25 / 03 / 2019 - Daito, Prefecture Osaka, Japan.
3 PM, Monday, Akane's Room.
'Spawn Cords, huh.'
Eyes half-lidded, blurry, facing the incoming light from the open window. His head is light and weary as it is not long since he woke from the nap.
Leaning on the wall by the side of the bed, he keeps pondering the morning conversation, the information weighing heavily on his mind.
Hand lying above the pillow on his lap, feeling the coldness that refuses to be dismissed even at the end of the day, mirroring how his mind and heart are right now, perhaps?
The corner of his mouth upturned slightly at this irony. 'It is how it is then.' Recalling those chat messages as he freezes,
…
ItsRedMaples : As it is important, it is good to know the difference between the two; it is obvious after all ( •̀ - •́ ).
ItsRedMaples : What I say next may be a bit uncomfortable, Miserables-san, but…
ItsRedMaples : Spawn Cords is basically a special furnace or hive spawn of monsters, think of it as a biological chamber of transformation, it is a special technology of the Church of Chaos…
ItsRedMaples : Its one function is "Exchange" of lives or transformation of lives, but this kind of thing is full of uncertainty as we never managed to attain a complete one of those…
ItsRedMaples : But in short, their goal is actually simple: to achieve a perfect evolution of humans and eliminate their weakness in any form, not to be viewed as a backwards thing — Bishop Marten himself is a renowned biologist…
…
A headache began to build up silently, the corner of his mouth twitched even across his plain face, 'Trouble after trouble arrives…' When he thought it was just a simple, mindless cult,
But Serpent said No, and then delivered this trial over one week of his awakening — a supremacist cult and city-scale crisis.
Slowly lifting his eyelids, mind clear, in contemplation, pressing his head on the wall hard, hard enough that the skin brushed up against the hard concrete.
As if this pain could keep him awake and sane, 'Life is not full of sunshine and rainbows after all,' he has passed such a stage of life — though he is still 11 — as he gazes at the ceiling.
Regardless of what it is, life needs to keep going on; do what you can and do it best while you can, not do nothing while you can, staying on the sidelines until it is too late.
Letting out a sigh, raising his left hand to brush the strand out of his left eye, and setting aside the pillow, 'Are they back yet?' now knowing the scale of the dangers themselves.
Jumping out from the edge of the bed, his legs trembled slightly; inhaling some air, he walked out of the room while stretching his hands and body with a crack of his joints.
…..
"Not back yet?" he mumbles while tilting his head as he steps out of the bathroom corridor; his hair is a bit wet from washing his face.
Then, shrugging his shoulders, he walks to the kitchen on the right, passing by the dining table, and into the fridge.
Grasping the handle of the fridge, the chill air rushes and hits his face head-on, causing him to narrow his eyes and sending shivers down his body.
"Haaahhhhh…" breathing some warm breath, he groped around for a while and found what he was looking for — an orange juice.
Taking it off the side and closing the fridge, he turned his body, walking in a stride of silence; the light was destined to be set on the other side.
Out of the corner of his peripheral vision, the sky is now a bit dim, a hint of orange rising at the edge of his vision, and as always, it is a grey world he used to inhabit.
Bleak, silent, and tranquil.
Taking back his gaze, he eventually arrived at the right wing of the sofa, circled it, and rested his body as he sat down, pressing himself into the soft material.
Lowering his head as he unscrewed the cap of the bottle, with a crack, it echoed in the empty apartment, which appeared lonely and desolate.
Taking a slow sip, he narrowed his eyes, left hand slumped at his side. After a while, he moved his hand to screw it back, 'Desolate like a ghost place,' only now did he realise this silence.
Placing the bottle on the table, he once again leaned on the backrest, overlooking what's in front of him — the turned-off television, the afternoon sky, and then the dim room.
'In a sense, it's not that bad.' Before this, too, he would usually take on his own silence for a breather over this tiring world, but it wouldn't be forever like that, no?
