บท 2: Lucidity
'How many times has it been now?'
I watch as the screaming boy kills me for the umpteenth time.
However many times I see them, those eyes still send chills down my spine. I can't get used to that unbridled rage. I don't know what's scarier, being the subject of that wrath, or being the carrier of such an intense hate. Maybe what's truly scaring me is not having anything precious of my own that would push me into such a state if lost.
I can feel it now, that dizziness is coming, and my thoughts are becoming erratic. Pictures of my father toiling in the cesspits of the castle, while I wait for him by the rope, to make sure it stays tight. The stars that shine high above even the highest towers of the keep. Would the nobility look as insignificant to those stars as we do to the nobles?
However far my mind wandered, I couldn't forget the smell, it was the kind of smell that lingered, you could smell it days after, and you never get used to it.
Hark! A scent most vile that pervades the air, a noisome presence that assaults one's senses with a potency unmatched. It is as if the foulest humours of man and beast have conspired, mingling in a wretched pit of filth and excrement.
The fragrance, or rather the lack thereof, bears a malodorous quality that offends the very essence of one's being. It permeates the air with a nauseating miasma as if the gods themselves have unleashed a fetid tempest upon this accursed place.
The pungency, reminiscent of the darkest recesses of nature's decay, assails the nostrils with an unwelcome persistence. It is a putrid symphony, wherein the stench of rotting flesh and stagnant waters perform a ghastly duet, their notes discordant and repugnant.
Aye, the odor evokes visions of a plague-stricken battlefield from my memories, where the fallen lie in desolate repose. It is a scent that whispers of mortality's grip, of disease and decay woven into the very fabric of existence. One's lungs are filled with the essence of despair, a sickly sweet bouquet that leaves no corner untouched.
Verily, the smell of a cesspit in verbose parlance is a dire spectacle, an olfactory affront that paints a picture of desolation and woe. It is a fragrance that lingers in the mind, a reminder of the fragility of life and the inescapable nature of human suffering.
'The fragility of life, and the inescapable nature of human suffering.'
'Whenever did I become a poet? Ha, if Guillaume heard this, he'd never let me live it down... The fragility of life, and the inescapable nature of human suffering.'
A sudden clarity assaulted me. My senses were as dark as every time I died to the screeching boy's dagger, but my thoughts... My thoughts were never clearer.
'That is what it all was for. That is what I fought for and struggled against. It all makes sense now. Why I despised my father despite him doing everything he could to keep us clothed and fed. That innate hate towards nobility and my desire to defile them. That base joy and fulfillment I felt whenever I was hacking and slashing at some poor sod on the battlefield. That exhilarating feeling that spiked from the base of my feet to the top of my head, those tingles that ran through my spine. It all made sense.
The fragility of life, and the inescapable nature of human suffering.
That is what I fought for, that is what I aspired to express through my art. The art of killing. I wished to bring them all into the fold. Nobles that thought themselves above mortality, plebians that dreamt of elevating themselves above their stature. I was bringing them to the light, showing them their true nature. Making them understand that they cannot escape their destiny, and neither can I.
I am the scale upon which their delusions are weighted against their reality, and it is forever tilting one way. Reality shall prevail. They shall understand it.
"The fragility of life, and the inescapable nature of human suffering." The words reverberated throughout the darkness enveloping me. Again and again, echoing and repeating, until I felt its vibrations in my bones. I heard it. A crack, the sound of something breaking within me. Not my body, no, deeper than that. Within my soul.
And once I accepted my fragility, the fleeting nature of my life, and embraced the despair and suffering as nothing but another aspect of it, proof that however fragile the flame within me is, I am still alive.
Light emerged. Brilliant, blinding light. I felt myself emerging into it, and I embraced it as it embraced me.
I feel heavy and sluggish. However I try to move, my own body resists me.
'This isn't the forest! Something's different.'
I could feel it, but not see it. Everything was blurry, all I could make out are two silhouettes. One of them carrying me by my arm roughly. Suddenly I floated, the air brushing past me felt heavy.
'He threw me?'
Before I could make sense of what was happening I felt myself drop onto a muddy surface. Through the pain shooting all across my body, I focused on whatever blurry images my eyes could capture. There, I could make it out, a third silhouette sprawled on the ground, it was smaller and curvier in contrast with the other round one and brick-like one, that now both were standing at what should be the feet of... my mother.
