Arthur ran to the forest, panting. Along with tears running down his eyes, he was scared. He knew… he was done for if he didn't run. His mother was gone and he didn't have anyone left. He heard yells from the village-yells of the people that were being burnt to death just because of his eye. "They… they killed everyone just because of my damn eye? DAMN IT! WHAT'S SO SPECIAL ABOUT MY EYE? IS THERE SOMETHING I CAN'T SEE? I don't feel that 'special' about this godforsaken thing! Too stupid to get it, huh?" Arthur thought, rolling further into the forest.
After what felt like eternity, he was in the middle of the woods, with snow everywhere in sight. The biting cold pierced his clothes, yet he did not feel a thing. He sat on frozen ground; the chill nibbled into his body as, with his face in his hands, he let the weight of despair crush him.
"I could… no, I SHOULD have done something! Why didn't I? Why am I always so DAMN WEAK?!" His voice cracked and his sobs burst forth, raw and uncontrollable. "I CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT! NOT EVEN SAVE THE ONE PERSON WHO RAISED ME; MY OWN MOTHER!" Tears cascaded down his face like an unrelenting rainfall, each drop reminding him of his failure, each sob a loud echo in the silence of the night.
Snowflakes fell silently around him, mantling his sorrow as he curled in upon himself, willing to disappear into the white oblivion. Cold seeped deeper, yet the real chill was from within-a hollow ache that made him feel more alone than ever.
His stomach growled after long sobs, an uncomfortable reminder of the hunger he had been trying to ignore all day. He wanted to eat, but even thinking about it was pointless-he had no idea how to hunt.
He got to his feet with a resolute sigh, scanned the horizon for anything: berries, roots, anything to ward off the gnawing hunger. He searched tirelessly through the snowy grass, his heart sinking with each empty patch he came across.
As night started to set in completely, the temperature dropped further, wrapping him in its cold, chilling embrace. Defeated, he dropped to the cold ground and huddled his knees against his chest as tightly as possible in a desperate attempt to conserve any remaining warmth. Stillness was wrapped around him from the night around, and he only felt the biting cold and the echo of emptiness within. And to that, he went to sleep.
Presently the sun was up, and its rays beat right upon his face, till he slowly fluttered his eyes open. He sat up straight, and instantly his glance caught the figure of a man standing before him. The latter had hair of a brown color, cut short and combed with a sense of decorum over the forehead, giving him a look of tranquil authority.
Wrapped in a red kimono, intricate dark red branches traced across the fabric almost seemed to throb with life. Underneath it, the black kosode and hakama peeked out, creating great contrast against the deep crimson of his robe.
Awake?" The voice of this man was low and smooth, the result of a slow dripping of blood, silently menacing. Every word cold and sharp, spoken in an eerie calm that spoke volumes of the power lying just below the surface.
Why… does his voice… hold so much damn power? Who is he?" Arthur was scrambling in the depths of his mind, staring up at him wide-eyed with pure presence the stranger seemed to exude. Gripping panic twisted in his chest. "WHO ARE YOU?!" Arthur yells out, standing and slowly stepping backward.
The man was calm, almost unflappable by Arthur's panic. "I am Alexander William Jackson of the 12th Vahros Division," he replied in a voice cold enough to slice through the air like a knife. He subtly adjusted his kimono to reveal two katanas that lay in their sheaths at the left side of his waist, attached to what appeared to be a belt.
Arthur's heart jumped. "Of the Vahros? The strongest Kekiras? The supreme governing authority." His mind whirred in a grasp for stature of the man standing before him. "No way. His voice alone holds that much power? How is he not a captain? Are captains really stronger than that?!" furiously thought Arthur as weight from the fact settled - Alexander could be that dangerous.
"I am no threat, Arthur. Especially to someone as special as you."
"SPECIAL? I HAVE A BLIND EYE AND I COULDN'T SAVE MY OWN DAMN MOTHER. DO NOT CALL MY ASS 'SPECIAL', MISTER JACKSON." Arthur clears to Alexander, hoping he'll understand.
"I completely understand you." Alexander sighs, looking down towards Arthur with a smile on his face.
Wha? " Arthur turns to him, his expression confused and vacant. "Y- YOU DO?!"
"Well, yes. But I need you to be safe. So come with me."
"Nuh uh."
"Then you leave me no choice." Alexander raised his hand, and Arthur felt a sudden searing deep in his chest.
