Unease.

It was a word that perfectly described Cheek’s current emotions.

‘Today has been a horrible day’ He thought bitterly, helplessly watching the gate open.

Both him and the figure stood with rapt attention, not taking their gaze away from the gate for even a moment.

It didn’t take long for it to fully open either, thirty seconds at most.

And so, let once before, another blurry figure stepped out.

Cheek didn’t have enough time to properly observe its behaviour, as the moment the gate closed, another opened.

For the next couple of minutes, this process repeated itself.

It was a harrowing experience, no one knew if another figure would come out, no one knew what was happening.

Once the number of “people” had reached fourteen, it stopped.

It was impossible to gleam anything from the figures in the first place, all of them, presumably Cheek too, had distorted appearances.

Silence had long since descended, yet it had just now been broken.

A figure had stepped forward, it had stepped towards the thing.

The first step was hesitant, unsure. The second was made with more confidence, this continued until a stride was developed.

Cheek quietly observed the process, he didn’t know if this place was booby-trapped, he did not wish to become a movie character.

Furrowing his brow, Cheek came to realize that his previous observation was right, the closer one got, the more the ‘haze’ seemed to diminish.

The figure was now distinctly feminine.

‘And that’s it…’

He couldn’t see anything more than that.

Sweeping his gaze around the room, Cheek found that two others were moving.

Waiting for one of them to make it halfway, he came to a decision.

‘Now or never.’ He thought, if this was how things would go, might as well go with the flow.

He took a step forward.

…

It was a deeply harrowing experience, he didn’t wish to repeat it.

Each step was worsened by his paranoia and the increasingly lessening “haze” of the blurry figures.

‘I should have brought my mask.’ He thought ruefully. Cheek knew it was unrealistic, but simply thinking of it comforted him in some weird way.

He was close, two more steps. Two more and what?

He didn’t know, he didn’t think anybody in this room did.

Taking the final step, Cheek observed the others.

Fourteen, that was the number of people surrounding the thing.

He hadn’t seen wrong, something was being held on a pedestal in the middle of the room.

Covered by a thin piece of cloth, it was impossible to determine what it truly was.

The people surrounding it took a look at each other, before one opened his mouth.

“One of you should remove the cloth.”

The man who spoke was good at giving orders, Cheek determined.

He carried a “better-than-you” aura and wore a fine gown.

Frowning, Cheek observed him closely.

It didn’t take long for him to find something that gave away his identity.

His gown held the royal emblem.

‘A royal…’ Cheek thought, observing the other people, most were poorly dressed and didn’t seem to have liked his words.

A hotheaded one immediately spoke out.

“What do you mean we should do it, you stuck-up bastard!? Who gave you the right to push us a round!? Huh!?”

The man seemed surprised at having been screamed at, no he looked downright shocked and confused.

‘Did this guy never get yelled at?’ Cheek thought dryly.

Getting over his taken aback look the man- no, Solomon, spoke.

“My right as royalty?”

Solomon looked genuinely confused, wasn’t that his right?

Not letting this argument get any more out of hand, a man dressed like a merchant spoke :

“Enough! Royalty or bum, someone needs to remove the cloth, that is true.”

Analyzing him, Cheek found the man to have sharp features and most importantly, hardened eyes.

That man wasn’t someone new at conflicts like these, that much was obvious.

After his words, the hall quietened, that is, until a new voice spoke up.

“Um…? Do we have to remove it? Can’t we just… not?”

The newcomer had a dishevelled appearance and wore what someone of the middle-class would typically be seen in.

Yet, he looked anything but. He had bags under his eyes, unkempt hair and a very dirty garment.

‘Perhaps a man tossed into the slums?’

Audibly sighing, the possible merchant addressed his, frankly, idiotic question.

“Because the openings where we came from disappeared, unless someone has a better idea, this is the centre of the haze that once surrounded us and most probably the source of our coming here.”

In some way, it was true, they were all here because they couldn’t think of better a or more viable option.

“I propose a vote.” A slightly chubby man spoke, he had blonde hair and wore a well-made nightgown.

He seemed rather shrewd, although that came from Cheek’s physical observation alone, it wasn’t anything concrete.

‘I don’t know, I feel like he gives off scammer vibes…’

Seeing that there were no objections, the chubby man continued.

“Let’s do it this way, I point at someone and you all raise your hands, the one with the majority does it.”