Living with siblings, your own blood, will basically be bustling every day, with their own mischief or anything similar in line.
"And when they're gone, I'm left alone with my own thoughts."
Not that he dislikes it, though; he slowly closes his eyes, suppresses his senses, and tries to venture to that state once again.
His mind is active after a long nap, so he can think about a lot of things and recount what happened in detail as a lesson for himself or to note something he may have missed.
Silently activating
Still, his mind is conflicted about something, like a jumping wavy line in the dark. 'What is the origin of this power?' he often asks this now and then, like a frog in the well, staring at the moon.
He knows his limitation, yet still yearns for an answer. The jumping lines smooth once again as his thought flows clearly without hindrance; the answer probably lies in Serpent itself.
'An ability that is so flexible that it can bend on the Interpretation of the Treader itself,' to what it is said and his own conclusion, borrowing some terms from the knowledge in his mind.
The line rushes past through the darkness, its flow like a raging river or perhaps a comet.
The simple
An example is a derived skill he created by manipulating a certain variable, recorded in his mind as if his work was being approved:
Furthermore, the line is jumping, albeit slightly, but still going through as he bypasses and settles over the confusion inside his mind — the long-buried question.
'For everything that I've gone through, which is to my own abilities, as a Reader.' He could sense that his mind was loosening, strengthened, but what was the reason? Yes, what is the mechanism behind it?
What, and Why? How? A thousand questions arose, but he seems to have found the answer long, long ago, before he even began to tread this path; it is so simple yet overlooked.
What is the work of a reader but to perceive things that are presented to them? The line is rushing fast; it is a straight line, shining and pulsating in the haziness, an image or symbol.
'Our work is to perceive and process information,'
As to why his mind is improving — isn't it because he acts as if it is? The reception around the world, observe and analyse, to see and think over it, perhaps?
Eyes slowly opened in a divine bluish-silver; the clue was there from the very start, a Reader.
Letting out a breath, his mouth agape albeit slightly, he seems to feel himself filled, as if barely noticeable.
"Barely."
He mumbles lightly, the bright eyes turned dim, as the hazy colour receded to the depth of his eyes, the soul of where it belongs, back to its usual bloody-ashen.
Day by day, the urgency leaves him nothing but a sense of rush; he doesn't have time to do anything, to sit through like this and think calmly while his mind is adrift from the current affairs.
He may be exaggerating it a bit, but true to every second, this world seems to turn worse and worse, 'Can't expect anything good out of humans after all.'
"Well, it is what it is, as I can do nothing about it." Powerless for now, he can only be dragged around by the situation; then again, it is not as bad — he smiles lightly.
Pushing his body out of comfort, he leans forward to take the bottle of juice, but right as he wants to take it, his ears twitch, his eyes flickering to the entry corridor.
Hands hung for a while, as he gazed intently at the sound of the turning doorknob and door opening, and gradually his eyes turned somber.
'Too quiet, it is unlike them.'
They will usually be bustling in noise, either from lament or weariness, but now, and there they are — the three of them out of the corridor, reflected in his eyes.
'?????'
Finally, he took the orange juice bottle, but he did not drink it, just grasped it in his right hand and leaned back, staring in silence at the three of them, inspecting their states.
Activating his
Irina is walking in silence, biting her lower lip, her clear sky-blue eyes trembling; she is clutching the other side of her aunt's skirt, heading towards the living room.
Moving his eyes to the other side, Ayato is holding and grasping his aunt's pale hand. A step forward, as he seems to guide his aunt towards here.
Ayato's eyes are… looking at him, darting between him and his aunt in a gesture of something, but from what he interpreted, 'What do you want to tell me?' No joke, he is fully confused.
His temple furrowed as he finally looks at the face of his aunt, 'This is clearly bad.' She looks like she has lost blood, her face pale and sweaty, she is silent, and her eyes a bit blank.
Clenching his left palm, the premonition is strong in this one, but he did not rush to conclude without supporting information and data, 'Just what the hell is going on here?'
