The Button Which Almost Destroyed The World Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Saviour’s Request

Chronixus (plural is Chronixus not Chronixi) was a group of people with an ability to count to the exact millisecond. They were natural stopwatches. How did they come about? A scientific theory was that someone had a special type of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) which could be passed genetically. It was not the serious cause where one would get many phobias. It was the type where he would count at the precise moment, usually every second. Another myth was that they were given a special gift for worshipping Cronus, God of Time. It was not what they expected but since they believe that he knew what’s best, they went along with it.

These people studied like us but they also have a subject called Communication instead of English language. English was their mother tongue but they had to learn binary codes. Just like Morse code, they could communicate through blinking lights. If the light was on, each second was true or one. If the light was off, each second was false or zero. This coding was very hard unless the person translating had a stopwatch or was very lucky.

End of explanation, back to the action.

He was still standing the middle of the arena, stunned by that stunning move. A punch from Angela woke him up. He flew to the floor. Suddenly he could see her placing her foot on top of his chest. He felt a rumble. It might have been Angela placing extra weight on her foot to bury it further in his chest. He heard something about 20 minutes had passed and that something was about to happen; something to do with shakes. Uh… his mind stammered while he tried to ignore the horrible chest aches. He remembered it was something to do with mud… mud shake? Mud… earth…

Another rumble. Angela stumbled back, letting go of Dyert’s chest and letting Dyert breath once more. Oxygen, travelled through his blood, rushed to his head. His vocabulary and knowledge came back. It was called earthquake, how stupid of him. Blood rushed to the part of his brain where his reflexes were. He got on his knees as quick as he could and awaited the fissure and a blow from Angela. There were no cracks nor was there any blow as Angela was stumbling about. His brain stammered once more. He was thinking. Apparently this earthquake did not affect the audience. Dyert had experienced earthquake yesterday so he should know what to do. In addition, he also had that class on earthquake. He saw an opportunity. He crawled to Angela as fast as his legs could and grabbed her both legs. He pulled and she crashed on the floor. The earth quacked vigorously. The digital timer went on after a few seconds. It showed ten in red. The countdown started. Soon, it was five more, four… Bzzt.

The power went out and on with a flicker. The clock reset to double zeros. She was gone.

“It seems we had a technical…”

The voices just faded as Dyert concentrated. Where had she gone to now? He closed his eyes too. He heard something. He felt something else shaking apart from the earthquake. This earthquake only shook the arena, so what was shaking the audiences too?

The next sequence of events happened fast though it felt slow. The wall crashed and something emerged from the puff of dust. Dyert turned around to look behind him where the collision occurred and saw Angela who was about to sneak and backstab him. The silhouettes were charging towards Angela. Dyert managed to leap at Angela from a squatting position and pushed her aside. The figures slammed into Dyert’s ribs and flew across the arena, into the other side of the wall. The other wall was not demolished but Dyert’s bones probably had. Being wedged between the wall and something that felt like a moving wall was so painful words could hardly describe it. The dust cloud finally deceased. Dyert could see a peek of what they looked like. One of them had a shining arm. His hands shone as the lights reflected on it. The other arm however looked normal. Right night to Dyert was something hairy. Its brownish fur was irritating as its drool. There was something sharp prodding him on his shoulder. But that annoyance was ignored seeing that he was in an uncomfortable position and there was throbbing at most parts of his body. He noticed blood too dripping from his forehead among the sweat. His vision was too hazy to be able to see anything in a far distance. He was hoping it would stop soon. The pain was so excruciating that it turned into numbness. He was too exhausted to think as he used his energy to withstand the pain. He knew he was half-conscious and he used that very last energy to come up with that statement. It finally stopped and he fell on to the ground flimsily. He was bleeding with cuts and bruises. He would be screaming once his receptors came back to him. Right now, it felt like Heaven to him. He felt like he was floating in midair, on a cloud and he could see the white light. In reality though, the white light was the reflection from the person’s arm.

