A pretty short chapter, not much happens except wrapping up White Trailer.
Whitley
The youngest child thought that nothing else could get this deranged. The problem was gone now, but somehow, like the very ghost of the devil itself, Arhen's very vestige haunted what remained of the people in the manor.
Weiss could barely be seen outside her room. And the rare times Whitley had spotted her roaming around the house, she was in terrible straits. One could take a good look at the heaviness of her eyelids, and pair it with the redness of her retinas. She'd been crying once again. A far cry from how she'd been a few days ago.
Whitley couldn't help but feel even more guilty for saying that. And equal parts saddened as he remembered. Was that slave so important? So important to your world, that losing him was enough to make you faint?
She had been unconscious for a few days at the start, and now she barely takes care of herself. Weiss has worn the same set of rags for all the time Whitley had seen her. By her hair, he could tell that she barely bathed as well.
The middle child, and the woman he loved. As if it were Arhen's final cruel trick. He was forced into this unsual torture of seeing her go day by day just breathing. She no longer payed any mind to Whitley's stares, his lingering gazes on her.
His mother was an even worse case according to Klein. At least Weiss ate something little as it was every time. But the matriarch is refusing to eat or drink.
In ways, she was barely responsive. Her eyes blank and hollow as if already dead, but continuously moving by the strings of what ever despair clinged to her.
A shadow of the woman she once was. Broken as she was. Crippled as she was. Somehow, Willow's silence made it worse. Her uncaringness as well.
As Whitley walked past the library to his father's office, he could see the door barely closed and his mother on her two legs. Forgoing the wheelchair, riddled with the fate of it just laying there on its side with it's wheels spinning. At the center of the room.
He had no idea how long it had been there, nor how long ago the glass table behind her had been shattered into pieces of glass that rested beneath the wheelchair. Truth be told, if he didn't have the sense to look, Whitley likely would've missed it.
His thoughts too had spun and twisted, Round and around in a neverending rondo of spiralling madness. As he beheld a gun in his hand, the very one that fired the first shot that sent what remained of their family ties spiralling down. He looked towards the wooden double door of Jacques office and thought of Weiss once more.
Willow
She didn't know how long she had been standing.
She didn't know how long her broken knees buckled beneath the weight of her body.
The wave came like death. First the absence of sound, and the voices of those in the manor slowly fading. Then came the absence feeling, empathy, a creeping hollowness.
She continued to stare out this same sight they had shared. Doing it so very often made her forget why over the days. Soon, even that concept became meaningless. There was only this sight, the view of the snow and trees. Sometimes it was vibrant. Others were a lazy amber of dusk and dawn and now, the coldness of it's resting night.
There was nothing else, except this sight.
A sight that both of them had shared.
A sight filled with blood equivalent to gazing upon the redness of oblivion. A blissful insanity in a world gone mad.
The beauty of that gift no longer mattered. Nothing else mattered.
"..."
A wisp. The sweet tempting of a ephemeral nightmare. She turned and saw him. Her world that felled in the presence of her shameful eyes.
She wishes she could gouge them out and offer it to the visage of him. Her world. Maybe then this hollowness would dissapear.
But as he coaxed her with his finger. Onwards and onwards upon legs on the precipice of breaking. She heard the bells toll. And oblivion culminate into one.
Out the door she marched. Felled the unimportant shadows until her sight of him was stained with thick red.
Would he think her dirty? Willow didn't think so. He was right there, smiling at her like always. When he watched her sleep, when he watched her shoot arrows, when he watched her dream of their union.
A sight of snow and trees. Vibrant and silent through the long stretching windows of the hallway. A sight only the two of them enjoyed.
Even when splattered and stained with the blood of non-existent shadows, and perhaps the essence of her own madness.
The only sight that mattered. The only thing that mattered.
Her maddening release and union, with the tormented smile of that gaze so beloved.
Whitley
He hadn't been expecting to kill his father. A few things were just said and implied, he blinked for ought a moment then blood splattered everywhere from a gunshot to the head.
Whitley hadn't bother to ask himself why. Maybe the inheritance? The power? If he said that the money moved him into action, then Whitley honestly believed he would be lying.