And soon, under his gaze, the aunt who is like a crashing program fell onto the sofa guided by Irina and Ayato, one hand on her head and the other on her stomach, as she lay sideways.
"What happened?"
Whispering to the two who sit beside him, he asks them, while his eyes are still locked to his aunt, 'The clothes are still intact, dressed, and there aren't any signs of anything.'
His aunt is wearing a light beige long coat, a black pinstriped vest, a matching skirt set, and a white inner top, black stockings up to her thighs. There are no signs of damage whatsoever.
At this moment of rationality, he determined that since his siblings are not too panicked, there is not much urgency — so what's the problem? 'She is probably in shock.'
But what is causing her to be shocked like this? Well, the answer comes by itself from his siblings at the side.
"Ummmm… there was an accident on the road earlier…"
In the end, Ayato is the one who talks first; his eyes are also fixed on his aunt in worry, but there's something in the depth of his eyes — tension.
'Oh, a false alarm.' Just as he thought they had encountered something, it was nothing at all; his lips tilted slightly, but then he sighed,
'Well, it's maybe the first time they've witnessed death up close after all, maybe.' He is not sure about his aunt; one can't rule over someone if they don't know anything after all.
"Did you witness it? Just let it go, there's nothing we can do, accidents happen every day." Dismissing it lightly, he shook his head, but then paused at the thought of something.
Are we not the perpetrators, right? It's problematic if we are; we should move fast — as he wants to open his mouth. Irina, at his left side, pinched his left hand hard, so that he winced in pain.
Instinctively turning his head to the left, he looks at her face facing him, it is a scowl and tense, again gesturing at something, to which he tilts his head,
'Am I missing something here? Just tell me what's going on!!'
At this moment, he is getting annoyed. They want to talk about it, but they speak halfway like a riddle, gesturing something over and over as if he is omniscient! Who do they think he is?
Right as he was about to lose his patience over their actions, "Akane…" gulping down, she is now looking at Akane, her blank gaze now filled with a bit of life and clarity, face regaining its colour.
Propping her body up under his gaze, she took a long breath to compose herself and then placed her feet on the floor, leaning on the backrest.
"I was picking up your siblings at the gate…" Telling her story, her head facing Akane a bit listlessly, like a damsel in distress — well, it is.
How could he stand her stopping halfway? So, he leaned forward slightly and stretched his right hand to offer the still-full orange juice so she could calm down further.
She then pursed her lips and took the orange juice slowly, opening the cap and taking a sip, then a chug. She felt her chest begin to smooth out, and her dizzy head stabilised.
Letting out a breath once again, she gazes at the reflection on the dark, wide television screen, her lips pressed into thin lines, and Akane did not urge her to continue, just crossing his hands at his side.
"I'm driving like usual, same route to the apartment…. But then, then…."
Disconnecting for a bit at the last part, she gripped the bottle above her lap; her eyes were partly confused and terrified.
"A building, there is a crowd and a scream… from the window, I saw… a monster? How could it be? It's just a flash of a scream, the windows broke, and it jumped onto the street…"
Akane did not look at the others; he couldn't judge his siblings' reactions at the side, but they must be something, the same as he feels right now — but again, his face is still plain as always; he did not want emotion to rule over him.
In effect, as she saw Akane's unchanging, calm, and expressionless face, she calmed down once again and continued despite the breaks apart; her shoulders trembling along with her eyes.
"Blood is everywhere as it starts to massacre other people on the street… so, I decided to turn another way while still far, and arrived here."
After she said this, apparently done, pursing her lips, she took back her gaze and lowered her head, let out a breath, and the apartment fell into silence once again.
And Akane, nodding his head, is also staying silent; of course, his mind is in turmoil now — he is processing too many things in a chain, one domino falls and then spreads to others.
To be considerate, others are leaving him to his own mind despite their presence here, which is quite timely rather than blabbering around in panic; the situation isn't any better despite this.
