'CREAK!'
He opened the door to the shabby four walls he called home. Or rather, had called home for the past half a year.
The flickering room lights lamps made it clear that maintenance had been a distant relative, that was if they were even related at all.
He didn't bother looking around, he already knew the place was a mess.
Releasing his control, he let his body fall onto the tattered foam.
Others might have found it uncomfortable to sleep on but as someone who'd slept in the most unimaginable places over the years, it might as well have been clouds.
'Ouch... ' He winced in pain. He almost forgot that he was injured.
Rummaging under the bed he pulled out a dirty satchel, opening it to reveal a black colored root.
It was known as Black Burn, and was often used to ease pain by chewing on it.
'Only one left.' The young man sighed, taking out the last piece, chewing on it.
'Was this really the right path to take?'
He couldn't help but ponder to himself, the kind of life he forced himself to live. The pain, the cuts, the bruises…
Was it worth it?
But when he recalled his father's words, his mind reacted violently, his purpose becoming clear.
He would prove those words wrong. He wouldn't remain weak.
But he could only remain so serious for so long. Especially when his stomach started rumbling.
His expression darkened. It wasn't like he had a stock of food lying around.
It seemed he would simply have to make due with Root. It wasn't too bitter after all.
Of course any Arcanist worth their salt would call bullshit.
He turned facing upwards, his line of sight, matching that of the ceiling, his face shown for all those who bothered to look. Well... all the critters that bothered to look at least.
He didn't particularly mind. It wasn't like this was his real face, it had been so long that he had long since forgotten how he looked.
But the only thing that remained the same no matter what face he wore were his eyes, these cold lifeless eyes.
The very thing that brought about that title…
REAPER
'Sigh, I've got to stop playing this silent killer game.' He felt the scar that ran from his lips down his neck. The soft echoes of the pain caused him to wince.
'At least it adds to my looks I guess. Tch.'
The face might not have been real but his injuries and scars were very much so.
Truthfully, he wasn't a sadist. Probably. Okay ,maybe a little.
But there was little he could do when any form of recognition led to him being tagged as the devil's incarnate.
The moment anyone saw these eyes, they would associate it with his persona. Regardless of the face. Regardless of how he looked.
He had large ears that almost seemed Elven but fell short. Hanging from his right ear was a strange skull earring.
It seemed like the type of immaculate piece that would come in a pair but unfortunately, there didn't seem to be a second piece with him.
His locks of hair were kept short, packed towards the right, looking like dreads from one angle, and flowing waves in another.
But if you asked him… there was truly nothing special about him. A simple mortal mercenary.
Powerful yes. But at the end of the day… Weak.
He sighed, but that was soon replaced with determination. He would form his Diagram, the basis for his Concept soon enough.
Getting up, he sat in a meditative posture.
'Heart.' That name. His surname. What did it mean? What was its intent?
'Diagram...' This world that allowed for meaningful connections in otherwise meaningless things, in this case it was his family name.
But could a name really be called meaningless? If anything weren't 'names' the most significant things that could be given?
What was a person if not the name they were called?
If so… A Valiant Heart? A Heart of Stone? A Heart of Principles?
What did it mean by Heart?
He tried to read the intentions but they were too muffled and far reaching, almost as if looking down on him in contempt for trying.
Seeing that he wasn't making any progress, frustrated, he took out his spoils from the temple, pouring it out in front of him.
A pendant. A pair of gloves. A note. An orb.
"An orb?" he picked up the round object frowning.
It had an odd shape.
It looked like a sphere visually, but when he touched it, it had strange depths, showing dimensions it didn't seem to have.
"What an odd object…" He wanted to delve further but, the longer he held it, the more it felt like reality blurred when he looked at it.
'What is this...' Eventually, he put it away, the feeling becoming unbearable.
At some point cold sweat had started forming around his body. It was clear he wouldn't be getting anything out of it now.
Even if he could, he couldn't help but wonder if that would be the right course of action.
After putting it away, there were only 3 items left. All of which seemed more pathetic than the last.
Looking at everything he picked out the note. Of everything here it was probably the most important.
