In the lone training yards.
Aether and Veynar were dueling against each other.
Veynar's aspect allowed him to be abnormally skilled in all types of swords, including sabers which Aether asked him to wield. However even if he was skilled in them, he still needed to create his own battle style. Which Veynar had done spectacularly.
Currently Veynar was overwhelming Aether with sheer skill he wielded over the weapon he held. Saber was not usually what he preferred when fighting, but he had considerable skill in it thanks to his aspect.
Aether on the other hand, was having a hard time trying to react to Veynar's attacks. He was not using the mind link to aid himself, realizing he had become too reliant on it, therefore Veynar was wiping the floor with him.
They exchanged several clashes with their sabers, Aether had much more power due to his three soul cores. However instead of winning these clashes he was getting pushed back each time. That was because Veynar's swings were much more precise and he knew where to hit to make the most amount of damage.
At one point of the duel, Veynar had summoned [Poisonous Water] and the dude was fighting while drinking alcohol in the middle of the fight. The alcohol spilled everywhere during their exchanges while he kept it in his hand, splashing his face with it whenever he had the chance.
Aether almost broke rhythm from disbelief. What kind of flaw is this?
As Aether was going to attack to his exposed back, Veynar suddenly bent himself backwards with an impossible angle and thrusted his saber in Aether's direction with ferocious force, while spilling alcohol into his mouth. Aether was forced to dodge backwards so that the thrust did not harm him.
Veynar wobbled as he tried to stand straight, not even once he lost his footing while being so drunk.
"Your fighting technique sure is unique.."
Veynar shrugged, lifting the magical cup in mock salute. "Mhm." He muttered the sound as if it were answer enough, then started gulping the liquid down.
On the edge of the yard, Seraphine sat cross-legged in the dirt, watching with her chin propped on one palm. The sheer skill on display had long since convinced her to stay out of the duel. Aether was good, remarkably so, but stripped of his aspect he was simply another man with a sword. Veynar, on the other hand, was something else entirely.
That was why he had asked them to train him.
Aether said, finally breaking away from the fight, sweat dripping from his brow as he walked toward her. His tone carried judgment. "Are you going to sit there all day?"
Seraphine frowned. "I have tasks. I don't want to exhaust myself."
"I don't recall stalking being an exhausting job," Veynar called from behind them, voice dry as dust.
Aether smiled at them bickering, a genuine one instead of the one he always wore.
He did not feel as alone when he was a theatre performer. It was a silly thought, considering that they were stuck in a death zone with high chances of them being stuck here forever.
However Aether was glad that the spell had summoned him here, into this dreadful place. He wouldn't trade the friends he had made here for anything.
But that did not mean he did not want to get out this place. After all, he had unfinished business back in the waking world.
Aether then realized that both of them were staring at him with strange expressions on their faces. He looked down at himself to check it there was anything weird on him, after he noticed that nothing was wrong, he looked back at them.
"…Is there a problem?"
"Your smile," Veynar said flatly, pointing a finger.
Aether raised a brow. "What about it?"
"It was too bright," Seraphine said before Veynar could answer, her eyes narrowing as if she'd been blinded. "Don't do it again."
And right after that, the three of them burst into laughter.
For Aether, that laugh cut deeper than the clang of steel. He hadn't laughed like that in years. Not since before…
***
AETHER
Memory surged, unbidden. The echo of a voice, the sting of a hand, the smell of cheap liquor. The past had sharp edges, and every smile threatened to slice them open.
I had gotten up from bed and pulled on my school uniform. It was wrinkled, stiff in all the wrong places. I never learned how to iron it properly. Some kids at school snickered at it sometimes, but I never paid them any mind.
Only the immature would pay attention to these kinds of things.
I looked at my communicator. It was an old model with a cracked screen, something my mother had given me before buying herself a new one.
It was January thirtieth today. Tomorrow I would be turning thirteen.
Pocketing my communicator, I went downstairs. Our home had two floors and a basement. The top floor contained three bedrooms and bathrooms. As for the ground floor: a kitchen and a living room.
I saw my mother lounging on the sofa. My mother was a mundane human, but she was still beautiful. She had long raven hair and green eyes, just like mine. Although.. a purple mark marred her pretty features.
She had no job, she was always home. However sometimes she did not do anything in home either, simply sat at the sofa and.. drank. She never really bothered with me either, I usually cooked my own meal from what I could learn from the internet, or eat outside.
I approached the entrance of the house, putting on my shoes. I heard my mother's voice calling out to me.
"Have a good day at school dear!"
Her tone of voice caused me to frown. I never liked her tone when she was drunk, too bubbly, too lovely. As if she cared about me.
"Ugh… Have a good day yourself." I muttered, lacing my shoes.
"Now.. where have I seen that attitude before?" She said.
At that moment, my deadbeat father came down from the stairs, wearing his usual frown.
The man was an ascended working for the government. As far as I could tell, he had no real accomplishments, always taking the credit of his comrades.
However he was very good at trampling over the weak. The cause of the purple mark was definitely because of him. The reason my mother regretted birthing me and the reason she could not care about me, it was all because of this man.
He walked past me without paying any attention. My drunk mother waved at him from the couch.
"Have a safe day at work dear!"
"Ugh.. Have a good day yourself." He immediately shot back.
Immediately I felt my body become heavier. My heart drummed inside my chest, I almost heard it in my ears. My breath became shallow as I reminisced those words.
Where have I seen that attitude before.
My pupils shook as I felt undeniable anger rose within my guts, I clenched my fists, drawing blood from my own skin. My pupils shook as I stared at my father.
And him.. who was a master could immediately sense whenever someone directed their malicious intent towards them. At that moment, he felt like a nightmare creature was staring him down, however as he immediately turned around, all he saw was a puny teenage boy, looking up at him with clear hatred in his eyes.
I tore my gaze away, pointing at him, my hand shaking. "I am nothing like him!" I shouted at my mother, my voice raw and breaking.
The next moment, something seized my finger. Pain like fire shot through me, tearing a scream from my throat before I could stop it.
My mother was already upon him to protect me, I fell to the ground pathetically, clutching my finger that hurt like hell. He had snapped it in an unnatural angle.
Thud!
The deadbeat man hit my mother. However she clutched onto his clothes, not letting herself fall down even though her face was a mess from taking slaps from a master.
'Why?'
I stared at the scene in front of me. All these years she had not even cared about me, why was she so fiercely protecting me now?
'It is because your drunk, isn't it!'
She would go back to her ignoring once she sobered up! I was sure of it!
Then I saw it.
An open, defenseless back that was facing me.
If I killed him, would she love me? That bastard was the cause of all our problems and drama. If I killed him, she would love me wouldn't she? She would have no problems then, she would..
She would..
If I killed him..
I will kill him!
As he was occupied with my mother who was clinging to him like a koala, I grabbed a sharp kitchen knife from the counter. The knife trembled in my hands as I looked at his back...
Will you love me? Please do..
A grin was plastered on the kids face as tears streamed down his eyes without him even noticing. For a kid to show such a deranged expression..
Without even waiting, I lunged at him. Thrusting the knife into his spine.
The knife severed his flesh, and stabbed into his body. However my father did not even make a sound, after all he was an ascended, what would a mundane knife do to him?
He stopped struggling against my mother, who was clawing his face, then turned to face me with an indifferent expression. He looked at me as if I am the pathetic one here..
No.. He was the pathetic one!
I retracted the knife and tried to stab him once again. However at that moment, a blow struck my head. Immediately my eye flew out of its place like it never even belonged there, I was sent flying onto the floor.
I lost my consciousness there.
***
I opened my eyes.. or eye at the hospital.
They told me my mother was dead. I wanted to cry, I wanted to feel like I would tear the world apart, but nothing came. Not even a single tear.
It was clear that my mother had been killed by my father. But the government had decided to back him up and close up the incident. So he was never punished for his deeds.
My life... with the absence of my both parents was harder than it was before. However I prevailed.
***
At first, I stumbled through the days. Hungry, broke, ignored. But I found something I was good at. Performing.
On stage, I could become anyone but myself. I lived a thousand lives under the spotlight. A soldier dying for his country. A beggar clutching scraps. A king commanding respect. A jester hiding sorrow behind laughter.
Every role gave me something my own life never did. Applause, yes. But more than that, an excuse to shed my skin.
I wasn't just memorizing lines. I was absorbing them, bleeding into them. Each character etched themselves into me, leaving fragments behind. At times, I wondered if I was building myself up… or hollowing myself out.
One night, after a performance, I caught my reflection in the dressing-room mirror. I smiled, except it wasn't my smile. It belonged to the villain I had played that evening, sly and cruel. For a heartbeat, I didn't recognize the person staring back.
The stage gave me freedom. It gave me power. But it also stole pieces of me. I had so many faces that I sometimes forgot which one was mine.
And maybe that was fine. Maybe losing myself was easier than being myself.
In a short time, companies began seeking me out. I was praised, celebrated.
But I didn't stop there. While gaining success in theatre, I studied relentlessly. I chose criminology, if no one else would uncover the truth behind my mother's death, I would.
And yet… despite all the success, the same shadow clung to me. My own strange jinxes.
***
Whenever I wanted to visit to buy something from a vending machine, it would always turn out to be empty.
Whenever I went to a lecture in university, I always sat alone.
"I'm sorry sir, our cash register is broken. Would you like to leave the items?"
"You have gotten into the wrong bus if you wanted to go there kid."
***
I don't need love.
I like being alone. Not feeling alone.
That weight I carry on my chest makes me invisible. It makes me bad. It turns me into a disgusting, smelly, slimy corpse.
***
I looked at the two figures before me, laughing their hearts out.
My first ever friends. My friends who did not care how people perceived them, they acted as they liked. Nothing was a lie about them.
For me, in a world full of lies, they were the only truth.
This was the first time I felt my flaw act up. Because at that moment, I felt an overwhelming desire to protect them.
The laughter of that day, the warmth of belonging, burned itself into me. I swore I'd never lose it again. I swore I'd never let them fall.
Only to see Veynar's heavily injured body laying down on the bed in front of me.