First aid mages came and chanted something which made his hearing came back. Following that was his consciousness, sight and pain receptors. Energy and pain rushed to his head and he screamed for a while. It felt like hours before everything calmed down and he was on his feet weakly.

‘Ugh’ was the clear first word which escaped Dyert’s lips. Smell lingered into his nostrils and the taste of bleed was felt by his tongue. His muscles began to function. He blinked rapidly as he tried to lift his eyelids. The light was glaring for the first time but it dimmed.

“Kid, are you okay?” spoke the stranger with a shiny arm.

Voice, thought Dyert, he needed his voice. With his concentration, he managed to speak non-gibberish with a throaty voice.

“Yeah,” he said. For the first time in this event, he got a clear look at the stranger. He looked like one of those heroes from a movie. Rugged chin with strong flesh-covered arm on the right and an android arm on his left. His chest was big and he had muscles shown at most parts of his limbs. His cloths were tattered though covered with filth and blood. He was overall hairy too, but not as hairy as his prey he barged into. His prey was a brown wolf and the biggest one Dyert had ever seen.

“You…” stammered Dyert.

“Hrm?” hummed the stranger.

“One… Armed… Bandit…” stuttered Dyert. It ended with a cough of blood.

“That’s what I’ve been nicknamed. But you can call me Eliot. You shouldn’t speak anymore.”

Dyert wobbled around dizzily before falling to his knees and the next thing he knew, he was in his bed. Though he was awake the whole time he was being sent home, his brain didn’t recall between speaking to Eliot and awakening in his bedroom. By judging his condition, he was also washed and clothed. His senses told him he was not the only one in the room.

“Nice place you got here,” commented a voice which sounded like the one he had heard before.

“What are you doing here?” asked Dyert drowsily.

Eliot ignored the question and stated, “The second book of Wishworld. I admire Ian’s work.”

“Really? You know Ian Chan?”

“Yeah, I know that kleptomaniac when we were in school.”

“Cool, maybe you could introduce me to him or something…Um… by the way, why are you here?”

“Do you believe in prophesies?”

“A little. Some are quite bogus.”

For some reason, Dyert was not nervous speaking to a legendary person.

“There’s one going on and apparently, you’re involved, according to the Challenged Saviour.”

“Why me?”

“Why a handicapped?” replied Eliot with a question.

“Good one but that’s quite insulting to him.”

“He doesn’t mind.”

A familiar battle song, from a famous game with twenty series, ring tone went off. Eliot’s phone shot out of his mechanical arm and his right arm caught it. He placed it by his ear and began talking.

“I’ll be there,” he said and with that he finished his very quick conversation and left after bidding farewell.

From that day onwards, Dyert’s life was changed.

A week had passed and certain parts of the school had been fixed. Since that school stressed upon the education of the students, the hallway to the stairs to the classroom was fixed and letters were sent telling the students that it is compulsory to return to school. All classes were on except class 10T. Dyert was unfortunately in class 10A and was able to see the reconstruction of the neighbouring class 10T. There were no laboratory classes as the laboratories were not fixed yet and if something goes wrong, a chemical might cause the whole room to disintegrate or the crumbling might cause the chemicals to explode.

Dyert found a note in his new locker too. The main hallway where the lockers were had a big hole which was being patched up. Their lockers were shifted to an area of the school seldom visited. It was named ‘The Bullies Alley’ by the students. This particular part of the school was the back of the school hall and the only time it was filled was during concerts.

The note read, ‘Go to the janitor’s closet and knock on the door and repeat the word “Magic” thrice.’

Maybe lunch, thought Dyert.

