ArGh

Hurts.

Painful!

Michael felt an abnormal throbbing pain in his head. It felt as if a relentless assault had been unleashed upon him, leaving him helpless. He tried to move his body, yet his limbs refused to obey. He strained to pry open his eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of his surroundings, but his efforts proved futile. The initial belief that he was sprawled on the unforgiving ground now wavered, as uncertainty crept into his thoughts. In that harrowing moment, all he could perceive was engulfing darkness, suffocating him and holding him captive in its relentless grip.

"Sleep paralysis? Lucid dream? No, this is different," he pondered, his thoughts spiraling into chaos.

The pain surged again, overwhelming him.

Ahh...

It's getting annoying...

He tried to remember what happened before the pain, but his memory got hazy... even dark. His mind became unruly, slipping out of his control.

And at that moment, when he felt an immeasurable amount of pain, the cause still continued as a mystery to him.

Am I dying right now?

I DO NOT WANT TO DIE

He wanted to survive. Who doesn't he thought...?

Helplessly, he watched as his emotions, thoughts, and even his body slipped beyond his grasp. In the recesses of his mind, bizarre ideas and unrelated questions floated to the surface.

He tried to focus on his memory. Augustin used all the willpower left in him to focus on that something... that obscure abyss of life he once had.

Then, as if driven by an instinctual force, he sensed it was time for the final push, his chance to break free from this confinement.

Nevertheless, at that moment. He did something unexpected. He yielded to his instincts, desperately clawing at the invisible restraints that held him captive. Like a cornered animal, he went for it. Without a single thought, he lashed out with everything that he could. Last struggle, that final push.

He felt as if something sliced him in half, severing the ties that bound him. Unfortunately, not all.

Consciousness slipped away once again.

...

Moments drifted into eternity ... a void devoid of sensation.

He drifted into nothingness, a moment that felt like an eternity. That was all he could perceive.

'At least I'm not in pain anymore, yet I'm still in a deep shit if I wake up and will be late for work.' Michael thought.

'Fuck! Why am I still thinking about work? I'll take time off. They can't do shit about it.'

He relinquished control, allowing the current to guide him, conserving his energy as he contemplated problems for the future.

Suddenly, a pulsating ache surged within Michael. He felt internally that it was his last chance to escape. Slowly accumulating an intangible strength, he glimpsed a peculiar glow ... a luminous orb that beckoned him. Instinctively, he funneled his amassed power into the enigmatic light. Slowly, it drew nearer, its brilliance intensifying with each passing moment, almost overwhelming Augustin with its radiance. He could sense its proximity, the victory within his grasp. Overwhelmed by depletion, he sank to his knees, desperately extending his trembling hands toward the Luminous Escape, as if pleading for its embrace. And at last, his tear-filled eyes succumbed to the weight of exhaustion, their heavy lids sealing his vision, while the Luminous Orb absorbed the flickering glow, the final ember of warmth nestled within his heart.

...

His vision blurred, the world fading into obscurity, tainted by a faint crimson hue. All that remained in his line of sight was a captivatingly blue sky dotted with white clouds that drifted lazily in the light breeze. Crows circled in the distant horizon, while the unforgiving midday sun pierced his eyes, forcing him to shut them tightly. A cold breeze swept over him and a smell of damp moss, rain, and wet tree trunks invaded his nostrils as he blankly stared at the sky. He was dazzled there for a while as he felt too many factors at once after a long time of emptiness. But why was emptiness creeping into his heart in the first place? Why would he feel emptiness?

His eyelids snapped open.

Pain.

He felt an agonizing jolt surge through his head, as though a sharp rod had been suddenly impaled into his skull. The lingering fragments of something, someone's ...

Unknown...

Distant...

His thoughts danced in the abyss of ...

Vague...

Not yours...

The state persisted until the sound of graceful footsteps reached his ears, like a gentle melody drawing him out of his bewildered state.

