It's relaxing to be alone, I feel at ease, I can sense all kinds of things when I'm by myself. That's right.. because I've always been alone.." - Hanabi Yasuraoka (Scum's Wish - Kuzu No Honkai)
It was the calm before the storm. The Masters and Servants at the Fortress of Millennia were spending what little free time they had left.
Ever since his summoning, it became Archer's task to push Fiore's wheelchair. Even compared to the others, the two had a great affinity for one another. Fiore has complete trust in Archer and spends nearly every waking hour with him.
"Are these what you wanted?"
"Yes, thank you."
Fiore took one more look at the medicinal solution Archer handed her, before swallowing it in one gulp. It was a painkiller that helped reduce the ache in her lifeless legs. As a side effect, the drug overwhelms her with drowsiness. It should be all right to rest for a while, she decided.
As she waited for the medicine to take effect, it suddenly occurred to her that there was one important question she never asked her own Servant.
"Archer... now that I think about it, I've never asked you what exactly your wish is."
Fiore has yet to ask him what is likely the most important matter to the Servant - what they wish from the Grail. She tried asking him at the very beginning, but according to Archer: 'it is something small, and will cause none any trouble. Let us speak of it at a later time.'
At the time, Fiore put the matter on hold, as Archer is possibly the only Servant for whom integrity is a matter of pride, but as the skirmishes will soon begin, she feels it is time to know the answer.
"You mean that which I would ask of the Holy Grail? It... would be a lie to say that I have none."
Archer looked somewhat troubled, reluctant to speak. Among the 'Black' camp, it is Lancer's wish which is given the highest priority. While every Servant has their own intentions and will be watching for a chance to make their wish upon the Grail, that ultimately requires the victory of this Great War. They must first focus their attention on the battle with the 'Red' camp.
Perhaps Archer was concerned that openly speaking of his own wish might lead to friction in the 'Black' camp. Fiore shook her head and assured him otherwise.
"You don't need to worry. I won't tell anyone. I am your Master... of course I will place your wish above all else."
"Thank you, Master... and I hope that you will not find my answer laughable."
"Of course not."
Archer lowered his face in faint embarrassment.
"It is naught but my own selfishness... but I wish for the Gods to return that which they had granted me."
"The Gods...? Do you mean...?"
"Yes... I wish to have returned the immortality I passed to Prometheus."
Naturally, Fiore had done some reading on Chiron's legend after summoning him. From his uncommon birth to his tutelage of many a hero, Chiron left behind many legends - but most famous of all is the episode which led to him becoming the constellation of Sagittarius.
Caught in a conflict between the hero Heracles and his fellow Centaurs, Chiron was mistakenly shot by Heracles with an arrow tipped in the Hydra's poison.
Being immortal, Chiron could not die and so continued to suffer the agony of the poison. In the end, he passed on his immortality to Zeus to give to Prometheus, and finally died in peace. Lamenting his passing, Zeus gave him a place in the sky as the Archer.
"I do not miss my immortality - but it is a gift to me from my father and mother. Relinquishing it is a denial of everything I am."
The man quietly spoke of his own yearning.
"But, Archer, your parents..."
Fiore quickly shut up; speaking any more would bring him shame. According to legends, Chiron was born between the patron of harvest and earth, Cronus, in the form of a horse, and the nymph Philyra. Ashamed of her offspring's appearance - half man and half horse - Philyra was transformed into a linden tree.
Chiron's father and mother never loved him; he himself must know this better than anyone else.
Archer calmly looked straight into Fiore's eyes, his gaze unwavering.
"It is true... they never loved me. But it is proof that their blood flows through my veins, and I wish to have it returned."
He murmured, looking rather apologetic.
"I cannot deny that it is a selfish wish. It changes nothing for me to become immortal once more. But..."
It was the leanest of bonds which connected him to them.
"Archer... my own wish is much the same. I only want to use the Grail to heal my legs."
Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillennia's disability deeply affects her thaumaturgy. Her Magic Circuits exist in her two legs - but a malformation in the Circuits since birth has led to the two limbs completely ceasing to function, sometimes causing her unbearable pain.
Of course, it is possible to heal them. However, it would involve removing the Circuits in her legs. In other words, it would mean giving up the life of a magus.
Studying the arts of human engineering and spiritual evocation, Fiore has learned ways to replace the functions of her legs. Her evocations can take up the tasks of her limbs, and she would be able to fly with a broom. But those are not the same as walking on her own two feet. Yet, as the successor of the Forvedge house, she cannot - and will not - abandon her thaumaturgy.
That is why she can only depend upon the Grail to keep her Magic Circuits as they are, and take back the full function of her legs. Yes... her wish is simply one of luxury.
"I see. You wish for a miracle so that you need not sacrifice either."
"That's right... my own desires are a trifle compared to your earnest wish. It's shameful, isn't it? How low of me."
"Do you think so? I can understand both the weight of abandoning one's craft, and the joy of standing on your own two feet upon Gaia. You need not feel ashamed."
But this is exactly why, thought Fiore.
She knew in her heart that voicing her wish would lead to Archer comforting her like this. She did not lie, of course. That truly was her wish - and she truly did think of it as nothing more than a luxury. However, she had decided as a magus to acquire that omnipotent wish-granter. There was no reason to phrase it in such a feeble way, as though to invite pity.
But that was how she spoke of her own desires: timidly, without confidence, and with shame. Why would she feel like that about the condition she was born with? She acted modest and graceful to avoid expressing how she truly felt. She never thought she would feel shame in such an act... until now.
"Thank you, Archer."
Said Fiore, blushing. She wanted Archer to praise her, more than anyone else. She wanted him to place a hand on her head, and whisper kind words into her ear. But she hated herself for unconsciously attempting to elicit sympathy.
Yes... how low of me.
Still, she smiled at Archer's words. Carrying this feeling in her heart - something that is not affection or love, something seemingly pure and yet slightly twisted - Fiore closed her eyes softly.
"I can feel the medicine working, Archer. You can take your leave."
"Yes, Master." Without a sound, Archer left Fiore's room.
Caules Forvedge Yggdmillennia hadn't the faintest idea as to why Frankenstein, a giant of a man who should have stood over two meters tall - appeared in the form of a young girl - and a lovely one, at that (What happened to Boris Karloff or Robert de Niro? )
At first, he thought he had summoned the bride by accident, but there was no mistaking it; it seems that she truly is Frankenstein - or, more correctly, the homunculus created by Frankenstein
Currently his servent paying no heed to the burden of the Master, preferred to remain in material form, wandering the castle.
Of course, Caules had the authority to order her into either form, but he would prefer not to force the issue and spoil her mood (after which her sullen moans would begin to echo in his head) as a result, the Master is letting his own Servant be.
...Not that there is any chance of her running wild. She spent most of her time in the garden, picking at flowers or looking at the sky. Sometimes, Rider would try to talk to her, though she rarely responded - and even when she did deal with him, it was out of annoyance.
Caules took some pride to being a Master. If they could communicate, they ought to have a proper talk. If possible, he wanted her to understand the hierarchy of Master and Servant.
And so, Caules resolved to speak with the Berserker of the Black.
Moving to the courtyard, he found Berserker picking flowers in the garden. It would be a lie to say he didn't find the scene somewhat ominous, but Caules made a small sound of encouragement to himself before stepping forward.
"H-Hey, there."
Caules started with a wave of his hand and a light greeting. Berserker gave her Master a fleeting glance before turning her back on him. She clearly decided to ignore him, which annoyed him somewhat, but nothing would be served by him leaving now. He should take a firm stance and speak with her properly.
He took a deep breath... and said his first words to her.
"Uh, I just wanted to say... sorry."
He bowed his head in apology, his intentions of authority betraying him. Berserker looked at Caules once again.
"I mean, for back when I just sort of blurted out your true name."
"Uuuu..."
