Out of depression ? For now at least *laughs*

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Final Honor x Watchman

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The world was created and ruled by dragons. Sometimes secretly as most of the time they either went into a deep sleep or simply watched over the humans, not wanting their great power to influence them. Power came with a price and those who tried to use a force beyond their reach, were unlikely to come out unscathed. However, not all dragons thought the same and a handful wanted to stand next to the children they created themselves, granting them their blessings and in exchange, the country would be named after them.

For those dragons who stepped onto the human realm, a curse had befallen. Both races weren't made to be together in the first place and humans' greed and vanity affected the dragons more than they could imagine, corrupting them with a plague eating them slowly and painfully. They started to fall into madness and fought against their followers, the flourishing nations turned into fields of dying corpses and towns burning throughout the territory, the smoke of the flaring fire engulfing the sky of a cloud of misfortune.

To prevent the dragons from going extinct, they started to mate with humans to preserve their lineage but all still succumbed to the same fate soon enough as the mortals never learned from their mistakes and kept using them for their own benefits. Among all of them, there was a dragon who was still hiding his identity. He had decided to join a church who worshiped his dragon ancestor, thinking that a peaceful place where purity shall be one of the main values would be safe.

But he was too naive and a fool for believing that and realized fastly everything was just a facade. The church was just as rotten as the rest of the kingdom and the scales appearing on his body were proof that his sanity keeping his human form was starting to get weaker. He didn't know how long he could still last and could only hope for death to embrace him. He prayed everyday in front of the noble statue of the dragon, he prayed for his doom.

Then, afraid he might become one as well, he started to pray in the loneliness of his room, until a wandering soul knocked on his door.

"Who's here...?"

"Bishop Carl... It's me. May I enter?"

He recognized this voice.

The man on the other side of the door was one of the rare saint knights he seldom talked to -he mostly prayed, preached, and went on his day- what was his name again...? It was Clark. Such an ironic encounter, did the knight come to defeat the evil dragon to rescue the country?

No, this was no fairytale and no one would be saved in the end.

"What do you want?"

He didn't answer his first question and there was a blank silence before the knight responded.

"Are you alright? You've been holed up since a few days..."

"You needn't worry."

"How can't I-?"

He could hear the distress in his voice and couldn't understand why the man was so concerned about him. They were not close or anything beside living in the same aisle of the church. Well, after some thought, maybe he could help.

"Enter."

He heard a faint gasp of relief and raised a brow at such folly. The door clicked and steps came from behind, the man's armor making a slight clinking sound every time.

"I see you won't stop praying."

"Our lord, the Watchman dragon, is the reason for my existence."

"How diligent." praised the knight.

This wasn't a lie though. The bishop stood up from his kneeling position which formed creases on his black skirt then slowly turned to face the knight. The latter's cheery expression shown by his smiling mouth changing at the same time, his lips now crooked.

"Bishop, you-"

"As you can see, my time is limited."

"Is- Is there no other way-?"

"I doubt so. That's why..."

He moved towards the knight and set his hand on the handle of the sword hung on his belt, unsheathing it to lift the sharp edge of the blade to his neck.

"I- I can't do that-"

"Forgive me for my selfishness but you're the only one to whom I can ask this."

"No-!"

Clark snapped at him and shoved his arm in his direction, the bump making the sword fall on the floor. It was thrown to the other end of the room by the knight's intention to put it out of reach and avoid any unfortunate event. The expression of the bishop remained unaffected like marble and he put some distance by moving back a step, as if a wall had just been raised between them.

"I was out of line," he apologized.

"I am sorry too... For raising my voice..."

Eli hadn't done anything wrong, but it was just in his nature to be empathetic to others. His motto had always been to protect the weak and fight for the innocent so it was unthinkable for him to attack the other when he hadn't committed any crime yet. His good soul was surely the reason why Aesop thought confiding in the knight was the right thing to do, albeit it hadn't turned out the way he had envisioned.

"I wonder... what kind of life I would have lived if it weren't for what runs in my veins."

The dark haired male sketched a faint smile. It was a rare sight, and the knight was surprised by it. The bishop did not look sad, but instead his face was lit up in a way it had never been before. The wrinkles of worry had disappeared from his forehead and his features looked rested for the first time since their meeting.

"It's not too late to find out," Eli replied, grabbing Aesop's hand in a firm grip, "Let's leave, far from here. I'm sure somewhere in these lands, in the past or in the future, there is a cure for this hex."

"We...?"

"If it should happen that your spirit does indeed succumb... Then I promise to kill you. However, until then, let me accompany you and help you on this journey."

"Why make it difficult when we can end it now? Would you be willing to give up your position for this trivial cause?"

"It is not-!" he shouted, his fingers tightening slightly on the man's hand, "As long as you still remain yourself, there is always hope!"

"Clark, you..." The bishop's eyes widened as the knight finally released him. His blood was cold, yet Eli's words made his body feel like it was burning like embers. It was a strange but in some way, comfortable feeling. The lack of response from the dragon descendant began to worry the brown-haired man, though it wasn't necessary. "Thank you..." he whispered, "In that case, would you mind fulfilling another of my requests, and following this poor stray soul into the unknown?"

The bishop offered his hand to the knight and the latter took it gently, his lips meeting its back like a pledge of loyalty.

"I shall be grateful."

At dawn, a bishop and a holy knight were reported missing. The church forces did their best to trace them, to no avail. It was as if their existence had vanished, and the only evidence of it was the window of the bishop's room that was left open, but it was impossible for them to fly out that way, couldn't it?