The crystalline objects in his hand hummed with a soft resonance, their multicolored glow casting vibrant hues onto his face as he observed the group of monstrous beasts succumbing to their demise; their bodies disintegrating into fine particles, reminiscent of ashes dancing in the morning light. These sparkling gems, these… sepith — said to be born from the very essence of the earth itself — possessed an otherworldly energy that granted remarkable abilities to those who knew how to harness them.
Carnelia — the fiery red crystals — shimmered with a warmth akin to the scorching flames of a roaring bonfire, their radiance pulsating with an intensity that matched the ferocity of an inferno. Resembling fragments of solidified earth, the pieces of Amberl exuded an earthly fragrance, reminiscent of freshly turned soil after a gentle rain; Sapphirl — in contrast — possessed a tranquil azure glow, akin to the serene surface of a tranquil lake on a clear summer day, and carried the faint scent of the ocean breeze. Shimmering with an ethereal brilliance, Esmelas, the shards of verdant green, shone with a brilliance reminiscent of the dappled sunlight filtering through a dense canopy of leaves in a secluded forest.
Nohval, Goldia, Argem…
Each and every single one of them held within their crystalline mass a small fraction of the power that permeated this new world — a power that could potentially reshaped the very fabric of reality itself…
"Messiah…"
He turned and watched as the feminine figure before him bowed her head in deference, her sandy locks of hair cascaded down her back like a golden waterfall; the Saint Banner in her grip fluttered gently in the morning breeze as if whispering an ancient hymn — a solemn tribute symbolizing a gesture of respect and devotion.
Jeanne d'Arc…
Also known as 'The Maid of Orleans' and a legendary figure from the annals of history, she was one of the few Personas that graced him with their presence the instant he had called upon them; her ethereal form shone with a divine glow, illuminating the surrounding forest with a soft, yet brilliant light — her presence, a beacon of hope and unwavering resolve. The glorious hues of the young woman's immaculate armor shimmered with an otherworldly radiance, each intricate detail carved with precision, as if imbued with the spirit of the heroine herself.
Ever since he had obtained the power of the Universe, his Personas had undergone a massive transformation, their appearances and mannerisms now mirroring the essence of living beings; no longer mere abstract concepts, they possessed a tangible vitality that breathed life into their very existence. Each of his Personas now embodied unique traits and carried an air of authenticity that surpassed their previous incarnations; they interacted with him as if sharing a tangible existence, their expressions mirroring a range of emotions that were once elusive — they spoke and responded with subtlety and nuance, their gazes filled with wisdom and understanding, their presence no longer confined to the realm of imagination.
"Thank you…" He murmured, his voice barely audible, a whisper that blended with the rustling of leaves and the gentle melody of a nearby stream; his words of appreciation — sincere and heartfelt — resonated through the air like a delicate melody, carrying with it a sense of profound appreciation for the unspoken bond they shared.
A moment of silence ensued, broken only by the symphony of nature surrounding them… and in that stillness, the maiden's azure eyes met with his own, their depths reflecting a myriad of emotions — admiration, camaraderie, and a mutual understanding that transcended the barriers of time and space. The corners of her lips curled upwards, a smile that radiated warmth and reassurance, her unwavering gaze like a lighthouse guiding lost souls in the midst of a storm. With a graceful motion, the young woman inclined her head, her golden tresses glimmering in the dappled sunlight; her nod — a wordless response — echoed through the forest like a silent symphony, a gesture that spoke volumes, carrying with it a message of acceptance and gratitude.
As the sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, casting enchanting dappled patterns on the forest floor, the holy maiden slowly dematerialized before his eyes, her ethereal form dissipating into faint blue motes of light — the particles danced and swirled in the air, creating a mesmerizing spectacle before gradually fading into the ethereal embrace of the forest; it was a departure that held both grace and melancholy, leaving behind a fleeting sense of reverence and nostalgia.
He watched as the last remnants of the young woman's presence fade away with a forlorn sigh, his gaze lingering on the faint trail that dispersed into the morning air like fragments of a vanishing dream. The man who had sacrificed everything now stood alone the tranquil forest, surrounded by towering trees that whispered secrets of the past, their rustling leaves adding a gentle melody to the atmosphere; his cerulean eyes glistened with a mixture of weariness and determination as they turned and settled upon the evoker in his hand, a weapon that had long since accompany him on his journey — the metal gleamed softly in the morning light, its surface polished to a mirror-like sheen, reflecting the verdant hues of the forest like a pool of shimmering memories.
