Within the bubble barrier, Blizzard's consciousness floated in a state of disorientation. He was consumed by a whirlwind of confusion, shock, his mind unable to grasp the events that had unfolded. The vibrant colors and shifting energies of the Hyper Verse surrounded him, the boundary between worlds blurred and indistinct.
As the bubble barrier traversed the vast expanse of the Hyper Verse, it shimmered with an ethereal glow, its surface pulsating with unseen power. Blizzard's gaze was unfocused, his eyes glazed over with a mixture of disbelief and shock. The journey felt endless, the passage of time lost in the swirling chaos.
Through the translucent walls of the bubble, fragments of other Locked Worlds danced and twirled, each a glimpse into a different realm of existence. Their beauty and complexity contrasted sharply with the weight of despair that clung to Blizzard's heart.
Finally, the bubble barrier approached the Symbol of another Locked World, one that resembled his Keyblade "Frostbite". As it neared its destination, cracks began to form on the surface of the bubble, the strain of the transport becoming evident. With a resounding shatter, the bubble barrier fractured, releasing Blizzard from its confines.
Without any willpower or control, Blizzard began to plummet towards the surface of the Locked World below. The velocity of his descent threatened to overwhelm him, but just as it seemed all hope was lost, the impact of his body met with a cold snow beneath him. It cushioned his impact, breaking his fall and preventing serious injury.
Lying in the snow, surrounded by the stormy fog of winter in this new Locked World, Blizzard remained motionless. His mind and body were numb, weighed down by the overwhelming confusion that enveloped him. In this unfamiliar place, he felt lost and adrift, unable to comprehend the path that had led him here.
Blizzard stood amidst the perpetual winter of the Locked World, his body frozen and his mind shattered. Snowflakes swirled around him, obscuring his vision and muffling his cries. His voice emerged as a desperate whisper, barely audible even to his own ears, his eyes darted around, scanning the desolate surroundings, searching for any signs of familiarity. The storm of falling snow engulfed him, creating a veil of whiteness that obscured his vision.
Blizzard: Where... where am I? B-Buddy... where are you? This can't be happening... it's all a dream, right?!
Confusion gripped his mind as he tried to piece together the fragments of his memories. He could feel a deep longing within him, a sense of loss and emptiness. His thoughts were jumbled, and he struggled to form coherent sentences, his words dissipating into the frigid air.
Blizzard: Wake Up, Wake Up! (He mumbled, his voice barely audible. But there was no response, only the howling wind echoing through the barren landscape. He felt a pang of anxiety, the weight of isolation settling upon his shoulders.)
Exhausted and overwhelmed, Blizzard clutched his head in his hands, his voice reduced to a hoarse whisper.
Blizzard: This can't be happening... This can't be real! (He pleaded, his words carried away by the icy wind. But reality remained unchanged, and he was left alone, surrounded by an eternal winter and the unforgiving storm.)
With each passing moment, Blizzard's denial slowly crumbled, giving way to the harsh truth of his new reality. The weight of his isolation bore down upon him, the bitter cold seeping into his bones. In a desperate attempt to make sense of his situation, Blizzard let out a primal scream, hoping to shatter the oppressive silence. But as his voice reverberated through the frozen air, the storm around him intensified. The snowflakes whipped around with greater force, blurring his vision and stinging his face.
The violence of the storm mirrored the turmoil within him, as if the very elements of this world responded to his anguish. He fell to his knees, his cries of frustration blending with the relentless gusts of wind. Yet, the storm has shown no signs of subsiding, its fury matching the depths of his despair.
Blizzard trudged through the snow, his steps heavy and sluggish. As he moved forward, a flicker of recognition sparked within him. The outlines of buildings began to take shape through the thick veil of falling snow. It was a fragment of the city he once called home.
Towers and skyscrapers loomed in the distance, their silhouettes etched against the gray sky. The skeletal remains of what was once a bustling metropolis now stood as a haunting reminder of the world that once was. Blizzard's heart ached at the sight, memories clawing at the corners of his mind.
