chick would be like.
And when he turned out to also be invincible, well that just sweetened the deal. It also made convincing Chang to follow the chick much easier, for his regeneration also caught Quaetro’s friend’s eye. They both hoped that this could turn out to be a more exciting and useful climb than they were originally thinking. It could also help them when they reached that floor. Chang also found an interest in Jue Viole Grace, but Quaetro couldn’t find himself caring about that as much as he could about the idea of an infinitely burning chick.
~ < > ~ < > ~
Maybe he should have listened to Chang more, Quaetro realized, kneeling over his best friend’s body. His partner in crime was gone, tricked by the family he trusted. Those damned Rankers, those stupid canines. He would burn them, turn them all to ash. Why should they live? Those traitors, those mutts. How disgusting. How brightly would their bodies burn, their home burns? Who knows? Who cares? Quaetro will just burn this place, burn these creatures and himself along with them. After all, what else does he have left? He was chosen for his ability to burn, and that’s exactly what he’ll do. He’ll burn, burn, burn. Destroy, destroy, destroy. Leaving nothing but ash, if that, behind. Nothing but ash of these buildings, of these mutts, of Chang’s lifeless body at his feet, of himself. Just burn it all. The chaos of the mutts fighting each other around him felt like nothing but background noise to the crackling roaring in his ears.
“Are you really going to burn it all away?” Above him stood a stranger in a tracksuit. The one who kicked him, one of the slayer candidate’s friends. Why was he here?
Quaetro didn’t glance up at him, eyes glued to Chang’s body, “Why are you here, tracksuit guy? Jue Viole Grace leave you behind for being so useless?”
The man gasped, “How dare you? I can assure you I’m plenty useful! I have my own team, you know!” He sighed, bending down to be on the same level as Quaetro, “Look. You can burn things up here if you want. But do you think Chang would want that?”
Quaetro forced a smile, “Of course. He knows I only live to burn things. My only other purpose was just killed right in front of me. Chang…”
The man smiled, “You really have nothing else? Nothing at all?”
Faintly, an image of a familiar chickling he left behind years ago flashed in the redhead’s mind. His eyes widened, the roaring in his mind dying down back to its normal sparking. The tracksuit guy seemed to realize this change of heart, standing up with a satisfied look in his eye. The man reached out his hand, “Hey, we’re going to need your help in a month to avenge the canines that Chang cared about. Can you help us? Afterwards, you can go find that reason to keep climbing?” With a weakened nod, Quaetro took the man’s hand.
~ < > ~ < > ~
He met the chickling again three months after the Nest fight. The chickling has grown in height, donning better clothes and now armed with a sword on his waist. The little girl (Miseng?) stood at his side, her hair tied in a braid that rested on her shoulder. Both of their eyes looked tired, and their presences showed how much stronger they have gotten. The chick blinked, “Q- Quaetro? Why are you here? Where’s Chang?”
With shaky hands, Quaetro blinked away the tears threatening to surface and chose to fall to his knees, begging, “Please. Let me climb with you, chickling. I have nothing left.” Realization dawned in the chick’s eyes. He released his grip on the handle of his sword and fell to his knees in front of Quaetro. He grabbed the redhead’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. For the first time, Quaetro let the tears stream freely down his cheeks, letting his enemy element conquer his mind. The chick and the little girl didn’t look at him with the judging eyes so many others had. What right did he, a crazed murderer, have to cry over the death of another? Still, the chick accepted him into his arms, despite knowing full well what he was. Yeah, maybe there were other reasons to climb besides burning everything in sight.
~ < > ~ < > ~
From there they decided to climb together. Many times, Quaetro found himself drifting between his chick’s team and the slayer candidate, due to the chick still having more tests to take than him. The next time he found his chickling, he had grown into something greater. His presence seemed to choke Quaetro just by existence. He grew to almost double his height when they first met. The chick no longer was a baby, as told by his experienced eyes and royal clothes. Miseng stood by his side, her bangs grown to cover her eyes and flowing freely over her shoulders and rolling down her back. She stood seriously, as his shadow like she has for years. Both carried themselves in such a strong way that Quaetro couldn’t help but fall to his knees at the sight.
