I hear all of the surrounding voices in a surrounding clamor. I see flocks of people living happily in the confines of the capital as they go from store to store, bartering possessions such as food, clothing, supplies, and jewelry. I reckon that I am standing in the middle of this marvelous scene. It makes my personal experience with torture seem like a brim outlier.
The basic summary of what led to this sorta slavery would be the following lines. I am called to the council to “discuss” my further future. It seems that this government’s legislative decided that I should be able to explore and grow in their lands. Despite this decision being one the king was against; I got to go sorta free. The situation ended after kissing upon the hand of the king as a formality. Also wanting to keep my identity and existence secret from the world; the legislature gifted me with a few items and a new identity to traverse the land covertly.
My middle finger throbs from the discomfort of suddenly bearing the Ring of Appearance. It itches at the cost of being able to both slightly change minor details, or hide them completely. No matter how I view it, this is an ability people would covet; It reminds me of a certain hobbit.
“Hey! What are you standing there for!?” says my future partner.
I lazily reply, “I’ll get there when I get there. What’s the rush?”
“But everyone has already left. We need to get moving already!”
When I mean future partner, I refer to my new fellow co-worker in my newly gained profession: adventuring. Her name is Alana Pèrez: she is athletic, slim, well proportioned, and holds an entrancing vibe. Something that she maintains effortlessly as if she merely breathing. Even more like a thief. The fact that we are paired up is another “gift” of the officials. She is one of the five most promising recruits of this generation. Are you wondering where the other four could possibly be? I guess it’s time to start this thing with them huh.
I walk to meet the rest of my party to be to see them preparing the carriage for our little country expedition.
“You finally made it back, I was wondering when I would have to drag you here.” says a small and exceptionally laid back little man in the carriage. Gnome is the better term though. His wavy hair held a green intonation, allowing him to pass for a potted plant in humor. His clothing looked more modern than all of the others as he was wearing a sort of medical uniform.
“Goddammit! Get the fuck out of there, and work already!” says a jaded mage with the mouth of a sailor. He was dressed in a robe currently surrounded by an aura of hostility in an attempt to put the other man to work. He held decently long hair that flowed with the wind at times.
An earnest-looking man sharpens his cuirass, then stating, “I understand the purpose of order and relaxation. It seems you two are overdoing your respective sides.” He begins to smirk like a know it all, betraying what I believe to be his appearance. He had this greasy looking hair to accompany his calm face.s
“Ah! Welcome back Alg… I mean Amil!” speaks a straightforward noble looking lady.
It may sound weird that I’m given a secret identity to only reveal my actual name, but it would be immensely awkward if someone called my actual name to be welcomed with no response.
They all are unaware that I am the newly summoned hero of this kingdom, it is a secret to them because they weren’t trusted. They were all the newest generation of adventuring prodigies this kingdom had to offer, but the government here decided to withhold the truth. However, their amount of loyalty still comes with the benefits of the entire kingdom funding them, akin to scholarships back in my world, yet I hold a position that renders their achievements null in comparison.
This form of espionage, I would be lying if I were to say that this action alone didn’t make me feel at home. I mumble, “We trust you, but not that much.” It seems to apply to other worlds as well. It seems this world was also steep in our same sense of values towards people that aren’t part of the higher brass.
“Thank you for the greetings,” I say with a big smile on my face, “Is there anything I can do to help with fixing the carriage?”
I decided to show gratitude for their work to appeal to the idea that I don’t have to do anything. I am willing to do my fair share of work if I have too, but it would serve me to learn more about the current setting. I need to learn about the technology, societal system, racial hierarchy, and anything else I can kiss up too; I am in desperate need to fill in a good proportion of my personal questions for survival’s sake. I do have another ulterior motive being…
“You really want to take a shower that badly huh.”
The noblewoman is to be referred to as Alisha García from now on swiftly chops the lackadaisical man, the one residing in the carriage, in the head; she hoped that it would do more than just signal him to sigh.
“I can help you out with your little tour of the town.”