Slowly emerging from his dazed state, he turned his head, finding relief as the blinding light no longer assailed his eyes. However, upon beholding the expansive forest before him, an unfamiliarity gnawed at his senses, unsettling him like a pebble in his shoe. Dark tree trunks cast their shadows like overhanging limbs across the path before a flat expanse of land with a layer of emerald and lush grass, the very center of which he found himself. The approaching figure showed no signs of stealth, gradually drawing nearer with every step. A lingering feeling of unease clung to him, intensifying with each passing moment, hinting that something was dreadfully amiss. He couldn't lose that feeling that something was wrong, very wrong. As he was coming closer to clearing that hazed memories, a few meters away was standing a woman wielding a sword dripping with blood, contemplating whether to launch an attack.

With a single glance, he identified the girl as an imminent threat. Despite being much younger than him, she radiated deadly vigor. Her face, slightly pale possibly due to lack of sunlight, maintained a captivating luminosity. Her beautiful brown eyes gleamed with a hint of danger, adding an exhilarating element to her gaze. Wisps of curly auburn hair danced in the gentle breeze, partially obscuring her eyes. A fresh wound adorned the left side of her waist, yet she remained armed, making it clear that attempting to defend himself barehanded was futile. It seemed escape was his only option. However, just as he prepared to rise and make a hasty retreat, she charmingly tilted her head and asked.

"So, dear brother, are we fighting or what?" asked the enigmatic woman.

He sprang to his feet, his mind racing as he considered his next move. "What about 'no'?" he replied, uncertain of his decision.

She began to advance towards him, visibly displeased with his answer. With a pale smile on her face, the mysterious woman said, "Oh, don't be like that, Augustin. Deep down, you've always known it had to be done. You were the one who initiated it, after all."

Her fleeting smile momentarily stunned Augustin.

Ah... Augustin. It was as if a mirror shattered within his mind, fracturing his thoughts and emotions into countless fragments.

However, the mysterious woman wasn't finished speaking. Just as she finished her sentence, she erupted in anger, shouting, "How dare you utter the word 'no'? I'm doing what they taught us our whole lives, to become something more, so much more than what we are now. To transcend. I bleed for this cause, Augustin... and you, you are the catalyst behind it all!"

Just a moment after this eruption of emotions, she lunged at him with the ferocity of a famished wolf abandoned by its pack, exhausted from waiting for its prey to draw near enough for a swift and lethal strike. With a swift round kick, she unleashed her pent-up energy upon him. The woman's desire for closure was insatiable... she craved the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was as if she lived solely for this purpose, driven solely by her hunger... for blood, for screams. She didn't pause, not even for an instant, to consider the consequences of her actions.

The pain crashed into Augustin once again, like an enraged waterfall hurtling towards the calm waters below, violently disrupting the tranquility within his mind. Amidst the haze, fragments of his memories brightened, like a misty morning gradually clearing away.

The mirror painstakingly reassembled.

...

*Creek*

The sound of the metal gate to his training room reverberated through the air, though he would argue that it felt more like a prison or an arena than a training room. The monotony was becoming unbearable, so the sight that greeted him was a rare and welcomed change. Instinctively, he sought refuge in a corner, preparing for a potential onslaught from a pack of ravenous beasts. To his surprise, no such creatures appeared. Instead, standing before me was a human ... a maid, to be precise. She trembled visibly upon seeing him, or rather, the remnants of his previous battles. It didn't make sense. Did they expect him to harm her? She bore no visible weapons and seemed more terrified of the lifeless bodies than of the man behind this slaughter.

After a moment, the maid summoned the courage to speak. She took hesitant steps forward and stammered, "Young Master Augustin, your father wants to see you. P-Please, come with me. "

The maid was nervous and inexperienced. Her posture and behavior betrayed her lack of confidence. Probably a new one, a trainee, he thought. Augustin allowed his guard to drop and moved toward her. Just as he was about to reach her, he paused and spoke in a low, commanding tone, "Lead the way."

No further words were necessary from Augustin. Tell more and you don't seem like the one with authority, with power.

Turning, the maid retraced her steps and passed through the imposing metal gate. The gate was four meters in diameter and had strange engravings that resembled various beasts. Augustin saw that specific gate for almost one and a half years. It marked the beginning of his descent into a world filled with torment and suffering ever since his dormant bloodline awakened. Following was one hundred sixty degrees turn for the worse, and it wasn't pleasant for his body or mind.