The streets were barren, devoid of life. The snow-covered sidewalks stretched out before him, leading to a place that held fragments of his past. With each step, his senses heightened, an inexplicable connection pulling him towards a specific location.
His senses, honed by instinct, led him to a familiar location. Through the swirling snowflakes, he could make out the shape of a park, its features distorted by the blizzard. It was a place he had visited countless times in his childhood-a sanctuary of greenery and tranquility in the heart of the city.
A flicker of hope sparked within Blizzard as he trudged towards the park. His steps were heavy, his body weighed down by despair, but he was driven by an almost primal instinct to seek solace in the familiar.
As he entered the park, he could feel memories tugging at the edges of his consciousness. This was a place where laughter had once echoed, where friends had gathered, and where he had found moments of respite from the chaos of the world. But now, it stood as a haunting reminder of what was lost.
His eyes strained to pierce through the swirling snowflakes, searching for any signs of his old life. And then, there it was his house. Standing amidst the storm like a solitary beacon, it remained untouched, a remnant of the real world.
A surge of conflicting emotions washed over Blizzard. Relief mingled with grief, as the sight of his house stirred memories that he could no longer fully grasp. He stumbled towards it, driven by a desperate need for a connection to his past.
Reaching the front door, he hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering in the frigid air. Would this place offer him any solace, or would it only deepen his despair? With a trembling hand, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Stepping into the darkness that enveloped the interior. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint howling of the blizzard outside. A chill ran down his spine as he moved farther into the familiar yet eerie space.
As he cautiously explored the rooms, his eyes strained to adjust to the dim light filtering through the windows. Each step he took echoed in the emptiness, heightening his sense of solitude. Memories of laughter and warmth seemed to dance just beyond his reach, fleeting and intangible.
The sound of creaking floorboards caught his attention, causing him to freeze in place. His gaze turned upward, towards the source of the noise. From the upper floor of the house, two imposing figures emerged-Heartless.
Blizzard's heart sank as he realized the threat they posed. His body tensed, but a sense of helplessness washed over him. The weight of his sorrow held him captive, robbing him of the willpower to summon his Keyblades.
Without warning, one of the two Heartless lunged at him, its claws slashing through the air. Blizzard's instincts kicked in, allowing him to evade the initial attack. However, his weakened state prevented him from mounting a counterattack. The impact of the attack sent Blizzard hurtling through the air, crashing into the cold snow ten meters away. Pain coursed through his body, mingling with the sorrow that already consumed him. But as he lay there, a flicker of recognition sparked within him.
As he lay in the snow, battered and disoriented, Blizzard struggled to catch his breath. A mix of confusion and recognition filled his mind. These Heartless, as nightmarish as they appeared, seemed to hold a connection to him, an enigmatic link that defied his understanding.
As Blizzard lay in the snow, his body trembled with anger that is fueled by his own failures. He despised himself for his perceived weaknesses, for his inability to protect those he cared about. Pure hatred coursed through his veins, an all-consuming emotion that he never felt before.
In a sudden surge of fury, Blizzard rose to his feet, his eyes burning with a newfound intensity. Hatred dripped from his every word as he summoned his two Keyblades, 'Frostbite,' and 'Inferno.' The blades materialized in his hands, their icy and fiery auras reflecting the turmoil within his soul.
The two powerful Heartless, sensing the change in Blizzard's demeanor, hesitated and recoiled momentarily for a moment, their grotesque forms quivering with an unsettling anticipation. But their hesitation was brief, for they were creatures of darkness, attracted to Hearts.
Blizzard: I've had enough! (Blizzard's voice was trembling, yet seethed with anger, his words a venomous declaration.) L-Leave me be! I'm tired of fighting, tired of f-failing! If you both want my heart, then come!
Blizzard charged forward, his keyblades slashing through the air with a relentless fury. Each swings a testament to his overwhelming anger and frustration. He didn't fight with skill or finesse, but with a raw, unbridled force that tore through the two Heartless.