She gave a sudden moan of displeasure. So that is what's bothering her, Caules realized. It seemed Berserker felt some frustration towards herself.
"We won't know if they come back as enemies next time. So, I'm sorry."
"Uu..."
Berserker nodded. Her mutters did not sound as annoyed as they did before. Perhaps she felt assured after finding out that Caules understood what followed the Holy Grail War.
"Anyway, that's why I think we should just focus on surviving this Holy Grail War. What about you?"
Berserker, grasping the flower in her hand tightly, nodded wordlessly to show her agreement.
"Well, let's start by getting to know ourselves, then."
"...?"
Berserker tilted her to one side. Caules explained.
"I looked up some details on you before the summoning. But legends aren't always correct, and a single difference can lead to a critical situation. So, that's why I am going to tell you what I know about you, and you are going to correct me."
Berserker bowed her head, surprisingly earnest.Victor Frankenstein was a student of the science of nature. Obsessed with the delusion of creating the 'ideal human', he spent two years on a patchwork of lifeless flesh, and succeeded in giving life to it.
His ideal was to give birth to a wise and beautiful human being, perfect in every way. However, what he created was an repulsive monster. In terror, Frankenstein disassembled her again and left it all behind...
But even in pieces, the monster still lived. Reconnecting and repairing itself, the monster doggedly pursued the escaping Frankenstein to Geneva, Switzerland - a great chase built on hatred and admiration.
She appealed to Frankenstein, whom she looked up to as a father.
I never wanted to trouble you... but when you created me, you made me as only me.
I am all alone, and it's painful... it's agonizing... it hurts. So, please, just one more. Please, create one more of me. If anyone can, it is you.
Please... give me a mate.
Frankenstein flatly refused. It was not a matter of can or cannot. He had placed his entire focus on creating the homunculus before his eyes - and the result was the birth of a hideous creature. It was unthinkable to even consider creating a second.\Stopping for a moment, Caules glanced at Berserker. He did not understand whether Victor Frankenstein had possessed a twisted sense of beauty - or the girl possessed within her a foulness inconcealable despite her external beauty.\nAs the doctor denied it again and again, the monster grew to realize the truth, and fell into deep despair.
But, no matter what, it must have him create another.
So the monster killed: those acquainted with Frankenstein, those who had no relation whatsoever, and, in the end, even Frankenstein's beloved fiancee. And yet, Frankenstein continued to flee from the monster, denying it to the end.
The young man overflowing with livelihood and brilliance was long gone. With the frailty of an old man, Frankenstein died in madness, bitterly regretting it all until his last breath.
The monster no longer had anyone to hate. The man whom the monster looked up to no longer existed.
She parted with Walton, the man who watched over Frankenstein's final moment, and traveled to the uttermost north. Then, she built herself a pyre and was consumed by the flames.
May my ashes be scattered across the seas...
So ended the monster born from the delusions of Frankenstein.Caules concluded his tale of Berserker's previous life. She had not interrupted him once. Was it all correct, or did she simply not care?
"So... your wish, Berserker, is a mate that is the same kind of being as you, right?"
"Uu..."
She nodded up and down. It would seem he was correct.
"And the homunculi in the castle... they're not good enough, are they? I mean, they are pretty similar to you..."
"..."
Berserker simply shoved the flower in her hand into Caules' face. It did not hurt him so much as it surprised him.
"I'll take that as a no, then."
Berserker nodded strongly. In her own way, there were lines that she refused to cross.
Suddenly, she stared straight at Caules' face, her grey eyes peeking through the gaps between her long hair, her hand lightly tugging at him.
"You want to know what my wish is?"
Berserker shook her head up and down. Caules thought. It would be reasonable enough to say that he wanted to reach the Root, and the matter would be settled. That was something that a magus would give up his life for, after all. And Berserker, having been granted a certain amount of knowledge by the Holy Grail, would not find this questionable.
But Caules did not like to lie.
"Well, actually, I haven't decided it yet."
"..."
She was glaring at him. Caules scratched his head, looking apologetic.
