Of course, the people I care about always go away.
Cold, sterile walls lined the halls of the Caileid mansion, drops of freezing rain banged the eaves of the tiled roof above, muffling the sobs and cries of people of all ages. Some people stood in suits and blazers, while others wore the attire of servants, but they all had the same expression. Grief. I stood there, behind the crowd, barely looking at the body of the old man who used to come and take me out to play.
"Jerald was a truly accomplished and kind man. A shame he had to pass away early." An emotionless voice spoke behind me. I turned to look at the man; he was my father, speaking with a noble from a house I didn't recognize. "Truly, a physician of his stature is a great loss, though his legacy continues." Pausing, the other person raised a finger to his chin.
"Though I wonder, who'll get his Armament?" He mused while my father was staring emotionlessly at the tarp-covered corpse. "I know a thing or two about that man. He most likely wouldn't pass his techniques to other people. His pride was his downfall."
Father turned to look at the other man and gestured for them to go outside. He's probably scheming something again.
The soft murmurs and sobs quieted as an hour passed and people left the hall, while I stayed, just staring at the tarp. Stepping forward until I reached the cloth, I reached out my hand, but I stopped. I... hesitated. Why? Clenching my hand, I turned away and was about to leave, but saw a man with long red hair leaning on one of the pillars.
He started walking to the stretcher and stopped at Jerald's feet. Pulling out a bottle of rum, he poured it at the foot of Jerald's corpse. With that done, he took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up, staring listlessly. "Did you know? Jerald ran an orphanage back in the day, when he was an upstart, right after the Kraj-zlotya war. He established that place for the war orphans, providing them with a place after their homes were destroyed. I was one of the kids he took in, one of the many. Treated us all like a father would, but then he suddenly moved back here in Ikirito."
He took a drag and looked up at the smoke rising. "Said he had some unfinished business and became a physician for a duke. Still visited us from time to time, but he was mostly here." Stopping, he looked at me. "Then, we grew up, and new kids moved into the place. Time passed, and so on and so on." The man started to walk towards me, slowly. "And suddenly, we all got the news that he died. So we all started rushing here." He stood in front of me, hands in his pocket, cigar still on his mouth.
"Just three months ago, he said that when he dies, he'd probably transfer all his assets to some random kid from the Caileid Duchy. Wonder who it is?" He leaned in. "It's you."
"Me?" I pointed at myself. "Yeah, some snotty kid who doesn't know shit. His legacy, passed down to a random kid from this damn desert." The once calm rain outside had now turned into a downpour, dampened by the thick marble walls. He sneered. "A brat like you, an entitled piece of shit!? And not those kids from the orphanage!? Fucking hell, probably one of the worst decisions in his life! His legacy, so great, was wasted on you!? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Taking a step back, I steadied myself before I shouted back.
"So what about me!? What's so wrong about me!?"
He laughed. "Damn fake. The third son with no achievements, a runt who resolves everything with violence, a noble too cowardly to protect his people, and you run as soon as things go bad. Yet you ask me what's wrong!?"
Holding back a laugh, he continued, "I heard your servant ended up in a coma protecting you from trouble you caused. Her name was Abigail, right? Didn't you throw her into that chaos just so you could run? How deplorable, sacrificing a defenseless girl."
I flashed a strained smile. "So? Wasn't she a servant? Their roles are to serve their master, right? I wasn't in the wrong; she had a purpose, she should be grateful to me, even, for serving me!
I clenched my fists and threw a punch at his face, only for it to be blocked. "See, you're weak and impulsive too. All bark no bite." Throwing me to the ground, I let out a groan. "I wonder what he saw in you. All I see is a disappointment dressed up as a noble. Damn fake."
I tried to speak, but nothing came out. Why? Why did nothing come out? I felt the same way when I saw his body. This same nauseating feeling. It makes me wanna throw up.
Lowering my head, I stood up slowly. I glared at him before running away to the courtyard.
Looking in the direction Lathell ran, the red-haired man mouthed. "Though I'll keep my promise, I still hate that boy. I'll forge it in your name, Jerald." With a last look at the corpse, he started walking away.
"Damn fake."
_____I am the dividing line that shifts perspectives_____
Clang!
"Don't run away now!" A voice shouted. The pale man jumped over the railing and landed near Lathell's face, blade in hand. Slashing from above, Lathell took one of the knives he hid in his jacket and blocked the strike. He knelt due to the force and grunted. This bastard can actually drop from three stories high! He took another knife and tried to stab his knees. The assailant noticed, backed off, and eyed Lathell warily. Being cautious, he threw a sphere of black at the metal gratings, and a burst of murky smoke formed at his feet, enveloping the alley. He grinned before vanishing. Lathell stayed cautious and surveyed his surroundings, but all he could see was a cloud of dark gray.
"Damn it." Cursing under his breath, he tried to use his pendant, but to no avail. The technique was already cast; no opportunity to disrupt it earlier, as the assassin was quite fast. Clutching more knives, he slowly began to descend into the smoke, maintaining his vigilance.
Good thing he was almost ground level; otherwise, with this cramped environment, he would have had a hard time fighting or died trying.
He reached the ground, but there was no sign of him. Leaning against the wall, he channeled Ether into the necklace, where a green light healed some scratches and minor injuries. "This thing is really weakened, huh?" Muttering to himself, he was about to reach for a knife he had put on a nearby dumpster, but only saw a patch of black rapidly approach him.
Lathell was blown, blasting away the knives inside his blazer. Knocked into a brick wall, leaving him disoriented, he felt groggy, his gaze slowly becoming cloudy.
