Illeuid was down for a few days.
He shifted in and out of consciousness. His vision was compromised in either state. He would see wavy words float above, their order as nonsensical as their meaning. There were random spikes of volume as his system tried to communicate with him. His body would at times feel languid and lazy and at times giving the impression that they were melting. Then they would seem to snap back into place, all the feeling making them feel foreign. His muscles would ache one moment and then feel fuzzy with numbness the next.
It was brutal.
When he finally awoke, he jolted as he saw the servant standing above him. Illeuid feared that it would be a repeat of earlier with the water. Instead, the servant sneered at him before announcing that his father expected him in his study.
Great.
Though he was used to the metaphorical noose around his neck whenever his father would so much as glance at him, Illeuid didn't even try to ignore a summons. With that being said, he could not understand why his father was glaring at him more than usual. He was as prompt as possible in his arrival all things considering. He stood at attention waiting for the other man acknowledged him to grace him with his attention. Depending on the older man's mood, he would make the boy wait for minutes, hours, and even once in a previous lifetime, an entire day.
He claimed it was to teach him discipline. Illeuid felt that it had to be due to his more sadistic nature. Again, this was the man in charge of a family competition that pitted his own children against not only each other but all other children from the different branches of the Veilkerhurst family. No one remembers when it had become twisted to the point that one was allowed to kill the competition if they could find a loophole. As it made it easier to thin out the competition, they were not going to stop now.
As he waited, Illeuid thought back to the day when he first was granted audience with his father in the first lifetime. He had been on pins and needles. He wanted to so badly gain his approval that he foolishly revealed his eagerness to obey every one of his father's commands. He ran headfirst into any mission, any task, and even tried to complete any academy exam to the best of his ability. His eagerness was not enough. He would be outshone by not his more ambitious and capable siblings, but was also humiliated by the more talented children of other formidable families. Even those from commoner families had managed to best him. His father made sure to make his dissatisfaction be known through imprisonment in their most dampest of dungeons, being forced to go on suicidal mission to take of dangerous magical beasts, and finally, the last task that led to his. It was to face off against his father in a duel.
He had planned on doing nothing more than going through the motions as he had in the past. He expected, if he was remembering the timeline right, to be ignored until the surprise attack of a magic beast against one of their surveillance team. This was when the Veilkerhurst Family was alerted to some shady dealings happening in their backyard by one of their associates. He would not be forced to go on any mission one that was as important in subduing any defectors. But he was forced to undergo some intense training that was reminiscent of a parent forcing their child outside so as not to remain idle at home. He was certain that he would have the time to try to regain access to his glitching status window. As he stood in front of his father, watching the man continue to give more attention to the stacks of paperwork than his still ailing son, he had to accept that for now that would not be the case.
He tried not to let his irritation show on his face. His legs struggled to hold his weight and his thoughts felt subdued. He looked over at the grandfather clock that his father kept as a trophy from when he defeated his older brother in the previous competition. There were rumors that he used his brother's blood to paint the clock, replacing its darker color with a newer red one. Illeuid only knew of one uncle and aunt who managed different branches of the family where they reared their own children up for the competition. If there really was another uncle who was killed by his father, then he only exists through rumors and his name has long since been struck from the family tree.
Illeuid felt his left knee twitch.
It took all he could to keep it stiff and prevent it from buckling. He felt a cramp burn at the back of his knees, his eyes were beginning to sting with barely withheld tears. He cursed himself. Why was he having so much trouble keeping his composure? Did not having access to his system really shake him up that much? As he stewed over his predicament, a horrible realization hit him. He had no access to his storage bag as it was a perk of the system. It was all he could do to not give in to the temptation to scream. Now he was even more frustrated as it hit him that he had truly gone back to zero when nothing about his current lifetime made any sense. It was going to be hard enough to hide the necessary materials he needed for survival without the bag. At the beginning of each lifetime it would always be empty. When he summoned it he would fill its contents with potions and any emergency supplies that he could pilfer. Now, due to the stupid construction, he did not know when he would get it again.
And why was he summoned earlier to father's office? Was this man not suppose to go on a mission to check on the surrounding territory as he usually did? He simply could not get over it. Unless. Did it have to do with what happened between him and Brakus? His parents never praised him if he did manage to one up his siblings. In fact, it felt like they would retaliate by pitting them against him more in future challenges. Illeuid felt the cold sweat of dread pool under his pits. He had no buffers right now, If he was forced to go up against Brakus without any of his usual aid, he may actually die early this time.
That was not fair. He had made it to his twenties in every lifetime after his sixth rebirth. To die at ten years old felt like such a level of bull that he could not stand.
"You're dismissed," his father told him, still not looking at his youngest.
Everything in him froze.
"W-what?" Illeuid squeaked, his voice shaky after not being used for awhile.
His father did not bother to repeat himself.
Illeuid felt something rumble within in. His irritation simmering to a boil. All of his training barely holding it back. But this suppressed anger felt different. The heat of it concentrated in his feet, traversing up his shins, his thighs, his core before finally reaching his head. It even seem to passed to the end of his hair. He felt the strands wafting near his ears, tickling the tips of them. Through the tundering in his ears he was certain that he could pick out the distant sound of a train whistle.
Dear player, the system addressed him. A new skill has been downloaded.
With those words, his anger not only cooled. It vanished. His expression brightened. He felt like a light was shining from within him, the warmth comforting instead of devouring.
"Of course father," Illeuid said, his tone the saccharine innocence of a child. "I'll get out of your hair."
He turned for the door, briskly making his escape. Then he did what he has always done since his first life. When he was desperate to get his family's affection. Something he had long since stopped meaning but they would expect. Before he left, he turned back and gave his father a smile. His wearines made it brittle.
"I love you," he murmured. He was never going to get those words back but he was too far in this life to just stop suddenly. And with that, he left.