"It's not that I don't have one. I'm a magus too, of course I want to reach the Root and all... but, I think, there are some other things I want."
Can the Root be so easily reached, even with an omnipotent wish-granter like the Grail? Caules greatly doubted it. Certainly, it would carve out the first step to reaching the goal. But the path would still be too far.
"Anyway, I won't know until we get to that point. For example, if my sister dies in the war, I may want to resurrect her. Something like that would overwrite my own wish. The sister I have now means more to me than the Root I'll reach in a hundred years."
Well... not that she'd bring me back if I died, Caules thought.
Amidst his absentminded thoughts, Berserker made a low sound. It would seem she approved, at least to some extent.
"It's fine as long as you understand. I'll be going back to my room now."
Caules stood up, but Berserker pulled at his shirt. Turning around, he suddenly found a flower held up to his face.
"You... want me to have this?"
Berserker nodded, and Caules accepted it with thanks. After that, she began picking at the flowers again.
Misa slowly walked on the street her thoughts elsewhere a old memory surfaced
It was the day Misaka Mikoto met Misaka 9982
on that day the sisters had their first ever meeting
"Misaka 10,000 has just received information that revealing the ongoing experiment we are involved in to Onee-sama would have an extremely undesirable effect to her mental state. This is due to her past which we have knowledge about, so figuring why should be easy, says Misaka as she points out something that the entire Misaka network has not thought about."
"Since ending the experiment is impossible, please refrain from revealing yourself to Onee-sama so that she can live her life in ignorance until the experiment is over.Misaka 9994 suggests"
" Too late, reports Misaka 9982 as she has been spotted by Onee-sama.Misaka 9982 will be in charge of keeping her away from the experiment, since Onee-sama seemed determined in following me. However, my experiment is starting at 8pm. Misaka 9982 is requesting a possible diversion tactic if Onee-sama insist on following me."
"Acknowledged, says Misaka 10,000 speaking on behalf of the sisters as we will cooperate with you. "
Mikoto Misaka spent the whole day with Misaka 9982 partially to follow her for some clues but instead she ended up spending time with her and then she found out that her clones were involved in an cruel experiment.
How cruel would it be?
In about 10 minutes, Mikoto would find out.
" Wh-why?! Why are you participating in this fucked up experiment? You'll die! There's no way you can survive against this monster! Don't you want to live? You've got your whole life ahead of you! WHY?" She cried at them when she found out
"Misaka are clones created for this experiment."
"Our body is artificial, and so is our heart."
"At the cost of 180,000 yen each."
"We're just laboratory animals. Nothing more, nothing less."
"If you may excuse us, Onee-sama."
Misaka 10,000 stepped out of the crowd, and said.
"But in the end, we failed to protect your smile. Sorry."
She could have run away, and pretend that her clone never existed but she didn't instead chose to fight for a lost cause
" How foolish..." Misa muttered looking at the sky blankly
" Ne Mama are you feeling sad ? "
"Yes I was just thinking about something...bad "
" Bad ? "
" Yes really bad "
" What /how /why ? "
" It's just that I couldn't protect the smile of someone who I cared about "
" Is that why you don't smile? "
Misa nooded
Jack looked at her thoughtfully and then smiled " It doesn't matter we will make mama smile and we will/must protect Mama's smile!!!"
She grabbed Misa's hand and dragged her " let's play hind and seek!!"
Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillennia's cold tongue slowly crept around the nape of Rider's neck.
"Hey..."
He was lying stretched out on the bed, with both hands bound by leather straps. His mail and parts of his armor were removed, exposing his bare chest, slim collarbones and white skin. It was an incredibly suggestive position.Celenike draped herself over him, cheeks flushed and gazing with lust-filled eyes at his lashes... his lips... his flesh.However, Rider's expression was not one of shame or pain, but utter boredom. He said, sounding fed up.
"Could you give it a rest?"
"No. You're just so beautiful... I could taste you for an entire day and not be bored."
"But I will."
"I don't care. All that matters is what I want."