Before I properly understand his words, his arm was wrapped around my waist because of his little predicament with height as he led me away from the rest. While everyone shows either a bitter or dismayed face at the development, they all return to do their share of the required work for departure, with the exception of one. ‘Get back here you twit! Don’t skip out on your work!’ I hear Alisha shout out with no regard for the surrounding, and continued to complex the audience that had to view her performance.
After walking a good distance from the group, the culprit responsible for my abduction, says, “You really could have just said so if you really wanted to. No need to display such shoddy acting.”
“What gave you such an impression? I might need it for future reference. It would do me a great justice if you informed me.”
“I’ve watched my fair share of plays you know. You might fool others with your little theatrics, but not me. I was a bit of a maniac for plays, I know acting when I see it. So spill. Why are you skipping out on your work? I know why I’m doing it, but I don’t know you enough. The cat is out of the bag, no need to make it worse.”
“I only want to learn more about the town. It should be a good start for forging a common sense for this land. Having too little information is unsettling for my exasperated mind.”
“Having heard its reasoning. It lets me slack and act like a smartass. A benevolent opportunity if I ever saw any.”
“Well then my tour guide, where are we off to now? I have a curious temperament so expect a good amount of questions.”
“Don’t worry. I know the terms and conditions to the more lax path. One must utilize them to the full extent.”
He flashes a grin to show his acceptance of our little arrangement. He quickly stops and raises his hand waiting for me to do the same. I follow the motions, both shaking the other’s hand, to cement our agreement further.
“So take your pick of the possible districts: Housing District, Cultivation District, Market District, Industrial District, Arcanum District, Academy District. Which one will it be?”
“I’ll go to the Industrial District. Lead the way,” I say with a clear grin on my face.
“Why is that so good sir?”
“It checks out most of my requirements,” I respond jokingly. “After all, the scene in front of me requires a bit of an answer.”
I see the sight that is both unbelievably modern while also retaining an archaic nature, blending into an intriguing display of complete astoundment. Cars are sounded in my ears as they move from my vision to disappear out of my sight. It rouses my human curiosity, like a tiny kid who was just dropped in a new sandbox.
“Do they not talk about cars in the royal palace?”
We walk through the road as there aren’t any stoplights anywhere around here. This used to be the system before corporations realized their lost profit in car crashes. Creating our newly appointed title of ‘Jaywalkers’, not like I’m going to tell anyone, I hold no interest in bringing a bad habit from my world here.
“Never mind that. Anything you can tell me about the town in general. All information is welcome in my eyes.”
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“I know what I’m talking about you know.”
He stops, forming a grim expression on his face; he lifts his arm to have his index finger to point at an alley. It is a dark alley that is hard to spot, something that can be found with semi-serious effort.
“Behind that corner in the way back of the alley. Something wondrous occurred in that spot.”
With a face imbued chock-full nostalgia, he says, “That was where I got my very first blowjob. Truly an event one should never forget.”
“…”
I quickly draw a palm to my face, silence tends to be the best response to these kinds of answers.
Peeking at his face through the crack of my fingers I see his smirk was exactly where it belonged, below the nose, he is currently rubbing with his index finger as if the event mattered that much to him. Well… I guess it would to some people huh. What would I know? I have long forgotten about such things.
“Did… you just insult me somehow? I would like to hear it with my ears, reading faces is too troublesome to even bother for such small offenses,” he speaks wearily.
“No, I only thought of how I should really be careful about my words in the future when I’m asking you for favors.”
“A smart, but an ultimately futile decision. I would like to give you a D for effort, however, I wasn’t seeing your soul in it.”
We continue to pass through more streets and turns until we reached a gate: pressure locks and a huge latch are in visible sight. This scene is jarring in all of itself. It shows me the urgency I should be taking to find out the current technology. I raise my head to see the puffs of the ashy residue called smoke that floats up from the other side. I hoped I wouldn’t have to see such a thing, but it was an almost good as done case when I learned about guns.
“We need to go through that door over there. We need to wash up before we go anywhere inside that place. Same stands for going out, health is important,” he says with a shit-eating grin.
