I gasped and opened my eyes, feeling disoriented and confused. My body was drenched in sweat, and my heart was pounding against my chest as if it was trying to break free. It was as though I had been plunged into the depths of the ocean, struggling to stay afloat, desperately gasping for air.
The frigid air in the room pierced through my skin, sending shivers down my spine. As I tried to get my bearings, I realized that my entire body was shaking uncontrollably, not just from the chill of the room but also from the remnants of the vivid dream that had just jolted me awake.
Slowly, I pushed myself up into a sitting position, propping my back against the headboard. My head was spinning, and it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. As I looked around, I felt a sense of relief wash over me—I was back in my own bedroom, safe and sound.
"So it was a dream…"
As soon as the realization hit me that it had all just been a dream, a wave of relief washed over me. I sighed deeply, grateful to be back in the safety of my own bedroom.
"What an awful dream," I muttered to myself, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of fear that the dream had left me with. The vividness of it all still felt so fresh in my mind, making it hard to separate the dream from reality. Waking from such a dream was never a good way to start the day.
In any case, there was no point staying in bed. Despite feeling weak, I knew I had to get up and start my day. With a deep breath, I tried to shift my body but found myself even weaker than I had anticipated. I was perplexed by my lack of strength, but I didn't want to dwell on it. Instead, I turned my gaze towards the window to distract myself. It was still dark outside, but the sky was slowly starting to lighten. The first rays of light were peeking over the horizon, signaling the start of a new day. The sky was painted with hues of pink, orange, and purple, creating a picturesque view. It was a serene sight that brought me peace in my troubled state.
As I gazed out the window, the memory of the dream came rushing back to me. I couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that the girl's words had left me with. The idea of the end of the world being a form of entertainment for gods was unfathomable, as was the notion of multiple worlds from universes as a chessboard, with humans as mere chess pieces. As I pondered on the dream, I couldn't help but feel that there was some truth to it. It was as if the girl's words were a warning of an impending catastrophe. Although it all seemed like something out of a storybook, I couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something more significant at play here. The girl's words had made me believe that there was something brewing in the universe, something that no one was aware of.
Considering what she said was true and that the world will really end by this god's game, then all of the mortals will die.
If that was the case, then...
'No, it was just a dream. It doesn't mean anything. You can't give it much thought.' I thought to myself.
As I tried to shake off the strange thoughts and shake off the remnants of the dream, I reminded myself that it was just a product of my imagination. It didn't mean anything, and there was no reason to dwell on it.
With a deep breath, I pushed myself to stand up again. My body was still a little weak, but I managed to steady myself after a few wobbly moments. I took a few steps around the room to test my balance, then made my way towards the bathroom
As I walked, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread growing inside of me. What if the dream had been a warning of some sort? What if it was a premonition of things to come? I pushed these thoughts away and tried to focus on the present. After all, dwelling on a dream was not going to help me in any way.
I went to the sink and chanted a spell under my breath, "By the power of the elements, let water bend to my command. With word and thought, let a sphere of liquid form before mine eyes, to be governed as I see fit—Water ball."
As I finished the incantation, a ball of water formed in my palms. I brought it up to my face and splashed the cool liquid onto my skin, washing away the sweat and grime from the dream. The sensation was refreshing and helped me focus.
After a few deep breaths, I dismissed the water ball and dried my face with a towel.
After drying my face, I raised my head and stared at my reflection in the mirror. The reflection stared back at me from the mirror as if mocking me from how pathetic I had become. I couldn't believe how exhausted I looked. My face was a complete disaster.
"My face looks terrible." I let out a chuckle of self-derision.
My expression was dispirited, and my eyes were vacant and empty. I could see the bags under my eyes so clearly that they seemed to form a black hole on my face. My hair had grown long and was disheveled too. It was as if I hadn't slept for days, which wasn't far from the truth.
As I looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but think back to the moments that I had tried so hard to forget. The times when I had poured all my energy into training, neglecting everything else in my life. All the time I had spent working towards becoming stronger, faster, better. But even after all that effort, I felt like I had accomplished nothing.
