A green something, too fast to make it out, flashed through a dense forest. Bushes and branches shook as it passed, almost indistinguishable from its surroundings. Without slowing down, it kept going. Canyons, rivers, and even swamps passed by, but eventually the green figure came to a halt.
No longer in motion, it got revealed as a young man in green clothing. Blond hair, rather short, with sword and shield attached to his back. Clearly some kind of warrior. But instead of wearing a helmet, a lengthy and pointy green hat dangled from the back of his head, revealing two pointy ears.
An [Elf].
Judging by his demeanor, it no longer appeared odd as to why he was in such a hurry. His piercing, blue eyes were eagerly scanning the surroundings with his facial expression resembling that of a noble. That is, a noble out for blood after learning that somebody had killed his newborn male first born.
The [Elf] had arrived at the very end of a forest. In front of him was nothing but a large area of barren land and in the midst of it a severely out of place looking creature. Its skin was a bit darker than soil, yet completely hairless. Six limbs were attached to it, four on which it was standing. The remaining two were located at its front; they looked like sharp, pointy javelins and it had a gross head that was graced by shiny white fangs above which four black eyes ogled into the distance.
In the midst of drawing his sword, the [Elf] briefly paused. He knew he had to get past this thing, but with no intel about this foe jumping straight into battle seemed rather foolish. On the other hand - the sun was setting, night wasn't far off and so were the dangers it brought with it. The blond man made a decision. Upon rushing forward and emerging from the thicket, a message appeared.
You have encountered [(???) lvl 40]
The creature immediately noticed a motion in its environment and turned to face the approaching threat. Its throat bulged before its mouth opened to release an orange mucus that was sent flying towards the [Elf]. The latter dodged the corrosive attack only to barely deflect an incoming spear-like limb with his shield upon which he sled under the creature's torso.
Knowing the weight it carried, the creature simply let itself fall to the ground in an attempt to crush the much smaller foe beneath with its body. But by doing so it also exposed its head to a much closer proximity to the ground. Agile as he was, the young man quickly rolled away from down under before he could be crushed. Noticing this, the creature tried to get back up onto its limbs but the [Elf] had already leaped onto the back of the monster and with a swift motion rammed his sword into its neck, putting an end to the creature's life.
Congratulations!
You have slain [(???) lvl 40]
To enter [cave of (???)], find its entrance
"Find its entrance," the young man repeated nonchalantly, as there was nothing but empty wasteland around him.
Suddenly, a short distance before him the ground gave in to reveal a massive underground tunnel. Confident, the [Elf] took several steps toward the opening and then much quicker many more back. A truly gigantic creature, similarly looking to the one from before but a lot uglier, came running out of the cave at a frightening pace.
An enraged [(mother-???) lvl 400] has appeared
There wasn't even enough time to mentally process the system message before the blond [Elf] was brutally mauled to death. Slowly but inevitably everything went dark as his last breath escaped his body.
GAME OVER
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Arata sighed, took 'Legend of Zelda' out of his Game Boy and inserted a different game, 'Sonic the Hedgehog'.
"This level, no this whole game is just too difficult!" he complained. "How is anyone supposed to pass this unfair boss monster?"
Arata was born in the early two thousands. As such, at a young age he wasn't too familiar with video games. Him and his peers were mostly seen outside. Football, tag, hide and seek, Yu-Gi-Oh and Pokémon cards - that kind of stuff. However, one Christmas night young Arata found himself holding a strange, yet sensational piece of technology in his hands. A Game Boy.
Fascinated by this device, he quickly became acquainted with a new way of spending his free time. Which, with the Game Boy now around, flew by and kept dwindling away as the holidays drew closer to their end. Much to his surprise, on the day of return to elementary school he found that most of his friends already owned one. Some even possessed things like the PSP or the Game Boy's successor, the Nintendo DS. A view children even claimed to have a PlayStation 3 at home.
Nonetheless, what unified many elementary schoolers was that most had at least a Game Boy. Despite that being the case, it seemed like Arata was the only one who remained with an older version of the device, the 'Game Boy Advance'. The others had a newer version, the 'Game Boy Advance SP', which was different in the sense that it was foldable and powered via charging cable instead of by batteries.
But since both models essentially shared the same functions, it was possible to trade or lend games and give advice on how to get through certain levels. Eventually, though, the Game Boy grew more and more out of fashion and so most kids just gave their games to Arata who was still using it.
Because of this, the young boy's desk was now full of game cards among batteries used to power his device. However, the reason as to why wasn't any gaming-related happiness or zeal but his father's imminent arrival. The thought of seeing him again made the young boy nervous. Not because the father had been abusive toward his son but because of the lack of closeness and intimacy between the two of them.
Instead of pleasant memories of spending time with his dad, most of Arata's early childhood memories were filled with seeing him fight his mother. A lot of angry, agitated and hateful shouting between the parents accompanied by perpetual complaining, negativity, and ugly blame games. Things young Arata didn't comprehend.
