Requiem sat in his pocket dimension — enjoying the silence. In this space, he never felt hungry, fatigued or bored. It was as if all these emotions were cast on a board, then cleaned away, leaving an eternal emptiness, one that reflected in his gaze as he stared off into the distance.
⦗Day 5, Sign-in — Consume 100 Divine Point (DP)?⦘
The robes he wore fluttered loosely around his thin frame, the wind caressing his body inside as it flowed, scattering his long silver hair back and beating against it in rhythm with his clothes. After a while, Requiem's empty gaze settled, and he sighed.
⦗Signed-in Day 5⦘
⦗Destiny Points 164⦘
⦗Unlocked, Fallen Star (B)⦘
100 Divine Points were collected, and he earned a B-ranked item. He glanced at the title and like that of his blessings, "Chaotic Rift" that allowed him to destroy anything, and "A Shepherd's Authority that allowed him to command any and all to his will, it gleamed in a gold light.
He still had 100 left, and the date for earning "Order" was near. He wondered what level of death he could create in such a short period. Requiem sighed, taking this into account for next time, 'At the next battle, maybe I would enslave some fools for slaughter later…"
Alas, he also wondered if a person's worth in DP diminishes or appreciates over time. He would have imagined it a set figure from birth, but he did not have the liberty to check if one's value would strengthen or weaken, and the necessary conditions to meet for them.
"Sigh…" he relaxed his back, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself sitting before a multitude. The people — common peasants — looked up to him like he was some sort of god! A glitter in their eyes as they cheered.
He had imagined using his blessing to shut them up, but he resisted the urge to abuse it in that manner, calmly wearing a polite smile. When he announced to them that he was the killer of their leading nobles, they were apprehensive at first, until he revealed his face to them.
Requiem never believed that he was this famous, especially in a weird place he was sure he'd never set his eyes on in the past. Even when he had wandered here, the little he had revealed his face to, treated him with hatred and scorn, like they conversed with a beggar.
"They act this way, not because they are overflowing with love for your rebellion, but in honour of the fact that you are royalty." Gerald, standing proud beside Requiem, spoke with a calm tone, "I'd guess some are simply in awe, how a banished prince managed to amass an army."
"It is simply the thrill of a mystery that drives them." Requiem was calm, watching as he had one of the peasants address the others, causing the area to collapse into silence. Signs of rebuilding what had been damaged swarmed his vision anytime he shifted it from the crowd.
No one cared for the nobles who only cared for themselves. His appearance lifted a burden from their shoulders, and they appreciated it greatly. He tilted his head to the side, relaxing it in his palm, a fierce gleam in his eyes as he steadied his elbow on the armrest, "Some will rebel."
"Indeed. It was as you calculated." Gerald said.
"Calculated, huh?" Requiem forced a straight expression. Feeling Gerald's earnest gaze boring in the back of his head, he refuted the sudden impulse to blurt out, 'I said that on a whim.' Keeping his profile as the intelligent and calculative young Lord. To these fools, at least.
He was quite young, in the flesh. He was barely 16 — as his sibling of the underworld confirmed, and his small frame made him look even younger. His face, burrowed from his lineage of royalty and enhanced with the divine blood reborn with him, made him look even younger than he was.
He could pass for a ten year old, and no one would doubt him. Given how slowly he aged as the immortal shepherd of gods, he only imagine how long it would be until he grew to become an adult, in body of course. Requiem sighed, his gaze growing colder.
"My Lord, once news of this gets out, things would become quite heated in the Kingdom. Given you were a prince exiled by the King, brewing a revolution against him, he would not bat an eye to the attacks of vile nobles upon your life." Gerald warned honestly.
"That will be the death of him." Requiem's cold gaze grew even colder, and any one that stared into his eyes would freeze up and cast their gaze away in the next instant. Although he looked like some beautiful child — his eyes housed the terrifying emptiness of a thousand year old immortal.
——
"This is…" a man stepped over the dead bandits, his eyes burning in a silver glow as their bloody state piqued his interest. Gathered around him was a group, each armed with varying weapons, their clothing styles unique and contrasting, "The work of a human."
"We had best not involve ourselves in this scuffle then." The woman behind him spoke. Her long flowing hair was green, and it had a strange lustre. Her eyes, like that of an emerald, swept across the area until it settled on the ice scattered across the ground, "An explosion perhaps."
"An explosion?" a man's voice was heard as the fellow suited head to toe in armour took steps to stand before others, observing the ice. His voice had a certain hum, and his gait was steady and calm, trained to a point of near perfection, "The ice refuses to melt, is that not strange?"
"This is a Frozen Jade Reserve. The ice here cannot be thawed by the fire of the sun alone, it has to be done with special conventional methods that only a select group should know." The man with a pair of silver eyes spoke, his face twisting into a frown expression, "These dead men know of its use."
"That is an assumption!"
The trio, paused, turning to the tall woman that approached, riding on the back of a tame wolf, a lifeless gleam was in the eyes housed within her pale face. She crossed her leg, her hands rested on the back of the wolf, putting her chest forth, the wind caressing her exposed skin, "I hate guesses."
The three bowed their heads, then sighed in unison as the woman, purple skinned and pointed eared, stopped beside them, calmly alighting from her beast. She spun on her heel and turned, her gaze fixating on a certain area, far off into the forest of dying trees,
"As a matter of fact, my dear party, our greatest Yver did not send her champions here to…" She turned around to the others, glaring at them as they lowered their heads. The others aside the trio, a few armoured and cloaked humanoids had masked their faces, their gaze fell — if visible, "Guess."