With a deft and practiced motion, he twirled the evoker around his finger, the smooth, cool metal spinning with a mesmerizing grace; it was a motion born from familiarity, a ritualistic dance of reassurance and readiness — the weapon a conduit through which he called forth the power hidden within his soul.
After a brief moment of contemplation, his hand stilled, and with a solemn reverence, he holstered the evoker at his side; it nestled snugly against his hip, its presence accompanied by the gleaming blade that his attendant had left for him as a gift upon his arrival onto this new world. They both serve as a constant reminder of the burden he carried, the weight of his responsibilities, and the sacrifices he had yet to made.
Putting the shards of sepith into one of his pocket, he retraced his path through the verdant forest with resolute steps — the ground beneath his feet felt firm and alive, offering a reassuring connection to the earth itself. Rays of sunlight pierced through the dense foliage, casting ephemeral spotlights on the forest floor, painting a mosaic of warmth and tranquility; the air carried with it a faint scent of pine, its aroma intermingling with the delicate fragrance of blooming wildflowers, creating an olfactory tapestry that invigorated his senses as he embarked upon his next endeavor.
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The chime of the doorbell reverberated through the air, its melodic notes carrying a fleeting sense of anticipation and granting him a brief respite from his venture as he stepped into the dimly lit shop. With a passive air that betrayed a hint of familiarity with the surroundings, Minato allowed his cerulean eyes to adjust to the muted lighting, revealing a quaint and rustic interior that exuded a sense of timeless charm; the scent of aged wood mingled with the aroma of freshly brewed tea, creating an atmosphere that felt both comforting and nostalgic.
Wooden shelves lined the weathered walls, each adorned with an assortment of trinkets and curiosities; glass jars containing colorful spices and dried herbs stood in orderly rows, their vibrant hues reminiscent of an artist's palette. The air danced with the fragrant whispers of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves, evoking memories of cozy winter evenings he had spent by her side — soft rays of sunlight filtered through a lace curtain, casting delicate patterns on the worn wooden floor, as if nature itself was adding its artistic touch to the scene.
"Hmm?" An older man, his eyes crinkled with age and wisdom, peered at the Wild Card over the rim of his spectacles as he shuffled behind the counter. The shopkeeper's voice, tinged with a hint of amusement, broke the tranquility of the space. "Back so soon, lad? Here for another errand for little Kasia, are ye?"
Minato could only offer the man a small nod, the corner of his lips tugging slightly upwards in a subtle acknowledgment.
"Well, don't let me keep you then," the shopkeeper said with a chuckle, his hands deftly moving across the countertop. "I reckon ye know the way around this place by now."
With another nod of his head, he navigated through the narrow aisles, his attention drawn to the vibrant array of cooking ingredients that beckoned to him from their meticulously organized displays; he reached out, fingertips grazing the rough surface of a plump, crimson tomato, its skin as smooth as polished glass, promising a burst of tangy flavor with each bite. Nearby, a burlap sack overflowed with earthy potatoes, their golden skin hinting at the promise of a crispy exterior and a fluffy interior, akin to miniature orbs of smoky delight. The wild card continued to pick a few necessary ingredients for his culinary endeavor, his hand plucking a bundle of fresh thyme leaves — their aroma mingling with the earthy scent of the rosemary sprigs, infusing the air with a savory allure.
Minutes passed before he found himself standing at the counter once again, a small gathering of ingredients in a woven basket cradled in his arms; the shopkeeper's eyes crinkled further, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips as he observed the assortment of items nestled within the confines of the container.
"Well, these are different than what Kasia usually goes for…" The older man remarked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Trying to help around the kitchen, are we?"
Minato's expression remained impassive, but a flicker of amusement danced in his cerulean eyes as he gently set the basket down on the worn wooden counter; he reached into his pocket, retrieving a small pouch containing the few pieces of crystalline objects he had managed to collect during his recent battles — the shards, each possessing a unique hue and radiance, glimmered in the dim light of the shop, their otherworldly energy encapsulated within their translucent form.