He no longer knew what propelled him forward, he pulled the trigger faster than he could think. Whitley doubted that he had even granted Jacques the chance to explain his intentions.
He found himself not caring in the slightest. It wasn't as though he mattered anymore, although begrudgingly he was probably the most sane in the Manor sans the Titan Slayer and General Ironwood.
Just now, the door opened behind him. And for the instant that it did. The bloody chaos of the hallway leading up to the office burned itself into his retinas.
The constant repeating in this sight was that of bodies on the ground. Overseers and slaves alike. In the corner of his eyes, he could just make out Klein as well. Choked on the floor in his own blood.
The door closed but the image still remained. Now, there was only Willow. Equally as bloodstained, staring him down with eyes that seemed dead and doll-like. It was an eerie sort of calm, the culmination of a heavy storm.
Willow eyed him, and then Jacques who lay dead on the office chair. She walked to his corpse on shaky legs, and promptly threw him to the ground before sitting on that chair herself, not at all minding the blood that oozed down the leather seat.
As she stared down at him. Whitley had wondered if Willow had even thought of him as her son. Maybe that was was stopped her from being a victim of that chaos in the hallway.
He thought it would've been an endearing opinion. But the way she was looking at him made it very clear that if he was even a second late on pulling that trigger, he would've been as dead to her in reality as he was in her heart.
A madhouse. No longer a regal Manor, but a madhouse unveiled and hurled into the very brink of oblivion.
Knowing this, Whitley cursed the missing slave and laughed. Like the rushing wave of death, this laugh offered the release of madness amongst the silent storm.
Weiss
"Don't let me go, Weiss."
For some reason, she believed that is what Arhen had muttered to her as he fell out of her reach.
For the longest time, those words had tormented her. Reminded her of her weakness and failure. It was like poison, the more she had heard it, the more numb it would feel.
For the longest while. She had searched for an answer to her own questions. Arhen's presence gave her relief of that anguish as her mind succumbed. Perhaps, it was the only way he could help her. And Weiss won't ever deny, how he alone kept her from breaking.
He was the most precious thing she had. For the longest while, she had only angished upon losing him. But doubt in her mind had settled when the repeating stab of lonesome poison has ceased. Doubt which had grown into an unexpected drive. And a lesson, or perhaps a message derived from Arhen's words.
Her slave had taught her using his own freedom that there were things that even she can control. Her hands, weak as they were. Weak as they are, had seized his neck many times. They could still feel the lingering pulse of his skin, a craving. A yearning.
She didn't want things to end this way. The large bag on her bed, stuffed full of clothing, money and her weapons signified her resolve.
There's nothing left here for her anymore. So she will search outward. Without that which belonged to her. Without Arhen. Nothing else mattered.
Her revolver jumbled about in her back, frequently tapping against the blade of her rapier. She took one last lingering look upon the Manor from the outside, at the very entrance.
"You look a lot better. So you're leaving?"
Weiss turned near to the side and found Jaina on her way to the cars parked at the fountains. The Titan Slayer accompanied her as always, although visibly a bit worn. As if she was tired herself.
Weiss held onto the rim of her bag. "Yes." She answered. " I need to go."
Jaina only smiled. "I see." Perhaps she didn't question her after she had a good look at her eyes. Weiss herself thought that her eyes would look resolute, and was oddly glad that there was a chance the General saw it as well.
Just then, out of the corner of her eye. Weiss saw Slayer fishing out something in her breast pocket. She soon presented her with a sealed letter, straight, but a little crooked.
The Titan Slayer lacked words to speak, but for the first time. Weiss could see the change in the huntress's eyes. Acknowledgment. A far cry from the kinship she shared with Arhen. Perhaps the resolve she built that even she had once thought as fleeting whilst in anguish, was something worth of respect. The respect of the greatest huntress in the world.
As their cars drive off into the city, Weiss was left on her own. Her back to the silent manor as her gaze drew upon the letter handed to her by the Titan Slayer.
A recommendation letter. For Beacon Academy. All the way in the Kingdom of Vale.
Arhen
Waking up was a new kind of hell. My body ached all over and felt too difficult to even move. An awakening that I certainly wasn't used to.