(So you're alive brat. I was sure I had killed you by the 2nd Trial but I guess you ain't going down like me huh?)
Reaper rolled his eyes at the first statement. The man was dead and still making jokes.
(You need to understand that the fact that you are reading this means I failed…)
(Something is coming. As sad as it is, you are our only contingency plan.)
His brows twitched. What did he mean by that? Was he saying that he felt bad that his own son was too useless?
Wasn't that too shameless?
Also our? Did he mean the clan? Or was there someone else involved?
It seemed something else was going on in the background that he wasn't aware of.
But despite that he didn't skip to the end, ensuring he read every word to not miss anything.
The truth was he had been chasing after these 'Walls' with clues left behind by his father. Though explained as a Wall, These Runic Walls were anything but.
It was more accurate to call them Encased Fractures.
There were different types of Fractures, all of which served different purposes, but the encased Fractures depending on who you asked were the most useless or the most valuable.
These particular Fractures only revealed themselves at very particular times under specific conditions.
The scene of them collapsing was not them being destroyed but rather ceasing to exist on this Plane of Reality.
One could then say, if they were such enigmatic existences how was a mortal like him able to survive?
In truth, those capable of predicting the appearances of such things simply didn't interact with this lower section of the world.
At their level, anything of worth to them wouldn't appear here. Or so they believed.
Not to mention he had his means, ond could say they were the very reason he was constantly broke.
(I didn't do right by you children. I prepared all that was needed but I never truly entertained the possibility of failure.)
Reaper's gaze flickered but he continued nonetheless.
(Unfortunately I truly cannot say much even on this paper without the needed countermeasures. If you truly want to know more, visit The City of Blue and Opal.)
'Why there?' He frowned. The mystery with it was two fold.
One. It was a named city.
Two. The person who saved him…
Then he recalled another line.
'cannot'
His frown deepened. He knew this man well enough to know it couldn't be a simple use of the word.'
For as long as he had known the man, he hadn't used the word once.
The fact that his old man couldn't hide information about an entity was alarming.
He didn't know how powerful his father was in relation to others but that wasn't the point. Just how powerful…
Snapping out of his thoughts he continued reading.
(I won't blame you if you run away. Just know that whichever option you choose I love you.)
Reaper raised a brow. Love? Was this man capable of that?
(...)
(I'M KIDDING! YOU'LL LIKELY DIE WHICHEVER ONE YOU CHOOSE!!! No… you'll definitely die. LMAOOOO!!!! -Your Life Giver.)
'What the hell was that ending?' He felt his temple veins bulge, his irritation building.
He was about to cast the paper aside when he noticed little scribblings on the side.
(Oh forgot to mention you'll probably have difficulty advancing for a very long time. I'll explain later. It's not that your stupid but rather I'm to-)
Reaper shook his head, he didn't know why but he felt like reading anymore would probably give him a stroke.
'Sigh whatever made me think this man was cool as a child? Life Giver? Really?'
Finally having calmed down enough, he picked up the gloves, ignoring the remaining words, who knew what he would do if he continued reading.
A small piece of paper was attached to it, as if a foreshadowing of him having been ignored his father slipped another note into the gloves.
"Happy 18th Birthday son." Reaper stared at the piece of paper, his expression unclear.
After a while he couldn't take it anymore, bashing the poor table in.
"I'M 19 YOU JACKASS!" He exhausted all air available in his lungs and yet felt that it was nowhere near enough.
"Everything good son?" Old Rock upon hearing the screaming ran over to check out the situation.
"Uh...yeah. Just some nightmares." Reaper let out a sheepish smile as a cold sweat crept behind him.
Nightmares? Really?
Looking at the now broken table Old Rock raised an eyebrow but kept his comments to himself. After making sure everything was alright he left, without saying much else.
"Kids these days. What kinda exercises are they teaching them?" He reminisced then shook his head, going back to his room.
Meanwhile, Reaper's expression was coated in black lines. He could imagine the old man's echoing voice laughing at him having made a fool of himself.
Of course if his father saw this situation maybe he would frown for the first time since he reached the peak.
Nineteen? What did he mean by Nineteen? How had he lost a year?
But unfortunately he was already long gone…