"If only I had the talent," I murmured to myself, "maybe things wouldn't be the same."
After I was disowned, I felt like I had lost everything. I had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. So I decided to focus on the only thing that gave me solace: swordsmanship. At first, I tried to learn as much as I could about swordsmanship from textbooks and any other sources I could find. However, I soon realized that I could only learn so much from books.
I felt like I was hitting a brick wall with my training. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't improve. The techniques that seemed so easy on paper were much more difficult to execute in real life. I became frustrated with my lack of progress and eventually gave up on my dreams of becoming a hero.
"Tch, right. A hero."
If only I had the talent, maybe things would have been different. Perhaps if I had a natural talent for swordsmanship or sorcery, I could have been accepted by my family and not have been disowned.
'You're indeed a son of the Asura house, but that's all there is to it,'
Sir Hughes was right. My family name was the only thing that defined me. I wasn't someone special. I was simply born into a special position. Without that position, I was just a powerless child, and nothing more. My family name meant everything, and without it, I was nothing. I was just an ordinary person, powerless and insignificant.
In contrast, Sirius and Marcus were incredible. Marcus was a prodigy with the sword, and he could even hold his own against adults. My father also said that Marcus might surpass him in swordsmanship if he got more experience and training. Sirius, on the other hand, was a genius mage. He could cast magic without even having to chant the spells, and he had already mastered the six elements when he was eight years old. Meanwhile, I had nothing. I had no talent, and I hated that. At some point, I convinced myself that maybe—just maybe—I had talent just like them. After all, I was a son of the House Asura. But that was all I was.
As I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection, I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy towards Sirius and Marcus. They were born with natural talents that I could only dream of. It wasn't just their skills that set them apart from me, but their confidence too. They were confident in their abilities, something that I could never muster.
Compared to them, I felt inferior. But it was foolish to compare myself to them. They were born with natural talent, and I was not. No matter how much I tried, I would never be able to reach their level. But still, I couldn't help feeling envious of their abilities. They had something that I didn't, something that I desperately wanted. And because of that, I felt like I was always going to be a disappointment to my family.
After some time, I developed a certain fear, a fear of people.
The fear that had developed within me towards people made me feel like I was always looked down upon whenever someone laid their eyes on me. It was as if I was no more than a mere bug to them. Even now, just the thought of making eye contact with someone made me tremble with fear. I couldn't even bring myself to make eye contact with my own parents, as I was convinced that I would see a look of disdain in their eyes. It wasn't just the fear of their judgment that plagued me, but also the fear of being rejected and abandoned once again. As I continued to live my life with this fear, I realized that I had become a recluse. I avoided social situations and kept to myself as much as possible. It was easier that way, to not have to face the judgment of others.
Deep down, I knew that I couldn't keep running from my past forever. I needed to confront it head-on, but the more I tried, the more scared I became. The fear had become so ingrained in me that it felt almost impossible to overcome.
"You're a coward."
I said as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The reflection mimicked my movements and spoke the same words I had just spoken. It was as if my reflection was a separate entity, mocking and taunting me.
"You're a coward, Leon."
I repeated to myself, trying to come to terms with the reality of the situation. That's right. I was a coward. I was afraid of facing the truth, afraid of being judged by others, and most of all, afraid of failing.
At times, the thought of ending my own life seemed like the only solution to my problems. But my cowardice prevented me from even taking that step. It was as if my fear had a hold over me, paralyzing me, and making it impossible for me to move forward.
The truth was that I didn't want to die. I just didn't know how to live anymore. Every day felt like a struggle, and I couldn't find the strength to keep going.
I would look at myself in the mirror and see a weak and pathetic person staring back at me. It was like I was trapped inside a body that didn't belong to me.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was indeed a coward. I was afraid of life and everything that came with it. And worst of all, I hated myself for it. I despised my weakness, my lack of courage, my inability to face my own fears. I felt weak, like a cowardly fool. The self-loathing that consumed me was unbearable.
I didn't want to die, but I had given up on life.
I'm so weak. I'm such a weakling.
I was a coward. An idiot. A fool.
That's right...
I was a coward.
And I hated myself for it.