Closing his eyes, he ignored them to focus on his siblings or his aunt; he needed a quick conclusion from his mind,
'The first thing is that they no longer conceal themselves and do the transformation in the open, disregarding the Veil.'
At the mention of the Veil, it is inseparable from the extraordinary after all, and it is also often clearly described by various people in Dark Network regarding its function.
[Code: Veil] is an Extraordinary cognitive blockade and an Act to conceal or prevent any extraordinary act in public; it is in effect until who knows how long.
'But I don't know how its mechanism itself works,'
And the works of the Church itself are clearly challenging the Veil; anytime soon their bounty will be posted, and then all forces will flock here, but would they even care about this?
Flocking here — is it their goal? For what purpose? He didn't know and sometimes didn't want to know what they thought at all, but Heaven Gate can't truly be blind to this, can they?
So… we move to the second crisis.
"Isolation," mumbling to himself and slowly opening his eyes in thought after a couple of seconds, he let out a breath; no one is disturbing him, and no one interrupts his thought.
…
ItsRedMaples : The problem is we have been Isolated for who knows how long due to the breach and attempt at hitting the Veil.
Miserables : Does it mean we are abandoned?
ItsRedMaples : Not at all… in reverse, this area has been partially lifted of its Veil, so…
ItsRedMaples : It has become a battleground for various forces to free themselves, to freely hunt the Church and the Church to act unscrupulously, until the factor of resistance is eliminated…
…
Headache, truly, his head begins to throb — a little short of peace in exchange for a storm, truly, this is why he hates sentient people in general; his eyes twitching, sighing once again.
"Haahhhhhh… well, I think it's okay, nee-chan, you don't have to dwell on it that much, and just stop going out for a while, yes?"
He must stay calm in this situation because panic doesn't solve anything and may add to the problem. In a sense, his rationality is more useful in this particular situation.
Hearing his words, she raised her head; she is usually soft, controlled, and composed.
This incident greatly impacted her mind; biting her lips, hands limp above her lap, because what she saw was too unbelievable for her mind.
Of course, who would believe in superstition like that? This is the Modern Age that we are talking about!
Rather than the superstition of the Extraordinary, she would believe more in a genetic weapon! Musing over it, her head is conflicted.
The other two at his sides just stared at each other, pressing their backs further in, like pieces of air, silent as statues.
They guessed what Akane wanted to do, which is why they just sat silently in their own seats, lowering their presence as much as possible, and let Akane handle this situation.
"Can you describe it if you can? Or maybe forget it — for the first time, it will be too impactful after all,"
Akane had known what the siblings had done, as he was the one who told them not to bring this up for the aunt, but now…
'Desperate times call for desperate measures.'
And he thinks this is the best situation for this kind of thing, since the scope of what he can control is obviously limited; city-scale or any conflict outside this, he is powerless to do anything.
Which is why.
Riscia's ears twitched as she brushed up her silver-white hair, confused and stunned, doubting her own ears now; the lagging brain is now working once again to mull over Akane's words.
At first, her face at a loss, mouth agape, 'Describe it?' but the second sentence is what took her longer to process, 'First time?' — which she voiced out to Akane's calm face.
Looking at her, still unresponsive, or maybe having decided she can't form any words over it, he shook his head for a moment, his lips churning like a wave as he pondered the right words.
"Ah, so you know, what you see is real…"
After all he said, this doesn't blow much for her — or rather, it is overwhelming, as she starts to freeze once again, disconnected, blue screen.
By treating it as a piece of casual news, he tries to change her perception of this, from danger to under control; easier said than done, the handle is now in his aunt's hands.
'It is harder than said to affect the mind of a mature woman like her after all.'
Then, after a moment, her eyes widened slightly, and the skin became rosy once again; the difference is the blush itself, red.
"Real?"
Repeating the words, she looked in disbelief at Akane, who shrugged his shoulder like an irresponsible person.
Ayato and Irina's eyes twitched, as what follows is probably a long and arduous explanation, to which a person will wonder on their own.