He shook his head a few times before looking around for the culprit. Nothing. He couldn't see where the attacker was, so he cornered himself against the wall, leaving only his front and side open. Checking his jacket, he noticed he only had one knife left, the one the assassin had used earlier. Fuck, guess the only option is to run. He hugged the brick wall with his back, slowly moving to his right. This way was to the apartment's front.
"Damn, how big is this smokescreen?" Muttering to himself, he still had the knife raised to his chest, eyes full of vigilance. Just as he was about to resume walking, he noticed a familiar dumpster and a crater in the wall. Weird. It's like he came back. Realising the anomaly, he raised his defense and continued walking, only to bump into a wall. Staring at it in confusion, a horifying realization came in. This smoke had altered his entire sense of direction, mixing left and right, and front and back. He quickly turned his back against it, only to hear horrifying laughs from everywhere, at the dillapitated AC unit, atop the various metal stairs, and some even in the air. They laughed like children, giggling and chuckling to themselves.
"Hehehehe, hahaha!"
Trembling, he readied his blade, found a corner of the wall, and slid his way in. Now his front's the only way for the assassin to attack. The laughing continued to grow louder, almost becoming screaming. When do they stop? Fuck, they're making me nervous. The laughing now contorted into something deafening, like static. His breathing became ragged, his already cloudy eyes now looking a lifeless gray. Having had enough of this, he shot back. "Stop laughing! All of you bitches stop! Fuck, I know you're here, you bastard, come out! This ain't funny!"
Silence.
The once deafening jeers are now gone, just like that. He let his guard drop for ten seconds or so for a break. He exhaled some air he had been holding in. Slumped against the wall, he didn't notice the sharp spike above him, shining with a sharp glint. Made from the same smoke that covered the alley, it blended seamlessly into the background.
Whiz!
Moving at the speed of a slingshot, it embedded itself into his back, the sound of bones and flesh piercing, screaming in the alley. "Guh! Fuck!" Lathell mouthed with pain in his voice as the knife dropped from his grip, his knees buckling. Looking at his back, he found the half-formed waist of the attacker quickly fade, suddenly disappearing. He huffed, feeling the sharpness in his back. Fortunately, it didn't hit any important bones for arm motion.
When trying to dislodge the object, he noticed it had dissipated. Shit, so that spike was made from the same smoke as that black ball and blade he uses. Quickly picking up the dagger, he poured Ether into his pendant as he ran, but found the healing weakened. His reserves were running dry. On the other hand, the fog seemed to thin out in this area.
Glancing at his rear, he saw more spikes forming in the air, while the assassin stood, no, he flew through the air, his lower half missing. Raising his right hand while his left held a mechanical container, he dropped them, like a conductor, letting the spears of black move through the air like a corkscrew.
His spine shivered, but his eyes gleamed as he looked at the attacker. He hastened his speed, found a stack of metal crates, and shoved them down, creating a blockade. Lathell grunted, the strain on his arms choking him, but he continued running, never looking back. The spikes pierced the crates, but only half of them stopped; the others continued at a rapid pace.
Jumping forward, he narrowly avoided the spikes, but landing with his shoulders only made them more feeble, forcing a great deal of strength to get back up. He side-eyed the inner alley, seeing the assassin rapidly approaching, now much slower, he tightened his grip on the blade. Lathell faced the pale man, putting on a brave face, grinning. "I figured it out now, your ability!" Pointing his finger at the man, he spoke. The assassin, humoring him, stopped abruptly, his coat fluttering before landing on the ground.
"Heh, go on. But that blade in your hands won't make you win this fight in a go. I suggest you give it back. Though if you still won't give, I'll take it by force." Stretching out his hand, he spoke as he pocketed the strange item.
"Nah, this thing is more useful than I thought. Mind, I keep it if I make it out alive? Back to the topic, you can manifest a mist that you can form into all kinds of shit, right? I saw you made those black daggers and spikes earlier. But that ain't all, yeah? Right after you threw that ball, you vanished. Thought you were hiding in the smoke, but you turned into it, damn." Letting out a laugh, he ran a hand through his hair, sweat glistening under his chin.
"That's how you were able to sneak up on me. And I noticed a neat little thing about your mist. When it thins out, you slow down when flying, am I right? Hah, fuck, but there's one thing I find strange. In the textbook Banners for Dummies, it states that the more powerful a Banner is, the more Ether is consumed, so how did you pull that stunt off? Releasing all this smoke would cost you your entire reserves; even those with bigger pools of Ether would find moving and creating all those spikes and weapons earlier taxing. I imagine that this dagger would use a lot of your Ether, too, so how? I'm curious. " As he spoke, he slowly crept towards the assassin, holding the curved dagger from earlier, standing to his side, both looking opposite each other.
Lathell's foot started shaking, though the other party didn't notice.
The pale man smirked. "Heh, you noticed? Just as you said, I, like most people, have an average amount of Ether. Although my technique isn't particularly draining, releasing this fog here does drain me a bit, by my rough estimate, equating to about half my reserves. But, but, but, but, but! I have a neat little item that I use to store Ether." Walking away from Lathell, he reached for his pocket, but found it empty.
"Looking for this?" Hearing Lathell's voice, he turned around, only to see Lathell holding the mechanical ball used for storing excess Ether.
Lathell dangled it in front of him, a smug grin on his dirtied and sweat-ridden face. "I'll be taking this, ciao!"
He immediately activated his pendant, healing all his injuries and bruises. "Ahhhhh, fuck, now I feel so high! I'm on fucking nirvana baby!"
"Crazy bastard."
Round 2 had begun.
[Chapter end]
word count:2348
lowk ass chapter cus ive been playing lobotomy corporation lmao