The basic constituents of the universe were not matters, instead, it's an infinite number of vibrating threads of energy known as 'Strings.'
Everything, from a river forming a waterfall at the end of a cliff, to a pizza baking in the stone oven, and its most pleasing aroma, were distinct melodies played by the Strings.
Those who can sense, grasp and control the strings were called String Masters. They have the power of 'Tuning', allowing them to breathe fire, grow wings on their back and fly, capable of all sorts of supernatural abilities a normal human could only imagine.
To them, anything that can't be explained by science, must be Tuning—
Which was exactly what the grave robber brothers had in mind, after witnessing someone had risen from the dead, someone they had just killed.
But, the young boy paid no attention to them.
He first checked out his entire body, then he waved his hands midair, as if he was conducting a musical band, yet nothing happened.
After 5 minutes of total silence, the tall man could not keep quiet any more.
"What… Who are you?" he asked, as he tried his best to hide the fear in his voice.
The young boy stared at him for only a second, but it felt as if his heart had been stabbed.
"Why… Did you murder this innocent young?"
'What?' The tall man froze. He had thought of many possible responses, but this was beyond his expectation.
"Sir!" The short man immediately fell on both knees, and begged.
"He wasn't innocent! He wasn't!" he said desperately, as if he knew even one wrong answer could bring them to their end today.
"He was a slave!"
"Slave?" the young boy hesitated for a second, then asked.
"What is a slave?"
'Huh?' Now both of them froze in place, the person in front of them struck as a being they must not affront, yet his words, his act made them wonder if he had some sort of mental disability.
"...A slave," after some thought, the tall man explained carefully.
"Is someone owned by another, a property."
"—Ofcourse it's justified! They are people who could not pay off their debt, who went to war against our kingdom, or were born with bad blood honestly."
"They are by no means innocent—"
"Lies."
The tall man was interrupted abruptly, by a voice even colder.
If the young boy's voice made him feel as if he was looking down the abyss before, right now, it was as if he was falling through it.
"You, in the attempt to live, dared to deceive me to see yourself as righteous?" He lifted a finger up softly, but the weight it carried nearly made the brothers faint.
"To me, you are no better than the 'slave' you despised."
"You come in here unwelcomed, into my tomb where my dear friend had decorated—"
He paused, as if he had just realised something, and began to look around.
After a few seconds, he murmured.
"Dang… It's rather shabby isn't it?"
"Is this where he had actually entombed me? The least I had expected was a palace, but damn…"
"Anyway… where was I…"
"Oh right, what are you guys doing here?"
The brothers looked at each other, then simply gazed at the young boy, speechless.
'He is crazy…' was the thought that simultaneously came through their minds.
"Hello?" The voice demanded a response.
"We were sent here by a String Master," the tall man explained.
"He led an army, devoted to finding treasure inside this tomb."
"We… we are cannon fodders," his voice grew quieter.
"He sent us first to activate any traps hidden… with our flesh and bones."
"It's unjust!" Suddenly, he shouted.
"Please, stranger! I sense great power resides in you, please help us escape this place!"
Silence.
The young boy did not say a word, instead, they only saw him put up another finger, indicating the number '2'.
His eyes, however, lingered on the brown page the tall man was holding dearly.
As if noticing his gaze, the tall man gripped onto the page with more force, and cold sweat began to form in his palm.
Strangely, the sweat did not damp the page, as if it was coated in an immiscible material.
"What are you holding?" the young boy asked.
"No—Nothing!" the tall man responded in a panic.
"It's just an useless piece of paper—"
*WHOOSH*
For some reason, in the deep end of a cave, a gust of wind swept by.
The wind carried some warm liquid which landed on the short man's face, confused, he looked up—
And found his brother headless, with a fountain of blood replaced at the neck.
"AHHH!" He screamed before he could process what had just happened.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"
"Do you know the concept of soul, mourning one?" the young boy spoke calmly, as if he had not just killed a man.
"I had once faced a great enemy, and lost."
"Before my death, I hid a fragment of my soul. He was careful enough to burn my corpse, yet kept my ash inside this casket, along with that soul fragment."
The young boy unfazed, stood inside the blood puddle bare foot, and gently picked up the brown page that was miraculously unstained.
"He was far from careless, yet my trickery prevailed. When your brother had killed that boy and you opened the coffin, my soul was set free, and I reincarnated into the vessel you've prepared kindly."
"However, I did not just inherit this weak physical body, but also his memories."
His words spread, yet his eyes focused, carefully reading through the brown page, not willing to miss even the slightest of details.
"I know who you are, the sins you've committed. I was simply thinking of turning you in, if not for the three lies your brother ran his mouth about."
"It made me realise the likes of you could never change, even after one hundred thousand years."
"You monster!" The short man drew out his dagger in a swift motion, heading directly to the neck—
Only for the blade to shatter mid air.
Fragments of iron fell on the cold stone floor in an instant, along with a hand still twitching.
"AHHH!" The short man nearly fainted from the pain alone. Even with his best effort, he kept fumbling in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
His eyes, written with despair, refuse to let go of the silhouette before him. It was as if a child encountering their first nightmare, fear, yet what's worse was the glimpse into the unknown.
"To tell you the truth," the young boy said calmly, while raising his hand.
"I too have committed sins, and the gravest of them all happened just then. An act of betrayal to my dearest friend, I entered this world again, staining the new order he nurtured."
"But… I just needed to prove something."
Before his death, the young boy originally had a dagger in his pocket as protection. Right now, he who inherited the body had thrown it in front of the short man.
"Pick it up with your remaining hand," he said.
"If he still existed, his power still lingered somewhere on this land… then he would aid you in bringing death to me."
Even though he didn't understand half of what the young boy had said, the short man grabbed the handle without hesitation, and struck the blade with fury towards his enemy.
One second…
Two…
Three…
Seconds passed by, it felt as if the world had stopped. The sharp point of the blade was approaching the young boy's eye, yet he did not even flinch.
…
Four.
At the four second mark, the blade had stopped, only an inch away from blinding the boy.
*Thump*
The short man who was filled with malicious intent, had passed out from the significant volume of loss in blood.
He was mere milliseconds away from finishing the job.
After some time, the boy murmured to himself.
"So you really are gone… Kael."
"Then I shall declare I…"
He paused for a second.
"I— Aurora, as the victor of our battle."
He stood there in silence, his silhouette disappearing into the darkness as the shadows had finally devoured the final light.
The day was ending, and his sight became blind.
What ghosts, one wondered, were dancing in the quiet theater of his mind?