Chereads / Stuck in a World of His Nightmares / Chapter 18 - Just a Bloody Faced Prince

Chapter 18 - Just a Bloody Faced Prince

I stare at the wooden door of our room blankly.

I need to pee.

I really need to pee.

But I can't afford to take a step outside and risk people seeing my face on the way and while I'm peeing. Nor can I risk bumping into an employee with my veil to where they end up call in the knight guards. But I need to pee.

I feel discontent grip my mind and my bladder as I hold onto the door with a groan.

What do I do? What should I do?

I think hard about all scenarios, all in which I still end up getting caught or risk injury.

Though, I remember I had a dream last night in where a very ugly and humongous orc cut off my face along with my horns, making me unrecognizable and inducing tremendous pain. Blood gushed endlessly and I screamed at the pain, wandering around aimlessly passing by countless people. All of them held a pained look in their eyes. Including the front desk lady of the hotel, who apologized for being suspicious of me. And even traveling warriors, whom were quick to aid me. Informing me that if I had not been healed in time, I would have died. Though when they healed me, it ended up more painful than the injury itself and I killed them all.

Traumatic and very short-lived, I'm aware, but...

I turn to my hand, at the rather sharp nails and the most unpleasant idea comes to my mind.

Perhaps I can tear the flesh on my face to make my face unrecognizable.

Problem is, after I do so, I'll need a healer. But I do not know one and I do not know how powerful healing magic is. Whether they can successfully repair missing parts of a body, or simply enhance the body's natural ability to heal. Not to mention, how well do Mirrikhians heal on their own? If I tear off my own face, will it all be for nothing if it just heals back in mere seconds? And is the cost of possibly losing my face forever really worth going for a pee and trip around the kingdom?

Although, I suppose from then I'll be able to call myself "The Bloody Faced Prince". More gruesome than the name deems it to be. Killing many birds with one stone if I am able to avoid the attention of the council and any incoming bounty hunters.

The pros are outweighing the cons.

"I will do it." I say with a deep inhale. I never knew my mind could come up with something so twisted.

With a deep breath, I pierce the skin of my face deeply with both hands. Hissing and groaning at the burning sensation and dullness running across my nerves, careful to avoid my eyes. Blood slithering down my face and hands.

I did not stop until I felt my nails hang onto shreds of skin. Ripping them off and exposing my flesh. And once it did, I fell to my knees.

Did it work? I wondered sourly, wiping the blood from my hands on my bare chest.

"I think I stained the carpet." I sputter.

It's difficult to see anything. Even my hands through this thick coat of blood hugging my face. And now I have to confirm whether or not it worked.

With three fingers I gingerly I touch my face. The stinging pain feeling fainter and fainter as my mind raced as did my sense of touch. And the soft light from the magical crack still remains.

Did it work? Although, it hurts so much less now.

To no surprise, my wounds have healed. All the flesh I tore off-- back on my face like it never left, to which I sigh deeply.

Isn't there any way I can see what sort of spells I possess? Like a grimoire of sorts? Or perhaps I can use the--

I pat my pockets.

Empty.

Both of my pockets are empty.

All that remain is my loose change, the vial of infinite stamina and the bag full of a few hundred bread. No RLP to be seen.

I want to suspect Attor, but it doesn't matter. I need a way, I need to scavenge my mind to find anything of use. Perhaps anything pertaining to Sin.

Ezephyr. He told me I could contact him for whatever I needed. And I need his knowledge. But how do I call him without sleep? I don't want to end up falling asleep and peeing myself.

Let us think. Sleep is the realm of unconscious rest where the mind can reset and the body can recharge. What is an action that can do a similar thing?

"Meditation." I mumble, becoming surprised that both Art and Sin share such a practice. Perhaps it's the only thing they have in common.

As I plop myself to the ground with my legs crossed. And I prepare myself for mediation.

One is consciousness and fully focused, but are inviting full rest and calmness. To ease your stress and pain from throughout the day. Aiming to reach a state beyond the conscious and sleep.

I draw in deep breaths and clear my mind. Pushing past the existing pain and torment burning my subconscious.