'Weird.'
Instincts I never knew before, a link. It is my mother, I knew it and couldn't fathom how.
'She's looking at me.'
Longing, joy, sadness, and despair. All at once.
'They are not my feelings but hers. How do I know this?'
While I was wondering about these new things, the round silhouette suddenly bent down over my mother and straddled her, pushing her legs up.
Pain, hate, disgust, wrath, and despair.
'Again, I can feel her. But why? How? Am I reliving my birth instead of my death?'
Groans of pleasure mixed with painful moans and whimpers reached my ears.
"My turn now brother!"
"Shut up ye dumb horse! If I let ya go before I'm done with her ye'll just break the bitch! She's all yours once I'm finished."
"Oh... Okay, brother."
After some time the blurry image darkened, and I felt a searing headache descend on me. The groaning, moaning, and whimpering faded gradually until I was back in total darkness.
Warm. Warm and familiar. But not the pleasant kind of familiar.
'I know this smell, I know it well. It's the smell of my father, the stench of sewers.'
Sudden emptiness. As if I lost something I never knew I had. It was that link, it's gone. I can't feel her emotions anymore, nor can I feel her presence. It's as if it was never there, in its place I feel a gaping hole, something missing that I needed. It felt as if that link was mending the crack in my soul, but now, I can feel it all gone. It's back to how it was before, broken and incomplete.
'What happened?'
Trying my hardest I opened my eyes, black and white blurry shapes were all I could see. And nothing beyond a stone's throw. But that's all I needed to understand, she was there, her blurry figure lying on the ground, arms and legs apart like a starfish, unmoving. Completely still, as if... dead.
'So they killed her after they had their fun. It's not my past then, my mother was taken when I was 13. So where am I? And who is she?'
The familiar smell assaulted me again. But mixed within, was a sweet smell. A smell that attracted me, and I felt the urge to go toward it.
'Shit and piss. So the mud earlier was excrement, seems like I can't escape it however much I try. And this sweet scent. What is it? It's coming from her'
I try moving, I wanted to crawl, but all that happened is my limbs flailing around aimlessly.
'Uncoordinated and sluggish. Is this how babies feel? But why don't I remember when I was a baby? Why am I... No. It can't be. By Lathander! Was I reborn?!'
As soon as I invoked his name, the god of birth, renewal, spring, and youth, as well as athletics, self-perfection, vitality, and creativity seemed to have blessed me.
As I felt an unfamiliar vitality course through my small body. I struggled to crawl until I reached the chest of what I assume is my mother. I grab onto her and hoist myself onto her with great difficulty. Instinctively my body moves until my head rests on her breast, bleeding from the multiple bites her abusers took. I put her nipple in my mouth and suck on it. A mixture of milk and blood flowing through my throat rejuvenated me. It was warm and sweet, and I recognize the smell. It was the sweet smell that was mixed with the sewer stench.
'Life is fragile, but from death blossoms an even stronger life. Even in her death, her body continues to be a source of nutrition and a means of survival for me. But why do I feel so empty? Was that link the bond a baby has with their mother? It felt stronger than it should be... It felt mystical.'
Once I felt full, my eyes became heavy, and before I could question it more, I fell into darkness again.
9 times, that's how many times I woke up to breastfeed on my dead mother and slept again. And to my black-and-white blurry vision, it became bright, dark then bright again, so I should be on my second day here, in this god-forsaken alley.
'May Garagos unleash his fury upon whoever's responsible for this stench. Well, some of it is mine.'
While I was deep in my musings, I heard a rustling sound. Someone was approaching me. I struggled to hold onto my sole source of nutrition, the cold breast. But whoever hefted me upwards was stronger than a newborn. As they held me, I could only make out their general shape. A slender, tall silhouette. Wearing what looks like a tall pointed hat, and from the ruffling I could faintly hear each step they took, probably robes, the jingling suggested jewelry and ornaments, so a fancy robe.
Again, darkness enveloped me as I fell into a deep slumber.
I awoke to bubbling sounds. And opening my eyes, I could feel a liquid. I can feel it all over my skin.
'I am submerged. It's more viscous than water. How is it that I can breathe?'