The reasons behind his current circumstances were all too clear to Augustin, requiring no further inquiry. After enduring countless hours of merciless beatings from knights who were meant to protect him, he had come to realize that his family, deeply devout in their beliefs, saw fit to offer sacrifices ... himself and probably his siblings included.

*step* *step* *step*

As Augustin ventured forward, a lavish corridor unfolded before him. The grand hallway, crafted from exquisite dark hardwood, seemed to hold memories of his ancestors. The long, straight path was adorned with a carmine carpet that harmonized with the timeless elegance of the wood. Its ornate design, woven texture, and intricate shades provided a striking contrast against the darkness. Truly, it was a work of art, both figuratively and literally, with wall paintings and sculptures adorning its every inch.

After a while, Augustin noted they were heading in the wrong direction. The maid led him toward the living quarters and not his father's office, but for now, he thought about letting it slide. He had no urgency to face his father, and he knew that if anything went awry, he could easily dispatch the maid.

"I yearn for some peace," he whispered to himself.

Finally, the maid stopped in her tracks, before them a bathhouse. It was then that Augustin became acutely aware of the clotted blood clinging to his body, emitting an unpleasant odor. His appearance, resembling that of a primitive man who had eschewed bathing for a century, hardly matched the standards of present-day fashion. 'It wouldn't be the best idea to present myself like that to my father. Although he might disregard the matter entirely, I must salvage my dignity, at the very least. After all, I am still a nobleman," ruminated Augustin.

When Augustine approached the bathhouse, he noticed a significant change in the maid's demeanor. Her trembling had ceased, and she spoke with newfound confidence, looking directly at him. "Your bath is ready, with the water heated to your liking. In the meantime, I will gather the maidservants along with a skilled hairdresser to attend to your dressing needs and ensure your hair is impeccably cared for, in preparation for your upcoming meeting with your esteemed father, Lord Osborne. Should you require any further assistance, kindly let me know. Please allow me to take my leave momentarily.

Paying no mind to her, Augustin entered the bathhouse, discarding his tattered clothes and stepping into a welcoming porcelain tub filled with warm water. While the sight of the bathroom itself held no surprises for him, it exuded an air of opulence and grandeur that was not commonplace. Marble and river rock gave the walls and floors a natural and luxurious feel. Pure extravagance and lavishness, which were used to decorate one of the smaller bathrooms in the mansion, was something not every noble house could boast. Notably, an exquisite painting, its author unknown, commanded attention. A depiction of a holy battle led by Saint Maron against sentient beasts, the first to be blessed with divine will. Opposite to it hung a Victorian mirror, unadorned save for a subtle touch of ruby and a gleaming gold ornamented frame.

Augustin luxuriated in the soothing embrace of the warm water, relishing every precious moment. As the sensations enveloped him, his mind drifted back to a time before his dormant blood had awakened. "Those days were a bit better, or maybe I simply failed to appreciate them," Augustin pondered, a hint of nostalgia tugging at his thoughts.

After some time, the servants the maid mentioned before appeared at the door and came in bearing bath equipment and garments. The maidservants skillfully attended to his needs, they cut his long curly hair and thoroughly washed his body. The fresher scars on his body stung when maidservants started putting lotions on him. But it wasn't a pain that he couldn't ignore. After numerous life-and-death battles, he has built up some resistance to such discomfort. Finally, the process concluded with the meticulous selection of his outfit, accessories, footwear, and makeup.

After a brief wait, a maid returned, holding a sizable mirror in her hands. As Augustin beheld his reflection, he observed his wet, curly hair, as dark as tar yet adorned with vivid crimson highlights. These colors mirrored his anger and power, flawlessly embodying his elevated social standing and youth. They were a source of pride, a gift from his father who had bestowed this name with them in mind. His attire further accentuated his commanding presence, as did his emotionless, blood-red eyes.

Satisfied with his appearance, Augustin nodded in approval and commanded, "Lead the way to my father, maid."

The maid responded with a nod and replied, "Of course, Young Master." With that, she opened the door, and Augustin followed her. Their steps echoed in the grand hallway as they made their way to the family head's office.