The unnerving thing was that I was wet. Not a dampness brought about by rain but a wetness brought by being submerged deep within water.
Some even got inside my ear. I think that was what woke me up. The first thing I checked was my body, unchained with nothing of note missing. Although the pain from the gunshot wound all but disappeared.
I looked around and was assaulted by a kaleidoscope of bright blues. They weren't blinding, and blended enough into the darker shades to constitute an ethereal sky. A stark contrast from the murky, dark sky I remember falling through.
A chuckle, both enamoring and equal parts chilling. One could tell that chuckle hid a darkness far murkier than any city sky. And for me, I didn't even need to think too hard about who held such laughter.
Sitting on a white throne made of bright silver, right in the middle of this blueness. Lucille, draped in a royal blue gown with feathers stared back at me. She offered a smile as if greeting a friend that just woke up. But only the both of us would know that her smile was anything but friendly.
I'd compare it to the glee of having the one you hate dance around your palm. Did I give that same smile to Whitley? If I did, I can't blame him for wanting to shoot me.
"Found you."
Even as my body struggled to amass strength, I still got up to my feet. My cells were screaming, but I was getting used to the sensation of standing again. "That you did." I said.
Lucille made no move to attack even as I stood, somewhat ready for her. Although she never dropped the smile, nor the stare.
She looked back at me with an immense pressure that not once had I noticed when we fought before. The sheer disparity between our powers was baffling. I could even taste it in the air, how ridiculous her magic was.
"You know, Arhen." Lucille started, crossing her legs on the throne. "I've never been quite as surprised as I have been now. Honestly, I thought I had killed you back then. But here you are."
"Although your circumstances now aren't better, mind you." Lucille chided.
I took a deep breath and fired an Ice Seed straight at her. She didn't even have to move to bat the attack away from her.
Afterwards, Lucille dropped her smile and raised her hand. And in little more than seconds, layers upon layers of sheets covered my body and converged until a good chunk of the domain froze over.
She tightened her hand into a fist, all the ice imploded into a brilliant spray of ice crystals.
- 894,765 HP
119,782 [Frostbite] Damage Received.
I felt my body go limp from the force. But I could only move my head. Lucille froze me in such a way that left me buried neck deep in ice.
No way I could've taken that damage with the amount of health I had. Even with Recarmdra, the frostbite would've finished me off.
She quite literally killed me where I stood, but I could still move. I was still conscious. Still very much alive.
How?
Lucille stood from her throne with a smile. She must've been amused by the look of sheer confusion I had on my face. "You want to know?" She smirked.
"Status."
Name - Arhen
Level - 29 [Exp - 1,578/19,111]
Title - None
Class - Spellweaver - Level 30/100
Race - N/A
Tier - Mortal
Alignment - Chaotic Neutral
HP - N/A /108,809 [HP Regen - N/A]
MP - N/A /17,498 [MP Regen - N/A]
STR - 51
VIT - 47
DEX - 58
CON - 57
INT - 47
WIS - 59
CHA - 57
Remaining Stat Points - 2
I am very much dead going by my HP count. But she's keeping me alive somehow.
Lucille doesn't have the means to do so naturally because of the barrier between worlds. If she could, I would've died much sooner into my time at the manor.
I thought back to the things that Lucille had demonstrated so far. The quests, my presence in her domain. Her confidence and the fact she's keeping me alive.
"You're not supposed to be able to do this." I said. Lucille laughed right in front of my face.
She said nothing to my accusation. Lucille only lifted up her right hand and touched the air around it.
Little more than seconds later, a small transparent glove-like thing appeared over her hand, which then led to a small screen with a keyboard that I recognized was very much my console.
The very thing that systems use to affect worlds, quests and even things like my status.
Basically, the thing that runs all my system commands. Even the ones I once used against her in our fight.
Lucille must've spotted the look I had on my face. Because she made a show of moving the console closer to me. "Yes. I definitely shouldn't have been able to do this. But I had all the time in the world to learn."
Learning that Lucille could use the commands on my Console didn't terrify me as much as it should have. The quests gave it away with how weirdly they sounded.
