The black-robed woman, noticing his limp body still suspended by the red thorns, sighed in reluctant satisfaction—she had planned to toy with him a bit longer, but his incessant mouth had already provoked her enough.
No matter; she would simply have to find another plaything. With deliberate indifference, she retracted her thorns, allowing his body to drop to the floor. Then she turned, motioning to leave the room, but in the very next moment, she halted abruptly at the sound of a voice behind her.
"The nerve of you,.... you inferior creature," the voice intoned, deep and resonant—an ancient, primal sound laced with otherworldly power. It emanated from the corpse of the boy she had just killed. Yet that corpse was no more, for in the next moment the injuries on the body healed miraculously; a silver glow enveloped the form, and its eyes opened, glowing with that same ethereal silver light.
But it wasn't merely the physical transformation—the aura emanating from him was overwhelming, stifling, and utterly unparalleled, as if she were standing before a supreme being. She found herself unable to move or even breathe as the reanimated body advanced toward her with a calm, graceful poise. By then, her eyes were clouded in despair, haunted by visions of her own demise unfolding in myriad, horrifying ways.
Adam's body halted in front of her, and then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he commanded, "Cease." For a suspended moment, the atmosphere in the room became oppressively still, before the silver glow enshrouding his body erupted in a brilliant burst. In that instant, she was nowhere to be seen.
She had vanished as if erased from existence itself. And upon closer inspection, it was clear that she was not the only one; every other object in the room had faded into nothingness.
After the black-robed woman disappeared, the same ancient, deep voice echoed: "It's too early—way too soon for my liking—but no matter, things are already set in stone." Then, as though Adam's body had been freed from unseen strings, it collapsed onto its back, the silver glow slowly fading away.
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In a dilapidated orphanage nestled deep in the slums, a brown-haired child called out, "Hey Adam, the matron is calling for you," addressing a navy blue-haired teenager. The teen acknowledged with a nod, rising to make his way toward the matron's office. The matron, who also served as the dean of the orphanage, was a kindly elderly woman, frail enough that she might kick the bucket at any moment. Reaching a weathered brown door, he rapped on it firmly.
"Come in," a familiar voice responded from behind the door. He gently pushed it open and stepped into the room. There, he observed the matron seated behind her desk, as was customary, though she was not alone. Present were four additional individuals: a middle-aged man in a suit and three other youths approximately his own age, whom he recognized from around the orphanage, though he had never exchanged words with them before.
"You called, ma'am?" the teen inquired of the elderly woman behind the desk. "Yes, Adam, you turned fourteen two weeks ago, correct?" she asked, prompting a nod from him. With a sorrowful sigh and a saddened expression, she continued, "Unfortunately, according to child rights regulations, we have no choice but to let you go."
The teen paused thoughtfully; though he felt trepidation about the perils of the outside world, he managed a small smile and said, "Thank you for taking care of me all these years." The matron nodded approvingly before gesturing toward the middle-aged man. "This is William Hugh, a government agent. He is here today because, before your parents' death, they were government employees, which entitles you four to certain privileges," she explained, indicating the other three teens in the room.
"He will brief you on what you are entitled to," she added, passing responsibility over to the middle-aged man. "You are eligible for an apartment and a monthly stipend of five hundred credits. Of course, you may decline, but the only alternative is living on the streets," the man informed the assembled youths.
To Adam it wasn't even an option, the slums we're dangerous' enough for children in the orphanage, not to talk of those on the streets. Sometimes children who go out from the orphanage go missing, only for officials to find their corpse a couple of days after.
A blue-haired teen, overhearing these words, mused silently, "Who in their right mind would reject something like this? It wasn't even a genuine option in the first place, unless one were utterly foolish." All four accepted the offer and were promptly discharged from the orphanage. They were escorted to a nearby building complex—a structure that, despite its function, remained in the slums and was just as dilapidated as the orphanage itself.
"This is where you will reside for approximately the next three years," the middle-aged man declared as the four youths disembarked from the vehicle. He distributed keys to apartments to each of them and stated, "Your accounts, through which you will receive your monthly stipend, will be set up tomorrow. I will see you then." After these parting words, he returned to his vehicle and departed smoothly.
Without a word to the other three, Adam entered the building in search of the apartment assigned to him. He had always been somewhat antisocial. Before long, he arrived at his designated room. As he opened the door, his eyes widened in disbelief and he muttered, "What sort of creature lived here before?!"
The room was, to put it mildly, unpleasant. It was filled with layers of dirt and grime and was in a state of disrepair; however, as the saying goes, beggars cannot be choosers. "I suppose I have to start cleaning," he muttered to himself as he stepped inside.
**Adam's POV**
Is this the fifth memory, or perhaps the twentieth? Honestly, I can't even recall anymore. The last thing I remember is a sudden, searing pain after I mocked that black-robed bitch. Yet, now that I reflect upon it, perhaps I should not have provoked her so. Following that pain, I found myself here—somewhere unknown—reliving fragments of my memories.
I am not entirely sure how I know I am not dead, but I am fairly certain I am still alive. I have little understanding of the mind, yet it appears I am trapped within my own consciousness. I could use this period to contemplate matters; when I eventually wake up, the first thing I must do is break through to rank three. I felt so close to that breakthrough when that bitch was torturing me.
Then, I will have to become proficient with a sword. There is no point in possessing one if I cannot wield it. And finally, I must secure a damn job. I need a steady flow of points—my points have already dwindled to less than half in just over a week.
I was deep in thought when I sensed my sense of self becoming clearer. 'Looks like I'm waking up', I thought. Soon, I became aware of my body again as I peeled open my eyes to a sterile environment that any observer would identify as a hospital or infirmary.
I had been awake for only a few moments when a blue-eyed woman dressed in a doctor's coat appeared. Without uttering a word, her hands began to glow with a golden light that enveloped my body. 'A healer, I suppose,' I mused. After a few moments, she ceased her actions. "I thought you'd never wake up," the woman said.
'You thought I'd never wake up? What does that mean?' I wondered before managing to ask, "How long was I out?" My voice sounded husky, likely due to a parched throat.
"You have been out for approximately two weeks. When you were brought here, you appeared completely fine—no injuries, no abnormalities. Every scan of your body was normal, suggesting you were in a coma, yet your mind and brain were also in impeccable condition, leaving us perplexed about your condition."
Her words struck me like a force of nature. "Two weeks," I thought. I had been out for an entire half-month. "And the outing—how many casualties occurred?" I inquired after a brief pause. "Twenty-three cadets perished in that event," she replied solemnly. "I see," I responded.
"You don't seem concerned," she observed.
"About what?" I asked.
"Uh… never mind. I have notified your homeroom instructor and your first-year representative. They will arrive shortly. In the meantime, you may gather your thoughts," she said before exiting the room.
After her departure, I began to ponder what she meant by my apparent lack of concern—perhaps it was due to the absence of any visible change in my expression.
Soon, the door opened once more, and in walked none other than our esteemed first-year representative, Aurora De Silva. She entered with an air of cool detachment, as though nothing could unsettle her. Damn, she was out of this world—even though I made an effort not to meet her gaze long. No matter how I looked at her, she seemed almost unnatural, as if she should not exist, yet she did. Her stunning, captivating face appeared flawlessly perfect, and her figure was sculpted in a way that could drive even the most timid man wild. In short, she was exquisite.
She soon positioned herself in front of my bed and announced, "You're awake," in a melodious yet detached tone.
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A/N:
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#Your gift is the motivation for my creation.
Grace this novel with them powerstones.
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