At that time all the little boy had ever wanted was for his parents to be reconciled and all of that mess to simply stop. Oh and it did stop. At the age of four, his parents got divorced. With the boy's mother getting custody while the father kept pursuing his career, seeing the latter turned into a rare and special occasion. Which commonly occurred on Christmas and perhaps Easter, at times only on one of them... or none.
The fact that his dad never wrote or called certainly added to that. So did the death of the boy's mother who fell victim to a malicious scheme. A loss which virtually made the boy an orphan, since his dad was never around. Thankfully, his grandparents soon after took him in. But in spite of this, young Arata never held any grudges against his dad. Although burdened by feelings of neglect, he chose to overlook his father's insufficient care. Which wasn't surprising considering the amount of admiration and respect the boy had for his dad.
Arata's father was a tall, handsome man with sharp, blue eyes and an athletic frame. Being a business man, he carried himself in fancy looking suits and expensive leather shoes. What made the youngan adore his father primarily though happened to be something entirely different. It wasn't really the high position his dad had inside of a renown company, the German car he drove or his salary. It was simply because of who he was.
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A man who exuded reliability and strength with his mere presence. An unwavering, deep and calm masculine voice. A quiet yet secure type of confidence and a demeanor that almost always drew attention and caused people to approach him and strike up conversations, at times even complete strangers. Because of this young Arata never experienced any difficulties in passionately boasting about his father in front of his schoolmates whenever he got the opportunity to do so.
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In the meanwhile, the Game Boy's screen had turned black and Arata's room more quiet than a cemetery. Holding his breath, he listened closely. The sound of faint voices could be heard. An old and bright one belonged to Arata's grandmother. Another old but deep one, was his grandfather's. Then the all too familiar yet unfamiliar deep, firm voice resounded. His father's.
The boy's heart began thumping faster.
A few moments later, a door downstairs slammed shut. In turn, another door opened, allowing two small feet to descend down a staircase. Each step was taken slowly, like caution had taken the form of a leash. Each step felt like hitting an accelerator, increasing both heart rate and sweat, which ran down his back.
Arata swallowed hard having arrived at the bottom. As he looked around, what caught his eye was his father's blazer inside the wardrobe. Ignoring the now more audible voices, he took a few steps toward the wardrobe and reached for the jacket. Immediately the scent of his dad's Eau de Parfum became noticeable. A smell he had missed for far too long.
He swiftly put the jacket on and slipped into the big, brown leather shoes beneath it. A wide smile appeared on the kid's face. Unaware of how ridiculous he looked, the boy took a deep breath, inhaling his dad's scent whilst holding tightly onto what reminded him of his father the most. A thought sparked inside his mind and he began searching the blazer's pockets. A car key, a wallet, cigarettes, a lighter, some more keys - and... a pack of chewing gum.
The smile on Arata's face grew wider. Soon the flavor of cinnamon, albeit a bit spicy, engulved his mouth. His father's favorite gum 'Big Red' alongside 'Airwaves' which both weren't Arata's first choice. The boy preferred chewing gum like 'Juicy Fruit' or 'Hubba Bubba' but what the father liked was also appreciated by the son.
The boy put the clothes back to where they belonged. Pressing his ear onto the door of the living room, young Arata began eavesdropping.
"-that I'm proud of you, my son!" a bright old voice resounded, "You're doing well at your job and you're able to provide for your child."
"However," a deep old voice continued, "we told you not to send that much money."
"Don't worry about it," a deep voice answered, "That's my duty and responsibility as a parent."
The boy listened closer at the sound of his father's voice.
"Well, we didn't want to spoil him so we made sure most of the money was invested wisely. He'll have access once he's old enough."
"How is he doing so far? Any improvements in school or sports?"
"As you might assume, the death of his mother... has burdened the boy," the grandmother's voice began. "Ever since Emma's tragic passing-"
"I don't want to hear that name."
"... Arata hasn't been the same," the grandmother continued. "After you two had gotten divorced, he appeared more reserved. The loss of his mother, however, seems to have taken a greater toll on him. I'm afraid to say outside of school he doesn't really do much. Sometimes it even seems like... like he has given up."
"Given up? On what?"
The grandfather's voice continued, "I know this may sound a little over the top to you, but you should see your boy. At times it's like he's in a different place with his mind. We didn't think much of it at first until we got a call from his teacher. He had been on a school trip with his class, in winter, when a driver on the street lost control of his car which then slithered towards the children. Everyone jumped aside except Arata. According to the teacher, the boy saw the car coming straight at him and... didn't move an inch. Apparently, it looked like he didn't care at all."
"To me it just sounds like his mother failed at raising him well. No wonder he isn't showing any progress. The only good thing she had to pass down to him were her looks anyway," the father's voice said, dismissively.
