Aster woke up with a slight ache in his side, the memories of past events flooding his mind in a blur. Where was he? What had happened to the female adventurer?
The questions came, but not a single answer could suffice for them. He opened his eyes to see himself surrounded by countless armoured figures. They stood still, quiet, their expressions dejected and distant. If it wasn't for him regaining his sight, he wouldn't have even noticed their presence.
He pushed himself off the platform, his rags barely holding together. Now standing, he got a better view of what was happening. The countless people surrounding him were all focused on a singular point. Despite his vantage point, he struggled to discern the source of their unwavering attention.
He got off the wooden platform and began to make his way towards the centre. Deep down, he couldn't concern himself with whatever had happened, as long as he wasn't affected. But step after step, his beating heart seemed to grow louder, drowning whatever sound the silence had failed to consume.
Aster couldn't place a finger on what he felt. It couldn't be curiosity, that got people killed. So what was it? This desire to see what could garner the attention of countless men and women to a singular point.
The people who parted the way for his small frame also didn't help matters. A word, a sound, or even a question might have broken him out of this questionable trance of his.
But no…they remained silent.
Eventually, Aster found himself amongst the inner circles of the enclosure. Deep enough to feel a chill from the people he passed by, and close enough to get a vague outline of whatever was at the centre.
He pushed through the tight spacing between two men, his head instinctively turning back to offer an apology, but his body froze in place staring into their gaze.
No, he couldn't even call it that. What stared back at him were the lost, lightless eyes of people who had lost a reason to live.
Aster had seen many of their kind, scorned their existence since they contradicted his singular rule to survive. But never had he seen this many.
Now that he thought back on it, from the moment he woke up these were the same set of eyes he had been staring into, but his tired mind had registered them as merely distant and dejected.
It was only now, up close…that he could see the depths of those forlorn and lost expressions.
He turned back, his urge to get to the centre of the enclosure greater than before. Aster's perception of the people around him now felt flawed. He didn't see them as mindless husks, but they also felt less human.
…Was this the feeling of despair, or trauma?
His mind was once again constructing questions he was incapable of answering, at least not right now.
The centre of the enclosure was finally drawing closer, and with one final push between two people, he was there.
His emerald gaze dropped low, towards the ground. Aster's beating heart had become so frantic that he had to grip his chest just to steady himself.
He froze.
The world drowned once more into a singular point…the lifeless body that laid before him. He recognised the person. She was the pale blonde beauty that had saved him.
The pinnacle of strength he had envied.
…She was dead.
A sharp pain gripped his heart. Was this the reason the people here all held such forlorn expressions?
'Death could be loud, it could be silent. But it never went unnoticed.'
The thought came unrestrained despite his mind's tired state. Maybe her death wasn't the sole reason for their grief, but he knew it played a major part in it.
The sharp pain came again, this time leaving behind a dull ache. Aster couldn't tell what it was. Sadness? Guilt? He had never really been sentimental, so he couldn't tell.
What he did know was that beneath that feeling he couldn't understand, was a deep rooted resentment for himself…and for an already dead man.
'If only I had not been weak, I could have saved myself from this pain that has decided to torture me. I would have never met her…a part of me wouldn't see her death as my fault.'
Aster's expression broke into a cruel, demented grin.
'If only I could kill that bastard. Thorne! It's his fault she's dead. If I had left then…maybe this guilt, or whatever it was, wouldn't eat at my soul. But the vines got to him first. If I could bring him back…then strangle him with my own two hands, then maybe this pain would disappear.'
Aster's mind fractured under the guilt. Thorne was dead, and even if he wasn't, would he truly find solace in taking his life?
He wasn't even sure he could take a human life. He had killed before, beasts that had nearly cost him his own life. But never had he taken the life of a person.
He dropped to his knees, his thoughts dragging him deeper and deeper into resenting his own existence. A touch to his shoulder brought him back.
He looked up to see who it was, a young lady with short red hair and deep black eyes rimmed red at the edges.
…He had met her before.
"Hey kid. I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't your fault. Don't feel guilty for events you had no power to change," she said calmly.
Aster felt the words pass through his being. Events he had no power to change? The only reason he couldn't change them was because he lacked the strength to do so.
If someone stronger had been present, would she still have died? It all eventually fell back to strength. Not the strength to do as he pleased, but the strength that allowed him to defy the odds where everyone else deemed it impossible.
Cunning and wit weren't always going to save him. He had survived so far thanks to them, but now he had a new goal to strive for.
"I want to be strong…"