Perhaps at some point he would have given more thought into the subject. But between his incomplete existence and the experience he'd just gone through seemingly in the space of a second, God was just another word to Eilert.

But he wasn't going to debate God's existence or power; that was a matter of faith, not fact.

Instead, raising his arm, he pointed the gun Sturm had given him (it seemed like years ago) at Silver's chest, and calmly stated, "I believe you are mistaken."

God, to Silver, was Gaia--Gaia, the ideal creator of all things, the mythological being that crafted the universe and created the "children" that lead, inevitably, to the conception of mankind upon this misnamed Utopia. This Silver stated more than once so far. It was clearly an important aspect in his justification

"Were I mistaken, Eilert Draugr, I would be dead long ago."

Silver opened his arms, as if inviting Eilert to take his shot--but it was only a brief motion, as he soon folded his arms over his chest before giving Eilert too long to think about it.

"God granted me the gift of immortality, as his vessel of destruction, to ensure the completion of my mission on this earth. Time and time again, God's sinister antagonist has tried to arrange my death, and I retain not even a scar."

Silver spoke of this as a method of proving his declaration, that Gaia called for him to destroy the world, with this very method. Silver looked over his shoulder again, to the incomplete glyph behind him.

"There is still time, Eilert Draugr. With the completion of this glyph, this world shall perish--and we will be reborn anew, in a world not so clouded by depravity. Even mediocrity is better than the filth in which we fester day in and day out."

It was odd. When he first came in here, he'd been full of anger and hate at this man who'd destroyed so many lives, including his. But now looking at him, Eilert only felt sadness and pity. Silver somehow thought, that after everything he did, there was still a chance he'd join him, complete his glyph, and destroy the world. The fact that he didn't realize how impossible that was only showed how little Silver understood people. He'd thought, to be as manipulative as he was, Silver would have had to have some insight into humans thought, but he realized this wasn't so--at least not anymore. Whether blinded by faith or simply his own arrogance, Silver could no more understand Eilert's unwillingness to join than he could understand his surety that he was doing God's will.

"If that is truly how you feel..."

He wondered when the last time was that Silver had ever connected with another person...or if he ever truly did. He used or betrayed everyone around him...did he have anyone he could truly call an ally? Or was it enough to believe God was on his side?

"...then I will remove you from the 'filth' you so detest."

Taking one last deep breath to steady his shaking hand, he aimed for the center of Silver's chest and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot filled the room and echoed throughout the cold halls of the Sky Temple. Following this was a clear, yet abstract sound: the sound of silence, a long silence between Silver and Eilert and all those that stood within the temple's walls and all those that huddled beyond them.

It was a silence to go unbroken for nearly half a minute's time, until shattered by Silver himself.

"I see." Silver dipped his head and sighed. "I was wrong to think highly of your intellect, Eilert Draugr. You are no less ignorant than those that came before you."

Silver's face contorted not in pain, but in disappointment. Though Eilert shot him in the left side of the chest, Silver showed no reaction to pain. Perhaps he felt nothing at all. Perhaps he was, in fact, immortal, just as he said. It would set Eilert into a bad position, as Sturm's gun was a specialized firearm, and only held a single bullet. It wasn't that it wasn't loaded for more shots, either. It only had room for one bullet--average as it may be.

"Perhaps even moreso. To knowingly attack one that is unending?" Silver questioned goadingly, before shaking his head at the notion, "I will complete God's work on my own, if I must. Begone."

Though he presented no action to force Eilert to leave, he did turn from Eilert to face his glyph. He effortlessly lifted his left arm and placed his hand upon the empty portion of the glyph. Quietly, he focused upon the broken curves left unfixed. This was what he needed, the solution, only ten square inches of design--perhaps even a single glyphic phrase, half a sentence, at best. On his own, he might well bring it to completion. But without Eilert, it could take years.

With Silver's back to him, Eilert might well notice something that Silver did not. A bullet had penetrated the cloak, at the very least, and the cloak was becoming ever more matted to his back with each passing second. Something was soaking into it--and there was only one thing it could be.

