—For the ring...—Apolo repeated, watching as Helena looked at her older brother as if he were insane. He wondered if he should play along or try to wake up.

The truth was, this was the first lucid dream Apolo had in his life. Perhaps his ancestors were blessing him with some kind of hidden message. So, the young man decided to go along with his older brother and asked:

—Do you start, or do I?

—You go first since this is your party, then I'll go, then you: we'll take turns— Fausto replied, excited about the idea of playing with his younger brother.

—As you wish, although it's been a while since I've done this kind of nonsense, so I doubt I'll be any good...— Apolo commented as he stretched his hand, pointing at Helena with one of his fingers. Immediately, the tip of his finger caught fire and formed a little ball the size of a paper ball, ready to be shot like a blowgun dart. Then, the ball shot out, creating a beam of light like an arrow, heading towards Helena. She tried to move, but the shackles prevented her, and she was hit directly in the leg. She winced at the impact but didn't cry or show any expression of pain. After all, the lucky little ball had hurt her less than a pinch.

—Haha, what rubbish was that? You didn't even leave a burn mark— Fausto laughed cruelly.

—But I hit the target!— Apolo exclaimed with pride.

—Sure, sure, now, what does the jury say?— Fausto asked, looking at the other members of the party.

*Boo, boo, boo*...The boos from the audience filled the room. It seemed people were quite unhappy with the spectacle.

—You hear that? You have to put more effort into winning the crowd. We're adults now and play this game as adults— Fausto commented, stretching his hand and pointing at Helena with one of his fingers. After a few seconds, a tiny fireball formed in front of his finger. However, instead of launching it right away, Fausto let the fireball distort until it became a cone.

When everything was ready, Fausto looked at his brother and, without aiming, fired, saying:

—Let me show you how to win this game.

As soon as he finished saying those words, the cone of fire shot out, forming a beam of light like an arrow, and hit Helena squarely in the arm.

—Aaargh!— Helena cried out in intense pain as she watched blood pouring from her arm.

*Plaff, plaff, plaff*...The people in the room started applauding frantically as they watched Helena writhing in pain.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

—...— Apolo fell silent as his brother gave him a look indicating it was his turn. Observing that conspiratorial look on his older brother's face, Apolo immediately recalled that he had participated in a not-so-different game with his older brother once in his childhood: though, on that occasion, it involved only two straw mannequins. So, the dream he was experiencing right now must be a distorted memory of that day, mixed with the memory of his farewell party organized by his relatives before he departed for the capital. The problem for the young noble was that he still didn't understand why he was remembering this event, and his curiosity compelled him to play along with the game's rules.

Making a decision, Apolo raised his hand, and a fireball began to form in his open palm. The ball grew to the size of a tennis ball, wobbling as if it were showing signs that it couldn't be held in Apolo's palm for much longer. That's when he decided to launch the ball at Helena.

*Flush*...The ball shot through the air and hit Helena's round belly squarely.

*Blurghhhh*...Helena writhed in pain, clutching her stomach, and began vomiting, splattering the floor and evoking disgust from the onlookers.

*Boo, boo*...The crowd booed, repulsed by the sight of the girl vomiting.

—But what kind of messed-up logic is this?— Apolo complained, receiving negative shouts from the crowd and realizing he was losing the game.

—There are different ways, my friend. Look, learn from your older brother how to win this game— Fausto commented with a smile, stretching his hand and forming a fireball of the same size Apolo had thrown earlier in his palm. Then, the fireball began to spin and flatten until it resembled a plate.

*Fush*... The fire plate shot out, illuminating the entire room and hitting Helena's arm squarely.

*AAAA*.... Helena screamed, collapsing from the pain as she felt one of her arms detached from her body. The detached arm grotesquely hung in the air, held by the shackle, while Helena's unconscious body dangled from her remaining hand.

*Plaff, plaff, plaff*...The crowd applauded excitedly as they watched the girl's blood spill onto the floor.

—Disgusting...— Apolo murmured, watching the gruesome scene from a distance. It was then that he realized he felt no pity for the girl hanging on the wall: just a complete lack of empathy that failed to move his soul.

—Weren't you super close friends when you were young?— Fausto asked, looking at his brother curiously, apparently more interested in eavesdropping on his younger brother's thoughts.

—Huh?... Yeah, we were friends, I think...— Apolo commented, looking at his "friend" now unconscious on the wall, bleeding out, without feeling a shred of sympathy.

—You think, or you thought? Shouldn't it be easy to distinguish a friend?— Fausto asked, sitting back in his chair, showing more interest in the conversation than in continuing the game.

—No, it's hard. I don't have friends, so it's complicated to compare— Apolo replied, noticing the music had become loud again and the colorful glass shards had switched colors from the monotonous red they were during Fausto's turn. Even the rest of the party participants resumed their routine of "fun", almost as if they had received an order, completely ignoring the conversation between him and his older brother or the game's continuity.

—You're my friend, Apolito. That's why we play together, right? Or am I mistaken?— Fausto asked, grabbing another bottle from the table and swaying again.

—We're siblings, not friends...— Apolo replied firmly.

—Haha, that's your opinion, and I couldn't care less about your opinion on this matter— Fausto laughed as he took a sip from the bottle in his hand—As I told you, you're my friend. So, you have friends! The problem is that for you, I'm not your friend, and no one is. However, that's just your perspective, not the "reality" of life.