I calmly respond, with actual amazement,” So you guys realized the importance of cleanliness too huh.”
“With that tone, I would think you didn’t expect this outcome. Some people might take it the wrong way if you say it that way.”
“Sorry if it sounded the way it was supposed to. No bad feelings but most groups in books I’ve read had ancestors held an era similar to this time. It took them several decades to even realize the connection between mortality rates and bad hygiene. No harsh feelings right?”
He replies, genuinely offended, ”Jesus Christ! I would be lying straight out of my damned teeth to say I’m not offended! It really shouldn’t be rocket science! What are you going to tell me next?! They bathed in their shit because they believed it held medical effects! Please tell me you don’t really believe we don’t take showers that! I know that you were raised in the palace, but could ignorance really reach this far.”
This phrase begins to remind me of another thing that is occurring thanks to this shitshow of a situation. Since I can’t simply drop the bomb that I am the hero; I have been directed to take a new identity: Amil Feliciano. Mr. Feliciano is a “person” who was raised in the palace for his show of “talent”. This event had granted him the esteemed privilege to join the best potential of the generation.
“First of all, I’m sure people learned the importance of not being covered in feces. You needn’t worry about me, I just wanted to see your reaction. I can tell you they unintentionally bathed in shit before,” inserting a little pause in between my lines, I say, “They have progressed far indeed.”
My guide held two conflicting emotions fighting over who should be displayed in his face. This was an intense conflict between understanding and disgust that would drag his mind into turmoil, until vacancy washed his face to show his want, and need to banish the images he conjured up to torture himself. These kinds of moments bring me a good amount of joy because it reminds me of how I don’t need to suffer alone. In fact… everyone is going to suffer with me from now on. I smirk a bit for the promise of the future.
We pass through after having properly cleaned ourselves to see the industrial district. My impression of it was a solid ‘meh.’ Not quite as lifeless as I thought it would be seeing how everyone isn’t being abused right now. I know I shouldn’t be holding this world’s values to be the same as my own, but I can’t help it. I wonder if they can sue me here?
The workers consist of the common pattern of humans, dwarves, and hobbits. They are all wearing equipment that heavily reduces the effect of terrible side effects, adding on to all the already established safety guideline that actually work. I was confident in seeing some more than unpleasant images. I end up more astonished than correct.
I see the workers piece multiple things together such as cars, refrigerators, stoves, tables, textiles, firearms, etc…
There were other buildings where I assume more of the chemical based products resided, but we weren’t allowed inside there for obvious reasons. We decided to leave the industrial district in favor of the trade district because there was nothing else to view there.
Hair dyes, European-based food, children’s toys, household tools, fashionable clothing (for the time), some magical trinkets, and weapons are the sorts of items up for grabs in trade district. My good guide Seb, and I peruse through the various shops wielding Seb’s deep knowledge of all the businesses. My first stop was the book store
My first stop was the book store. I ended up buying two copies of the same books, as it seems, it really is hard to kick an old habit apparently. The books I bought consisted of the various offered subjects: myths of the land, translation books, survival guides and such.
I then checked out the food stalls to understand what is the local produce of the land. Hoping to not only fill in some more blanks with this world but to also discern what I going to eat in the foreseeable future. One must do research to ensure that they get good food ahead in life.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“Well, we have beef from the cows if you were asking for that. Our products consist of apples, pears, raspberries, damsons, and black currant for fruits. If we are talking about vegetables: angelica, mustard, parsnips, radish, rapeseed, and turnips to offer. All of the rest consists of goods from elsewhere such as tomatoes, corn, potatoes, carrots, etc… Now that I’ve answered, are you going to finally buy something? I don’t like to hold up a line of profit you know.”
“Sure, I’ll take two cartons of tomatoes, potatoes, parsnips please.”
With a big grin, she states, “Nice doing business with you.”
We quickly leave the stall in favor of an alley to stash our newly bought goods in a ring. After the task, we move to our next stage.
“Do you think it was so wise to spend so frugally? I haven’t tried the new goods yet, but the color of red is the same as blood. Some people hold clear caution towards it, you know.”
I put my hand in a pocket of mine to act as if I pulled out a tomato out of my pocket like a magician would pull a rabbit out of their hat to not cause immediate worry from any strangers. I hold the tomato in front of his face to then say, ‘Bite it. You can make a judgment about it after you’re done chewing it.’ He takes a hold of the tomato to soon sink his teeth into the tomato in question, showing a face devoid of surprise.
“It isn’t to my personal taste, but not something to deserve the name ‘mockery of all food’.”
“It is good that you can understand my point. Now look stiffer. We are in front of the boutique, and I am not about to get kicked out of another store because of your disorderly conduct.”
“Why are you blaming the victim here? It isn’t my fault that they had no sense of humor.”
I give him a stink eye (one he deserves) that emanates something only parents or uncles could ever understand. It comes to me I should rethink my plan.
“You know what? Stay out here. I can’t trust you.”
I head into the shop while I hear him say, ‘So you are going to leave me outside instead.’ I quickly retrieve my objective of hair ties, and hair dyes to head outside before my hobbit friend does something stupid again. Confirming no visible damage, we head to the weapon shop to make an order of mine.
“Don’t you already have some decent gear that was given to you by the U.M.? I know it wasn’t the absolute best they could offer, but not at the point where you should replace it at any shop you find. No offense.”
The owner nods to show his understanding, which is to say about zilch.
“I’m more than aware of that. I just need a different kind of weapon,” I claim, shifting my focus to the owner, “Do you have any good rifles? Pistols? And ammo for said firearms?”
He takes action to accomplish a task he knows how to operate and profit from: meeting a customer’s expectation to the best of his abilities. He points to the rack loaded with wonderfully named boomsticks to point to a door immediately afterward, what I assume to be the testing ground. I grab the guns that look to work the best and shot them off with their own distinctive bang in the test room. This goes on for some hours until I discover my wanted rifle. I the rifle that met my standards, beckoning me to leave the shop after having paid my bill.
“Wasn’t that one of the weapons you would have trained with? Did they even give you the option?”
“They gave me the option. I just need some secrets of my own in this world. That’s all.”
“I wouldn’t imagine one would be so open to a resident of the kingdom you are keeping it secret from.”
“I get the vibe that you wouldn’t sell someone out easily. It could be attributed to your laziness.”
“I’m telling you that was a stupid decision. I can easily sell you out right now. All I need to do is go to an officer right now.”
“The very fact you are telling me how terrible of a decision I made shows me that it ended up being the right decision.”
He flashes the image of a man who hasn’t even finished half of his complaints towards an incomprehensible dimwit but quickly drops it thinking nothing can be done now.
I need to clarify something. Seb Vineyard is actually quite mature for his considering he has only lived for fifteen years. Since I was much older in my past life, I am going to really appreciate I have someone to actually talk to.
We walk back to the group that is currently very anger towards both of us.
“Where the fuck have you been!?”
“Don’t suddenly just disappear!”
“… Uh… don’t do that too often.”
Alana Perez lets a weak laugh while Alisha takes her time to scold the battle junkie on the power of words. What he really understood is how it can be used as a weapon in the form of incessant nagging. He is someone who learns from personal experience.
“Sorry! I am truly sorry, but I needed to see the town before we left! There are too many things that could be left undone if I didn’t take an opportunity like this myself. I also couldn’t bring myself to deny Seb’s offer of advice when he lent a hand! I’m sorry!”
This was all said while I was lowering my head to show my lament in showing, what seems to them, reckless behavior. They all hold their sturdy gazes on me and Seb until they all collectively sigh in agreement to just let it be for now.
“Wait! Where are you taking me! Why aren’t you punishing him too!? That’s unfair! That’s unfaaaaaaiiiirr!”
Only I was spared. The same did not apply for my newly made acquaintance Seb as they found a dark corner to take a shot at him for a good ten minutes. They would later say they only roughed him up a bit. I proceed to let out a cold sweat when I saw Seb come out with a couple of bruises on his face.