Eilert remained silent at first, wondering if he would need to find some other way to stop Silver. Even if, as he claimed, he was immortal, he was not all powerful; there were ways to contain him, and it would take much time for him to finish the glyph without Eilert's help--if he even could. The way he thought, Eilert doubted he would ever be able to see the larger picture.

But before he could make a decision, he noticed something, something about the way the Director's cloak stuck to a spot on his back.

So that is what you had planned, Tyrian. How appropriate.

"It seems you will get your wish after all--but only for yourself," Eilert noted. He was tempted to simply leave, but even after the wound took its toll he still had something to take care of here.

Although Eilert spoke and remained in the room, Silver did not pause in his examination of the glyph. In fact, he continued as if Eilert weren't even there; he ran his fingers over the gaps, to help himself picture what needed to be there. Though he may have continued unabated, he had not completely disregarded Eilert's presence.

Did I not tell you to begone?" Silver responded without even turning to face Eilert, "You've no business here, if you do not intend to do God's wor--"

It wasn't pain that suddenly diverted his attention, nor any throbbing, numbing feeling in his left arm. It was, instead, the fact that he drew his left hand down to the bottom of the glyph, and in less than a second, he found an unfamiliar scarlet dripping down to his finger.

Silver stopped speaking in an instead.

He didn't need to speak to vent his disbelief. Eilert might not be able to see him clearly, with his back turned to him still, but it was clear that Silver's hand was lifted and he was closely examining the crimson liquid that stained his hazy blue skin. It was unfamiliar. It was alien.

Images and words cannot describe the face of a man, centuries aged, seeing his own blood for the very first time--only a hollow, agonized silence.

There was much Eilert didn't understand, such as why Silver seemed so sure he couldn't hurt him, and why he was so shocked to see his own blood. Had he really believed himself indestructible? Was he, once? Perhaps that's where his thinking went so wrong...he truly must have felt like he was above everything.

But whatever he believed or what had been, the fact was that now his time was up--that was the price he paid for arrogance, ambition, and conceit. He believed he could use and abuse everyone around him, as though they were pawns on a chessboard.

"Nothing is eternal; that is why we carry on in this world. There is no reversing time, no going back to the way things were...no getting back what you've lost. We are anomalies in this world...we should know that better than any."

Silver seemed to stare at his blood stained hand for a long, long time--seconds, to nearly half a minute, perhaps even beyond. Under such circumstances, though, time was a menial thing. Even the quickest of movements seemed to go on forever. The world seemed to go on forever.

At last, Silver's knees shook. His body was ready to give out on him. With a heave, he pushed himself forward and clung to his masterpiece, the massive glyph upon the wall, the glyph that could have put an end to the world. Silver clutched the blank space with his bloody hand, his fingertips raised as he tried, but failed to keep himself upright. In the end, his hand trailed down from the blank space on the wall, the incomplete part of the glyph, as Silver's body slid to his knees.

Crimson trailed along the space and the path of his hand and chest, leaving smears upon the glyph as Silver collapsed to his knees.

His hand fell to his side, though he tried to keep it lifted . . .

And with one final heave to try and stand, balance was lost, his body fell to the wayside, striking the ground with his right shoulder first, and his back still to Eilert all the while. Still, he tried to keep his hand upon the glyph, yet he could no longer lift his arm.

He could no longer lift his chest to breath.

He could no longer keep his eyes open.

His heart couldn't thrum another beat . . .

And in seconds, heralded by a final sigh, the Silver Enigma was no more.

As he watched the Silver Enigma draw his last breath, Eilert wondered how he was able to act as calmly as he was. Deserving or not, he killed someone. Had he killed his emotions that much over the years, that this didn't affect him? Or was it because of the things Silver had him do, even though he could not remember? Or perhaps he'd always had it in him, and just never knew.

But it wasn't over just yet; even with Silver's passing, the glyph itself still posed a very real threat. Where anyone to finish it, the world would be destroyed all the same.

