Bran, deep in thought, slowly stepped past all the wooden floorboards. His head was spinning, and he could feel his heart tear. The darkness that plagued him harbored in the core of his soul, he could feel its every present power. Its darkness tempted him with all-consuming power, but at what cost?
With the slow taps of his bare feet on the ground, Bran turned his attention to a screen in front of him. "Tranquility? I never got that in my last life, but it might have been my willingness to do nothing of note. Hmm…"
[Tranquility Lvl. 1]
[You've taken your first steps onto the path of Nirvana. With each level this skill grows, you gain a deeper understanding of the true nature of the world]
Bran closed his eyes, pulling up another screen. "I also didn't think I'd gain a blessing this quickly. I never even suspected Rag of having a different lineage."
[Lucian's Blessing Lvl. 1]
[The Patron God of Wolves, Lucian, has given you his blessing. Affinity with wolf-like beings increases, ???, …]
Bran sighed as he paced back and forth outside a door. "I can't think, not with Rag in this condition! The thought of him not waking up fills my heart with contempt."
The floorboards stood sound as a man walked closer without a sound. "Son, I didn't think you should be worrying this much about an animal. It is not befitting of one with our prestige. You should take your sister as an example: She's still learning, putting away any doubt in her heart for the good of the family."
Bran sighed as he glared his father in the eyes. "Forgive my worrying, father, but I don't think having emotions makes me inept."
The man sighed, his silver hair waving just above his eyes. "It's not throwing away your emotions; It's suppressing the things that don't benefit the family, which just so happens to be your present emotions."
Bran looked down at the floor, a deep resentment building in his eyes. "I don't care about getting rid of the emotions that don't "benefit the family"! You can't just tell me to get rid of my humanity."
The man's red eyes pierced into his son's soul. "You purposely misunderstand in a vain attempt to feign ignorance. I didn't tell you to stop feeling, I told you to stop showing it as a sign of weakness."
Bran scowled. "Isn't that just the same thing as telling me to throw away my humanity!? You've never liked that I wish to not become an emotionless husk of a man and try to be my own person."
The man closed his eyes, releasing his anger through a breath. "Stop purposely misunderstanding: for the last time, I'm not telling you to not feel, quite the contrary. I want you to control those emotions for the betterment of our family, something you've never once tried to do. Maybe if you were more like your sister, she wouldn't have to clean up all your messes. To think, you pushed off the job of representing our family on a girl four years your junior."
Bran clenched his fists, a deep resentment oozing out of him. His face flickered red, the abyss almost consuming him. With no one to pull him out, he glared at his father, starting to materialize Emorragia.
[Tranquility is shaking]
Without a sound or wasted movement, the man blinked behind Bran. "You'd better rethink your decision. I may be your father, but there is only so much I will allow you to get away with. If you raise your weapon against this family, you will be an enemy, and you know what happens to this family's enemies: They fall beneath my feet."
Bran's eyes called for blood as the darkness slowly contorted into his glare. Not saying a word, he turned to leave his father standing there.
[Murderous Intent activating]
Seeing his son leave, the man stood there for a second, deep in contemplation. "Son, I don't know which devil to which you sold your soul, but that power will consume you."
Bran ignored his father as he walked without thought. The darkness threatened to spill over if he were to let out a peep, its dark tendrils wrapping around his soul. Nothing existed but that darkness swelling around him, creating a whirlpool of darkness that consumed all within its sight.
For hours, Bran walked without a single ounce of thought, his body deciding where to take him. It was as if he wasn't there, a husk of what once was. His face, once bright and alive, morphed into a vestige of dark contempt. There was nothing left but a sliver of humanity.
[Tranquility is cracking]
Still, deep in that all-consuming dark, Bran couldn't hear the soft shout that called for him. He didn't, no, couldn't exist. His ragged, scared soul wasn't supposed to exist. He was supposed to be the naive and lazy boy who didn't think about the future.
Another shout pierced the atmosphere, yet again, Bran couldn't hear it. His whole being was being warped and twisted into that of the darkness. With its constant collision, the abyssal dark tore to shreds what was left of Bran's soul, he couldn't think, breathe, or even move, stuck to fester in the abyss that made his soul mad.
A sharp pull yanked Bran out of the damp darkness. It gave way to a small light that pushed out the vile energy and fed into him, fixing his soul. The cracks that the darkness used to seep into the boy were mended by the healing light.