Still though, Lucille made no effort to kill me outright. She isn't the type to take her time dealing with someone like me, who knows exactly what she is capable of and how to counter her. Which means there is some merit to her keeping me alive.
What I learned during that escape from Atlas was that the more mana I pour into my spells, the more powerful they would be. Many would think this obvious, but that was a mistake I made even when I fought her back then.
And it's a mistake that I won't make again.
I poured all the mana I had into Frostmourne that I kept active beneath the ice. It grew powerful enough for cracks to form in the ice. While the ice didn't outright shatter, breaking my body out of its shards was easy enough after that.
I knelt in the water, my hands and feet numb from the cold. Lucille stood before my bent form, with a smirk. She wasn't at all surprised.
The moment I could feel my hands again, I grabbed the broken sword from my waist, and froze the blade with an Ice Seed.
I could see the vapour oozing off the cold blade. The ice fashioned the blade in a way that the edge was blunt, and the tip, sharp. Sharp enough to stab.
Without even a second wasted, I swept the sword right across her neck.
Lucille stood absolutely still, with almost no apparent expression on her face. The smile from earlier was gone even as the blade travelled to her neck.
The sword was inches away from slicing her throat, but she still caught the blade with minimal effort. Her hand was covered in ice as well, perhaps to deflect the blade before receding the frost and holding the frigid sword in her pale hand.
"Cute."
She tightened her grip and the blade instantly shattered into pieces.
I tried to dash away from her, but Lucille grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to her before I could get away. She used her off hand to force me to look into her eyes.
The gaze was that of a chilling blue. Lucille made no move to attack, she only stared. And soon, I began to lose myself in the beauty of her cold eyes.
It made it easier to notice how pale and smooth her skin was. As though everything about her was meant to draw me closer. The senses around me faded. I couldn't feel the cold of her hand holding mine, and the chill of the water she forced me to kneel on. Moment by moment, all my senses were filled with nothing but her. The scent of cold cherries, the softness of snow. And the regal blueness of her eyes.
The longer I stared, the more I wanted to get lost in those beautiful eyes of hers.
…
I realised quickly what was happening the moment her eyes seemed to glow.
CHA Check l Req - ??? l Current - 57 l FAILED
Fuck.
She is charming me.
I could already feel myself losing the strength to fight. And perhaps my full knowledge of how she is truly like is what partially broke me out of her spell.
It didn't do much however. Lucille's charm was clearly apparent. My thoughts were quickly filling themselves with only her.
Lucille is the only one that matters. Love Lucille. Obey Lucille.
I need to fight it. This may be a losing battle with how much her stats outscale me, but I'll die of shame if I let myself get charmed.
I was growing weak, the broken sword I was holding to her neck had already slipped and fell into the water. Thankfully, the charm relented the moment I heard the splash.
Maybe it was because I could no longer move, but Lucille stopped the spell the moment the blade fell into the water. When she let go of my hand, I nearly fell into the water myself. I had enough strength in me to at least hold myself up with my knees, but other than that, I lost all feeling in my arms and legs.
For some reason that I can only rationalize as mockery. Lucille cradled my weak body onto her waist. She ran her fingers through my hair, soft, then rough. The fragrance of frozen berries filled every one of my senses and drowned them, until I could feel her cackle through her midriff.
"You really are surprising. I was expecting the charm to crush your mind. By all rights, you shouldn't have been able to resist at your level." Lucille hummed. "Or maybe it's just because it's you, Arhen."
She lightly tapped my numb cheek and slowly pulled my chin up to face her sneer. The reason for her smile, and better yet this unusual interaction with her was unknown to everything except her own mind.
I couldn't tell if it was because I had lost my divinity. But I could no longer fathom what plans she had locked away in her mind like I used to. I can't predict her or her actions anymore.
And that terrifies me.
I'm stepping into something that I don't know, drowning in the ocean within her eyes, while gazing into the blackness of what lay deep below that see. The fear of what lurks inside, slithering into the recesses of my mind.
Lucille pushed me into the water and stood at the side of my head looking down at me. She kept her smile, but the malice in her stare was so very fresh in my mind. "That world isn't going to stop me. I'm coming for you, Arhen."
