His vision was shrouded by darkness, barely being able to make out images. Despite not understanding the situation completely, his heart cried out in sorrow or perhaps despair.
What he saw felt completely unreal, but it didn’t seem fake. It wasn’t fake.
There he was; in a throne room, kneeling in agony as the wounds he had endured until now seemed to dig into every part of his body. The armor he wore would never protect him again in its broken state. In his hands, he held a holy sword carrying the name, Victory. How ironic that victory was now slipping from his hands both figuratively and literally.
“Everyone…”
The boy managed to cry out as he looked towards his comrades. There was no reply so the dam broke. He now cried, tears flowing from his eyes.
“Forgive me…”
His comrades' bodies spread around him, some leaning against the pillars but it was clear that they could no longer fight against the evil in front of them as they had all passed away.
“A shame. You’re weak. Disgustingly weak. Annoying flies who stand in the light of the goddess, believing that power is on their side.”
The ‘Abyss’ cackled mockingly. He laughed at his friends and he especially bellowed towards him, the so-called hero.
Could he even be called a hero anymore? He couldn’t save anyone, let alone the people he truly loved.
There was no longer a will to muster nor did he have the desire to stay awake. The hero… He was tired. His eyes started to slowly droop, drifting into the acceptance of slumber. The shadows clouding his vision grew stronger.
“You failed once again…”
A new voice entered the throne room. It was a familiar voice, but why were they here when he knew what happened to them?
“No one was saved once again…”
They said, clearly disappointed in him. Angry and hateful, even.
‘I’ve done everything I could… What else could I have done against the despairing odds?’ He wanted to argue but he was just so tired.
Suddenly, the mana in the room began to rise. His body was numb, ever-slowly turning colder… but even he could feel the dense mana pulsing erratically.
“A concept is known to men.
The hands are manipulated by men.
The Force of Nature is uncontrollable by men.
Here, beyond any understanding of humanity.
Tempus. Dies. Memoria.
I hereby invoke:
Genesis.”
Those were the final words he heard before he closed his eyes and embraced the darkness.
“Argh!” The red-haired boy, Lloyd, woke up with a jolt, and his mind riddled with confusion only for the feeling to be replaced with pain as if his body was being burned alive.
“That… what was that?” Lloyd winced.
“Lie back down. You’re in no position to be sitting up.” A sharp voice called out to him. Lloyd looked up, trying to ignore his pain while doing so. What he was met with was a not-so-happy, ragged man dressed in a white coat. And boy, he was not happy.
“Should I strap you down to the bed instead? I can and most definitely will make your stay extended.” The man suddenly said, seeing as Lloyd didn’t react to his orders. His words were as sharp as his eyes and they sure did not contain any hint of lies.
Not wanting to anger the man any further, Lloyd let himself fall into the comfort of the bed.
“Norman Faus. Head Nurse of Rundrus Academy. Sure as hell not happy to meet you.” the man now identified as Norman said without hesitation.
Lloyd could do nothing but go wide-eyed in response before stars appeared in his eyes.
‘As expected of Rundrus Academy! Only the best of the best for staff members!’ Lloyd thought.
In his mind, he believed that ‘quirky character = the best at what they do'.
“Tch. Lloyd Arclight, 17 years old coming from Giben Town. Passed the entrance exam and is to be a boarding student of the academy,” Norman read out his notes about his patient, “Obtained special permission from the principal to move into the dorms early. All correct?”
“Yep!” Lloyd said cheerfully in an outburst but was sooner in pain.
"Right," Norman said, miffed.
Lloyd couldn’t see Norman’s expression right now, but if he did, he would definitely see that Norman was cringing a lot right now.
‘Another one of them. Why do they keep multiplying?’ was a thought Norman held to this day.