The two Heartless retaliated, their twisted forms lunging at Blizzard. But he met their attacks head-on, his titanium arm acting as a shield against their onslaught. He was no longer consumed by despair alone, this new uncanny emotion had awakened something within him, empowering him with a surge of dark energy.
As the two Heartless melted, a solemn silence settled over the snowy landscape. Blizzard stood amidst the fading remnants of the two Heartless.
Tears welled up in Blizzard's eyes as he recognized the beings that had succumbed to the darkness one century ago, a mix of emotions washed over him, sorrow, regret, and a strange sense of closure. The very ones who raised him and loved him a long time ago, his parents. The realization struck him like a painful revelation. His gaze fixated on the hearts that now floated frees.
He watched as their hearts, freed from their painful existence as Heartless, floated ethereally above the snow-covered landscape. They were drawn towards the moon of Kingdom Hearts, a beacon in the distant hyper verse. A mix of emotions flooded Blizzard's being, an agonizing blend of sorrow, regret, and a longing for a lost connection.
With trembling hands, Blizzard reached out to touch the lingering essence of his parents. The intangible warmth of their hearts brushed against his fingertips, a bittersweet reminder of what once was. Though their forms had been twisted by darkness, a small glimmer of their former selves remained. For a brief moment, Blizzard considered grasping the hearts to keep them, allowing them to return to where they truly belonged. But a voice echoed within him, a faint whisper of reason amidst the chaos of his emotions.
Blizzard: No (He whispered softly, his voice laden with a mixture of sadness and acceptance.) You can both reincarnate in Kingdom Hearts, but I cannot follow that path.
With a heavy heart, Blizzard withdrew his hand, allowing the hearts to drift further away. They became specks of light, fading into the distance until they were no longer visible.
Suffering clung to Blizzard's heart, weighing him down like an anchor. The realization of his parents' fate only deepened the void within him. He couldn't save them, just as he couldn't save John or his Dream Eater.
In that moment, Blizzard felt utterly alone, isolated in his sorrow. The victory over the two Heartless brought him no solace, no respite from the overwhelming despair that consumed his very being. He had fought, he is still alive, but at what cost?
Blizzard cautiously stepped over the threshold of his childhood home, his heart heavy with memories and the weight of his recent struggles. The familiar surroundings greeted him, the furnishings covered in a thin layer of dust, as if frozen in time. The house seemed to hold a melancholic stillness, as if it too bore the weight of his despair.
He wandered through the rooms, each one filled with fragments of the past. The walls whispered echoes of laughter and love that once permeated the space. But now, the air was stale, and the emptiness only amplified the sense of loss within Blizzard's heart.
The photographs lining the walls told tales of happier times, frozen in frames. Images of his parents' smiling faces, their warmth captured forever, stared back at him. The weight of their absence pressed heavily upon him, reminding him of what he had lost.
As Blizzard moved through the house, he found himself drawn to his childhood bedroom. The door creaked open, revealing a space frozen in time. The posters on the walls, the toys scattered on the floor, all remnants of a life once lived. He traced his fingers along the edges of his old bed, feeling the texture of the sheets beneath his touch.
A mixture of sorrow and longing washed over him as he took in the familiar surroundings. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a haunting reminder of his shattered innocence. Memories flooded his mind, threatening to overwhelm him as he struggled to hold onto his tenuous grasp on hope.
Blizzard sank to the floor, his body overcome by the weight of his emotions. He let the tears flow freely, his sobs reverberating through the silent house. In this moment of vulnerability, he allowed himself to confront the depths of his despair.
The house, devoid of warmth and life, seemed to absorb Blizzard's sorrow.
Blizzard sat amidst the fragments of his childhood, the weight of despair pressing heavily upon his shoulders. The walls seemed to close in around him, suffocating him with memories that offered no solace. He gazed at the faded posters on the walls, remnants of a time when dreams still seemed attainable.