Not hearing anything, he hurriedly added :

“Of course! I am not excluded.”

“That is acceptable.” The merchant-like man said, easily accepting the deal.

This prompted others to do the same, Cheek also gave a nod to signify his agreement.

After the chorus of acceptance, the vote started.

The first to be pointed at was a scholarly-looking man, none voted for him.

The second was the hotheaded woman who had spoken up first, a few hands rose, but nothing  warranting worry.

The third…

…

Once the eight had come around, more than a few hands rose, it wasn’t surprising.

It was one of the men who had spoken out first, the one who had asked an idiotic question.

Cheek thought it logical he was the one to remove the cloth. It wasn’t because he had asked a dumb question, it was more in line with the character he had revealed.

He seemed easy to push around.

‘Better him than me, right?’ Cheek thought, he felt bad for the man, but if removing the cloth was going to bring an unstoppable calamity to them, it wouldn’t matter who did it.

Under the gazes of all the others, the man easily gave in.

Stepping even closer to the thing the dishevelled man reached out his hand and gingerly touched the cloth…

…before closing his eyes in fear and stopping all of his movements.

Thinking something bad had happened to him, some of the others mimicked his reaction, clenching their teeth.

Barely a few seconds later, the man reopened his eyes and put a hand on his chest, sighing in relief.

An awkward silence descended in the room.

Feeling something was wrong, the man who had caused the discontent within the room looked around, only to see the others staring at him.

Cheek, for his part, only gave the man a flat look.

Wisely choosing not to talk, the dishevelled man once more reached for the cloth.

Once his hand had touched it, he gripped it and pulled it off in one motion, falling on his buttocks in the process.

Yet, he had already done it, it had been revealed.

‘No… not it…!’ Cheek thought, whatever he was expecting, it was wrong.

It was a slate.

It looked like an ordinary gray stone slab, it had many mottled marks on its surface, giving it a rather ancient feeling.

There were also words on its surface, yet…

Just looking at them made Cheek feel strange, the words seemed to worm their way into his mind.

The more he looked the more entranced he became.

At this moment, he wasn’t paying attention to anything else, he couldn’t even muster the will to look away.

Rather, he couldn’t even think about looking away.

‘Ah, I see…’ He thought. ‘So this is a path to divinity…’

The more he read the more he understood.

Yet, if he wasn’t so entrapped by the knowledge that was made available to him, he would have noticed something strange about the names of the potions…

‘Sequence 9 : Assassin’

‘Sequence 8 : Instigator’

‘Sequence 7 : Witch’

‘Sequence 6 : Demoness of Pleasure’

…

‘Sequence 2 : Demoness of Catastrophe’

‘Sequence 1 : Demoness of Apocalypse’

And finally…

‘Sequence 0 : Demoness of Chaos’

Stopping, Cheek felt the mark on his forehead burn with an intensity he had never felt.

Despite not having done any exercise, Cheek’s entire body was drenched in sweat.

Instinctively searching for a source of cold, he let himself collapse on the ground, enjoying its coolness.

Having cleared his muddled head a bit, Cheek cranked his head to take a look at the slate once more.

He felt like there was something more to be learned…

But before he could once more immerse himself within the knowledge the slate offered, the mark on his forehead burned sharply for but a moment, forcing him to close his eyes.

‘Fuck! Why did it do that?’

Not finding anything concrete, Cheek thought about it for a moment.

‘Above anything else, it seemed warning…’

But how could it judge something like that? He hadn’t connected it to Venithan, unless there was something he was missing…

Dismissing this line of thought before he could feed it with ideas out the works of fiction he had seen, Cheek pulled himself up.

It was time to leave.

Taking it slow, Cheek knew he was pressed for time, yet he couldn’t bring himself to rush.

He felt so taxed, like an incredible weight was pressing down on his mind.

Consequently, said feeling also affected his body.

It would get better with time, once it faded away or until he got used to it.

Observing the room once more, Cheek habitually counted the people in the room.

It was a habit he had picked up during his student years, working as a camp animator had drilled it into his mind.

…twelve, thirteen, fourteen…?

‘Huh?’

If he excluded himself, it should have only been thirteen. Who was this?

As if having sensed his realization, the intruder turned towards him, giving him a smile.

 

Sorry for the late chapter, i'll get back to the normal schedule next week.