Eyes going back into focus, Bran's breathing became erratic, and upon looking up, an older woman with red hair lining her face smiled at Bran. "Are you okay, Bran? I saw you weren't responding, so I got your attention. I hope everything's going fine."
Bran, breath still battered, smiled up at the woman whose sent was that of a fresh summer day. "Grandma', sorry for not being fully attentive, I've just been worried about Rag."
The old woman smiled down at the boy, her eyes lighting like the summer sun. "It's fine. I remember, back in the day, that I used to act the same way whenever Charly, my old hound, got into an accident."
Bran's heart, which was once infiltrated by the darkness, opened up with the strength of seven stars as he hugged his grandmother. "Thanks, Dad didn't feel the same way, though."
The woman hugged the boy back and began walking. "Walk with me, Bran."
The boy followed the old woman's footsteps as she turned down the bright corridor. "I know you hate to hear this, but your father's trying to help you. He may not seem like it, but he cares deeply about both you and your sister."
Bran scowled at the wooden ground. "Why doesn't he act like he cares, then? All he ever does is get onto me about all of the mistakes I've made. I'm sick and tired of hearing about how I've ruined my life!"
The old woman put an arm around the boy as she stopped, staring into his eyes. "You know as much as I do, he isn't hounding you because it makes him feel powerful; it's because he has high expectations. He doesn't want to get onto you, even if it seems the opposite. He just wants what's best for you, and if he has to be hard on you to do it, he will."
Bran looked up at the woman with a slight sulk on his face. "Then why is he always talking about not wanting me to have emotion? It comes up in almost every conversation with him. "Suppress your emotion for the good of the family!" You'd think he's a parrot with how much he speaks about it."
The woman stared at her young grandson. "Huu, I've made my thoughts known on the subject, so I shall stay out of it."
Bran pouted. "Man, why do y'all have to always take his side?"
The woman ignored him as she turned down a fork. "Why do you always have to fight with him? Is it so hard to try and bridge the gap between you two?"
Bran said nothing as the silence overtook his being. It empowered his mind and settled his thoughts. It was peaceful and soothing, doing nothing but mend the broken tears in his mind. It was a healing hand amid a dreary darkness that called for his corruption.
With a deep breath, Bran smiled up at his grandmother. She gently grasped his cheek, bringing a slight warmth to his face. "I have to go lay down soon; I don't have as much energy as I used to. Make sure you come to see me soon, I don't want to leave this world without seeing my grandson's face for the last time."
Bran hugged his grandmother with content eyes, a deep warmth spreading through his stomach. "I will, grandma. I will."
The old woman opened a large door leading into a giant, luxurious room that seemed to tower over Bran. A large bed sat in the center of the room with silk sheets lying atop the luxury bed. A large curtain draped over a windowsill to the side of the room.
As the door closed, Bran stood there alone, in thought. He had wasted away his life up until this point, always pushing his responsibilities off onto his younger sister. It made a deep, vile slime glisten in his throat, stuck there like a cancerous tumor, yet the warmth that battered away the abyssal darkness returned in full, killing the tumor.
[Tranquility returning to normal]
Bran stared at the screen for a long moment, standing there with nothing but a warm fire spreading throughout his body. He could feel his mental state almost mend, leaving small white scars.
Turning around, Bran began to walk through the hall to the back of the manor, his heart stoic like a spartan going to war. He marched out the back door and into the backyard, throwing off his shirt and picking up a wooden sword.
With quick, sharp strikes, Bran began flying through the air, dodging invisible enemies. Ducking under a horizontal slash, Bran brought his sword up diagonally cleaving through the fake man.
Without missing a beat, one of the two remaining swordsmen took a lunge at Bran, attempting to stab him in the back. Bran spun, batting away the sword and bringing up a kick across the illusion's face.
While mid-kick, the last illusion swept Bran's feet, laying him on the ground and attacking swiftly at his head. Bran, unable to dodge, spun his sword around landing a killing blow on the illusion.
[Battle Simulation Lvl. 1]
Bran's eyes fell to the notification as he scowled in thought. "What's this? I've never heard of a skill like this, capable of creating solid illusions…"
Bran stroked his face. "Is this another effect of regression?"
With a quick breath, Bran stood and picked up his sword, swinging it down. "Well, I've better get used to being back in this body."