His mind wandered, contemplating the choices before him, the allure of the promised truth tugged at him, tempting him to confront his deepest fears. But within the depths of his despair, a weariness settled in his bones. The thought of engaging in another test of strength filled him with a profound sense of exhaustion. How many more sacrifices must he endure? How many more losses would he suffer? The prospect of fighting, of battling his way through the darkness, seemed futile and overwhelming.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he slumped further into the shadows of his room. The weight of the world pressed down upon him, a burden too heavy to bear. The thought of surrendering to his depression, of retreating into the solace of his house, living in this Locked World for the rest of his live, grew increasingly tempting.
Blizzard's thoughts raced, his mind caught in a whirlwind of doubt and self-reflection. What was the point of continuing to fight? Hadn't he suffered enough? The weight of his past failures pressed upon him, eroding any glimmers of hope that remained.
The choice before him felt impossible. On one hand, he could choose to surrender to his depression, and remain in this solitary existence, surrounded by the ghosts of his past. It would be a life of isolation, but perhaps in that isolation, he could find some semblance of peace, this is increasingly tempting... a heavy sigh escaped his lips.
On the other hand, there was the option to face The Lunatic once more. To engage in another battle, to risk everything in the pursuit of truth. But the thought of fighting again, of enduring more pain and failure, filled him with a deep sense of weariness.
Lost in his thoughts, Blizzard remained in a state of indecision. The minutes ticked by, each one laden with the heaviness of his despair. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a prison, trapping him within the confines of his own shattered existence.
Silent tears streaked down his cheeks, his heart heavy with the weight of his choices. He longed for a moment of clarity, for a flicker of hope to guide him forward. But within him, he knew that would never happen, this is Real-life, he will find no guide, no respite from the turmoil within.
In the stillness of his bedroom, Blizzard whispered into the decayed cushion of his bed, his voice barely audible even to himself.
Blizzard: What the point? (He murmured.)
As Blizzard lay on his decaying bed, the weariness of his body and soul began to overtake him. The room, once filled with memories of joy and laughter, now held only a sense of desolation and decay. The worn-out mattress offered little comfort, but he longed for a moment of respite from the storm raging within him.
The snow continued to fall, casting a veil of melancholy over the abandoned world outside. Blizzard too weary to fight against the pull of sleep, surrendered to its embrace.
As Blizzard lay on the worn-out bed, his lanky frame seemed too large for the small mattress meant for a much younger child. His legs dangled off the edge, while his arms stretched awkwardly, barely contained within the limited space. The rusty metal frame creaked under his weight, protesting the burden it had to bear.
The tattered sheets clung to him, barely providing any warmth in the chilling room. The fabric, faded and threadbare, offered no comfort to his weary body. His tousled hair sprawled across the lumpy pillow, the disarray mirroring the turmoil within his mind.
10 Hours Later.
As Blizzard stirred from his deep slumber, he was greeted by the faint sound of a voice drifting through the air. Blinking his eyes open, he sat up on the worn-out bed, his senses slowly awakening to the reality around him. The voice grew clearer, and he recognized it with a mix of surprise and apprehension.
Stepping outside of his childhood home, Blizzard's gaze fell upon a figure standing in the distance. It was Sergeant Jameson, a man whose actions had left a deep scar on his past.
The man turned, his tired eyes meeting Blizzard's gaze. There was a weariness etched on his face.
Sergeant Jameson: Blizzard? (Jameson replied, his voice laden with a mixture of relief and sorrow.) I thought I was the only one left. The Tower... Yen-Sid... (His voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.)
Blizzard approached Jameson cautiously. As he neared, Jameson's anxious demeanor became apparent, his eyes filled with remorse and a desperate longing to find his son.
Sergeant Jameson: Blizzard (Jameson said, his voice trembling with anxiety) I... I found myself here after Yen-Sid created a portal for me to escape the Tower. It was chaos, Blizzard. thirteen Individuals came for him.