We all board the carriage that Seb and I had no hand in making. The warrior looking man named Carlos Cavallero was in charge of the horses that moved the carriage in the first place. He cracks his reins to start the controlled running of the horses, marking our departure from the capital.
This goes on for several hours. Seb simply took a nap in all that time, no big deal. Alisha looked like she wanted to wake him up, but lacked the reasons to do so. Alana was sharpening her knife while our mage Francisco Martín sharpened his wit with a book pertaining to the magic theory that I haven’t read yet.
Emphasis on Yet.
“So what are you reading over there? It seems interesting.”
“I’m reading about some magic theory passed down from my old man. Nothing that should matter too much to you. Not to someone who has been through the royal library.”
“I beg to differ. I would actually love to read that book you’re reading right now. So can you lend it to me yet?”
“Persistent fuck aren’t you. My answer won’t change. I need every single detail I can stuff into my deplorably small brain.”
“You really like cursing, don’t you. How about we compromise? You can continue the book you’re reading, I am only interested in reading a new book. So how about you lend me the books you aren’t currently using? It seems to be a much better use than just leaving it to rot in your book bag.”
“I’m going to put this into two simple words. Fuck Off. Do you understand my point.”
“Interesting offer… I will have to decline though.”
He looks like he is about to burst several vessels in his bloodstream willingly. I can recognize and respect his attempts to protect his books as if it were an extension of himself, but as I stand on the opposing side, I can’t afford to show mercy to the enemy of today.
However before I can even open my mouth to initiate my personalized offense, the cart stops. This sudden stop causes Francisco and me to produce a wonderful knock sound from the wood, destroying our earlier momentum in more ways than one. As I rub my now bruised head, Francisco doing likewise; Carlos calls out to us from the front to explain why we ended up with throbbing bruises on our head.
“Hey! There is a horde of monsters outside and would be a real pain in the ass to have to avoid them so I made the carriage stop. Anyone have any idea of what I’m suggesting?”
Alana, just waking up from her slumber says, “Are you proposing that we personally deal with the matter ourselves?”
“Yeah is there a problem with that?”
“No. It can serve as a good starting point for learning, says Francisco Martin as he raises himself, and his reddened head to leave the carriage.
The rest follows as his proposal wasn’t actually a bad idea, all of us have been put through rigorous training of our own, but not all of us have experience with fighting monsters. Everyone goes outside in the hopes to find their need place, to test out the waters.
In our arrival to the unknown, we are shown the main problem we came out here to deal with. They aren’t really terrifying to say, but It is enough to know why they can be a massive pain in the ass.
The creatures look at us with their singular shadow tinted eye as if we appeared out of thin air. They began to prepare for the inevitable conflict by bearing their fangs with an appalling grin, flex their four hind legs to prepare for their forward sprint. I can already see one of them openly drooling at the thought of new food. Well… from what I’ve read, this is the typical behavior of cypups. There is a grand total of forty-three from the ones I can see. Oh… one more of them are already giggling.
My party and I begin to make preparations of our own as vanguards take their position in the front. Alisha increases the power of her grip to ensure that her sword will pierce true for her shield to remain strong towards anything she hasn’t killed yet. Carlos takes to the side of Alisha as he sharpens his cuirass, not to ensure that it won’t break, but out of habit that only dedicated swordsmen could ever really understand. Alana takes her place behind the two brandishing her two daggers, ready to make new holes that weren’t supposed to be pierced that way.
I stay in the rear guard with Seb and Francisco; I begin to aim my arrows towards their eyes. Seb sits down to see if he even has to do his job while Francisco murmurs what I believe to be magic belonging to the branch of wind. There is a moment of silence between the two sides, both thinking the other side would be completely wiped out by the end of the battle.
The cold breeze of air wipes through the field as battle converges.
I mentally prepare myself for the heat of battle as I draw back an arrow and let it fly into some thing’s eye. Alisha bashes a cypup with her sword, bashing the life out of it, and defending against an attack with her shield. Carlos takes the opportunity to take two heads from the opposing side seeing how easily their bloody heads could roll. Alisha makes use of my buff to take care of any foes that pass through from the barricade of death. I release a couple of arrows after Francisco lets them rip with razor-sharp winds, while Seb sits, convinced that he isn’t needed here.