Moving Silver's body into the hallway (as he believed the dead deserved respect, even if they did nothing in life earn it), he proceeded to scan the glyph. It no longer gave him a headache, covered as it was by Silver's blood--blood which ironically would be the instrument of its destruction. He was too weak to use his own mana to create a glyph, but he could still trace one out of blood.

It took far longer than it should have, especially considering it was the glyph he knew best, but it was still not terribly long before he finish, and retreating to the safety of the hallway, detonated the glyph. Shards of stone scattered and ricocheted, obliterating the deadly design and ensuring no one else could continue Silver's work.

No one else but Eilert himself that was; he alone had the knowledge of how to complete the glyph. Perhaps the only one in the world, as the art was, as far as he could ascertain, otherwise lost. It was a dangerous prospect, knowing if he truly desired he could likely end the world. Too dangerous, especially in a world full of magic, chi, and psychic powers...even if he refused with all his might to never breathe a hint of it, it might not be enough to keep the secret safe.

There is one last thing to be erased... And with a deep breath, he brought the gun up to his head, pointed it straight between his eyes, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Hesitantly, on eye opened, staring that inert barrel, before shutting it again and pulling the trigger several more times.

Click. Click. Click.

He then opened both eyes and regarded it. Just one bullet left; that was all had been in it. Had Sturm predicted even this? No, he doubted it; it was sheer dumb luck...or perhaps fate.

Perhaps I am not allowed to erase my sins so easily. With a sigh, he cast the gun aside, letting it clatter to the floor. He was too tired to worry further about it; if he was going to kill himself, it would have to be after he'd gotten some rest.

Staggering down the hallway, he pushed open the doors to Selena's chamber and reemerged. He shielded his eyes from the light--bright to his eyes, compared to the dark of Silver's workspace--and searched for Icsorue and Sturm, who would likely be right where he left them. To them, only minutes would have passed since he left, but to Eilert it seemed like a lifetime. He gave Icsorue a small, reassuring smile--

--and toppled down the stairs, as the faint glow of the Glyph of Will finally faded from his person entirely, and his battered body gave out on him at last.

The gunshot, earlier, rang throughout the building. Sturm and Icsorue knew that something happened, and both hoped for the best. An explosion within the chamber, rattling the sky temple, shook their hopes. Icsorue, knelt by Sturm, watched the door impatiently. Her hands were balled into tight fists, and her mind racing with worries and worst case scenarios.

Without thinking or looking, Sturm lifted his hand to take one of hers. This prompted Icsorue to look back at him with surprise--and a bit of calm. Sturm was weak. He was leaned back against the wall, still within the healing radius of Eilert's previously placed glyph, but while his wound seemed to be doing all right, he was struggling to keep his eyes open. Moving was becoming considerably difficult, but he pushed his body still--for her sake.

When Eilert emerged, it was clear that their hopes weren't for naught. His reassuring smile told the both of them that he was victorious.

But then . . . he fell.

"Ei-- Eilert--!" Icsorue cried as Eilert plummeted down the stairs and to the floor below.

She moved to stand, but stopped when she realized she was still holding Sturm's hand. Icsorue looked back at him, her eyes already welled up with tears. Weakly, Sturm nodded to her and released her hand. Though she was released, she didn't want to be.

Something was wrong.

But it could wait, if only for a moment. It would have to. Fighting the need to sleep, Sturm waved Icsorue towards the fallen Eilert. Icsorue gulped back her fears, nodded to him, and raced for Eilert.

As soon as she reached him, Icsorue did what she could for him. She reached down to take his arm and pull him up, to place his arm around her shoulders, and her arm around his. She was slow and precise with this, though her arms and fingers were trembling.

"A-are-- are ya o-okay . . .?" Icsorue asked shakily.

Eilert heard Icsorue shout, and then she was standing over him, helping him to his feet. His entire body ached, from both his injuries and exhaustion. He felt like it'd been months since he last slept.

