'There's a reincarnator in this world... beside me.' Enix stared at the book in his hand, his eyes seeing past the pages and at the thick shelves he wished to segregate from the integral part of him that they had become, 'And... those gel balls I had earlier,' His eyes closed, his tongue squirming as if swallowing them again.
Their smooth, slimy texture and undeflatable blobby bodies seemed again to brew atop his tongue, 'Jellies... they were jellies.'
A wry grin broke loose on his face, 'Gruis said they were made from slimes but their general idea reminded me too much of jellies.
'And Fria's, as Gruis said, attachment to the item. And her accidentally using some odd term like lolipop... Fria... she is a genius too eh?
'But what if she isn't a genius... but something I would be if not limited by circumstances?
'What if her avid attachment to battles and the fighting techniques in this world is not some precociously honed temperament... but some latent thirst from some past life?'
Enix sighed heavily, he clumsily dropped the book on the table and used his hand to push his hair back. Realising that his scalp was uncannily clammy.
"Is everything fine young master..." Houre voiced out from the side, standing stiff the whole time, a manner Enix found unnerving, with her head slightly tilted, "You didn't seem to be reading... you didn't even flip a single page. For two whole hours..."
Enix turned toward her and smiled, "The world of text is bleak in front of the world of art."
"Art? Did you visit some monument?" Houre's brow rose.
"Houre..." Enix tittered, his head leaning back, "For me... everything is artistic..."
"...Is this some traumatic obsession?" She wondered under her breath.
And, just by chance, it became audible to Enix, 'I guess... that too maybe true.'
He stood up and walked past the shelves, Houre tagging behind him like a loyal tail, and pointing his hand, he commanded her, "Hand me that one."
Houre's eyes glinted as her eyes passed the title, "Baneful One! ...Young master, madam told you to not read about the devil."
"I have already read this title, Houre. You should know... and you can direct me the question you are earnestly curious off." He smiled and started to skimp through the pages.
Whild patiently waiting as Houre mused, "Y-You have read this before, I know... but you never read a book twice. Is this one... special?"
"It's bland..." Enix smirked, "Too bland."
His hand paused, and his fingers traced the rough and homely thick page.
He tapped twice, his face beaming on his discovery which he read aloud, "Malayalam had deceived the Baneful One, hence, despite all his hideousness, he should be hailed a hero... or so the hero Zennor believed.
"But it was true also that the Baneful One had forgiven Malayalam, or pretended to do so, nobody knows, and set him free. And, ungratefully, or perhaps having seen the greatness of the Heroes or the tyranny of the Baneful One, Malayalam left the Baneful One."
Enix read the two paragraphs, and glimpsed past Houre, his eyes demanding her comments.
Houre frowned, and nodded, "One of the many disputable and controversial paragraphs of the story."
Enix nodded too, "Malayalam, the most dearest comrad—"
"I detract you, hence my apologies, but I believe the Baneful One would rather use the term degenerate to describe what normal beings, or humans, would call likeable." Houre chuckled ironically.
Enix shook his head, "Everyone has the right to speak."
His hands, busy flipping the pages again, paused. And he traced the brushed letters with a trace of craziness, "Zennor tore out his heart, his eyes shedding blood as he witnessed Malayalam clutching the last sign of his love, the daughter from the bond of heroes, the daughter thriving with his and Hero Vida's blood.
"Malayalam, as per the last sign of some pathetic dignity, or moved by the conviction of the hero, spared the child. Turning toward the Baneful One, he kneeled, and praised him seven times, and called out his name the eight time and erected a vessel made from the blood of maidens and children in his panegyric of him.
"But certainly, Malayalam could do nothing more, not when the Baneful One had already sundered him. Then, before his soul was uprooted by the Vessel of Sins, an ululating scream howled as the soul tore off from flesh, a cry that cursed the Baneful One, a cry that pleaded the Revenant, a cry that condoled the Vile Immortal, a cry that made all the lineage of devils fall prey to the name of the Defiled One, a cry that uttered the soul-ravaging name... 'Defied'."
Houre's body limply smacked into the bookshelf behind, a terrifying grin, like some ancient devil finally realeased from some seal, broke loose on her face.
She struggled to keep her breath in check, much less reprimand or comment of sort to Enix.
Enix watched her with a smile, the odd malicious glint that flashed in his eyes drowned by intrigue as he sized Houre.
'This book, the Baneful One, it is much like an odyssey and a religious book packaged into one. When I read it, it feels like some eccentric tale of a madman, sectioned by religious commandments and parables.' Enix waited patiently for Houre to recover.
'The people of this world, in what they call the devil, fear the Baneful One. To the point that that being's name is only mentioned once in the whole book. And according to some myth or fact I am uncertain off, the uttering of the Baneful One's name is enough to cause one to go momentarily crazy. Like Houre,' He grinned waryly, 'They even say when the name is spoken in front of a devil, he is forced to kneel and worship the Baneful One.'
'But its impact upon me is questionable... hence I believe the curse on the name itself to be more psychological trauma or fears or the sort.'
Houre gasped and brought herself back into bearing, "Y-Young master, please warn me the next time you intend to do something similar."
Enix smiled, "What do you believe, did the Baneful One ever forgive Malayalam? Or was it all an act that finalised into the most gruesome and exemplary death for others?"
Houre paused and mulled before smilingly sheepishly and shaking her head, "I am not much a religious person. I don't think my opinion is relevant."
Enix paused before nodding, "For me, it was that Malayalam was made an example. Everything of him was led by another shadow's hand."
Houre paused and just stared at him silently.
The door suddenly knocked and a servant intruded inside, he bowed and spoke, "Madam is calling on you, young master. The trainers have arrived."
"Oh!" Enix smiled and nodded, "Inform them I am coming."
The servant bowed again before leaving.
Houre stepped up and lowered her head, "Shall we leave?"
"Yes," Enix looked into her eyes as she lifted him up, his words concluding with the patter of her feet in his head, 'My Malayalam.'