I should be feeling a sort of regret, shouldn’t I? I shouldn’t be the one to speak for anyone who has had to kill, but isn’t there supposed be hesitation here? My body is doing what it can for self-preservation, and I thank it for that, but I’m positive there should be a natural hesitation. My morality should be fighting my logic, but nothing like that is happening whatsoever.
I continue to pick off foes from afar; I arrows either strike or slightly stray from their eyes as it was a weak point I noted in the bestiary. The blood flows just as quickly as they fall due to the realization they can’t continue to move. They had no more lives to continue.
An entire thirty-four of the pack that attacked us no longer dwells within the living. Five percent of the remaining pack to note of the situation, stopped where they stood, and either began running away or stood there frightened, now functioning as easy targets. The rest was made up of what I would believe to be the warriors, martyrs, and muscle headed idiots thinking they might find a new mate after this.
One of the monsters somehow finds a way to pass through the guard, making a straightforward charge toward the most unassuming of us. Seb continues to sit like nothing is going to happen as he internally foretold himself. I can say that nothing is going to happen to him but only because I have to take action for him.
The hound jumps to take what he believes to be a free meal to suddenly experience the taste of metal in his tongue, coming from his own blood, and the alloy of my sword. The creature would have realized that the sharp end of a sword was protruding through the back of its head if it weren’t for the fact that the sharp end of the sword was protruding the back of its head. It was truly an ironic deposition.
I unsheath the blade from the fleshy scabbard, known as the now dead cypup, to see its wound trickle blood like a leaky sink, and my sword coated with blood and brain matter. I look at the scene, and my mental troubles multiply by the power of two.
The scene itself wasn’t what was bothering me, not directly. It was my unexpected calm of the scene itself that truly terrified me. I was a simple inhabitant of the earth who didn’t like fighting. Why am I not internally disgusted in any way, shape, or form? Is this the result of a skill? Is this the effect of being stabbed more than several times a day? Or… Could I have always been this way?
The loud sounds of the battle were drowned out by the whirlpool of my all-consuming thought. I don’t know how long this went on for, but my mind freezes, putting a halt to my moment of self-disgust. Still gripping the bloodied sword, my hand was trembling in the fear of what I’ve done. My empathy is still in here somewhere! I couldn’t be happier (I imagine someone smiling after regretting murder isn’t normal but) I still have in me yet, somewhere inside of me.
I encapsulate my emotions for the future, a time where it won’t be a disadvantage. It is the natural decision to make with this relevant information. I must bottle it up. It is going to be absolutely painful, but it doesn’t change its inherent downfalls in this kind of world. Better I lock it up than have it destroyed, or worse, perverted.
I stand up after my little moment of self-discovery to see the outcome of the external conflict. It was an overwhelming massacre that was stanched with the smell of blood and littered with the little seeds of flesh that embedded themselves into the hallowed grounds, not by the absence of dirt, but by the presence of death. A little part of me decided that I didn’t need to see a scene of carnage just yet.
The side of my head gets hit by a pathetic pebble. I crane my head to try to see who was the culprit. The culprit was Fransisco, accompanied by a facial expression that can only be described in two words: royally pissed.
Amil: 1st perspective → Francisco: 1st perspective.
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Who the hell is this guy? I simply can’t understand him! He confounds me as much as he annoys me!
With a frigid tone, I state, “Hey Fucker. This is a battlefield. People don’t have time to zone out when they please in it. Do you know how many fucking pebbles I had to throw at you to finally begin to notice me? Twenty-fucking-five, it’s even worse that you lost the sense of awareness in a battlefield of all places. Luckily, as our friends are part of this generation’s prodigy group as the rear guard were able to handle things even with the sudden loss of your contribution.”
After stating the harsh facts his face dons an expression of shock accompanied by a cold sweat as if to show that this realization had just come to him.
