Pulling back a comfortable silken blanket, I stood up with slow, precise movements, my sight partially obscured by a few long red strands of hair.
I combed them back with a quick, precise, long-accustomed movement of my hand.
Afterwards, I set up a gold-rimmed, antique-looking coffee pot and took out a bag of coffee beans from "Teure Bone," a luxurious brand, before storing it in a shabby drawer not comparable to my desk. Surrounding me, there were many such expensive-looking accessories. The bigger furniture, however, had been placed here beforehand, looking cheap and run-down. The march of time is clearly seen on them.
Sadly, the room given by the academy was quite small, unlike my usual place of accommodation, and one was required to stay here at least a month after acquiring an Authority fragment.
What an anointing tradition!
It was truly quiet demining, having to stay in the city's outer districts, even if just a formality.
Well, it could be seen as a sort of rite of passage to descend the floating centre, living under the roof of the lessers.
Walking to the bathroom, the screaming sound of the pot growing by the second.
Splashing some water onto my face, two Ashburne eyes met my own. My fiery red hair runs down like a mane. A sensation of pride welled up within me every time I looked at it.
After all, it was the symbol of my birthright and heritage, something inherited from generation to generation. A symbol of a member of the great houses.
Something showing the difference between the commoners and me, if there truly was more need to show my superiority.
Rubbing my hairless chin calmly, every hair cut cleanly, the sharp contours of my face revealing themselves.
Thinking about the day ahead, a scowl disfigured my otherwise handsome features.
"I'll be teaching those Lessers a lesson today!"
Feeling a shudder in the surroundings, Reinhard looked back into the mirror, a bit confusedly. His movements… growing unnaturally slow for the blink of an eye, before returning to their usual speed. The whole scene—like an error in the world.
In the reflection, there no longer stood the fiery-haired youth with smooth facial features, filled with pride, to the brim.
No, there was a skinny boy with black, grown-out hair and an unblemished silvery white stain over his right eye.
Looking at the mirror for a few seconds, feeling a bout of anger come over him, his hand smashed into the mirror, a loud sound of shattering glass running through the room. A crack seemed to form, spreading out from the edges of the mirror, beyond the glass, cracking the concrete wall behind.
Looking at the now-shattered mirror, he saw his reflection as a young red-haired noble, the other seemingly forgotten. Multiple versions of him, staring from differing angles. Every shard, showing the same red-haired individual, his reflections in a web of cracks, some disfiguring his flawless face.
Not showing any more reaction to his out-of-character actions, Reinhard returned to his schedule, taking a cup of coffee, with relaxed movements. His hand, for some reason, was hurting a bit.
Feeling the bitter liquid run down his throat, a bit irritated by the taste.
This expensive substance was available only to the higher echelons of society, and everyone in his surroundings enjoyed it, so he himself had to enjoy it as well. But why had it to be so bitter?
Walking out the door after finishing the cup, he walked in a dignified manner, his chest puffed out, and his head held high. Surrounding him were grey, textureless metal walls, marred by cracks, similar to those seen on the mirror.
His reflection flickered between the red-headed young man with untainted facial features and the raven-black-haired young man with sharper, more rugged features, the latter growing more pronounced by the second. With it, the ruinous state of the normally pristine facility deepened, giving the world itself the impression that it was rejecting the new arrival.
Clenching and unclenching his hand repeatedly, Noctis looked down at the body he was inhabiting; at least it was not too different from his own, his control growing more refined by the second. The moment of transition lingered in his mind—a pulse of fate, a subtle shift in the flow of perception —as his awareness slipped over Reinhard like a shadow overtaking its source. Previously, he had watched the morning unfold through Reinhard's eyes, but now, with a single inhalation, it was his own consciousness guiding the movements. For an instant, two memories intertwined, but Noctis felt his own thoughts settle firmly into place, outwardly inhabiting the noble while remaining fully himself inside.
Seems like the proximity to the void is interfering with my ability to peer into fate. Seeing the growing cracks in the walls, he rethought his earlier assumption.
Partially.
Noting down this phenomenon for later study. He had expected something of this nature, after all, this wasn't his first time dealing with the void. However, it still managed to surprise him, the effects differing from his expectations. Of course, he had his theories on why this was the case.
Stopping in his tracks for a second, the cracks suddenly strengthened rapidly. Observing this, he hurried his steps along the way once more, the decay of the realm slowing down to its previous pace.
The more he diverged from the fate he observed, the quicker he would be thrown out of the vision, and therefore the augmentation of his strings would fade as well.
Too soon.
He was waiting for a signal from Oruborus, telling him that the tree was about to fall, so he'd stay in here and play the role fate bestowed until it was time to awake.
This could take a long time, considering that Noctis had lived out a month of a person's life in an instant in his earlier attempts, almost losing himself in it and accidentally taking a few of the person's quirks with him.
Luckily, with the disturbance, this would not be a risk this time, his mind fully lucid, able to distinguish Noctis from Reinhard.
Feeling a slight pull, he embraced it, his body like on autopilot, going the way of fate.
As long as one went the way of fate, it would support and aid on one's journey. The moment one stepped out of its bounds, however, it would expunge and attack.
It was still a bit weird that everything around him was so distorted, well, considering the origin of Reinhards' power, it wasn't that unusual, if he thought about it.
