'Hmm. It does feel lighter now."
It was the third day since Jogrin had settled in the abandoned house. Other than when Suzannia visited the previous two days, he'd been alone, sitting on the chair that wouldn't stop annoying him with its creaking whenever Jogrin made even the smallest movements.
There was didn't need any sleep, because he didn't need to, and he didn't have the ability to.
Anyway, fortunately for him, he had long mastered the skill of perfectly staying still, so the creaking didn't pose quite the issue.
However, the next thing that bothered him was the heaviness of the purple robe he'd been wearing since his awakening on Zuta. It wasn't so heavy to point that he couldn't stand up with it, as proven by the trod he took to get there, but its weight was enough to cause some inconvenience to Jogrin, in completely staying still.
He could choose to stand, but why not take advantage of the presence of a chair? That was what he thought.
And his solution to the above adversity was with his power. "Fabrication," one of his capabilities. Not in the faking-evidence sense, but in the cloth-making sense.
With that, all he had to do what image the type of clothing he desired. The shape, the texture. Cloth-like material began to appear between the purple robe and his skin, eventually manifesting into a kind of military clothing, the same one that Proxer wore.
Rather than camo green, the clothing from Jogrin's "Fabrication" was light grey - the same color as his eyes. Meanwhile, both the top and the bottom were short-sleeved, exposing his pale skin on his arms and legs. Of course, there was a hole at the back of the pants for his tail as well.
Jogrin flipped open the cover of the pockets that came with the clothes, glanced inside briefly and sat down.
"Back to it then." He muttered to himself.
What he was referring to was the attempt to recall the events during the invasion. It was crazily arduous, as he couldn't even remember the faces nor the bodily features of the invaders. Other than the fact that they possessed advanced weapons, nothing else came to mind.
On the other hand, the memories of the dying faces of his fellow Darkians was as clear as crystal water. It was as if the deceased were reminding him that he didn't deserve to live on while they suffered horrendous deaths.
Then, there was the kind girl whom he met with almost every day. The red portal, the creepy hand that took her away. What was the deal with those, and why did it happen during the invasion? Most importantly, why her?
"Proxer, he knows about us Darkians, but the latest information was 500 years ago, so that was when we started to use Dark Matter. I'm not sure if he has information about the invasion, but maybe he'll be able to fill in some mysteries."
Though the possibility was extremely low, Jogrin thought it'd still be worth a try to obtain any information regarding his home planet.
Last but not least... "mind tampering." That was something with the most mysteries surrounding it. Unknown origin, unknown actual extent, unknown actual capabilities. Even though the incident with the Darkian girl appeared to be the most obscure, Jogrin at least knew her, something related to the case, but it was not the same for "mind tampering."
There was also the ominous presence he perceived when he was at that cuboid building where he met the king.
He griped internally about his inability to uncover any of these mysteries.
"No, there's more..."
He was talking about Naytia's change in attitude towards him. It was drastic to the point that it couldn't be considered normal. From extreme fear to acceptance towards Jogrin's story of his birth. Not to mention, Proxer also remained relatively calm the entire time.
Was Jogrin overestimating how scary that past is? Or was it actually something bizarre?
Whatever the case, their attitudes were mysterious indeed, but since there had already been a precedent, which was the Darkian girl's similar attitude, Jogrin didn't think this was something as important as the other mysteries, so he just left it for now.
Before he knew, the sun had set again, and today the moon wasn't visible due to the thick clouds in the sky. The house, both interior and exterior, were pitch black.
"Looks like Suzannia isn't coming today. Maybe she revealed this place and me, and was then forbidden to come here... This is how it should be."
Jogrin closed his eyes as he muttered to himself. He put his elbows on his knees, and supported his head with the back of both his hands.
If Suzannia were to actually disclose his existence, he'd have to be evicted from this house, though it had no actual owner. He wondered where he'd end up after this.
With his existence coming to light, the best thing to do would be to run away. There was no telling what the residents of the neighborhood would do to him. However, even with that in mind, that thought didn't occur to Jogrin, because he didn't feel threatened by that prospect.
The reason behind that was, anything they'd do to him, could never be worse than what his own kin did to him.
"If only I could return there now." As he was reminded of his people again, he lamented that fact that there was nothing he could do now to go back to his home planet, let alone rescue anyone who survived.
Even though they hated him deeply that they'd injure him with every chance they had.
If he knew where the shuttle that sent him here was, he wouldn't have had to be stuck here, passing every day serving no purpose at all, other than posing a threat to the people of this planet, Zutans.
There was no way he could emotionally endure it if he were to destroy an entire planet because of an uncontrollable outburst of his power. No way could he ever live with it.
With the occasional creaking noises, one would mistake this abandoned house as haunted, but what was in the house wasn't any ghost, it was merely an "angel" longing to return home.