It was eight in the morning and class was about to start. He headed for his class and made it in time. Just as he entered, his History teacher was at the door. He scanned his surrounding. He felt something missing. He turned to his right where Justin was sitting and asked him where Freddie was. Justin did not have a clue. Crystine Krystal, Dyert’s seating partner, just took her seat. The seating arrangement went like this: two tables together, in six parallel rows which had four pairs of tables each. They were placed right in front, next to the windows on the right which had the worst scenery. It was blocked by a very shady tree. Directly in front of them was the teacher’s desk.

An introduction of Crystine begins with she was the most popular. Most of the male students who were too mature or normal would droll for her. She was the leader of her big gang of girls. Those type of girls who love fashion and their beauty. They also had comments which stung and their special ‘confusing boys’ technique. They wouldn’t let a gossip or rumour escape their grasp and they were the number one spreaders. This kind of specimen exists in all types of school.

History was boring and so was the rest of the day in school. The only thing that happened was work and study and sleep between work and study. Dyert was glad it was lunch as his curiosity could no longer contain. The question ‘who sent this letter?’ could easily be answer but why? What is this prophecy all about? His queries would probably be solved with more enigmas. That door could either shorten his life or let him leave for another day.

He followed the piece of paper. Due to the past injuries, he had to half-hobble his was to get anywhere. He passed the cross junction but took a peek at the construction on the way. There were workers slaving at the hole. Some were using the traditional methods, with hammers and other equipments. There were some who were just flicking their hands and magic did all their work. Dyert continued his way to the hallway where he stopped between two doors. He turned left and obeyed the paper. The door automatically swung open jerkily. It was a dark tunnel with a bright source of light at the end. He slowly surveyed his surroundings in case anyone saw him and entered. Not even his group of friends knew he was.

Once the door closed, he was pulled in by the light. Like a hypnotised zombie, he followed the light. He finally stepped out, daringly, into the room. It was velvet red as far as the eyes can see. However, most of the carpeting and wallpaper were tattered. Bloodstains were hard to see as they blend in with the surroundings but it could spot. There was what used to be an oblong table in the centre and bookshelves with pages flooded around it at one corner.

There were two people in the room at the current moment. They both look like they were brothers or closely related. One of them was Eliot; the other was someone who looked vaguely familiar as if he was in a book once.

“There he is. What’s your name, kid?” asked Eliot. All this while, Dyert didn’t realise Eliot didn’t know his know name. Though, how did Eliot know that I was the one prophesied? Dyert thought.

“Dyert Xavier,” he replied.

“Ah, yes, you’re the kid whose parents were killed in the flames. Anyways, this is my dear brother…”

“Dylan…” continued Dyert, “From what I’ve read, it was stated that he was never heard off.”

“Technically speaking, I agree with the inks. However, he was not gone, just… never heard off as quoted. He uses his magical powers to talk.”

With a flick of Dylan’s hand, sound ‘materialized’ in the surrounding. Without Dylan’s mouth moving, it spoke, “It lies! They lie!”

“But… um… wasn’t he evil at one point of time.”

“Ah, good times,” Dylan ‘spoke’ once more, “I was merely misunderstood.”

“Which concludes him almost killing us,” added Eliot as he offered Dyert a seat. Dyert approached one of the well-assembled chairs and dusted away the splinters before taking his seat. Both Eliot and Dylan were seated.

“No matter, there’s an enormous dilemma which about to happen and both good and evil have to put aside their differences to solve it,” explained Eliot.

“It’s a neutral problem,” Dylan helped. Dyert listened attentively at this intriguing piece of news.

“And what am I to do? I was almost crushed by the girl in that competition you intruded.”

“Do you know your parents well enough, hmm?” questioned Dylan with some exaggerated actions and tones.

“My father was in the army and my mother worked at the cash register,” answered Dyert.

“Anything particularly unusual?”

“Um… not that I recall.”

“That’s where you are wrong!” screamed Dylan’s voice.

“I don’t get it.”

“Do you know why you were adopted so quickly and why you have that stalker on your hands?”

“It’s the button,” Eliot answered Dylan’s question, “Which kind of remind me, Dylan, we need a portal to Dyert’s house now.”