"Sepith? Now, where did you get these?" The shopkeeper inquired, his gaze flickering between the vibrant shards and the enigmatic young man before him. "Last I check, Amberl, Carnelia and Sapphirl wouldn't drop around here except from…" Realization dawned upon the man, his voice trailing off with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "Ah, I see…"
"Fanged Wolves…" Minato paused momentarily, his voice a soft murmur that blended with the hushed atmosphere of the shop. "The ones in the forest near the highway to Celdic."
"Well, I'll be… never thought a young lad like you would help us get rid of those pests." The older man's tone carried a hint of admiration as he examined the shards, his eyes tracing the intricate patterns of light refracting within them before letting out a soft chuckle. "At least the problem is solved… certainly better than to wait for those lazy bums in provincial army to finally get off their asses. I swear those bastards have been dragging their feet lately; not that I expected anything different, what's with their Noble master and all." He stroked his grizzled chin, lost in thought for a moment before turning his attention back to the Wild Card. "Tell you what, lad; I'll take these off your hands. Consider it a favor for taking care of those pests. Eh, how about we say… six hundred mira for every curim?"
Minato considered the man's offer for a moment, his gaze flickering over the shards before meeting the older man's eyes; with a subtle nod, he accepted the proposition, understanding that it was a fair exchange — at least, according to his limited knowledge regarding this new world.
The shopkeeper's wrinkled face broke into a wide grin, revealing a few missing teeth as he reached under the counter and produced a weathered scale on the counter — its brass surface glinting under the subdued lighting.
"Just place the sepith on one side of the scale," the shopkeeper said, his voice filled with a mixture of warmth and business-like efficiency. "I'll handle the other one."
The Wild Card followed the instructions, carefully arranging the shards of sepith on the scale, their colorful glow casting a mesmerizing play of light and shadow on the worn brass surface; a worn and weary hand danced across the balance, making minute adjustments until the scale's equilibrium was achieved.
"There you go; one point thirty eight curim," the shopkeeper announced, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "Six hundred mira for each curim, so eight hundred and twenty eight mira for everything. Not bad, lad, not bad at all…"
The coins clinked softly as they cascaded onto the counter, their silver gleam a star contrast against the weathered wood; his hand reached forward, his fingers deftly collecting the currency, feeling the cool touch of metal against his skin — his eyebrows raising slightly at the amount he had received as he tallied the coins in his palm. Granted, it wasn't a significant difference, but the unexpected generosity certainly piqued his curiosity.
"Eh, don't mind the little extra…" A hint of a knowing smile tugged at the corners of the older man's lips as he observed the Wild Card's reaction. "Me, Boyd and Karla already agreed to put in a request at the Bracer Guild if those Provincial Army bastards failed to respond to our concerns. Might as well it to someone who deserves it, right?" He let out a hearty chuckle, the sound resonating through the quiet shop like a melody of camaraderie. "Seriously, lad… consider it a token of our appreciation for taking care of those pesky creatures and sparing us further trouble. And no need to pay for these ingredients; it's not that much, anyway…"
"… thank you, Mr. Callahan." Minato offered a slight nod, his expression grateful yet reserved; he tucked the additional mira into another small pouch, placing it securely within his pocket.
"Bah! We're the one who should thank you… at least now the merchants from Celdic could send their product without risking their caravan to the wolves."
With the transaction complete, he bid farewell to the wizened old man, his steps carrying him towards the exit of the dimly lit shop… and as he pushed open the creaking door, a sliver of morning sunlight spilled into the space, casting a soft golden glow upon the worn wooden floor — illuminating the particles of dust that danced in the air like ethereal sprites; the warmth of the sunlight enveloped him as he stepped outside, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the scent of blooming flowers from a nearby field.
Minato inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet perfume that enveloped him, his senses awakening to the vibrant symphony of nature's harmonies. With each step he took, he found himself drawn deeper into the rural landscape that sprawled before him, its rolling hills adorned with a patchwork quilt of emerald-green fields and picturesque farmhouses nestled among them like jewels in a crown; the vibrant colors of the wildflowers, dancing in the gentle breeze, painted a breathtaking tableau that stretched as far as the eye could see, imbuing the scenery with an ethereal beauty… and while he much preferred the urban hustle and bustle of his previous life, he couldn't deny the allure of this rural landscape that unfolded before him.
Still, to think that there would come a day when he could finally find himself free from the burden that is the Great Seal… Elizabeth certainly came through with her promise.