Blizzard absorbed Jameson's words, yet he already knew that Yen-Sid is dead.
Sergeant Jameson: I don't know where William is. (Jameson continued, his voice filled with anguish.) I want to find him, to protect him. But I can't do it alone. We need to work together, Blizzard. Please, help me find my son.
Blizzard: Fine. (Blizzard finally replied, his voice devoid of warmth but laced with a hint of willingness.) We'll search for William together. We have a long way to go before we can find him.
Blizzard's eyes narrowed as he sensed something and looked into Sergeant Jameson's heart. In that moment, a wave of realization washed over him. It was a subtle but undeniable undercurrent, self-centeredness that belied Jameson's words of remorse and desire for redemption, revealing a deep-seated egoism within the Sargent Heart. It became apparent that Jameson's primary motivation was his own survival and the retrieval of his son, with little regard for the sacrifices made by Yen-Sid or the others involved.
The conflicting emotions and the weight of this revelation overwhelmed Blizzard. He clutched his head, feeling a pounding headache build within his temples. Confusion and frustration coursed through him as he tried to make sense of the situation. How could he forgive someone who seemed to prioritize their own desires over the greater good?!
Blizzard: Leave me alone! Argh!
A surge of extreme pain shot through Blizzard's head, causing him to grip his temples tightly in confusion and distress. The conflicting emotions and revelations threatened to overwhelm him, leaving him momentarily disoriented. Jameson, taken aback by Blizzard's sudden reaction, watched with confusion etched across his face.
Sergeant Jameson: What's happening to you? (Jameson questioned, concern mingling with his bewilderment.) Blizzard, are you alright?
Blizzard: AARRGgHHh!
But Blizzard was lost within himself, his mind transported back to a time 119 years ago, when the first week the invasion started. The memories flooded his consciousness, each recollection, a vivid reminder of the pain and suffering he had endured.
As the flood of memories intensified, Blizzard's vision blurred, the world around him fading into a blur of indistinct shapes and colors. He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, temporarily robbing him of his sight. The weight of his past, the knowledge of his actions and the consequences they had wrought, threatened to return to him under its unbearable weight.
Blizzard's vision then shifted rapidly, transporting him to the chaotic events of 2016, the first days of the invasion. He saw the world in turmoil as Heartless emerged all around the planet, terrorizing humanity and preying upon their hearts. The streets were filled with panic and chaos, as people fled from the relentless onslaught of the heart-devouring creatures.
In his fragmented visions, Blizzard witnessed the military's response to the invasion. He saw the creation of the 'Grand List.' The recruitment of 1,000 children who possessed the ability to wield key-shaped weapons. The military forcibly took these children from their homes, separating them from their families in an attempt to combat the Heartless threat.
Blizzard's heart ached as he saw himself, a 13-year-old child torn away from his own parents, who stood helplessly by, unable to protect their child. The anguish on their faces was palpable, their cries of desperation echoing in his mind.
Confusion and sorrow gripped Blizzard's being as he witnessed these painful memories unfold. He struggled to comprehend the scale of the devastation and the sacrifices made in the name of combating the Heartless. The weight of those lost years settled heavily upon him, as he grappled with the knowledge of his own involvement in that turbulent time.
As Blizzard's vision settled on the image of his younger self in the vast corridor, he couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between his current appearance and that of his younger counterpart. The boy stood there, his brown hair and hazel eyes a far cry from the blue hair and pink iris that defined Blizzard's current appearance.
The corridor seemed endless, stretching out before them, creating an intimidating atmosphere. The young Blizzard looked small and terrified, just like the other 999 children who surrounded him. Their faces displayed a mixture of fear, confusion, and uncertainty. It was clear that they were all thrust into an unimaginable situation, forced to confront a reality far beyond their comprehension.
Sergeant Jameson and other commanders stood before the assembled children, their authoritative presence contrasting with the vulnerability of the young ones. The atmosphere was tense, filled with anticipation and trepidation. The children waited anxiously for instructions, their young hearts burdened with the weight of the world and the responsibility thrust upon them.