And within the depths of the darkness, I relax myself. Relax my mind and body to a state close to sleep. Tricking the mind that it is deep in slumber. Once I convinced myself, I feel a sharp and light feeling pierce though my eyelids.

"Ezephyr." I call out mentally. "Ezephyr. Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear." He replies, appearing before me. His body glowing bright yellow. "I see you also learned to contact me without sleep."

"Yes." I simply answer. "I have a question. Do grimoires exist?"

"Huh. I'm surprised you don't know. Though, I can see why. Being a human with no magical knowledge and a Mirrikhian, known to have little to no use of grimoires or even practice outsider magic." Ezephyr begins. "However, everyone the common world uses grimoires."

"Tell me. It's not used during battle in which the user invoke a spell or incantation and their magic flies out of the grimoire?" Given that I have fought magic users before, and I only saw staffs, but no grimoires. And how the magic came to life was only ever so often out of thin air.

He sighs. "They really should have let you into the library. Let's see... Yes, grimoires can be used in battle to invoke magic, but they are exceedingly rare. Because only low level magic users or students use grimoires. They can be easily destroyed in battle if not careful. But those who are above, are capable of using magic with just a staff, their hands, or words. And then God-like users, exceedingly rare as well, use nothing."

It's just as I suspected. I am a prince and a human without such knowledge. A Mirrikhian with unknown powers along with a Mad God inside my head. So of course the magic I have invoked were fast, with the vocal incantations never uttered. "Is there a way to know what incantations and spells you know if you have no grimoire?"

I need a spell. I need to know if I have anything in me that can help me pee.

Ezephyr quickly looks away. The troubling look on his face tells me what I need to know.

"I am sorry I cannot be of any help. Unless you need something else?"

"I really need to pee."

"Oh...oh! Oh..." Ezephyr continues his line of 'oh's' before shaking his head. "I-"

"Bodily Parasitic Flames."

Ezephyr's image disappears into the darkness of my mind. Replaced by this blurry light, stinging my eye.

"Damn it!" I snarl, holding my face as this sudden scorching pain runs across my face. Causing it to bleed and...burn so intensely crawling from under my skin.

It hurts! It burns! I have never felt such pain...!

Soon, it becomes the only thing in my mind.

I don't know what just happened. I heard a voice, very faint, in the back of my mind invoke something that destroyed my face. Red bulging veins overcoming my sight followed by even more running blood.

"Bathroom." I squeak, forcing open the door to where I run down the hall until I end up at the community bathroom. I can't even see but I know there is someone in here, somewhere in my path. "Excuse."

"Oh dear..." The stranger utters as I go to relieve myself.

Then I walk out into the hallway with a sigh of relief. "Thank you~"

"Get away from me, water-horned freak!" A child-like voice laughs devilishly, interrupting my joy.

Past the blood, I observe as this kid get pushed away by the other kids, who are wielding wind-type and weak illusion magic, to shove and tease the poor kid around.

"Kids will be kids." A faint memory says to me from the back of my mind.

"A little pain won't kill them."

I can't help but feel anger. Even if they are kids, no one deserves to be pushed around because...

"Only the weak and insecure use power on someone who cannot fight back." I state to them from behind in hopes that they can hear since I spoke mostly out of my mind. "True strength is determined purely off your foe. And besides, you shouldn't bully. It taints your mana."

All the kids turn to me, fear enveloping their minds as I stare at them as blankly as I can before giving them a smile. Immediately, they scream and run away in terror, yelling after themselves,

"It's Bloody Mark!!!"

Both their voices and tiny bodies disappear to the end of the hall. I can't help but chuckle.

The boy, aka "water-horned freak", sighs. Removing his wet sun hat from his head, revealing two tiny transparent horns, like water, sitting on a bed of wet, dark-gray hair. And two large blue eyes so tranquil and soft, gaze at me, despite having faced harsh assaults from those other two boys. "Thank you..." He whispers before looking at me. Many expressions bounce on the boy's face until he stops after his eyes catch something on top of my head.

"It is no problem." I reply.

"You." The boy reaches out for my hand and shakes it. The surprise on his lips turning into a wide smile. "You're just like me... To meet you, this must be fate."

'....'

"Where did you learn such a word?" I ask, watching the boy as his thankful expression turns into a puzzled one.

"What word?"

"Fate." I answer, but the boy only shakes his head.

"I never said that word. I don't even know what it means. Anyway, your face is pretty messed up but my big sister is a healer! I'm sure she can fix your face! I can take you to her!"

I take the moment to step back and question this growing series of peculiarities. You forced me here, didn't you? I want to ask why but I feel it is no use. You can't hear my thoughts, anyway.

"First, tell me, why did you let those kids hurt you?" It is not out of curiosity that I ask, but purely off of a hunch.

"I... it isn't the first time." The kid confesses, immediately putting on his hat. "They just saw me playing outside the hotel one day and joined in. I thought they wanted to be friends, until they started taking my hat and throwing it around. Their games went to become more mean as days passed. Until they began to hurt me."

He then rolls up his sleeve to reveal a round scar on his right shoulder.

"Your scar. It was one of physical origin, not magic. So they went from physical means first before resorting to magic. You allowed them to bully you for more than a month." I'm surprised you didn't die. "I assume they were rough with you at first, you showed them your magic?" I question, hovering my hand over his old scar.

"How- how did you know?"

I use my sight to tell me all I needed to know.

That the kid is a dragon, or at least half since his body bears no scales nor a tail. Only his tiny aura does.

"Your aura. And they were calling you a water freak." I respond.

"Oh..." The kid drops his head, rolling his sleeve back up. "What does it look like?"

It is so small yet so strong. An aura itself bearing scales so faint with a tail wrapped around it. But it's not something many can see, it's not what drove the kids to bully him since it's a layer under the normal aura.

"You have 5 layers of aura."

"That many?? Is that possible?"

I raise a brow. "I am surprised that you are surprised. A person of such strong aura, such as yourself, has ought to have noticed the many auras around people before."

"I...I guess. I never looked closely before."

Inexperienced with magic and control. This kid has potential and yet he hasn't put it to use. It must be his family holding him back.

"An aura can consist of many layers. The inner layer, although simple and holds one's most basic mana, is a type everyone who's at least interacted with magic at least once, can see. And the ones that come after follow the levels of the one who perceives and the owner themselves, until it reaches the very outer layer. One that only the strongest carry for those just as strong, stronger, or are at least the most magic-sensitive people, to see. It is the very shape of one's magical core, different from a soul. In other words, the more layers of mana you have, the stronger you are." I explain.

"Uh, shouldn't the strongest layer be the inner layer?" The kid asks.

He's curious, which is a good sign.

"One would think that the strongest and the truest form of mana resides within in the innermost layer, but Marivos' theory of mana states that everyone starts off with the most basic magic. And basic magic emits an aura so small and so basic that you could simply wave it away. And the more experience and natural ability you gain throughout your growth, your aura and magic, alike, begin to evolve. No longer able to dwell within the basic layer, so it ascends outward, like I said before. Because at birth, no one is born with more than 2 layers of magic. It's difficult. Otherwise, you'd die from the overwhelming power."

"I think I understand..." The kid mumbles, deep in thought. He doesn't understand, but it's amusing to see him try.

"By the by, my face hurts. Could you take me to your big sister now?" I point to my face. I am not kidding, the magic I inflicted under my skin was far more effective than I had expected.

"Y-yeah! I can have my big sister heal it for you. She's an amazing healer! She's even helped heal my sleepy Rarbis before!"

From the sounds of it, his sister is just as powerful as him.

"You can call me Striker by the way." Striker introduces, proudly pressing a hand with two fingers to his chest. The greeting salute of the Blue Oasis.

I mimic it, along with the best smile I could summon. "And you can call me Arsin."

When I outstretch my hand, he immediately takes it with a wide smile.

"We live in this hotel, just a hallway away. A room with a queen sized bed with my mother, father, and sister. And my pet, Luck, of course."

And we arrive just a few floors below down into a room more spacious than the room my party is staying at. Except I wasn't greeted by a strong wave of vinegar and smokey scent accompanied by two heads bearing faces so empty and dead.

"I'm home!" Striker calls out, letting go of my hand as he sets his hat onto a tiny stool.

"Horns..." The mother gasps as her baggy eyes fall on me, the tired fear in her eyes soon dissipate to just tiredness. "Honey, is this the friend you always talk about? He's....older than I thought."

"No, mother. He only helped me out with something. Where's Ines?"

"She's in the bedroom."

As they engaged in a rather empty conversation, the man I assume to be the father, stands up from his cigar-butted chair to greet me with a handshake.

"Name's Bedro."

"Arsin." I reply, noticing how grey-toned his skin is and how weak his grip is. But it's to be expected. He's thin with a noticeable beer belly along with oily, black curly hair and peasant clothes stuck with the smell of smoke and old dung. And only one, weak layer of aura around him.

"Arsin..." The mother begins as she walks into the room along with Striker and her sister Ines.

Strange. Ines bears no horns nor impressive amount of aura. Just 3 and a messy bun atop her head. Holding my gaze with a simple smile to disguise the sleepiness behind it.

"Do you...want to buy our daughter?"

Striker tightens her fist. Anger replacing calm.

As for Ines, she looks away in utter dissatisfaction, but not shock.

But the mother and father think nothing of it. With the father, who stands beside the mother sharing the same tired eyes, slightly bowing his head.

"She's healthy, pure, and magically capable. She can be yours for just two hundred Duses!"

"What are you doing?! You can't sell me!" Striker cries, breaking the tension.

"Perhaps it's bit too soon..." Ines whispers, only to be belittled.

"You have no say in this matter, Ines! Go off and be with that lover of yours and leave us all alone in this filth!"

"You...you planned to sell me for a very long time?" She utters in realization. "That's why Sir Ivan... But I swore to you all that I'd enroll into the Academy of Knights. To become a knight for the King and make thousands of Duses so that we can live out in the countryside in a big house!!"

"I'm sorry, Azul, but we can't wait that long! You're just eleven years old and we can barely afford to live here for one more week. We just can't stay out there in the woods again!" The mother cries, hugging her stomach as she falls to her knees. Burying her face in her dirty yellow dress.

"My name isn't Azul." Striker growls with a sniff, fighting back her tears. "And you, you aren't my parents anymore..."

During their family dispute I realize something of my own. The fact that this place reeks with even more filthy magic. A dark art leeching off people's mana and money. All top 7 floors and below are for the needy, and the lost causes. I could smell it, even from our untainted floor.

"Please, Azul. Please, just let him buy you. We can't do it anymore..."

"I'll buy her." I jump in.

I'm sure by the look of shock in Striker's eyes that she begins to realize what this means and what will happen next. Perhaps she has also figured out that I have basically rescued her from being purchased by someone more horrid if I had not stepped in.

Striker, dropping her gaze, says, "I hope you guys can live a normal life without me now." And walks outside of the room with Ines following behind her. The conversation I carefully eavesdrop on:

"Azu- Striker. I'm sorry."

"Just--" Striker would interrupt, taking a deep breath. Never turning to look at her sister. "Promise me you won't forget me. Okay? And check on our parents every once in a while."

Ines' voice struggles before giving up. "Okay..."

'Miniature Pocket' I chant in my head, reaching out to the space in front of me. My hand disappearing into a little pocket of infinite space where I keep my valuables. From there, I fish out their payment: a rare, useless magical gem.

"I have no Duses but I do hope you can make do with this Vanilla Eye."

"Oh--!" The father gasps, immediately taking the gem into his hands like a greedy child.

"MY! We're gonna be rich, Bedro!" The mother jumps in, her face having no trace of the fake pain she expressed in getting rid of her child.

As soon as I step outside, Ines stands before me with her hands together, as if pleading. "Please, promise me that you'll take good care of her, okay?"

"Just heal him, Ines." Striker commands, her face still retaining traces of tears. "And then it will be over."