Dyert wanted to ask question but the words wouldn’t come out and they were in a bit of hurry and confusion. Both siblings were arguing about the pros and cons of the portal before Dylan finally conjured one. It was a swirling pool of colours floating vertically in midair. It was quite indescribable as it was magic. It was an actually a rip in the fabric of reality which shortens the distance between two destination. The flaws were getting caught in middle, disarranged body parts and having the portal closed on one limb. That had happened to Dylan once. His had his hand gone but he had replaced it with someone’s. At that period of time, he was working aside Cyrus.

They stepped in the gateway and appeared, in haziness on the other side, which was Dyert’s room. There was someone else there though. Before Dyert could get a clear look, Eliot dashed over to him and held the anonymous’ neck in the air with his robotic arm.

“Wait,” called Dyert. He gave a quick once-over to the guest and discovered it was unconscious Freddy.

“That’s my friend,” he stated immediately after his scan before any harm could be done to Freddy.

“Why’s he here then?” asked Eliot.

“I don’t know. He wasn’t on the bus or at school, that’s for sure.”

Freddy woozily regained consciousness and woke up in an uncomfortable position with fear in his eyes.

“Calm down, we just need answers,” said Eliot smoothly.

“Dyert… who are these people? Why am I here?” spluttered Freddie.

“There’s something going on and it apparently involved me,” replied Dyert.

“It’s gone!” gasped Dylan as his voice suddenly burst out.

“Are you referring to that item?” inquired Eliot.

“What item?” asked Dyert.

Eliot ignored the question and asked Dyert another. “What is the brand of that precious button of yours?”

“Yalti, why…” Dyert hesitated, “Do you think that lunatic stole it?”
“No, but we’re going to Italy,” exclaimed Dylan.

Freddy was silenced by the confusion.

“Dylan, I need another portal,” requested Eliot.

“You know that thing about not being able to do portal spells after an hour or so…” replied Dylan.

“I’ll get the chauffeur.” Dyert went over to the intercom and beeped for his butler.

“Did you fail your Geography paper or something?”

“Nope,” he turned to his intercom and spoke, “Ask Mr. Thomas to get the 565.”

“Do you know where Italy is?”

“Not really.”

“You do know that Italy is in Europe right?”

“That I know.”

There was a soft fluttering sound from that was coming through the roof. It sounded as if it was descending. The rush of the wind could almost deafen you. Eliot’s dog-ears immediately recognised that familiar sound.

“Where’s the helipad?” he asked. Dyert’s grin last only a few minutes before he realised he was dead when his parents found out. Furthermore, he would be riding in it with a famous hero and an ex-infamous villain.

“It’s at the back. There’s only a big square concrete ground marked ‘X’ to indicate,” explained Dyert gloomily.

“So what do we do with my friend?” asked Dyert. They shrugged. Freddy was frozen stiff, stoned in the middle of them three, babbling insanely.

“He’s your friend,” spoke Dylan.

“It’s safer we leave him here unless he wants to come,” Eliot paused for a reply, “I’ll take that as a no.”

Dyert once again pressed the intercom and asked his butler to escort Freddie out.

The three people exited the room. Dyert was a quite slow as the after-effects of magical healing was exhaustion and he had not really fully recovered. Bruises still hurt and probably a bone or two. He almost fell twice on the way to the landed helicopter.

“Now you’re on an adventure, there’s no turning back. If you do, you’ll be dead. If you don’t, there’s still a possibility of dying.”

Eliot’s words of encouragement as they stepped on the helicopter. For some reason, the fear of height had suddenly developed in Dyert and he started to remember that dying was not a good thing. Life was short. Dyert’s was going to be shorter.

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Here it is. Sorry for the looong delay. I was having inspirations for poetry and if you read my last post, I have 2 more poems to go. Here's another 3000 words of tortu... chapter.