Chapitre 4: Home: Answers
Libert's mind aimlessly wandered as he walked up the creaking steps that led to his cramped room.
His mind circulated the same thoughts, 'Why me,' but the answers were not within his reach.
Libert let out a sigh of exhaustion as he entered the room. The room was small and cramped, with peeling wallpaper and a musty smell that hung in the air. Books were scattered haphazardly across the floor and piled high on the rickety wooden desk in the corner. The covers were faded and worn, the pages yellowed with age, evidence of the countless hours that their owner had spent lost in their pages.
Libert selected a book that was left open on the ground, it read; "The Intricate Pathways of The Void".
It was a typical book for Libert, though he could not create a functional portal. He always kept hope, hope that one day he would be able to escape his inescapable prison.
Libert knew his inadequacies and weaknesses, but he had always strived to make up for them with his vast amount of knowledge.
Libert turned a page in the book, "The Void, an infinite and vast expanse with no limitations, a complex and fascinating dimension that harbors an infinite amount of phenomenon".
But it wasn't the compelling portals and vortexes that drew Libert's attention, it was the void. In his mind, the void was a grand chasm, an infinite landscape, with no possibility of becoming imprisoned.
Libert proceeded to walk to an old wooden desk that was located in the corner. With only one objective in mind; to find an awnser. An awnser to how it was possible to be mentally imprisoned.
As he skimmed through numerous books that regarded portals; a segment of one of the books piqued his curiosity.
"A portal can only be used by the user who created it, and others cannot use the same portal to travel," Libert read as his face held a disheveled expression.
'Then how…' Libert's mind struggled to arrive at an explanation of the incident,' what if it wasn't a portal…'
With an expanded ambition to solve the mystery, Libert dove further into his investigation. The answer-hungry teenager scoured through his massive collection of books, while his parents never demonstrated love towards him, they did force him to study for the majority of his life.
Libert discontinued his desperate book hunt after he encountered a book titled; "Void Armament ". The book possessed an ancient texture, an ocean of dust was visible on the cover.
Libert blew the dust before quickly scanning through the pages. However, a void armament was a weapon that was forged within the void, and Libert was well aware of that fact. But Libert wasn't looking for information regarding void armaments, but information on "void contamination".
After analyzing Mr. Xavier's appearance, Libert noticed his distinctive white hair. Hair that contained the pigment white was extremely irregular in the country, especially among a population of peasants.
Another particular detail that stood out to Libert; was Mr. Xavier's attire and his manner of speaking.
Libert was compelled into researching the matter because he knew that there was a direct correlation between white hair and void contamination.
'Not a lot of people have pure white hair in Arcadia,' Libert thought as he continued to examine the text,' but he could have dyed it, and a lot of people have void contamination'.
The overwhelming amount of possibilities and variables generated a large amount of exhaustion for an already drowsy Libert. After a fruitless pursuit of answers, the exhausted teenager closed his eyes and surrendered for the day.
Boom!
"… Hey, motherfu*ker," the aggravated voice was accompanied by reverberating steps from the staircase.
Libert woke up from his weary slumber in utter confusion. His mind was as bewildered as an inexperienced soldier that was thrown on the battlefield.
Bang!
The door violently slammed open as Libert's drunk father intruded into the bedroom.
In the blink of an eye, the walls seemed to close in, suffocating the Libert, and the air reeked with the thick stench of death and alcohol.
"Where'd you put the fuc*ing beer," Libert stood in shock due to the unexpected invasion, his father then proceeded to forcefully grasp his hair and drag him out of the room.
"Ahh!—," Libert groaned in pain as he awaited aid that would never arrive.
After maintaining a grip on Libert's hair, the drunkard dragged his defenseless son down a flight of stairs; each stair became a wave of unrelenting pain.
Libert attempted to resist his assailant, but it came to no avail. He was truly powerless. His father continued to drag him intensely until they arrived at the kitchen.
Libert's father opened the refrigerator with enough force to rip a door off its hinges.
"…where is it!" the drunk exclaimed with a slurred accent before slamming his son's face into the fridge.
"I-I d-don't know," which was the complete truth, but Libert's father thought otherwise.
"…Your lying!" the slurred accent became amplified with a tone of outrage. Libert felt the crocodile-like texture of his father's hands grab his neck, the drunk father then followed the action by relentlessly slamming his son's skull into the refrigerator.
The sounds of torment that were produced by Libert were awfully disturbing.
"Honey, stop," Libert recognized the voice of his disheveled mother, and a moment of relief went through Libert's body. But was swiftly silenced after he realized his mother was also powerless against his father's wrath.
"…No, he stole my beer!" the abusive father shouted as he continued to slam his son into the fridge.
"You drank it all, you remember," Libert noticed a painful sentiment within his mother's voice.
Equipped with confirmation from his wife that his son was truthfully innocent, he withdrew his grasp from his severely wounded son.
"Ahh!" Libert let out a grunt of distress and relief after his motionless body collapsed to the ground.
"W-what if I wasn't here," Mrs. Nexus said frantically as she scrambled to her injured son. Libert was well aware of the fact that there was a large chance of his mother not being present; due to her working two jobs.
"You know what he c-can do," the tone of the frightened mother became extremely rigid.
As Libert's mother began treating her son's wounds, the atmosphere was silent but at the same time, deafening.
"W-why d-don't we run?" Libert asked rigidly.
"We can't, he'll find us," His mother responded while applying a bandage to Libert's forehead, "go to your room and get some sleep, I'll deal with your father".
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone