He had already recognized the place before his eyelids pried themselves open and his vision cleared. It was in how the familiar silk sheets felt on his skin, a cool reprieve from the exhaustion and bruises. It was in the way his pillows, being filled with the soft downy feathers that had most likely ripped off of the bodies of his eldest sister's swans, fluffed around his head in a soft prison. It was proven further in the way that the room, though large, held that continuous cold draft that was affected by the cobblestones that made up their walls. He could only close his eyes in dull bemusement.
Illeuid Veilkerhurst could only sigh as his brain once again registered where he was.
What is this, the 76th time? 77? He thought to himself as he tried to muster the care that would ensure his survival. But when you have been killed over and over again things did tend to become droll. Why was he being forced to be sent back to this point in his life? Why did it have to continue to be this family? The Bloody Veilkerhursts were renowned for their ferocious battle prowess in the battle field, birthing generations of warriors as battle ready strategists. Weakness was culled through the intense family competition where the rivals were forbidden from outright killing their family, but exceptions were allowed where they could arrange for them to be blighted from existence. He hated it here. He did not know why he was being punished to be subjected to the torture of being this family's unwanted spawn. He just wanted to stop existing.
Or at least, be sent back to his first life.
His memories continued to fade the more he respawned into his personal hell. He had the vaguest memories of his brothers, who, as most older siblings did would bully their youngest brother. Even when they did not get along, he knew that they always had his back and would never let harm fall upon him like the devil spawns of the Veilkerhurst would. They would never even be the danger. Was his longing for that first life the thing that led to his punishment? It's not like he didn't attempt to facilitate a relationship with the members of his family. He showed respect for the head of the household, addressing him as such. Lord Veilkerhurst. It was awkward addressing his father with such a title. Yet he did. He understood that it was a title he earned and respect. So in his mind, he was to show that proper reverence to his father. He honored his mother by trying to be the obedient son. He always tried to adhere to his sibling moods so that he knew when they were willing to tolerate him and when they wanted him to get out of their face.
That was not enough.
The Veilkerhurst family saw him as nothing more than a stray dog that snuck into their residence. His vibrant emotions the fleas that pricked at their patience and irritated them to the point of clenching their teeth. He has gotten curled lips from servants, looks of disgust from nobles jealous of their prosperity, and had even been tormented by sniveling bullies who wanted to be his siblings lackeys. Dying that first life and being reborn the second time led to him having a mental breakdown. In response, his family had locked him in the dungeon, none wanting to deal with his "caterwauling". He was kept down there until he was able to "sort himself out".
He clawed at the rusted bars, his nails breaking and his throat becoming raw. He curled into a ball and wept. Days passed as memories of his mother and brothers ran in a never ending film of loss. Eventually, he stopped. He had become catatonic from the fright. They dragged his numb self out, kicking him when his weak knees could not hold him up. Many of the family who awaited him at the top judged him for making a mess of himself. He then had to deal with them mocking him for being scared. Was it because it was just occurring to him that he held no match to his more superior siblings? His parents would have done well to slit his throat when he was born more premature than his siblings ever were.
No, his exhausted ten year brain had thought as he still had too much sense to voice his complaints. I'm just scared of being stuck here again with you.
And he was. Again. And again. And again. Killed by both enemies and his family alike. Heck, there a few times he died by his own hand. A repeat form of entertainment who would forever be subject to their torment. No matter how often he died, he was sent back to his tenth year of life to be tormented by his new family. It was not all too terrible. he learned self-defense and had managed to outsmart his older brother from time to time. He pulled obnoxious pranks that Brakus could not predict as that was not the way of the Bloody Veilkerhurst. His sister, Priscilla was harder. Yet he managed to surprise her with itching powder one time. She did not react, but her poisoning him later in his third life showed that he must have annoyed her at least a little bit. It must have been through his small mischievous rebellions that led him to obtaining his buff. And it showed itself in the presence of a system.
The system did not make itself known until his fourth life. He remembered how it made itself known. He heard its presence in his dreams through weird tinny sounds like spilled pennies or how the tongs of a fork sound like when they're scraped. The loud sounds were so grating that they set his teeth on edge. He had awoken to sensing something in his room. A presence that made his skin prickle, the tightness causing him him to curl into a ball under the protective cover of his blankets as goosebumps flooded spanned across every crevice. He could not assume that it was just a child's imagination. Magic existed in this world. It was used to subdue those who were weaker than them. It was used to bewitch smaller magic beasts who would then be set upon the younger children to cause them harm within the different branches of the family. It did not matter if it was in twisted jests or actual intent, he needed to be on his guard.
Then he ended up in his space. One that was set apart from his dreams but still held their lulling enchantment. He swayed, the probing of his mind massaging his whirling thoughts into nothingness and bringing him into a state of stasis. He flinched, blocking his eyes at the sudden flash of light. Peering through his fingers, he saw a rectangular shadow being backlit by the intense light. As he vision clear, he recognized what was in front of him.
A status window.
A blip popped off next to him, causing him to flinch away. A small figure flitted about his head before settling on his nose and making him cross-eyed. It had no form and was no bigger than a golf ball. The sound that burst out of its depths had him clutching his ears as he reared back. Initializing...Initializing.... The small orb said. The way the words continued to pierce through his fingers to jab his eardrums made his eyes tear up. Wait. Was the light a projector?
Through blurry vision, he watched as the orb made a buzzing sound, shudder, then emit a beam that expanded at the end into a rectangular shape. On the flat shape, words streamed across it in a nonsensical fashion before being replaced by his old twenty year old face. It flashed in random intervals on the screen in such quick succession that he had to squeeze his eyes shut. after awhile, he notices that he could no longer see the dull flashing through his eyelids. through his eye lashes he watched as slowly, his image transitioned into the ten year old boy he was now. He could not help but notice that his new face looked more forlorn. There were bags under his eyes and his skin had become pale. Now the words were more gentle, no longer spouted out in a jumble of static and zaps. The distorted volume was still a bit jarring to the ears, not giving them enough time to adjust. He watched as the name under the picture was also replace by his new identity. The projection remained as the orb flitted to his shoulder, taking a rest. It addressed him by his old name as it promptly explained that it was there to aid him in his survival in the Bloody Veilkerhurst family.
As the words faded into an echo, his eyes once again felt tears prick at them. he recognized this semblance of his past. Maybe, it was nothing more than a dream that was influence by his longing of playing video games with his brothers. A reprieve from his torment. So, he did not panic at the thought of being in a simulation or video game. He reached his hand out and like he did with every video game he played, he explored his player's status. he was content to just waste his time like this. Then the damn thing bit him, drawing blood. Initialization complete, it announced. Illeuid felt a wave of dizziness pulse from his center outward, his head feeling pressure build up in his sinuses, his knees growing weak. It was then he realized it was not a dream. The anger that flowed through him devoured the bout of nausea as the unfairness of his situation hit him. He demanded to know why he was stuck in this world. Was there a way for him to return to his previous life?
I cannot answer that, they system told him. But I am here to aid the user in his survival. That is my purpose and I will always fulfill my purpose.
His small bit of hope evaporated into despair. He thought that he could finally be free of them. Of course his rotten luck meant that he was trapped there. But if what the orb was saying was true, then he had a chance to endure what his family may put him through. He was reluctant, but he put his faith in his system. There were a lot of mishaps in the beginning. The rules were not always in his favor, his skills would be random for each life. But it made all the difference when it came to navigating his family dynamic as the system would give him insight into each members mood or how to solve their tests.
Okay, enough reminiscing. He has been prone enough. Time to get an update of which skills were readily available for this lifetime and which ones he would have to grind to unlock. Only, when he tried to summon his system he was presented with something unexpected. The screen was faded, glitching to the point that he could not pick out any words, details or graphics. What was going on?
Illeuid could only stare at the status window in shock. In front of him his status window was nothing more than static snow. Nothing would pull up. not his current status, not what skills were available to him. Nothing. he tried to call for the system. His eardrums almost burst a a sharp bzzt erupted in his ears, the noise similar to when his system first showed itself to him. Was it rebooting then? He waited a few minutes to see if anything would change. Then the words appeared.
System under construction.
What did it mean that it was under construction? This has never happened before. Whenever he would be reborn, he had no problem pulling up his status window to see what his accumulated skills were. He was irked that his storage bag would always be empty. It was only knowing that he would have skills immediately available that did not need to be leveled up that kept him mollified. The system would also give him guidance on the necessary supplies to gather for the current lifetime to contend with the one thing that may be different. That reliability gave him peace of mind. Once again, he tried to pull up information. There was a slight flicker, but the words remained.
System under construction.
Dread began to press against his back like cold hands rubbing into his now stiff muscles. The fear tightened his limbs making it impossible for him to move. His system was down for the time being. It showed no ETA for how long that would be. For the time being, he was on his own. He could only hope that he could survive until he had access to it again.