Rider made a noise of exasperation. Every day since he had been summoned, without fail, his Master would have her way with his body. Hers was a perverted love - her fingers and her slippery tongue would trace along his body, but it was never a 'normal' show of romance.
If anything, he felt he was being loved as a work of art - and he doubted many human beings would cover paintings and statues with their own drool.
"You really are breathtaking..."
Celenike sighed in amazement. Normally, he wouldn't hesitate to embrace anyone who said that to him - man or woman - but Rider wasn't particularly happy to hear this from her.It was a small mercy that she had yet to do something impulsive and foolish like deploying a Command Spell to coerce him... but that could change if they were both still alive once the battle was decided. Being a form of thaumaturgy, Command Spells can be repulsed by his anti-thaumaturgy - but even with his A-rank skill, he would still only be able to go against a single command. If she were to use two, he would have no choice but to obey.
Now, if she could just waste a Command Spell on some other, meaningless order...
"It's such a shame... Why can't my knife cut you?"
Celenike made a disturbing observation.
"I was summoned to fight, you know... Oh, it's nearly time."
Good timing - Rider ripped apart his bonds and stood up. Celenike, pushed aside, pouted in protest.
"Do I really just not interest you?"
"That's not really the problem."
"As the legends goes... Astolfo was quite the ladies' man."
"That's got nothing to do with this! Geez..."
What she said may be true, but all it meant was he would romance the girl he wanted, when he wanted - which could not be further from being forcefully pursued by a single woman and most of all, the stench of death that followed the magus was far too thick. She has probably been covered in blood and gore since she was born. She can use perfumes and wash herself from the smell of it, but death itself will never leave her.
She was born in the Icecolle family, a fairly old bloodline of practitioners of the dark arts. Forced on the run by the devastating witch hunts of the Middle Ages - from western Europe all the way to Siberia - they lost the foundation of their thaumaturgy and eventually fell into decline.
Celenike was the first child to be born of the decaying bloodline in a long time. Her elders, who devoted their lives to perfecting the dark arts, doted upon her and poured every teaching they had into her.The dark arts require a particular disposition, namely, one who would not hesitate to pull apart living sacrifices. One who would not falter at supplications until the required amount of suffering - from the offspring of beast and man, excellent human beings and kind animals, old men and old pets, the pregnant and the unborn - had been reached.
She was taught to present herself externally, and control herself internally. For only a failure would lose oneself in the joy of the slaughter.
Slaughter, but only when slaughter is required. Pain, but only when pain is required.
Celenike was an outstanding practitioner. When she offered her sacrifices, her iron will suppressed all emotions and allowed her to perform any amount of heinous rituals.She truly had utter control over her passions. After all, the delight of causing pain and the joy of rendering abuse are the most dangerous things of all to those who practice the dark arts.That is why all of Celenike's desires are forced out of her whenever she is not acting as a magus. No one has ever spent a night with her and remained in one piece.
She would take a boy, innocent to the ways of the world, and defile and violate every single part of his body, lapping at his tears of suffering. She turned dark arts into a living, walking the line between a magus and a user. She made her employment something which would end with her smeared with blood. Such is the existence of the fiend called Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillennia.The only reason why she never went beyond 'loving' the Servant she summoned was due to the absolute difference in power between them. Rider is, after all, a Servant - not something she can use violence against. As a magus, she also understood that until the war had been decided, he must be able to use his strength to the fullest.
Once the war has ended, though... she has very little doubt that she will lose all inhibitions and give in to her wants. Using her Command Spells, she would desecrate this Heroic Spirit, for whom only the word 'fair' can describe, and fill him with shame.
She cannot care less for the second conflict that would revolve around the Holy Grail. The only thing she wants is to be with Astolfo.
Hers was a rather... extremely... twisted love.
"I've got something to attend to. Excuse me."
Celenike laid on the bed, idly watching Astolfo as he hurriedly changed his clothes.
"You're not thinking of going out again, are you?"
"Mm, something like that."