With a face occupied by guilt, he asks, “Did I really drop the buff! Fuck fuck fuck! Did they-they get any injuries because of my mistake!”
With my two cents of complaints in mind, I ramble, “Alisha had one of the little fuckers bite her in the ankle while Carlos took the charge of a cypup straight in the stomach, expelling his breath. Alana had to take over because of the staggered breathing of Carlos so he could regain his breath while I had to divert my attention from crowd control to take the little fucker out. So make it a torn ankle and a bruise in the stomach.”
He lowers his head in both great shame and understanding the possible severity of his mistake. This prompts me to think, “At the very least, he knows when he makes mistakes,” cooling me down as I thought he might try to not own up to his mistake.
“I will make it up to you. I swear I will.”
Now, with a frown formed on my face because the naivety of those words, I respond, “Coming from you those are only words. Don’t try to imitate an adult if you aren’t one, to begin with, fucker.”
I take out one of the knives from my knapsack to hand it to him hilt facing out. His face seems to harden at the gesture. I pull out another knife for my personal use which only seems to confuse him further.
“Now look at this knife here ass-hat. Both of us are going to do our jobs properly and get to collecting our materials so it will help if you can do your job properly this time.”
I take a head start for the rest of the bodies finding that the rest of the crew have already started collecting the items without me. I get there with a single and very specific intention: to get shit done.
Francisco: 1st perspective → Amil: 1st perspective.
----------------------------------------
I come back from the dismantling absolutely exhausted both physically and mentally. I could, and did resist to urge to just start passing out to prevent another reason to not be on the team because as it seems, I am in no way near their skill level.
I completely underestimated these ki… people because I dismissed them by their young age. I knew they would immediately be much more useful than my next door neighbor’s son, but not by this much. It really must have been an insult to judged like that by someone not only weaker but also physically the same age, I know I would have been.
I’m now back in the carriage, but now the air is so tense and suffocating that I could swear that I just choked on it earlier.
Understanding that there is nothing that I can do about this situation; I decide my next plan attack. I do the only acceptable action (by my standards) that anyone can take when facing an impossible enemy: running away.
I rest my head in the most comfortable position that one can achieve in a carriage, hitting my head on the planks to then peacefully pass out, ignoring all confrontation. I have successfully retreated into my dreams, allowing me to forget that I am a little tiger cup in a cave full of strict tigers.
I enter Sleep Land like I usually do every time I sleep, but there is a distinct difference this time. First, there are no bookcases near me. The floor I am standing on doesn’t feel stable at all; the surroundings are in a constant state of distortion causing me to have a very limited vision; I try to sniff using my nose to no success; my tongue tastes something both absurdly sweet and bitter, eliciting me to wince.
I try walking around to realize that even my sense of distance has been screwed over as my first step seemed like a mile, while the second felt like ten meters despite being what I believe to be the bigger step. I continue my attempt to maneuver without any internal GPS while tripping because of my loss of coordination and balance until I hit a blurry wall.
No… it isn’t a wall, it is, in fact, the one thing that isn’t blurred or distorted. It is a colossal cage, and I’m trapped inside of it, I think. Now I am in the center of it all seeing how I somehow walked myself here, of course after tripping three more times to get there in the first place.
I can’t control anything in this area. In previous attempts of Sleep Land, I would hold some reign of the area, being able to decide my direction, location. I also wouldn’t just trip, it was only that one time!
I know this is in no way the correct way to use the scientific term sub-conscience, but I can’t help but feel that on the surface level, it is a fitting name. First, I am stumbling around like an idiot, not understanding half of the things I’m perceiving, and two, it feels as if it is revealing something that I am not bringing out fully.
With that said, unaware of all the time that may have passed, finding out a way to slip while sitting, I sit in the center of the birdcage. The area around me was already spacious; if I were to walk, I would only be going in circles, trapped to move only within the confines of the silver bird cage that keeps me inside here. It looks absolutely gorgeous, breathtaking even, but it doesn’t make up for the fact that I’m stuck here. I wonder how have they clipped my wings.