Blizzard's heart ached as he watched his younger self navigate through this overwhelming situation. The boy's eyes darted around, searching for answers, desperately seeking comfort or reassurance. But there was none to be found in this cold and imposing environment.
Blizzard himself couldn't help but feel a surge of anger and sadness as he witnessed the scene unfold. He empathized with the fear and confusion that gripped his younger self and the other children.
Sergeant Jameson's voice echoed through the corridor, his tone harsh and devoid of compassion. It was an explanation that provided little solace to the frightened and confused young minds.
Seargent Jameson: You are all here because you possess a unique connection to the anomaly that threatens our planet (Sergeant Jameson bellowed.) Whether you like it or not, you will fight for humanity. You have been chosen, burdened with a responsibility that few can comprehend.
His words hung heavily in the air, creating an atmosphere of unease among the children. The reality of their situation began to sink in, and they exchanged worried glances, their fear palpable.
Another commander chimed in, his voice cold and matter-of-fact.
Commander 1: You are no longer children. From now on, you are soldiers. The training you will undergo will push you to your limits. There is no room for weakness or hesitation.
The commanders' words were met with a mixture of silent resignation and quiet sobs from the children. The weight of the responsibility they now carried began to weigh heavily upon them. They were forced to confront the fact that their lives would never be the same again.
As the conversation continued, the other commanders offered their own comments, reinforcing the grim reality of their situation. They emphasized the importance of discipline, sacrifice, and loyalty to the cause. They warned the children against any thoughts of returning to their families, explaining that such attachments would only hinder their progress.
The atmosphere in the corridor grew even more oppressive, a heavy cloud of uncertainty and trepidation settling upon the young shoulders. The children's faces reflected a mix of resignation, fear, and confusion, as they began to comprehend the magnitude of the challenges that lay ahead.
Blizzard, observing the scene unfold before him, couldn't help but feel a deep sense of resentment towards those in authority. The harshness of their words, the way they manipulated and controlled the lives of the children.
Blizzard's vision shifted once again, transporting him to a different scene amidst the chaos of the Heartless invasion. The city of New York was engulfed in flames, buildings crumbling, and the air filled with the sounds of battle. He watched as his younger self raced through the debris.
Among the chaoses, he spotted another child, fatally wounded by a heartless. The child clutched a keyblade tightly in his hands, a symbol of the power they had been forced to wield. The young Blizzard approached, concern etched on his face, and knelt beside the dying child.
?: I never wanted any of this (The wounded child whispered, tears streaming down his blood-streaked face.) I just want my parents back. I want everything to be normal again.
The young Blizzard, his own eyes filled with sorrow and confusion, remained silent. The weight of the situation bore down upon him, his innocence shattered by the harsh reality of war. He couldn't offer the dying child any solace or reassurance, for he himself was lost and yearning for the same things.
In the midst of the destruction, Blizzard felt a surge of emotions welling up inside him. The despair of the children, the pain of their shattered lives, and the realization that they had been robbed of their innocence and childhood. It was a moment that etched itself into his memory, a reminder of the countless sacrifices and heartaches that defined their existence.
Blizzard's gaze settled upon his younger self, slumped on a weathered bench within the confines of the military compound. The weariness and despair etched deep into the younger Blizzard's features, a mirror of the pain and hopelessness that had consumed him during those dark times.
As Blizzard approached, a sense of melancholy filled the air. He could hear the faint murmurs escaping the lips of his younger self, whispered words of longing and desperation. The younger Blizzard's voice trembled with a mixture of sadness and longing.
Young Blizzard: I just want to sleep... To escape from all of this, I just want it all to end (The young Blizzard murmured, his voice filled with despair.) Maybe if I sleep, everything will be back to how it used to be. Maybe I can forget...