Arthur doubled over, coughing his lungs out in blood. "What the hell was that?!"
"Will of Blood," Alexander returned coolly.
Arthur glared at him, wincing, "And why'd you do that to me? It hurts like hell, you know."
"Follow my 'damn' orders."
Arthur straightened up, wiping his mouth. "How about… no."
Alexander sighed. "Then you leave me no choice… again." He raised his hand once more, and this time Arthur's entire body stiffened, his blood seemingly being stretched and twisted inside him.
Arthur's eyes widened in incredulity as he told himself in his mind, "Blood Puppetry?! Seriously?!"
Without uttering another word, Alexander turned and started to walk, and Arthur's body, utterly out of his control, was forced to follow. Every step felt like a marionette on strings as his legs moved of their own volition.
"Where the hell are you taking me?" Arthur grunted, as even his words struggled to form from a betraying body.
"Quiet down, will you?" Alexander snapped his fingers, and Arthur's mouth instantly clamped shut.
Arthur, though, wasn't one to go quietly. With sheer effort, he pried his mouth open again. "HELP ME! I'M BEING HARASSED BY A CRAZY STRANGER!"
Alexander whipped around, wide-eyed. "How… in Blood's Will did you open your mouth again?" His brow furrowed. "They weren't kidding. He's got potential." Alexander says under his thought.
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Arthur grinned, still somehow in pain. "Nah, I'm just really good at ignoring dumb powers."
"dumb powers? Kid, I'm part of the Vahros Division, and you've got the nerve to call me weak?"
"You're not even a captain. How strong can you really be? Relax."
Alexander's eye twitched. "Do you even have the slightest idea how hard it is to become a captain in the Vahros Division?"
"Nope," Arthur said nonchalantly, "and I don't care to know."
"Well then shut up."
"Why don't you use your proper power and really shut me up?" Alexander clenched his fist once more muttering at his side.
"I swear, why do I always get the mouthy ones… and you know what? Enough of this." Alexander's voice was low but incisive as the edge of a blade just before striking. His relaxed hand was slowly clenched into a fist as muscles stiffened and the air around him thickened. Then, without warning, something came swift and accurate across Arthur's lips, tearing them open and sending a sharp jolt of pain through his face. Blood gushed freely from the cut over the ground beneath them.
"UGH! THAT FUCKIN-" Arthur's voice faltered and his mind blanked from the pain and sudden force of the blow. The world started to blur as his legs buckled, sending him spinning into the darkness. In moments, his body gave completely out, and he crumpled to the ground, out cold before he could get the sentence out.
Alexander watched Arthur's limp form for a moment, his face cold and unreadable. With a soft sigh, he dropped to a crouch to scoop Arthur up into his arms, as if the man weighed nothing. The droplets of crimson continued falling from Arthur's face, trailing after them as Alexander stood, cradling the unconscious Arthur in his arms as if all this were part of some grand plan.
The instant Arthur collapses, he finds himself standing in the middle of this endless space of nothingness. An unearthly silence has fallen, save for the faint sound of his own breathing. The air is thick and heavy, mugging him from every angle. Confused, he stumbles forward, trying to make any sense of where he was or how he came to be here; the footfalls silent.
A landscape, if it could even be called that, sprawled to infinity whichever way one turned; nothing existed but pure blackness. Time seemed to stay still, and with every further step, he felt more and more disoriented. His chest filled with the creeping sense of panic as his breaths turned shallow.
Then, a voice addresses him from the darkness. Quiet, yet ancient; soft, yet etched with an unimaginable power. It sounds as if it was coming from all directions at once, echoing within his skull just as it does in the area around him.
"You have finally come," the voice says, having an unsettling weight, as if it had waited for Arthur all the time.
Arthur freezes dead in his tracks, his heart pounding in his ears. "Who's there?" he calls out; his voice shakes a little, but there's just complete silence and the feeling of something watching him from the shadows.
From the depths of darkness, a figure emerged, shrouded in mystery. He seemed young and yet ageless, his keen, angular features cut in lines of otherworldly beauty. His hair cascaded down his back like a river of night, while his eyes flared bright and piercing, lit it seemed from within by a pale, otherworldly light. He was draped in a long, black robe that was very flowing, with intricate patterns upon it in silver, like constellations. And from him came an air of quiet authority.