Feeling like a spectator to his own life, he watched Reinhard enter a ring, the surroundings at this point having fully crumbled, some kind of cheers still coming from the void that was the crumbled world. Maybe a public audience if the vision was not so distorted. With Reinhards' tendency toward attention-seeking and theatrics, the cheers must have stuck in his mind. And that led to the cheers being so clear and pronounced in the vision.
Feeling Reinhards' emotions of pride and arrogance swell up under the audience's gaze and cheers, his chest puffed up more than ever before.
He pulled out a short sword, out of thin air, a week golden sparkly shimmer, the only indication of him having used some kind of supernatural ability. Displaying the shiny sword, without any hesitation, his biggest trump cards were revealed before his opponent, the thought of losing not even crossing his mind.
The unending arrogance was not unfounded. After all, his ability was strong, and his opponent was a newbie who had yet to fight a battle against Authority Wealders.
Throwing a few practice swings, his confident smile never wavering, his opponent was difficult to distinguish in a haze that disguised his body.
This was intriguing, to say the least. Noctis had never seen emotions cloud his visions before. The haziness of his opponent was no effect of his weakened ability, or maybe it was?
Well, at least it wasn't like the decaying surroundings. This seemed different.
When reading a person's fate, emotions always played a big role, since Noctis was literally experiencing them, influencing his subconscious. This, however, was not supposed to influence the facts of the vision, especially in one where he was almost not influenced at all.
After all, Fate was impartial and emotionless, so it observed in the same way, giving the objective truth of the matter.
Feeling his movements growing staccato, he regained control once more.
This… is new…
Bang, a blue line shot towards him, seeing the precisely aimed wave of light heading for his neck. Noctis did not hesitate, slashing upward with the sword Reinhard had created. The blue line dispersed surprisingly easily, cut in two, both sides flowing beside him, harmlessly colliding with the floor.
Inspecting the sword for a second, the fight being of little importance to him. Noctis was only stalling, waiting for the outside affairs to clear up.
He turned the sword a bit, analysing all sides halfheartedly.
Noctis had known of Reinhards ' ability and symbolism beforehand, but it was still surprising to wield it himself.
A sword, to be exact, a cutlass as a symbol, and the ability to give it incredible sharpness, to carve one's own destiny. The antitheses to Noctis' own Authority of fate.
A past memory crossed his mind. If he had taken that practice match with Reinhard, Noctis would have lost terribly.
Noticing the other party charging another attack, he let his instincts take over, assuming a sword pose, one arm behind his back, leaving him seemingly open, the cutlass pointed towards his opponent, firmly pressed against the left side of his face.
Jumping forward, Noctis dodged another of the charged blue blades, paying the other, quickly closing on his indistinct opponent. Redying his sword to cut down the blure in a single, swift, well-practised strike.
Watching the sharp-edged part of the cutlass wandering inch by inch, mere moments away from cutting down the pest who dared to defy him. Vindictive glea filled him, feeling his weapon cut into his opponent's neck.
Shaking his head mentally, Noctis caught himself, the emotions of Reinhard having pulled him along for a brief moment, the sword slowing down at the same time, all of his strength leaving his limbs, at the exact moment before ending the battle.
How unlucky!?
Feeling a stinging pain in his neck, he noticed for the first time, something cutting into his neck, something not any less sharp than his own blade.
Taking a step back, then staggering another, Noctis clenched his throat, feeling a thick liquid gliding through his throat, his pristine white shirt taking on a distinct red, as the liquid spread throughout.
Noctis felt the body's consciousness fade. Reinhard fell back, his defeat all but set in stone.
"Wake up!"
Feeling the world shudder at the voice's words, Noctis did not hesitate.
It was time!
Oruborus had given him a sign.
Without hesitation, he thought back against the already weakened sensation holding him in his sleep. Mauvering his right foot back, not letting Reinhard's body fall back any further, the indistinct person did not react in time, too sure of his victory and growing complacent. The blade of Reinhard sliced upward, gutting the guy in an instant.
The world's destruction increased exponentially, the other man falling back, similar to Reinhard before, only this time breaking apart into a rain of golden sparks.
Reinhard's body fell to the floor, no longer having the energy or willpower to hold it up, then broke through it, his long red hair flailing wildly, golden sparks glittering around him.
For a brief moment, the future of the young man ran by in hazy images before breaking apart, no longer making sense with the rewritten history.
The depression that came with the defeat, the change of his worldview, and his development over the years.
How he joined the government.
How he started to stand in for the rights of the common folk.
How he found the love of his life.
How he planned to start a family with a common girl.
Feeling the escape of his vision, coming closer, the quicker, quicker passing images turning to a haze, creating a door of light.
Stretching out his hand now in the form of the black-haired youth, the door opened, and all went black.
Cough!
Cough!
"What are you?!"
Feeling a dulled yet severe pain in his chest, below a creature in all white, its body covered in a thick layer of silk, every part of its skin having a layer of silk ensnaring it, all but its mouth covered by a second skin made of silk. Its mouth, the only part that could be seen, was filled with yellowed, broken teeth, the skin surrounding it grey and lifeless, decrepit like a mummy. It had an arm that was like a blade. This arm was piercing his chest, cleanly cutting through.
Looking with despair at the creature before him, some of the white silk began to free itself, worming through his flesh, encircling his lungs, then his airways, others wrapped around the colon and other intestines.
Bam! Noctis fell back. The scene of Reinhard, clear before him, darkening until completely gone, the sensation of falling returning stronger than ever before, a huge dark brown tree just about to fall onto him.