Celenike's eyes narrowed at the vague reply.
"You haven't been messing around with the people in the town, have you?"
"I'm just out to have some fun. I'm back in the world with a body, after all. What's wrong with playing around a bit until the war starts?"
She could not even begin to tell him how wrong that was. A Servant spending all his time outside playing might as well be abandoning his duty. But Celenike knew this was not something she could fix with a scold. She murmured with some resignation.
"Of course, it's wrong. If Darnic gets mad at anyone, it'll be me..."
"Sorry! I'll be going now!"
Celenike watched as Rider left - and then noticed.The blushing and hint of shyness on his face made it look very much like he was about to meet someone dear to him.
Caster, having set up his workshop in the fortress, he has devoted himself solely to the production of golems. The workshop, formed by the Caster Class skill of Territory Creation, is more along the lines of a factory specialized in golem construction. Despite being subpar in terms of defence, it possesses the power to produce thirty golems in a single day, each of which a modern magus would barely be able to build even with a year's time.
At this very moment, Caster and his master are sitting on a table in the workshop observing a large concrete golem which Misa had spent most of her life (about nearly two months construct A slender golem made from spirit wood placed cups before the two of them, its actions fluid and without a trace of the awkwardness typical of golems.
around at the workshop which was brimming with activity. However, the ones busying themselves were not people, but golems - some built in the form of humans, some with several limbs like spiders, and more besides - who are going about cleaning the workshop and organizing tools.
Roche Flyn Yggdramillennia - as magi go, the house of Flyn was quite well known in the field of doll engineering. The children of the house are left to be nursed by golems from the moment of birth, and until they reach the age when the family crest can be transferred to them, their parents practically never leave the workshop to see them. The golems have complete responsibility even for their education.
As such, every child of the clan becomes very familiar with golems. The acts and speech of these dolls modelled after human beings - the way they continue to work day and night - becomes what is common sense to them.
Having been raised on such an eccentric upbringing, they become magi for whom golems rather than other humans are the norm. They may have forgotten even the faces of their own parents, but they remember the form of every single golem who has cared for them.
Roche is much the same. He has no interests in another human being, or any sort of magus. He can exchange words with other people, of course; he has had dealings with people, just as he has fought others in deadly bids to secure precious resources. But he has none of the cordiality one would find between human beings, or between magi
On the other hand, having excelled at a single type of thaumaturgy as a magus, he had never needed to worry about the miscellaneous chores of his abode.
The reason why Roche respected Caster to the point where he called him 'sir' was because Avicebron's expertise with golems surpassed even his own.
As such, even the peculiar cynic managed to form a very smooth relationship with his Master. To Roche, having been removed from his parents since birth and done nothing but create golems all his life, only one's ability in golem creation was a criterion in gaining his respect and trust.
" As you can see by adding concrete to my reinforced steel skeleton increases the durability and strength of the golems along with using the thousands year old parchment in such a way as to reinforce their joints..." Misa explained to Avicebon in order to get his approval to create her reinforced cement concrete (RCC) golems
Most of her time was basically spent in casters workshop whenever she wasn't learning with Caules or playing around with Jack
"I see the production will be left under you Eve "
" Understood master , Misa bowed and left
"Sir... about that homoculi why do you call her Eve ?"
" In the garden of Eden it was because of Eve succumbing to temptation and eating the fruit of the forbidden tree of knowledge of good and evil that God banished Adam and Eve from Eden, and they and their descendants were forced to live lives of hardship in this cursed world " Avicebon replied"I had hoped that she would be the one to be the reactor core it's only right that if it was due to Eve's fault that we suffer the it must be Eve who should return Eden back to us but it doesn't matter now only Adam shall bring back Eden
' Work' ..For the first time since he was born, the nameless homoculi moved his finger. Moving his hand and closing his fist,
"Straße pathgehen (Logic open)"
He cut the prana supply link and, using a language that he knew, powered the 'mystery' within himself. Placing both hands on the glass, he wished for the result of 'destruction'. The energy flowing inside his body found the intended outlet and instantly flooded through his palms.
