A sigh.
"I'm feeling tired again. I should probably exercise sooner or later."
Aldritch spoke while unmasking himself, revealing the tyrant to be a pale aberration that would be the opposite of intimidating - a husk rather than a tyrant.
Unlike the protagonists of the stories he had read,
Aldritch had developed a narcolepsy that had affected his life throughout the day,
Therefore, he had to be careful not to over-exert himself or put himself in a position where he couldn't sleep properly.
He began to pack his bags and other necessities, hiding them from the public eye as he didn't want the things he was wearing - the clothing and the mask - to be seen.
*Creak*
'...!'
Aldritch was fierce and decisively retaliated and struck on whoever had entered his room.
It was too late to think logically - his hand was already halfway, brandishing the air with the Spatial inventory case.
*Thwack!*
The impact was bulky and obscene-sounding as the Spatial Case created a fleshy and soft resistance to the blow.
"Uh."
Furthermore, the one taking the blow happened to be a young lady with a pale appearance, bearing resemblence to him -
With a few exceptions regarding the case in the face and the 'eep', resembling an awakened feline sounding.
She was still standing, conscience clear and unflinching, despite the fact she was hit directly by an object greatly larger than herself.
"Brother-"
"Eyla!"
*Thud*
And thus after a moment, the body fell onto the floor, akin to a lifeless animated doll - her last flickering thoughts being the dream she kept reminding herself of.
Not to remember - but to grasp at every last memory of it.
**
It was snowy outside, and it felt so much colder than usual. The winter had a kindness to it - it will not discriminate toward anyone.
Eyla had always felt inclined toward this season, because of those characteristics.
But now - this endless span of frost was breaking her, cracks in her fragile heart were tightly grasped by the glacial gale as her soul slowly turned to nothingness.
In her dreams, there were people that were kind to her - but like always, they did not discriminate toward anyone.
Like all seasons, it was the means to the end eventually - by a memory that she had to forget.
A gloaming and saurian of truth.
Something important about that winter day was that she couldn't remember why she was out that day - but the tears in her eyes were real. And so were the fragile cracks that resided within her chest. Eventually, it would shatter like all ephemeral life.
To sprint in that dream was a searing task, the pink flesh and bones were visible and unable to give anymore courage for her.
Therefore, her favorite shoes made by her father must have been gone by now.
To breath in that dream was to strangulate oneself, knowing that your favorite scarf could never return to you to give warmth and life to this path without purpose.
To stumble and fall in that dream was to recall that no one was there to lend her a hand, as she could never bear to get up herself…it was all too frigid and frosty.
She crawled in that dream, what was she trying to reach? Why were we doing this?
Once her face was of radiance, it had cooled and twisted itself into a miasma and hoary remains.
That face peered into the source of that tormenting soul that had not given her a chance to change.
For some reason, she had always looked at the tormentor's backs - who were they?
Her vision blurred, as if evil had stained her judgment and beliefs of the world. What was within her reach was too distant - the torment was undoubtedly the winter that was eating her alive.
In the snowfield of continual nihilism and deep-rooted regret, the lowly figure turned its back to her to stare down upon the pathetic display of clinginess.
'Leave.'
She could not obey that figure, not then or now. However, there was little resistance and could only give a bow as the body was too burdensome and heavy to be lifted.
'...I will not return. The Leucognia have partaken in the Apotheosis,
' Die in this prison, for you have never been ready. '
She ushered in her mind, all the regrets and the wishes that could have made a difference.
But her body was slowly succumbing to the cracks of the weakness that had been inflicted.
It was too heavy for her, her body was far too behind time…
Mommy…Daddy…Laplois…
She was muttering their names over and over, for what? It felt like a chamber of her echoes, with no soul that could ever respond to that wish.
Footsteps were striding further and further away, treating her like a fossil of history.
It was cold, but the tickling sensation in her heart was more agonizing and numbed.
Her remaining tears could only serve as a fuel for the demise in that realm of ever growing hyperbolean regrets, before she could succumb to the eternal slumber.
A last and yet mistaken belief shined through the post-mortem.
'Why did you leave us?'
**
" It's going to be alright, don't cry. "
Aldritch purred the source of his concerns, in his resting room he was comforting the sorrowful and unconscious twin that was having nightmares. He had long known about it before his awakening of his memories as Laplois.
'She has a nightmare disorder?'
While he wasn't certain on what the story behind it was, it wasn't his place to ask - as his parents had been attempting to coax her to tell as much they could. But any attempt to pry was unsuccessful.
He wasn't sure if his twin sister had been through a traumatic event. As far as he could remember they had lived an ordinary life thus far, and they were a happy family.
Perhaps he could solve this in due time as he became stronger and could provide better for his family.
But unfortunately, he had to leave soon or else he will have had Eyla entangled with his other identity.
" Sorry, I'll be back and get to you soon. "
He donned his mask and strolled out to clear his mind, the quietness of the place had only given him a strange premonition again. It was similar to that time he had been busy traversing in the other worlds that his summons were from.
Perhaps he needed a fresh outlook on things. But what kind of inspiration was he looking for?
He wandered alone in the hall. He soon found himself at a certain part of it - he couldn't care enough to find a teacher and get back to class. There was still some time before he could begin his next battle.
But just as he took a step in the rambunctious crowd, he saw the grandiose atmospheric room that were similar to the stage where he exchanged greetings with his opponent.
[ WARNING: THE CREATOR IS APPROACHING A MADDENING FATE. ]
'Huh? What is this? Why have I never seen this before…?'
Aldritch had never seen such a glaring notice from the system before. It was completely out of character and strangely eldritch, and it was indicating that something was happening to this battle…?
[ 'Sakina Wakashi vs Isadora Berndette' ]
"…Shit, I have to go in - I have a bad feeling about this!"
[ WARNING: THE CREATOR IS APPROACHING A MADDENING FATE! ]
[ WARNING: THE CREATOR IS APPROACHING A MADDENING FATE!! ]
[ WARNING: THE CREATOR IS APPROACHING A MADDENING FATE… ]
'...There will be a greater purpose ahead of you. '