It was a sensation he had long yearned for, a liberation from the shackles that had bound him for so long… yet even so, the realization brought forth with it a mix of emotions within him — relief, exhilaration, and a lingering sense of uncertainty. He continued his leisurely stroll, the soft rustling of leaves beneath his feet providing a gentle rhythm to his steps; the distant chirping of birds and the rhythmic hum of insects provided a soothing soundtrack to his thoughts, creating a tranquil ambiance that seemed to harmonize with his newfound sense of freedom. His gaze wandered across the sprawling fields, taking in the sight of farmers tending to their crops with diligent care, their figures moving with a graceful synchrony that spoke of years of labor and love poured into the fertile earth.
'It's peaceful,' the wild card thought to himself as he silently contemplated the scene before him. 'Too peaceful…'
Shaking his head to clear his mind of the errant thoughts, Minato decided to continue on his journey, his azure eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of his destination; in the far distance, a faint silhouette emerged, its form gradually growing clearer as he approached. A row of house stood proudly against the backdrop of the azure sky, small parts of their weathered wooden exterior adorned with blooming ivy, as if nature itself had sought to claim the structures as its own — smoke billowed from a number of chimney, its gentle tendrils reaching towards the heavens, a signal of warmth and domesticity amidst the sprawling countryside. High in the sky, the sun cast its warm golden rays upon the landscape, painting long shadows that stretched across the rolling hills, creating a patchwork of light and shadows that danced in harmony with the gentle breeze.
The Wild Card allowed another forlorn sigh to escape from his lips as his steps slowed before coming to a halt, his hand reaching into the depths of his back pocket; his fingers brushed against the surface of something cold, a metallic object which he had grown all too familiar with.
The key of her oh-so-precious motorcycle… it was… a memento — a small token that held a world of emotions and unspoken promises.
Retrieving it from its resting place, he brought it to the front of his face, the sunlight catching the glint of the polished metal; his grip tightened ever so slightly as the memories of his lover and the time they had spent together flashed in his mind… and as he continued to stare at the key, a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips — tinged with both longing and resignation. The waves of emotions that coursed through him in that moment seemed to take a hold on him, filling his mind with scenes of what their future could have been had he not been burdened with the duty of being the Great Seal.
A soft exhalation escaped from his lips, his gaze fixed upon the glimmering key that held a myriad of untold stories within its metallic frame as he slowly re-adjusted himself from the wistful mood he had found himself prone to lately. With great reluctance, he brought the key back into his pocket, feeling its familiar weight against his thigh — a constant reminder of the sacrifices he had made and the path he had chosen. The surrounding sounds of nature and the gentle caress of the breeze served as a gentle backdrop to his contemplation, as if the world itself understood the weight he carried and offered a moment of solace.
Returning his focus to the present, Minato took a deep breath, his gaze lingering on the row of houses before him, each one a symbol of warmth and belonging; he waited a few moments longer before finally moving forward, even more determined to help out his benefactor as much as he could for her kind hospitality these past few days.
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The peace which blanketed the area was only disrupted by some occasional rustling of foliage as his benefactor attentively watered her plants — unseen from his field of vision yet visible from his 'Mind's Eye' — her action were accompanied by a song akin to a calming lullaby. Intertwined with this melodic backdrop, one could hear the quiet laughter of a child drifting through the air as the housewife fussed over her son's attempts to help, his small hands clumsily mimicking her actions with an earnestness that would've surely brought a tender smile upon her lips; the golden rays of the sun filtered through the leafy canopy above, casting a warm glow upon the scene as if nature itself was basking in the tranquility that enveloped the small abode.
Standing by the counter, he gently wiped his hands on a pristine white towel, the soft fabric absorbing the residual moisture from his fingertips — the faint scent of rosemary and thyme clung to his skin. His gaze swept through the array of ingredients that adorned the countertop; chunks of tender beef — marbled with delicate veins of fat — glistened under the soft glow of the kitchen lights, their deep crimson hue resembling precious gems awaiting transformation. Nearby, a medley of vibrant vegetables rested in a rustic wooden bowl, their colors an artist's palette come to life — the vivid orange of the carrots, the earthy browns of the onions, the verdant greens of the celery, and the fiery red of the bell peppers, all waiting to contribute their distinct flavors to the culinary symphony he was about to conduct.