"Listen James, you can't just put that on the mother and especially not on the boy himself. The divorce, the loss, your absence, just to name a few, are all things that have affected him," the grandfather said.
"He's had a rough time indeed, especially for a child!" the grandmother interceded.
"Mh... How does that saying go again? Strong men create easy times. Easy times create weak men. Weak men create hard times and hard times create strong men. I think it's time for the boy to step up to the plate, the earlier the better. I don't blame him entirely, of course this was bound to happen with her getting custody after all."
A snort could be heard. "A mummy's boy. A wuss."
"JAMES!" the grandmother exclaimed. "For crying out loud, give him a break. He's only a child!"
"You haven't exactly been an ideal parent either, quite frankly said. When was the last time you actually spent some quality time with your son? A father's duty is more than just to provide. Putting all the blame on the boy's mother doesn't add to your aforementioned claim of taking responsibility," the grandfather's now very serious voice added.
"Oh really? And who else do you think would then have been tasked with paying child support? After she divorced me, left and took the child? When was the last time you worked 16 hour days? You're making it seem like I pretended to go buy some milk and then disappeared. Your overprotectiveness isn't going to help Arata be less of a dunce."
As the now heated argument between the adults began to climax, the door to the living room became more and more distorted. The sound of their voices grew faint. What became more perceptible was the boy's heart ache that increased in hurt with every heart beat.
Simply standing there, completely frozen with an open mouth, salty tears were flowing freely over quivering lips. Falling onto and around a piece of gum that had dropped onto the ground. Arata gulped hard and painfully. It felt like a thick lump had formed in his throat, like his father's words had gotten stuck there.
When the pain inside his chest became unbearable, the boy finally started moving again. Short legs that shivered with unbelief and anxiety slowly stumbled backwards. Without being able to clearly conceive it, it seemed like Arata's entire body had picked up on something. Something he would have never expected.
Betrayal.
The only thing. The rock under his feet. The utmost important reason as to why he was still somehow standing... had been his father. To Arata it didn't matter what he'd have to face in life as long as the boy knew that his father was for him. Because then it didn't matter who or what was against him. Sure, he would stumble and fall. But clinging onto this belief - that his father loved him... and perhaps even was proud of him - was what made him get back up again and keep on going.
A memory of Arata being picked up by his dad and placed on his shoulders resurfaced. The boy could exactly recall how he'd felt in that moment. It had felt as if he had benn sitting on top of the world. But now something had changed. Having witnessed the uncomfortable truth that the man he looked up to, of whom he thought loved him unconditionally, instead despised him made the little boy's world fall apart.
At first he thought he'd just misheard when his dad began slandering Arata's mother and eventually himself as well. But the more the condescending words became, the more difficult it had gotten to continue denying what his ears were hearing.
Full of sorrow, the boy put on some shoes and quietly went outside leaving behind a trail of tear droplets. The purple evening sky was filled with clouds which seemed to share some sympathy to the boy's grief as gentle and light drops of rain welcomed him as soon as he stepped out under the sky.
Once on his bicycle, direction and safety were completely disregarded. Frustration, pain, anger and despair fueled his legs to take him wherever he was heading. After a while, he stumbled into a nearby field of bamboo where he had ended up and let himself fall onto the ground. And so he lay there, with a trembling chest and limbs stretched out to the sides like a starfish.
Arata closed his eyes. Eventually, the raging sea of emotions and feelings inside of him began settling down and a sad sense of calmness filled him.
"Wish I could... start over. New beginning... Fresh start."
Tired as he was, he simply began observing with his other senses. The smell of soil, the fresh air, the sound of wind gently shaking the bamboo. Rain drops hitting his now completely wet body, drenched in sweat, tears and water.
After some time, the rain droplets began pouring down heavier onto his body. So much so that the impact they made became slightly painful. A rather uncommon sensation but not as uncommon as what he saw when he opened his eyes.
The bamboo plants from earlier had disappeared. Upon looking around, he realized that it wasn't the rain that was hitting him harder. It was him who was levitating into the sky at a frightening pace. Arata's bamboozled facial expression turned into that of dread. He opened his mouth in horror but couldn't muster a sound. Suddenly, a bright light struck him and the only thing he could see was white.
Not long after Arata could see again. He noticed he was still floating in the air but the raindrops had turned into snow flakes. This realization faded into the background as soon as the boy noticed an unfathomable presence.
The hair on his skin stood up, yet all he could see around him were just snow flakes. Regardless, every cell of his body knew he wasn't alone.
A few moments of silence followed, before a thundering voice resounded.
"Welcome, child!"
Upon hearing this, the glittering snow flakes began floating upwards, toward the sky. Or so it seemed. Soon enough, Arata realized that it was really just him who was falling onto the ground.
This time his body obeyed him, allowing him to descend while screaming.