Studying my surroundings, I was in what looked like an alchemist's laboratory. But everything was distorted and had a green hue as if I was looking at it through some liquid.
'I am.'
Two glass vats were to my rights.
'From their elevation, and mine, I guess I am in one too.'
Something moved toward the center of the room. I recognized the shape, but now I could put more detail on it. A slender and tall man, draped in a fancy dark blue robe adorned with golden ornaments and jewelry along the collar and waist, his height was exacerbated by the blue tall pointed hat that adorned his head. He was pale and could pass for a court bard with how handsome he was. Sitting cross-legged on a dark wooden chair, he perused a worn book, in front of him, on a wooden round table, countless other books and parchments were scattered haphazardly. Some are decorated with metallic corners, others have a leathery case that kept them closed, but all had one thing in common, the weird symbols on them. The writing was too small, or I was too far, to distinguish properly. However, those symbols I'd recognize anywhere. Runes.
'A mage, or a warlock. Either way, my chances of survival just dipped considerably as it seems I'm his latest experiment.'
Moving my eyes around I examined the room more. The walls were covered by shelves from floor to ceiling, all filled to the brim with books of varying colors and sizes. Some lay on the ground, next to wooden ladders. Everything was illuminated by multiple torches, braziers, and hanging chandeliers. A bit out of view, in a small scorched corner of the room, on a desk lay multiple cases and potion bottles, all glass made. Some of them filled and some of them empty. But more than the trinkets on the desk it was the countless broken shards on the ground that concerned me.
'He fails more than he succeeds. I hope I'm not one of his failures.'
After taking account of everything around me, and noting the location of everything and anything that could be used as a weapon, as well as both doors. I finally tried moving my head to look down at my body.
'Holy Lathander! By Garagos I'm in better shape than a barbarian!'
Chiseled muscles adorned my adolescent body.
'Wait... adolescent? What the fuck did that mystical cunt do to me?! Wasn't I a newborn last I fell asleep?'
Bringing me out of my bewilderment, I spotted movement where my captor was. Now standing, he looked even taller due to his ridiculous hat. He approached the vat while his lips were moving. I assumed he was talking to himself as I couldn't hear anything but the bubbling of liquid I was in, emanating from the top of the vat.
Soon he was standing before me, looking up at my figure he again moved his lips, as if murmuring something to himself, and moved again to stand in front of the vats to my right, one by one, before circling and coming back in front of my receptacle.
His movements were studied, not like a warrior, but more like a noble. Elaborate in his stride, with excessive expression in his every move as if to convey his superiority. Soon he reached his hand out towards the vat and pulled on what looked like a handle. The liquid surrounding me began draining from newly formed holes on the floor of the vat, where soon I was standing sluggishly.
I vomited, coughed, and spat remnants of the liquid that were in my lungs.
'That's how I was breathing. The liquid itself is somehow breathable.'
I was unfamiliar with this body, and I had to adapt right now. I discreetly put more weight on one leg, then shifted it onto the other. And keeping my hands open, flexed one arm, then the other. I feigned imbalance to straighten my back and curve it again, falling into a lower stance as if I couldn't help it. With my head down, my dark burgundy hair fell onto my face, partially hiding my eyes. I could now focus my gaze on him instead of feigning dizziness and lostness.
Soon he twisted the handle one way, pushed it back in, and twisted it the other way. The floor of the vat began lowering.
As soon as the distance between it and the glass container was enough to fit my body through, I lunged in front of him like a beast and grabbed a glass shard on the floor when I landed on all four. I could see him lifting an arm from the handle to point it at me, but before he could I threw the shard towards his face, which he blocked with his free hand, the other still on the handle that he seemed to be trying to push back in.
'He can't let go of it for whatever reason. Fortune smiles upon me, it seems.'
From my position on all four like a wild beast, I pushed with all my might and lunged at him again. One hand stretched toward his face to obscure his vision, I unsheathed the Kandjar hanging on the golden belt around his waist and plunged it into his heart with the other hand.
"The fragility of life, and the inescapable nature of human suffering."
I whispered, and from his widening eyes, I'm sure he heard and understood me. I pushed myself away from him with my legs on his knees, and as soon as the Kandjar dripping blue liquid was entirely pulled from his heart. Using my momentum, I pulled him with my free hand from the bleeding arm he protected himself with. I heard a weak cracking sound from his knees and a pained grunt from his mouth.
