Chapter Text
Gustave gasped for air, heart pounding as he jolted upright. The last thing he remembered was pain, sharp and searing, then nothing. His hand flew to his chest, expecting blood, torn flesh, the wound left by the spear of light through his chest. But all he felt was fabric stretched over something hard. Metal. Armor.
No pain.
His breath caught again, this time from confusion. He didn’t remember wearing armor. He didn’t remember surviving.
‘How am I alive, where is Maelle?’ repeats in his mind as he gains his bearings in the darkness surrounding him. An overbearing darkness is revealed when he opens his eyes. His hands clench around nothing as he fails to summon his weapons. Trying to call for help produces a similar failure, not a hint of sound escapes.
He shoved the obvious problems aside. He had to find his team. But even standing was a challenge -his limbs shook like a newborn’s, barely able to hold his weight, stumbling over nothing. Vertigo rushes through him as he rises much farther than usual when he finally makes it to his feet, a distinct feeling of wrongness settles over him.
Slowly feeling his way through the darkness, wobbling and stumbling along the way, Gustave eventually sees a creeping hint of light along the ground. Approaching the light reveals an exit to what must be the small cave system where he woke up. How he ended up so deep in a cave system is a mystery, with no one around to have moved him.
Emerging from the darkness briefly blinds him, suddenly stopping his forward momentum. Looking out once his vision clears reveals familiar expeditioner uniforms scattered across a scarred landscape. He spots nevrons patrolling the trenches of what once must have been a brutal battlefield. He remembers the horror he felt finding a similar scene the first time the white-haired man attacked. Somehow it doesn’t raise the same despair as last time, just another horror from the continent. The reminder of his lowest moment, where he nearly took his own life, sharply brings him back to his current predicament.
His thoughts froze as he gazed down at his unfamiliar form. He didn’t recognise the metallic armor shining in the light. As he flexed his hands not two but four hands moved in response. No longer seeing the familiar metal of his prosthetic but a blocky black armour that covered his entire form. On closer inspection the gaps between the armour didn’t reveal flesh but rather a void of nothing existed inside.
‘ This must be a joke.’
Falling to his knees Gustave scrambled to pull off the gauntlets to no avail, weak fingers pulled at joints that seemed welded together. Fingers trembled and extra limbs clashed as he grasped at the armour trying to find a seam or crack, finding only that there appeared to be none. He felt nothing where his skin should be -no heartbeat, no warmth. Just an echo of movement.He wasn’t trapped within the armour. He was the armour.
Stilling his frantic movements and forcing himself to properly observe his situation after taking a moment to calm down. He found that alongside the extra limbs the rest of his body had also changed. His legs -also covered in armour- seemed to come to a point instead of feet, his height is significantly more than he remembers. Finally feeling his head reveals not a face but an intricately designed helmet with seemingly nothing beneath it. His dread only rises at this revelation, a scream rising in his throat he only results in a faint breath of air. His voice was stolen from him along with his body.
‘ Putain. How did this happen?’ For all appearances Gustave now resembled the Nevrons he’d been fighting since landing on the continent. How broken his mind must be to have imagined such a bizarre situation, there was no way this was actually happening! He remembers falling unconscious with a fatal wound to the chest. The piercing pain from his last moments still echoes through his body like a phantom. How could he be alive? Not even Lune could heal such a dire wound. Grief suffocates him, his team must think he died there on the cliff, he left Maelle all alone with that man. She watched him fail to protect both of them and he can only hope she found a way to escape without him.
His situation seems impossible, he’d never heard of someone becoming a nevron before. That man must have done something to him. He can’t be human, how else could he live past his gommage? No other explanations came to mind, it's not like this had ever happened before. If he ever saw him again he’d get his answers.
Deep in his thoughts, Gustave didn’t notice the shuffling sound approaching him. Dazedly looking around the area he was met with the sight of a short, cloth-wrapped nevron stumbling past him, not even glancing in his direction. He’d been caught in such a vulnerable position, if it attacked now he would be in big trouble. Nevermind his kneeling position, his shaky limbs would betray him at the first signs of battle.
Scrambling to get his legs under him, Gustave watched as the nevron noticed him but continued on its path through the clearing. It wasn’t attacking him. He’d only seen the white nevrons that wouldn’t attack humans, for all the others it was attack first and ask questions never. There was only one reason a normal nevron wouldn’t attack him and he wasn’t liking the conclusion he’d come to. There was only one thing that nevrons don’t attack and that is other nevrons, which was hilarious, he wasn’t actually a nevron right? He can’t even stand up straight nevermind fight. The bizarre situation made him want to laugh but all that came out was a couple of puffs of air, quickly souring his mood.
He didn’t want to move. He wanted to scream. But if he stayed here, if he let this break him he’d never find his team. And he had to. He owed them that. He might not be able to fix his problems but he can focus on finding his friends. At least Lune would find this fascinating. Maybe she could help fix him, her fascination with nevrons and chroma might give her an idea how to help him.
Taking a clear look at his surroundings he could see the Monolith in the distance, still hanging over them with 33 carved into the face of it.
When one falls, we continue.
That had always been their motto. And if his team was still alive, they would have kept going. So his best chance to find them was to continue towards the Monolith, hoping he can catch up with them. With Esquie’s help they can move so much faster than him. But a brief look around revealed no water, maybe they were still busy crossing the ocean. Maybe… maybe he could catch up. Strengthening his resolve and ignoring his problems, he forced his strange new limbs into motion, armor clanking softly as he stepped toward the battlefield's remains. Whatever he had become, he would find them.