"...I think I prefer it when my days are dull," he responded with a cough. He wasn't exactly alright--he had fairly extensive injuries--but he didn't feel like he was dying. At least, not yet. Though admittedly his only experience came in dying from disease, not damage.

"Silver is dead, his plan is ruined. No one will be able to finish his work." Save me. But he kept that part to himself for the moment. He'd deal with that later.

"H-he is . . .?" Icsorue asked.

It sounded weird to her. Silver was dead. It was over. It just sounded so strange to hear, and so bizarre to think about. How long had Silver been at it, controlling them like he did? Ten years, maybe? Maybe even longer. Yes--yes, probably much longer. Perhaps for the entire time Eilert and Sturm had been around, if not longer than that.

To say it was over was just . . .

It was relieving, but strange all the same.

With Eilert held up, Icsorue started to walk. If Eilert could walk with her help, she'd simply walk him towards Sturm slowly, at whatever pace was best for him. She'd rather make the trek as quickly as possible, but if Eilert couldn't walk with any degree of quickness at all, a slow pace would just have to do.

"He is-- a-and you're alive, a-and-- and that's all that matters, ja?" Icsorue whispered. She was trying to sound cheery, she really was, but even in Eilert's state, he'd no doubt see how worried she was, still.

And up close, he'd be able to tell, were he to look at her face, that she was still crying. Her cheeks were puffy and her eyes were red and dry--and there were still many a tear welled up and ready to fall.

While it was arguable whether or not Icsorue truly believed what she said or not, Eilert couldn't help but feel there was truth in those words. They were alive, and the man who would have destroyed their lives given the chance wasn't. "Yes, it is. Any other issues can be worked out."

Eilert wasn't able to move terribly fast on his own, but he had no qualms with being dragged. Most of his injuries were burns and bruises, and what cuts he had were mostly superficial. There wasn't much more she could do physically to add to the list damage without trying.

He realized she didn't want to leave Sturm's side, which was why he waited until she set him down nearby to offer a suggestion. "Do you still have the wood block with my glyph on it? You should be able to contact those outside still with it."

When they'd gone inside, most of the Enigmas were being held by Sturm's group, and now that it was all over he hoped they could break this deadlock, considering he'd allowed them to hear Silver's plan for themselves earlier.

With a sigh, Eilert leaned heavily against the wall. The pain seemed rather distant now; mostly, he just felt tired.

"I-- . . . I think-- I, uh, don't know," Icsorue whispered in response as she looked around.

She remembered the thing. They had it when they came in, but after certain events, it became completely inconsequential. Indeed, it had become pointless and forgotten, but now it was necessary again. After a moment of searching, she found it. It was distant and towards the exit of the large, circular chamber, but she could see it pretty clearly where it was.

Just as she moved to stand and head towards it, though, she was stopped. Sturm's hand was holding onto her wrist. His grip was weak and barely there, as if he could barely even hold his arm up anymore, but he forced it. This stopped Icsorue in her tracks. She didn't look back at him, but she didn't try to move ahead anymore. She sucked in her lower lip and bit down hard to evade letting the tears flow again.

"Ya . . . don't want them to know?" Icsorue whispered--meekly, this time. She spoke softer than she ever had before; the woman was barely even audible.

Sturm shook his head, before his willpower couldn't keep his hand up anymore. Though there wasn't anything stopping her anymore, she refrained from going towards the wood block turned communication device. Instead, she slowly pulled back to sit, nestled between where Sturm sat and Eilert stood.

Eilert gave out another small sigh as he got comfortable; in his vision he'd had an empowered Glyph of Regeneration, which had been healing him quite rapidly. The glyph he and Sturm were on now wouldn't be able to do that much, or work particularly quickly. He wondered idly if he could get it to work in this world.

"I thought we could use the assistance," Eilert pointed out, his way of asking why Sturm didn't want them to call in allies.

Not that he was too concerned; they'd be fine for now, and as soon as people arrived they'd want to know what happened, and he didn't feel like explaining to anyone but present company, and even then he probably only would if pressed.