Chapitre 229: Weird Nostalgia
Muria continued to tremble in my arms, but her condition appeared to have improved somewhat after a few drops of tears flowed down the sides of her face. In my mind, there was a bitter feeling of disdain and anger that was, for some odd reason, directed at the man in the painting. I looked over at the painting and frowned, feeling that fire burn within me.
Slowly, I retracted my arms from Muria, surprising her somewhat, and started walking over towards the painting. This gesture of mine elicited a confused expression from her as she seemed to have ceased weeping and simply followed me with her gaze. I looked around the room once again, surveying the surroundings as I stood before this disgusting painting that made me rather irritated. Without thinking, I grabbed a nearby stool and threw it with both hands at the painting, imbuing my entire body's strength into the throw and causing the old, wooden stool to shatter upon contact. I stumbled somewhat to recover my balance all while keeping my eyes fixed on that painting. The stool had managed to puncture the canvas of the painting, causing a hole to appear in the man's face.
"..." Muria seemed astonished by my actions, but no words of disapproval came from her. Rather, it would appear that she was also somewhat glad that I did that. On her face, there was a small smile as she wiped away the tears staining her face with her fingers.
Satisfied with my work, I took a step back to observe my masterpiece. It was a satisfying feeling to see this carefully preserved painting of the man destroyed. Even though I do not know this man in the painting, but...what I saw in that vision, it was enough for my hatred for him to multiply and develop into a desire to obliterate anything that has to do with him.
With my mind now recovered from that earlier flustered state, I looked around the room to observe what else was present and whether or not there were anything else relating to that man. After a quick scan of my eyes, it would appear that this room was a display room of some sort, with many glass display cases lining the two sides of the room. Contained within those display cases were ancient Vilheim relics that must have been sent here to be displayed.
What was on display was what these Jorzan people had stolen from my people, things that would be considered national treasures. There were also something important to my nation that they had stole and have here on display, something that can be considered the soul of the nation: a gold-plated Symbol of the Royal Family. And as if to mock any Vilhemians, the description was also written using Vilheim writing.
"The Symbol of the Destroyed Nation"
"Guess who's laughing now?" I muttered to myself as I walked away from that display case, finding comfort in the fact that the Era of Humiliation for the Empire is over as we experience another golden age.
"Alevian."
I heard Muria calling my name. Looking over, she was standing by a display case on the opposite side of the room, and it would appear that she want me to come over. In the display case that she was standing next to were weapons, rifles that were used during the Great War.
"Can these still be used?" Muria asked as she crossed her arms before her chest.
I scanned the display case, seeing for the first time the physical representation of the weaponry that I had saw in the textbooks. There seem to also be ammunition for the weapons in the display case as well, so if these rifles actually work, they will be usable. I looked up and around the room in search of anything that I could use to break the glass but was unable to find much of anything aside from fragments from the wooden stool that I had thrown earlier. However, the wood has decomposed too much and is simply to fragile to break the glass.
"Is there a way to break the glass?" Muria muttered to herself.
"Stand back," I said to her as I approached the display case. "This is going to make lots of noise."
I first made sure that Muria was far enough from the display case before I proceeded with my plan. After surveying the display case, I found a suitable spot near the top of the display case, using the concepts of torque to push the display case so that it toppled over and shattered the glass. Sharp shards of glass shot out from the impact, scratching and tearing the legs of the pants that I was wearing. However, they did no damage to the flesh underneath. I looked over at Muria and applauded myself for having her back off. She was wearing shorts, so it was very likely that the glass shards could cut through skin and draw blood.
With the display case glass now shattered, the rifles in it was free for the taking. When I first saw the bunch, I already could tell which rifles belonged to the Jorzans and which belonged to Vilheim soldiers. Even though the rifles may appear similar on first glance, there were still subtle differences. In addition, there were fewer ammunition for the Vilheim rifles. Without saying anything, I knelt down and picked up the Vilheim rifle as well as the two clips of ammunition used for this gun.
Immediately after picking up the rifle, I felt a rather familiar feeling in my mind. It was almost as if deja vu of some sorts, but my body automatically cleared the chamber of the rifle by pulling back on the bolt before releasing it and allowing the top cover of the chamber to snap back into place. Without thinking about what I just did, I pulled back on the bolt once again and inserted a clip of ammunition into the chamber, using the side of my palm to hold the bolt in place as I pressed down hard on the clip with my right hand to insert them into the rifle.
"You know how to use that?" Muria asked me.
"I don't know," I muttered in response. "My hands just started moving."
"Is it usable?"
I picked up the rifle and held the stock where my chest and shoulder connected before I looked down the sights and aimed. For some reason, this action felt oddly familiar as well. It was almost as if I had used this gun many times in the past.
"Seems so," I responded.
After ensuring that the safety was on, I grabbed onto the strap and flung the rifle over my shoulder. When that rifle was secured, I once again felt that nostalgic feeling. It was a...puzzling feeling. Mixed in that nostalgia were...bitterness, sadness, and frustration. It's almost as if...I had failed in doing something, doing something important.
"Seven bullets in each clip," I muttered to myself as I held up the second clip and confirmed the number of bullets. "So fourteen total..."
"Why didn't you grab that one?" Muria looked over at a Jorzan rifle. "That one has more bullets."
I looked over at where Muria was pointing and then shook my head. "That's a Jorzan rifle. I just feel like...it's more appropriate for me to use something our people used to protect our country with."
"You're right," Muria nodded.
She then proceeded to walk over, stepping on the shattered glass and knelt down, probably to see if there's anything she could use. However, I had taken the only Vilheim rifle, making it so that the rest were all Jorzan weaponry.
"It's dangerous if you don't know how to use one," I said to her.
"As if it's not your first time," she snickered as she looked over at me.
"I don't know," I shook my head and sighed. "I just...feel familiar with this rifle."
"Alright then," Muria sighed as well as she rose to her full height.
She followed after me as we walked over to the closed door that we had came in from. However, before leaving, I paused in front of the closed door.
"Hm?" Muria looked over at me with a confused look on her face.
"Don't worry," I started saying, and for some reason, I once again saw those visions. However, it was visions of...a peaceful scene where someone was speaking to a woman standing behind him at the doorway.
"Don't worry," the man in the vision said.
"I'll keep you safe," the man and I said in unison.
I frowned at this uncanny coincidence, confused by this weird feeling of nostalgia in my mind.
Behind me, I heard a soft chuckle from Muria, and that also coincided with what occurred in the vision. The woman the man was speaking to, she also chuckled.
"I know," both Muria and the woman said.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
NightLightLuminus
NightLightLuminus The Great War in the story is based off of the Asian theater of WWII. The Jorzans are based off of Japan. In China alone, more Chinese died than Jews in the Holocaust. During the unfortunate event of the Rape of Nanjing, a Nazi member present actually wrote to Hitler complaining about the Japanese atrocities. It's a forgotten part of history in Western education as in the West, WWII is mostly about Europe.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone