The temperature of the room had dropped drastically. Requiem sat on his bed, a cold gleam in his eyes as he crossed his fingers before his face. Yver played with his hair behind him, and he felt his eyes twitch every time she tugged on a silver strand.
The rain consumed the sound of his breathing, streaks of lightning flashing across the sky with the boom of thunder following in steady succession. A mirror lay by his feet, shattered completely until it became like dust, twinkle ing in the flashes of light.
Lightning streaked past his window, lighting up the dim room. As the light faded, the sound of thunder filled their ears. Requiem narrowed his eyes further, like he had just swallowed a fly. The look on Yver's face spoke volumes of understanding.
——
⦗Signed-in Day 4⦘
⦗Destiny Points 0⦘
⦗Unlocked, Rock⦘
Ah, here it was. The legendary, supreme, S-tier rock! He pocketed his hands in his pockets, a calm gleam in his eyes as he sighed deeply. Requiem lifted his hand and waved it calmly and space shifted around him. His fingers weaved through the fabric of reality, effortlessly.
He had taken up his memoir to study today, comparing some pages of it with everything he had learned from his sister, Rachael. The direct bloodline of his family seemed to have a thing for names that started with the letter R, ahem! Back to the issue at hand.
His sister explained everything in detail. The prince growing up to a young age, honing in the art of war under the King himself, third in line to the throne of Eternia, suddenly lost him memory. They, everyone in his family, tried to hide it but the fact escaped their doors.
Once a certain Duke caught wind of this, he joined forces with other noblemen and sweet talked the king into making the final decision. There was chaos as the King banished his third son, Requiem to a life of exile for 3 years: the nobles argued it too short, and his family argued against it.
One of the Duke's men hurled a spear at him, aiming to finish off the useless prince amidst all of the chaos. His sister, Rachael had jumped in to save him, and the spear pierced her heart. The death of royalty within the castle walls aggravated not only the king but others of royal blood.
He continued with the banishment and ordered the Duke be thrown in the dungeons. The others involved in the madness were hunted down and executed. Rachael had not been able to ascend, their hatred still welled up in her heart as she wandered Niflheim.
Requiem loved his sister — he felt it in his heart — even though he could not remember her. He decided that he would use her existence as a tool to execute his plan in enslaving the gods. He held ⦗The Rock⦘ in his hands, and frowned.
The perfect, ultimate, and purest rock sat in his hand. He clenched it in his fist then willed it into his inventory, feeling the weight vanish from his hand. Requiem opened his hand, then turned to the strange machine. He slowly got himself acquainted with the new sight.
"Cosmology…" he reached out his hand and touched the book. He wondered what would happen if he brought it out to the real world. Requiem shook his head. He would only get it snatched off him or worse, "Better to drop it here then…"
He turned around and began walking forward, his expression turning serious as the world shifts around him. Requiem's clothes transformed from long robes to a sturdy battle armour. In his hand, a sword gleamed, lacking its scabbard — its name was… sword.
He walked down the stairs, his chin held high as he was greeted by the slaves around him. After a few hundred steps, he reached the end of the stairs, stepping outside into the light. Horses rowed up on the left and right, behind the slaves who knelt down with bowed heads.
Requiem halted, reaching out his hand.
A few seconds passed, and he blinked.
"Sorry…" Lillian coughed out loud, handing Requiem his mighty shield, "I had my leg tangled in a bush." She observed him as he wore the shield, adding calmly, "Yver awaits your presence. She has a gift for you… a stroke of bad luck, in her words."
Requiem sighed, flipping over the visor of his helmet. It reflected the light strongly, scattering a blinding light in various directions. The armour he wore was called, Desire, and it was also a gift of the very kind Yver. On a request from Margaret and some persuasive words, ahem!
Wearing this thing that was strong enough to defend gods, he was sure of his safety. Unless the gods decided to rain tribulations upon him. Requiem stepped forward, the burden of the armour he wore was weak but the ground still trembled with a heavy step forth.
The ones here were the best of the slaves in combat. Those who had trained in their arts to the level of an expert, the one flaw or the other they had fixed with the efforts of Margaret. A master in the arts of combat, even at her young age. He glanced around,
"Rise, my Servants!" he shouted, and they all rose without a second of hesitation. He grasped his blade in his hand tight, walking forward as he continued to speak, "Mount your stallions, and follow me as we charge into victory!"
They roared, as if intoxicated with a strange drug. Everyone jumped on their horses, grabbing a hold of their reins and securing their blades in scabbards and arrows in quivers. As others opened the gates, Requiem stepped out and the others followed him, the pacing slow.
Yver waited outside, a massive creature stood by her side. She noticed Requiem then opened up, "This is Dragnur, my brother. I want you to take good care of him for me. He is an immortal and can't be killed in combat. He would defend you when you need to defend your horse."
Requiem looked at her, 'Does she really think I need her respect?' then sighed, "I will take good care of him, like he is my own." His gaze shifted to the beast, its black fur was complimented by an even darker mane. A crown of horns sat atop its head, and it bared its fangs.
Yver wept as he climbed Dragnur. He wondered why she had to go overboard with the emotion blackmail. He rubbed the beasts' fur. It was quite addicting to touch. After he established a link with the beast — despite is bare existence — he lifted his sword up high,
"Charge!"