Chereads / Dancing With The Gods 0 / Chapter 12 - Chapter 1 — The Prelude to the Prelude (12)

Chapter 12 - Chapter 1 — The Prelude to the Prelude (12)

I heard a sudden snap, and my surroundings began to blur and shift around me. It was as if the sound had triggered some kind of strange reaction in my mind, and my body felt weightless, as if I were floating in mid-air. The sensation persisted for a few moments, and then dissipated as abruptly as it had arrived, leaving me feeling shaken and unsure of what had just happened.

The world around me seemed to twist and turn, morphing into something new, until I was left standing in a completely different place, disoriented and confused.

The sudden change of scenery was so jarring that I felt like I was about to be sick. It was peculiar how even though I was aware that I was in a dream, my senses were still so acute that I could experience physical reactions to the surreal world around me.

I squeezed my eyes shut reflexively and weakly shook my head in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort.

And when I finally opened my eyes again, I was surprised to find myself standing outside the estate. The scene before me had shifted once more, as if the dream had taken on a life of its own and transported me to a new location without warning.

As I attempted to comprehend the events unfolding before me, a deep rumble of thunder reverberated overhead. I craned my head back to look at the sky. Dark clouds were piled high overhead, and it looked as though it might start raining anytime soon.

"Oh, that's right. The weather was unpleasant during that time, wasn't it?"

The memory of this moment was painful, and I had hoped that this dream would spare me from reliving it, yet it seemed that this dream was cruel enough to force me to do so. I wished I could wake up from this dream and escape from this pain, but it seemed like it was not going to end anytime soon.

I looked around my surroundings in an attempt to gather more information about this new dream I found myself in. I recall this place vividly, for it held significant meaning in my life. It was the very spot where I had spent countless hours training my swordsmanship. I would wield an old wooden sword with all the determination I could muster, swinging it tirelessly day in and day out.

My gaze was then drawn towards the entrance of the estate. And there, walking out of the gates, was my past self. He moved with an unsteady gait, his steps faltering as he struggled to maintain his balance. His eyes, hollow and empty, stared out into the distance without really seeing anything.

Suddenly, something fell on him, and he looked up, only to discover the tiny droplets pelting down from the sky.

"Oh? "It seems like a storm is coming," he muttered quietly to himself. His voice sounded hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in a while, and it was barely audible.

He extended his hand, as if trying to grasp the individual raindrops falling from the sky. And then, in an instant, the gentle pitter-patter turned into a heavy downpour. It had started with tiny droplets, falling slowly at first, but gradually gaining momentum until it was pouring so heavily that visibility was reduced.

The rain was coming down in sheets, drenching my past self to the bone. He hunched his shoulders and shivered in the downpour, his clothes sticking to his skin like a second layer. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and droplets ran down his face, mixing with the tears that streamed down his cheeks. He looked like a defeated figure, one who had given up on everything.

It seemed like he was oblivious to the fact that he was getting wetter and wetter by the second, as if the physical sensation didn't even register in his mind. Even though his clothes were heavy with water, he made no move to take them off or seek refuge or cover from the rain. It was as if he welcomed the discomfort, maybe even believed that he deserved it.

He continued to walk in a daze, lost in his thoughts and emotions, seemingly unaware of anything else around him.

Then, suddenly, he asked himself in a quiet voice, "Am I truly that incompetent?" No one answered his question. The only response he heard was the sound of the rain.

As he continued walking, he noticed something lying on the ground ahead of him. It was a wooden sword, worn from use and showing signs of frequent practice. It bore many marks and scratches, proof of its repeated use.

"Oh, right. My practice sword..."

The wooden sword that lay on the ground in front of him had been a constant companion for as long as he could remember. It had been a gift from his beloved Grandfather, a renowned swordsman in his own right, and had been treasured beyond measure. I could see the wear and tear on the old wooden sword, evidence of the countless hours of practice and hard work that had gone into honing his skills.

My past self stretched his hand out to grab it, but something stopped him. His hand paused mid-air, trembling with uncertainty. He hesitated for a moment before retracting his hand, as if he had lost the will to pick it up. The rain continued to pour down, drenching everything in its path. It was as if the sky itself was crying, mourning the loss of something precious.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore. Yeah, that's right... Nothing matters anymore."

This was the point where I had given up on everything. The wooden sword that had once been his companion lay forgotten on the ground, now little more than a useless piece of wood. The moment that I cast away that wooden sword, which was one of my most treasured possessions, was the moment that I threw away my dreams. I had always held onto the dream that one day, I would become a great hero like the ones my mother told me about in her stories. As a child, I had been filled with a naive sense of determination that with enough practice and perseverance, I could be someone who could save others in their time of need. I believed that just by swinging that old wooden sword every day, I would become stronger and better with each passing day. I held onto this belief despite the blisters on my hands and the ache in my arms.

But reality was never that simple...

I stood there in the pouring rain, gazing at my past self through the haze of water droplets. He seemed small and vulnerable, like a child who had been left alone in the world. His appearance was disheveled, his clothing soaked through, and his posture slumped in defeat

What emotions were coursing through him in that moment? Was it sadness? Fear? Anger? Regret? I couldn't help but wonder as I observed him from my vantage point.

"…That's right. It doesn't matter anymore. I've lost everything. Ha ha..." He forced a laugh.

The weight of his loss was crushing, and it was evident in his posture as he fell to his knees in despair. It was as if the very strings that had once held him up had been abruptly cut, leaving him with nothing to cling to. Tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over and mingling with the rain that continued to pour down on him.

"I hate this..." he said to himself quietly, the sound of his voice drowned out by the sound of the rain. His voice and body were both trembling, and his tears flowed down along with the rain.

"I hate this… I hate this… I hate this…" my past self hung his head as he muttered to himself over and over, as though he was reciting some kind of spell or curse.

"I hate this... I hate this... I hate this!" he repeated over and over, his voice growing stronger with each repetition. His fists clenched tightly, and he slammed them down onto the ground, over and over, until they were raw and bleeding

"I hate this! I hate this! I hate this! I hate this! I hate this!" he shouted as he continued to bang his fist against the ground. It was as if he was trying to take out his frustration on the earth itself.

I could feel my face contorting as I stared at my past self. He didn't seem to want to face reality. He clearly still hadn't acknowledged that he'd been disowned and instead denied everything and screamed like a child. 

It was such a pathetic sight, I couldn't help but avert my eyes from him.

Just then—

"Don't avert your eyes."

—a voice echoed in my ears from close by. It was an innocent voice, like a child meeting their playmate. I looked around in surprise, but couldn't find the owner of the voice.

"I'm over here, silly!" 

The voice came from below me. When I looked down, I found myself face-to-face with the black-haired girl. She was looking up at me with a devilish grin, only inches away from my face. How long had she been there? It was as though she had appeared out of nowhere.

And her face is so close! Wait… Hang on a minute.