'Remember… when you cook, you have to respect the ingredients.'
With the grace of a practiced cook, he moved about the kitchen, his movements fluid and deliberate, each action carrying a sense of purpose; his hands danced across the cutting board, the sharp blade of a knife slicing through the ingredients with precision, the rhythmic sound of the metallic tool meeting the wooden surface a gentle percussion to the orchestra of flavors in the making. The room filled with notes of sizzling oil as he carefully seared the beef, its rich aroma mingling with the fragrant herbs and vegetables — the heat of the flame seeping into his very being as he stirred the pot with a seasoned wooden spoon, coaxing the ingredients to mingle and meld into a delicious harmony.
'Take it from me; you gotta cook them at low heat. They'll taste better if they're cooking until they just start to get burned.'
A bead of sweat formed on his brow as he transferred the beef to a waiting plater — its surface bronzed to perfection — his movements effortless yet precise as he scraped the crunchy brown bits stuck to the bottom of the pot. His hand reached out and proceeded to toss the thinly sliced carrots, potatoes, celeries, and onions into the pan, allowing them to soak up the flavorful remnants left behind by the seared meat — the vegetables sizzled and crackled, their vibrant colors intensifying as they absorbed the aromatic essence that permeated the air, their once firm textures yielding to the tender touch of the heat.
'To protect everyone, huh? Nah, that kind of thing doesn't suit me...'
With deft motions, he added a dash of red wine, the liquid gliding across the sizzling surface, its intoxicating bouquet weaving seamlessly with the symphony of scents already present… and as the wine evaporated — leaving behind a rich residue — he sprinkled a pinch of salt, the fine grains cascading delicately like sands in an hourglass, imbuing the dish with a delicate balance of flavor.
'… no way. It's not gonna happen, I ain't repeating that shit… suck it up, kid.'
While the stew continued its slow dance on the stove, releasing tendrils of mouthwatering fragrance that enveloped the room, his attention turned to the leftover potatoes that patiently awaited their turn for transformation — his hands expertly gripped a knife, the blade glinting in the warm glow of the kitchen lights as he swiftly sliced through the golden orbs. With a touch of finesse, the Wild Card coated the slivers of potato with a smoky paprika-infused oil, the vibrant red hue resembling a sunset painted across their surfaces. He arranged the seasoned potato slices on a baking tray, their symmetrical patterns akin to an artist's brushstrokes upon a canvas; the tray was then placed inside the preheated oven, the door closing with a soft click, sealing in the anticipation that hung in the air.
'Heh… this is how it should be.'
"… this is how it should be," Minato murmured softly to himself, his voice barely audible above the gentle crackling of the stew and the distant sounds of laughter that drifted through the house.
Hours passed as he continued to cook, distracting himself in the rhythmic dance of flavors and scents that filled the kitchen, his concentration unyielding and his movements graceful… and as the final touches were made, he carefully hung his apron on a hook near the kitchen entrance; his fingers brushed against the fabric, the rough texture a somewhat familiar sensation that evoked memories of times past. — a wistful smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he gazed at the apron, his mind transporting him back to a different kitchen, a different time.
Shinjiro…
Letting out a weary sigh, Minato squared his shoulders and proceeded to call out for the small family, his voice soft yet clear enough to resound throughout the house; his benefactor was the first to arrive, followed by her son, his hand clutching onto his mother's skirt as he peeked at the table with wide, curious eyes.
It was admittedly a quiet yet enjoyable dinner, the silence being broken only by the boy and his mother's gentle laughter. As the two conversed, there were many moments when the young woman took her time to appreciate his handiwork in preparing the meal; her eyes sparkled with a gentle sort of admiration, wordlessly mouthing out praise and approval without making it overly obvious. Her son, however, was far less subtle with his enjoyment than his mother had been, cheering up just after taking one bite of the stew.
The rest of the dinner was a peaceful affair, their pleasantries exchanged and stories shared over meals that Minato had prepared… and once nightfall came upon them, he retired to his sleeping quarters with a sense of content, hoping that the peaceful atmosphere and days would remain as such in the future.