'Blue blood, and still alive after a stab to the heart, probably a warlock. Fucking pests are hard to kill, especially if he's contracted with some powerful daemon. I should thank Damien if I ever meet that legend again, all his incessant teachings into ways of killing warlocks and paladins served me well throughout my life, not to kill them, but to escape the fuckers. Nobody in our group but Damien could brag about killing warlocks and paladins in single combat. And me soon, if I survive this. Either I kill him, or he does me.'
While my mind wandered, my body never stopped. Without pause, as soon as he faceplanted onto the ground from my pull, I bashed his head onto the ground with my foot until it turned red and I felt sharp spikes and mushy viscous lumps.
'Never walked on brains and broken skull bones barefoot before. Can add it to my compendium of shit to never do again. Anyways, you can never be too sure with these vile beings.'
I crouched and beheaded, ... disembodied?... whatever was left of his head. I plunged the Kadjar into his exposed and squished brains just for good measure. And put it all back into his head from the broken hole in his skull. Looking around, I found the nearest brasier and threw it inside. Walked back to his body and began cutting him limb by limb and throwing it all into the fire. Soon, all that was left of his was the Kandjar and the bloodied robes. I threw the robes into the brazier that now emanated the smell of cooked rotten flesh. Don't ask how I know what that smells like, the life of a mercenary isn't an easy one.
'Now onto more pressing matters.'
I checked the Kadjar for nicks or broken tips, but it seemed sturdier than I thought. And now thinking about it, it's light but quite sharp, a good weapon by all counts, apart from its overly ornamented nature.
Steeling myself, I walked towards one of the doors, as the room had no windows, and from the scorched corners with all the failed experiments, I assume explosions and ruckus is nothing new to whoever lies beyond that door.
'Well, I hope they aren't used to naked teenagers bursting through the door while brandishing a dagger.'
Once in front of the door, I took a deep breath and slowly turned the knob while trying to push the door.
'Can't burst through a door that opens inwards. Beaten by good design, fuck.'
Pulling the door slightly ajar, what I saw on the other side, through the slit, put a stop to my jests.
'Thank god for good design.'
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Word Count: 3230 words
(Too many curses, and not enough dialogue, to round this to 3k3. So I gave up. You don't get a sweet round number this time. I did tweak it a bit to go from 3224 to 3230).
A/N:
Thank you for reading ♥
Leave a review if this is already past 10 chapters, or if you find it so good that you can't help but leave one.
Stone me like I'm that crush that friend-zoned you.
And add this book to your library if you wanna get a notification for tomorrow's chapter: Emersion.
[MAP] If you don't understand the purpose of this, read the author's thoughts. I didn't want to add that much text here.
Love you, have a great day.
(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ𓆩♡𓆪
ความคิดของผู้สร้าง 
Odil
Odil Well... well... well... look who's back. It's me your boyo Odil.
This chapter ended up longer than planned. The cliffhanger was supposed to be his lunge at the man whose identity will be made clear in the next chapter, titled: Emersion.
Also, while researching a certain location today, I found another map that I'll be using as a reference, I'll put it as a comment on the A/N at the end of this chapter, it has some differences with the other ones, so keep in mind the interactive map still takes precedence.
For those that didn't read the paragraph comments, I made on the first chapter (How dare you?!). There are pictures and definitions for some 'niche' words and names. You will also find my sources for the research I did on medieval combat. (I'll put them all in an auxiliary chapter when I have the time to do so.)
This chapter took me around 4 hours to write. Research included. I hope they don't all take this long. I was hoping to start writing 5k words chapters but that's damn hard.
Also writing something knowing that you'll publish it is way harder than writing just for myself. I'm questioning every description I make and every action I make the characters take.
Get used to few dialogues, the MC is a man of few words, and he isn't too into listening to other people's bs either. But he'll have plenty of internal monologues, just keep in mind that the personality you attribute to him due to the internal monologues is different than the one he projects through his silence to the people around him in the story.
Anyways, I'm just rambling now.
Thank you for reading, I love you all <3
Happy Day
(づ￣ ³￣)づ
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