The prince of Jahad… No wonder his chickling was invincible. No wonder people seemed to follow him without a second thought. If Quaetro was still his E-rank self, he wouldn’t have batted an eye at the title his chick held. But this more experienced Blitz boy knew full well the power that held, especially in the war raging around him. This is the man that has a chance to take the throne, to be something great. Still, the chick smiled the same toothy smile, as if nothing changed in all those years. He still reached out his hand to the flame head, “Would you help me change this tower, Quaetro?”
~ < > ~ < > ~
Now this. This is why he kept climbing. Being a member of his chick, no, Wangnan’s forces meant he could burn the enemies all he wanted. Wangnan would just point in a direction and let Quaetro go at it. And the thing was, he wasn’t seen as a crazed murderer anymore. Instead they called him a hero, a big help, a saving grace. He received praise, praise for doing what he loved. He didn’t care about the praise or the status, never did, never will. All he needed to fight was the thankful look in Wangnan’s eyes. The fact that his flames will help this man achieve his destiny and be a great beast rather than a baby chick. All he needed was the ability to stand by Wangnan’s side. That alone would be enough for the redhead. He wouldn’t care anymore if one of his fights turned him to ash, he stopped caring many years ago. As long as it was for a purpose, he felt successful.
After one of the wars, he stepped out onto a balcony to see Wangnan and the slayer can- Irregular Jue Viole Grace. He couldn’t make out their words, but they seemed to be seeing each other as equals, despite their origins being on opposite sides of the war. Perhaps that’s why Wangnan was so incredible in his eyes, Wangnan never cared about a person’s origins, as long as they were a good person now. As long as they were on the same side now. Wangnan turned around, eyes lighting up when they laid on the redhead. Quaetro walked over and fell to one knee, “Milord. What were you talking about?”
Wangnan chuckled, “What’s with the formalities, Quaetro? I’m still a Regular like you.” He reached out a hand, his sun eyes glowing with a youthfulness lacked for years. He glanced over to where Viole disappeared around the corner, “We were just talking about the future.” Quaetro took it, his mind beginning to wonder about the future as well, seeing it as something more than a dream for the first time.
~ < > ~ < > ~
The final fight was where Quaetro met his end. At least, in the eyes of the tower and in the eyes of his team. It was an ambush, backup for the enemies arriving faster than their own backup. Without a second thought, Quaetro summoned his fire and yelled, “Get out of here! I can buy you some time!”
Wangnan countered, “No! You’ll die if you stay behind!”
Quaetro grinned, “I’m grateful for you caring, chick, but you should know that I was born to burn. These guys will burn so brightly that it’ll be a show for the ages.”
Miseng, the excellent scout she’s become, grabs Wangnan before he could protest and uses the shinsu to cloak both and escape. Sensing their disappearance, Quaetro’s head began to ache with the deafening roar of crackling fire growing in his ears. From the feet up, his body became covered in bright, beautiful flames. The flames spread in all directions, spiraling to the roof above. Yes, this was what was meant to do. Distantly, he could see the people running, trying to escape the inevitable. Through the blinding flames, he glanced above, seeing a night sky dotted with false stars. So many sounds, so many senses, lost to the permanent destruction his fire brought. Yes, he could die here. Die and hope his chick would finish growing to become the king he was destined to be. Please live, Wangnan Jahad. Live, so that the beautiful sight of Quaetro’s flames would not burn out without a purpose.
Yet, he did not die. A figure appeared behind him. A figure who had no definite shape in Quaetro’s memory. His presence splintered the flame-lover’s mind, and broke his soul. The figure reached through the flames, which parted around his existence. The figure asked him if he wanted to live, live to see his chick take the throne. Without thinking a second longer, Quaetro took the hand.
Quaetro always knew he would go up in a roaring flame, but he wasn’t aware he would be a phoenix, destined to be reborn again.