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He watched the night sky from the window of his room just as he had always been ever since his arrival in this foreign new world; the gentle light of stars glittered and twinkled as they moved across the dark horizon alongside wisps of cloud on a frail breeze. Adrift in thought, he gazed into the abyss that held unknown secrets beneath its depths — secrets that remains fleeting to the majority of mankind. Moonlight cascaded through the window, casting a silvery glow upon the room, illuminating the corners and casting elongated shadows that danced upon the walls; the soft luminescence lent an ethereal quality to the space, as if the very essence of the moon itself had seeped into the atmosphere, infusing it with an otherworldly tranquility.
Unfortunately, despite his aching body and his mind's call for a much needed respite, the Wild Card just couldn't rid himself of that mental habit where he would wait and watch for the arrival of the Dark Hour — that urge to stay on high alert just in case something out of the ordinary, no matter how unlikely, would happen.
That same internal impulse kept pushing him to maintain his vigilance and never let it down in times of danger; it was a sense of duty he had been so accustomed to during his past years, one that seemingly remained embedded within him still — an unbreakable part of himself that could not easily be forgotten despite the numerous confirmation that the Dark Hour did not exist in this world.
Minato allowed a heavy sigh to escape from his lips as he turned around and made his way towards his bed, the plush carpet beneath his feet offering a gentle caress as he walked with measured steps; the walls, painted in a soothing shade of pale blue, seemed to exude a sense of calmness that enveloped him as he moved closer to his destination, his hand reaching for the envelope resting on top of a nightstand — its ivory surface a stark contrast against the polished wood. His fingers brushed against the smooth texture of the paper, tracing the delicate ridges of its seal, as he lifted it gently, cradling it in his hands like a fragile treasure.
With the envelope in his possession, he approached the edge of the bed and gracefully lowered himself onto it — its soft mattress inviting him to seek solace and rest — his form sinking into the plush comfort beneath him. The fabric of his immaculate white shirt rustled softly as he settled against the headboard, his lean frame finding a comfortable position amidst the embrace of the pillows; a warm glow radiated from the orbal light on top of the nightstand, casting an ambient light that bathed the room in a soft radiance, its gentle hum filling the air like a gentle lullaby.
The faint scent of lavender wafted through the air, mingling with the subtle fragrance of the parchment in his hands, creating a soothing olfactory symphony that eased the tension in his weary muscles. Minato's eyes, pools of deep azure, flickered with a mix of anticipation and excitement as he turned his attention back to the small envelope, his slender fingers delicately prying open the seal, allowing it to unfold like a fragile flower unfurling its petals to reveal the hidden treasure within.
He knew that he had read the letter countless times by now, yet its familiarity seemed to offer him a certain level of comfort. The paper felt smooth and soft beneath his palm; the great care with which the message had been written evident in every single sheet — its content detailing his attendant journey and her attempt to set him free from the Great Seal.
It had been one of the precious few items his benefactor had found with him when she had first discovered him laying unconscious in front of her house. The other items included his Evoker, the fake firearm still retaining the scuff marks it had gained through the thousands of battles he and the rest of SEES had experienced during the Dark Hour; Mitsuru's motorcycle key had also been one of them, before he took the object and place it in his pocket along with a small photograph depicting him and the rest of SEES.
The last item that had came along with him was something that the attendant herself seemed to had made specifically for him; a glance to his side revealed a single longsword leaning against the wall — its blade reflecting the light in the dimly lit room as if trying to capture his attention with its enticing shimmer and lustrous shine.
A small note had also been attached to the weapon's handle, obviously written by Elizabeth herself.
'A small gift for my dear guest, worthy of the Redeemer of Man, of the one who represent the might of the Universe…'
The sheer beauty of the weapon was enough to take his breath away when he had first saw it, and he had realized that it is, in fact, a Nihil Blade — the Wild Card's various Personas reacting differently at the slightest contact with the special material used in its creation.
He returned his gaze back towards the letter and quietly read its content with ease, having memorized every single word at this point in time as if they were written on his heart; his fingers traced the last few sentences of the correspondence, that same words always putting a gentle smile to his face every single time he read them…
'Rest assured, my dear guest, for we will meet again…'
Eventually, Minato folded the paper and put it back onto the nightstand, extinguishing the orbal lamp with a small flick of his fingers as he move his feet under the covers of the blanket; surrounded by heavy darkness, he slowly closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep — the same comforting words being his last thought as he allowed Hypnos to claim his consciousness…
.
.
.
That is… until the explosions began.