She held up a single finger. "And I'm only giving you one year. "
My lips stilled at her declaration. "One year?" I started. "For what?"
Lucille bent down with her knees until she was barely sitting on the water. Her amused stare took a dark shine in cruel amusement. As if the answer to the inane question was oh so obvious.
"For you to struggle. And struggle hard." Lucille answered. "Amass whatever strength you can, and use it to please me."
"There's no pleasure to be had in crushing something that can't even fight. So don't make this boring, okay?"
She didn't give me a chance to respond before she pulled out a small blue cube out of nowhere and swiftly rammed it into my chest.
Unlike her charm and her freezing attacks, the pain came almost instantly and lingered. I wouldn't compare it to a small numbing of senses, but my nerves being ripped right out of my body while I could still squirm.
Her smile and words engraved itself into my mind even after my sight faded into black. I can't remember the pain receding even then. In ways, it felt a lot like I was getting deleted again, but I could no longer fall to the release of loosing feeling.
…
Cold.
I could feel sharp pangs of chilling cold hammering my cells.
The first thing that came back to me was the feeling of chill and the surging pain on my back. I spent a while in complete blackness, not being able to see, hear and move.
But I felt the chill. And felt the cold wetness of the wind.
It was raining.
The pain in my body spread towards my arms and legs like sharp, needle-like stabs through my fingers and bones. A sudden pain without lingering anguish, but remnant weakness. Like blood rushing back through my veins, the numbness of my limbs faded, but my eyes still struggled to keep open long enough for images to register.
Through my blurry eyes, I was able to make out the murkiness of the grey sky. Then a piercing redness, clashed with white. The hand became clearer the closer the figure reached, a glove.
My vision went black one more time, before I could finally open my eyes and take everything in clearly.
Looking around, it seemed as though I landed in a Junkyard. No doubt in Mantle. I did remember falling.
I noticed a small crystal orb right beside me, and what looked like muddy footsteps on the ground. My mind is instantly drawn back the blurry figure I saw while I was still unconscious.
The pressing matter was that someone had found me, so I didn't give much precedence to who it was. I just grabbed the crystal orb, and whatever I could find on me, then left.
I needed a new map. One that showed the whole world. I'm only good up until I get out of Mantle where they can still find me. I really didn't want to get stuck without a map again.
Luckily that came by quite quickly on my way out. There was an outpost that hung a calendar with the image of the world map on it. It wasn't an official copy, but I was hoping that the information matrix would fill in the blanks.
Calendar stored in Inventory.
Display serialized map data?
…What.
I had a feeling that there was something different. If I was alive, it shouldn't have taken me this long to recover using Gamer's Body.
However, although I was unconscious, not once had I received that message. And better yet.
I never once had an inventory.
Quest received.
[??? : The One Year Promise]
Description - Unfortunately it seems like I inherited my father's bad taste for naming. But I thought I should you should have a reminder in case you forgot what we talked about.
You should be grateful. I've given you a few things to make this easier for you.
Don't bore me.
Clear Conditions - N/A
Rewards - N/A
Time Limit
[362 Days, 23 Hours, 56 Minutes and 47 Seconds Left.]
In that instant.
Everything came rushing back like a tidal wave.
Her ice magic, the attacks that remain useless against her. The charm, the cruel sneer. The blue cube she shoved in my chest.
And her words following that time limit.
"I'm coming for you, Arhen."
And that is the end of the first arc and the End of White Trailer. That went down an entirely different route.
I'm sorry that the arc slogged for a bit. and I do apologize if the Willow bit was a bit confusing to read. I was relying heavily on descriptive metaphors to emulate the uncaring nature of the Yandere to her surroundings.
With that being said, yes. Arhen has most of the gamer abilities now. (Except ID Create/Escape. Those will become very important later.)
I am working on bringing a new fic into the fold. Mostly to practice my smut writing skills and probably to have a bit of fun since this fic does maintain a serious tone.
Look forward to it. And to the new arc.
Btw. JustDusty - You're on the right track with the Neo theory but the Slayer one is a bit off the mark. There's a lot more sinister reason behind his loss of power.
Ooh the things I've got planned. This is only the beginning.
Until next time.