Illeuid looked over his acquired skills to see if there was ANYTHING he could use that would act as a buffer against his uncle's abuse. Or even better, something that could PREVENT said visit. Yet as he scrolled up and down the available skills, most of them locked until he was allowed to fully explore his cartoony abilities, he could only lament as he realized that he still lacked the permission the one he had available needed in order to use them for his benefit as they could only be prompted by opportunity. And the ones he REALLY wanted to have access to were still locked until he reached the appropriate level. Illeuid could only grieve how short this life would be for this current run. He had not usually had to deal with his uncle until he was at least in his late teens. Why did this run have to hate him so much? Was it because he was proactively going against his usual role of being the brown nosing and affection starved Veilkerhurst? As he realized that his fate may truly be sealed, Illeuid closed his eyes and tool a deep breath. He felt coolness move across his skin, indicating the skill: Cold Sweat had just activated. Shaking off the excess moisture--and becoming dry due to the action--Illeuid decided he had no time to panic. It was best to use his limited time--and remainder of life--to mentally prepare for his uncle's visit.
In at least a dozen of his past lifetimes when his uncle had ended him, the sadistic man went out of his way to make it as painful as possible. Breaking fingers or joints, and making Illeuid crawl. Slitting his throat so that he could bleed slowly; disemboweling Illeuid and pulling out his innards. He had some pretty violent deaths by the hands of his family, but they were merciful compared to his uncle's methods. Illeuid wondered if he could sneak into Priscilla's lab in order to steal a few of her potions. At the very least he would be able to procure a poison that would kill him instantly. But when illeuid attempted to walk in the direction of his older sister's lab, he was positive that all of the servants were going out of their way to redirect him.
"Not today, young master," a butler said, going as far as to willingly grab his hand and lead him in the opposite direction of the hall. "Lady Veilkerhurst is busy creating potions for an upcoming mission.
"Does the mission involve me?" Illeuid asked hopefully. Who was he to distract his darling sister if she was possibly going to put him out of his misery soon?
Instead of answering, the butler turned Illeuid around and directed him back to his room.
Illeuid made a second attempt tos go to Priscilla's room. He did not make it more than a few feet away from his older sister's room before he was stopped. "Let's go get some refreshments," a maid suggested as she picked Illeuid up to physically remove him from his path.
"It may be time for you to rest," another servant said as they led Illeuid back to his room. This repeated for the rest of the day. Fine, if he could not get the opportunity to aggravate Priscilla into killing him, then he just needed to annoy Brakus. Heck, just looking at his face was usually enough for his second brother to want to off him half of the time. But that was a no-go as well. Instead of being irritated enough to challenge Illeuid to a duel--read: beating--Brakus suddenly wanted to utilize his time to train their guards and soldiers. Supposedly, he had been neglecting his duties and needed to rectify that. He even had the audacity to gently pat Illeuid on the head, (but he remained ever patronizing), before snickering as he walked away from the gobsmacked boy. Illeuid could only spend his days laying forlorn on his bedroom floor as funeral hymns played throughout his room. The servants didn't even bother to check where the source of the music was coming from anymore.
He just knew they had to be enjoying his distress if those stupid smirks were anything to go by.
Soon, Illeuid only had about a week before his uncle would appear. He pondered if it would be possible to beg Reilard to take him to the Silver Breath Mage's Tower as some kind of understudy program? Maybe he could be hired as custodial help. He did not care, he did not want to be at Veilkerhurst Manor if it meant that his blood would soon be painting the walls at the hands of a mad man. Illeuid swayed as he trudged down the halls, his face pale. Sweat beading his brow. He grew more glum as he realized that Brakus and Priscilla were taking deep joy in his fear. His mother would only assure him that things would be alright, her tone consdenscedingly sweet. His father no longer addressed the topic as for him, the discussion was done.
Eventually Illeuid snapped himself out of his black hole of worries. Illeuid figured that with his skills, he HAD to have a chance of surviving life outside of these walls. He knew how money worked. He knew how to use the available transportation of this world. Heck, he could most likely use the name of the Veilkerhurst family's name in order to commission a blacksmith to create some items: a thermos, bicycle, SOMETHING! Anything was better than waiting for his uncle to mess with him under the guise of "toughening him up to make her worthy of the Veilkerhurst name". Feeling inspired, (and desperate to survive), Illeuid headed down to the family dining room to make a request to his father about traveling to their family's personal blacksmith.
"Well is it not my wretch of a nephew," came the gruff voice of the very uncle he hoped to not see anytime soon.
Illeuid spun around, horror filling his center and spreading outward as he took in the man. He saw the graying hair, dark at the center before fading into a lighter shade at the ends held loosely together in a low ponytail. He wore a white collared shirt under a dark gray leather vest. Illeuid was certain that the bottom of the man's navy pants were dark with blood.
"Aren't you happy to see me?" The man leered at the boy.
Illeuid did not even care. He just burst into tears.
His uncle sneered at him. "Your father has informed me that you have been causing mischief around the residence. And we cannot have that."
Illeuid could only weep harder. He did not care that Brakus came out to mock him, he did not care the Priscilla had finally emerged from her lab to give him an annoyed look, he did not even care that his mother had approached with a condescending look of maternal concern. Behind him, Illeuid's father approached him and the caterwauling boy.
"You will cease that blubbering this instant," His father commanded him.
Usually, Illeuid would try to reduce his whimpering and wipe uselessly at his incessant tears. But he was tired of having to be subjected to his uncle's sadistic abuse that he said one word that was never allowed to be uttered towards the head of Veilkerhurst.
"N-no!" The boy burst out.
The silence that descended in that hallway was deadly.
"What was that?" It was not a question. It was the only warning the welp was going to get before he would taught a long needed lesson in obedience.
But Illeuid did not care. In fact, his tears only fell harder as he wailed the word. "No!" It did not stop there. The boy threw himself on the ground and had a full blown tantrum. He repeated the word as he thumped his fists and feet on the floor. Distantly, the System informed him that he unlocked a new skill. But he was unable to hear its title as he only wailed LOUDER.
"Listen here you brat--" His uncle did not get the chance to finish.
Torrents of water exploded from the young boy's eyes. His cried warbled as the hall filled quickly with his salty tears. In second, it reached the the hallway table. Then it pressed against the windows, but it did not burst them open. Eventually, it began to fill past the window.
"Stop crying you brat!" Brakus yelled at Illeuid. This just made the boy, who somehow managed to find a random floating door to rest upon like some kind of forlorn orphan, cry harder.
"How does he keep doing this?" Priscilla complained as she tried to keep her head above the water.
Lady Reina did not bother making her usual quips. Instead, she swam towards her youngest and pulled herself up on the door behind him. She grabbed the child, turning him around an pressing him against her chest.
"Hush now," she told him. "You do not have to deal with your uncle for now."
"You CALLED for me!" The now incensed man shouted at her. At her sharp look, he kept his remaining complaints to himself.
This, somehow, worked. Illeuid, slowly, stopped wailing. His cries became gasping breaths, then pathetic little whimpers. As his crying petered out, the water levels lowered. Within the same amount of time, he was standing in the damp halls, clinging to his mother as the rest of the Veilkerhurst stared at him with a mixture of shock amd rage.
If they thought they could control the youngest Veilkerhurst through terror, then they had another think coming.