Having understood what mineral the glass he was touching was made from, his prana transformed in a way that allowed for the smallest amount of 'destruction' required. Light filled his hands... and the reinforced glass burst into pieces as though it were a weak piece of wood.
At the same time, his body was pushed out of the tank and came into contact with the world which he should have been isolated from. Broken glass ripped into his back. He was thrust into this small passageway - and into the real world.
Something hurt... something felt wrong. His chest itched and he tried to open his mouth only to find that he could not - there was some sort of breathing mechanism shoved into it. Pulling it out, he once again took in a breath.
"Ahh...!"
He choked. It felt as though his throat had been lit on fire and his lungs convulsed as he breathed in the incredibly thick air around him.
His limbs swung about weakly. Then, he remembered that he had only achieved one goal, not his final objective.
He has to escape... as quickly as he can!
Having fixed his objective, he tried to stand up... only to realize that the concept of standing was not one that had been imbedded into his framework. His weak legs gave way and he fell miserably. Unable to walk, he inched along the floor using his hands.
He slowly moved forward. Calm down, he told himself as he used his elbow to raise his upper body. Then, his feet touched the ground. His feeble ankles were screaming at him, but he ignored the pain and steadily stretched his knees.
And he took a step forward.
Gravity assaulted him every time his feet touched the ground, as though there were someone pushing down on him the entire time. Some utterly disgusting kind of fluid was sticking to him.His breathing finally calmed but now he did not know where to go - only that staying here meant death.
He could not help but moan. Tears spilled from his eyes. He suffered so much already and yet had only taken several steps - and those were enough to make him feel he was sacrificing his life for a fruitless struggle.On the brink of collapse, he barked at himself to concentrate solely on the act of walking.
There were whispers behind him, making him want to turn around, but he gave his all not to. He knew what they were - what they meant - and could only try his best to ignore them. Right now, all that mattered was that he kept going.
Cautiously moving step by step with his hands on the wall, he somehow managed to move from the room he had been in to a hallway with a stone floor. Blood ran from his feet - they were soft as a newborn baby's and had only just touched the ground for the first time. Even pebbles easily sliced through his skin the blood flowed. The pain reached his mind. This mass of information - much different from the amount he received when he was in the preserving fluid - cut into his brain. At the same time, the thick air around him made him feel as though his lungs were being crushed.
Just how far did this body - never having been designed to walk - manage to go? The hall seemed to stretch on endlessly and never appeared to change. He dropped to his knees, understanding that he could go no further.
His breathing was weak... his heart raced, struggling against death. This body - not fit at all for living - refused to stand up, much less walk. There was such a lack of heat in his body that he could not stop his limbs from going cold. His vision became foggy. Sounds became distant. His mind no longer contained logical thoughts - only despair as death steadily approached.
What a meaningless life... What a meaningless existence I am.
He was born without meaning. Now he will die without meaning. All he could do was tremble before cruel reality.
He didn't want this... he didn't know what about this he disliked, but he didn't want it. He was too scared to even blink - in case he could not open his eyes again. He was scared of sleep, of being trapped in darkness, of the world. The only thing he did not fear was himself... because he was nothing. He possessed nothing, had received nothing... he was simply transparent and colorless.
"...?"
Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat.
He realized that there was someone else beside him - but he did not know when that someone came. With his thoughts in utter disorder, he was too scared to even admit knowing who the one before him was.
He could sense that he was being watched. He knew that he had to escape but he could not - his body was paralyzed with fear. His heart was pounding, unable to stand the crushing silence, until...
"Calm down your bleeding" a girl with chestnut brown hair wearing the typical clothes of the homoculus bent down near his bleeding feet muttering a healing spell to stitch back the torn skin and mend the broken blood vessels
"honestly" she sighed as she looked at the broken glass and liquid "I guess I should find and inform caster about this and maybe get someone to clean up this mess now-" she paused as she saw that the boy was missing " ...where did he go ?"