Blizzard's heart ached as he witnessed his younger self-yearning for an escape, a respite from the relentless battles and the haunting memories. It was a desperate plea, a glimpse into the depths of his own despair during those dark times.
In that moment, Blizzard felt an overwhelming surge of empathy and understanding. He remembered the exhaustion, the feeling of being trapped in an unending cycle of war and devastation.
Blizzard's confusion grew as he realized that his vision had seemingly ceased to shift. The younger Blizzard remained asleep on the bench within the Military Compound.
He couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue mixed with uncertainty. What significance did this particular moment hold? Was there something important he was meant to discover? Suddenly, the background surrounding the young Blizzard began to change. The drab and desolate scene of the Military Compound transformed into a vivid and ethereal landscape. This was the Dream World, the first layer.
His younger self, now fully awake, looked around with wide eyes, taking in the enchanting surroundings. The Dream World held a sense of tranquility and beauty, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of the waking world. It was a place where imagination and possibility intertwined.
Blizzard found himself drawn to his younger self, captivated by the innocence and curiosity reflected in his gaze. There was a certain vulnerability present, a reminder of the childlike wonder that had once resided within him.
In this moment, a realization began to dawn on Blizzard. Perhaps his vision had not shifted again because this particular memory held a profound significance. It was a pivotal moment that set him on a path of discovery, a moment where he first glimpsed the potential of a better future.
As Blizzard watched his younger, self explore the first layer of the Dream World, memories of his cherished Dream Eater, Chirity, flooded his mind. The bond they shared was a profound one, a connection that transcended time and space.
Blizzard's heart sank as he witnessed the sight of his cherished Dream Eater, Chirithy. The memories of their first encounter flooded his mind, reminding him of the bond they once shared.
His younger self approached Chirithy cautiously, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in his eyes. The Dream Eater, sensing his presence, turned his gaze towards him, her eyes shining with curiosity.
With heavy-hearted resignation, Blizzard watched as his younger self interacted with the Dream Eater, their bond evident in the way they moved and communicated. The young Blizzard seemed blissfully unaware of the trials and hardships that awaited them in the future. He couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt and responsibility for the loss of his faithful companion.
Unable to tear his gaze away, Blizzard witnessed the moments of companionship and friendship shared between his younger self and the Dream Eater. It was a bitter reminder of what he had lost, a stark contrast to his current state of desolation, when suddendly, he felt something strange within him.
As Blizzard's gaze remained fixed on the scene of his younger self-playing with the Dream Eater, a surge of complex emotions welled up within him.
Blizzard: What is this? Fear? Anger? Anxiety? Why do I feel this way?
Fear, anxiety, and anger swirled together, creating a potent mix of animosity. It was a feeling he struggled to comprehend, yet it resonated deep within his core.
Blizzard: No, it can't be... It's directed at him. This is... Animosity?
The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. Sergeant Jameson, one of the men's responsible for his pain and suffering, loomed large in his mind. It was not the anomaly or the existence of his Keyblade that consumed Blizzard's thoughts now, it was the profound impact of Sergeant Jameson's actions on his life, he was willing to forgive the Seargent once, thank to John intervention, but now.
Blizzard: Sergeant Jameson... the one who took everything from me. I resent him for what he did.
Blizzard's anger burned with an intensity he had not felt before. He resented the man who had torn him away from his normal life, condemning him to a path filled with war, heartache and loss. The pain of his Dream Eater demise pierced his heart, reminding him of the weight of his past and the void it left behind.
In that moment, Blizzard harbored a desperate wish. He yearned for a reality in which his Dream Eater had never been part of his life, even if it never meant experiencing the joy of their companionship. The thought of avoiding the pain altogether fueled his animosity toward Sergeant Jameson.
Blizzard: Buddy... if only you hadn't died. I wish... I wish I never met you at all.
As he grappled with these conflicting emotions, Blizzard's fists clenched tightly at his sides. The desire for retribution stirred within him, fueled by the unfairness of his circumstances. He wanted to confront the Sergeant.