There is, however, something unmistakably otherworldly about this human-seeming gentleman. The way that he stands, poised and confident, speaks to a power beyond the very fibres of existence. Arthur feels this weird blend of fear and awe as he gazes into the figure's deep, knowing eyes, sensing that there is a being with the answers to questions he hasn't even begun to ask. "Arthur Ashet, is it?" the figure said, his voice smooth and layered, like silk draping over stone.
"No, Arthur Hartley," Arthur replied, his voice filled with a quivering mix of confusion and defiance.
"I see," the figure mused, an inscrutable smile playing on his lips. "You haven't been informed yet, have you?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" Arthur's impatience flared, heavy in every frustrated word.
His figure leaned closer, his presence an aura of ancient wisdom. "You exist on the precipice of a revelation, yet you remain oblivious to the true depth of your situation. The answer lies within you, waiting to unfurl."
Arthur frowned. "What are you talking about? Just tell me!”
“Ah, but knowledge is a two-edged sword, dear Arthur,” the figure replied, almost with an avuncular tone, his tone almost avuncular now. “It may illuminate, or it may destroy. I could tell you the truths that dance upon the edge of your sight, but such things must unfold in their proper season. You could never grasp the weight of such words if you were not prepared to understand them fully.”
"Then why not help me understand?" Arthur pressed, irritation rising in his chest. "I have a right to know!"
The figure regarded him with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the darkness surrounding them. "Deserving is but a transient attribute in the kingdom of power and fate. You will know soon enough, Arthur, but only when the time is ripe for you. For now, cherish your confusion; it is a forerunner to comprehension. The path before you is full of rigorous tests, and comprehension shall be a friend which you shall have to win.”
“Why is it always riddles with you?" Arthur exclaimed, the weight of the uncertainty weighing upon him.
“Riddles? Perhaps," the figure replied, his voice laced with an enigmatic calm. "But just think; the truths that are left in darkness often turn out to be the most great revelations. Your journey has just started, and soon whispers from your past will point you in the direction toward the awakening of your powers. Believe the process; it was stitched into the fabric of your life.”
Arthur fisted his hands, frustration boiling over. "I don't have time for this! Just tell me who you are!”
“Patience, young Hartley," the figure said, his voice near soothing. "In time, you will come to understand what this encounter means. But for now, know this: I am but a part of what is someday to be your guide through inner and outer shadows. Our fates are inextricably linked, and the light will soon pierce through the darkness.”
“GOD DAMN IT, MAN! LET ME OUT OF THIS ENDLESS VOID!” Arthur’s voice cracked as he screamed, his patience finally shattering. The oppressive silence, the cryptic figure; it was all too much. His chest heaved as anger and desperation boiled over, his words echoing into the abyss.
The figure remained unmoved, his expression calm as though Arthur’s outburst was expected. He let the silence linger for a moment longer before speaking, his voice as steady as ever. “Before you leave… one last thing.”
Arthur glared at the figure, still seething. “What now?”
The figure cleared his throat, and for the first time, there was an odd solemnity in his voice. “You have more within you. I am not the only one.”
Arthur’s anger faltered, confusion creeping in. “More? What the hell are you talking about?”
“There are others,” the figure continued, ignoring Arthur’s protest. “You’ve barely scratched the surface of what lies within you. I am but one fragment of a much larger force; something far greater than you can yet comprehend.”
Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say another word, his vision began to blur. The figure, the endless darkness; all of it twisted and faded away. “Wait- what do you mean, others?!” he shouted into the void, but his voice felt distant, muffled, as if he were slipping away.
“More… wha-?” Arthur’s words faltered as everything went black once more.
The sensation of cold air on his face pulled him back. His eyelids fluttered open, and he blinked against the sudden brightness. He wasn’t in the void anymore. The sound of hooves clattering against cobblestones echoed around him, and the scent of earth and pine filled the air.
Arthur jerked upright, disoriented. He was in a carriage, the gentle sway of its movement grounding him to reality. Two horses trotted ahead, their manes rippling in the wind, while Alexander sat at the front, holding the reins with calm precision.
Arthur gasped, his mind spinning. What just happened? The figure's words still echoed in his head. "More..."
Alexander glanced over his shoulder. “Ah, you’re awake. Took you long enough.”
Arthur barely heard him, his thoughts fixated on the cryptic message he’d been given. What did the figure mean by "others"? And what power was hiding within him that he didn’t yet know?
He clenched his fists, uncertainty and anticipation swirling within. Whatever this meant, he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he crossed paths with the mysterious figure… or the others that now lurked in the back of his mind.