The tears that snaked down my face didn't belong to me. The trembling in my lips didn't belong to me. The cracking voice that called out "Mom, mom!" to the corpse wasn't mine. This pain – the gut wrenching, heart splitting – pain I felt wasn't mine.
Where was I? What happened? Who is this woman? How was I here? Questions with no immediate answers flooded my mind. All interrupted by a voice - hauntingly empty voice that has plagued me for all of my lives.
[FE Accumulation interrupted
[Trial Interrupted
[Your role is ERROR: UNCATEGORISED]
And suddenly like before, it was no longer there. But I wasn't fearful of the voice. I was terrified of the owner of that voice. If the system was here, then he was definitely here. He would definitely be mad. He would punish me.
Maybe that's what this was. The burning village and mass of corpses and dead mother in my arms - a sick twisted punishment. A simulation of my life before him. Reminding me that I was lower than him. That I am nothing but a crying, parentless child without him. This was the price of freedom. Nothing.
But that was pointless. These tears and pain that he'd forced onto me weren't mine. None of this was real. As long as I knew this, it wouldn't affect me.
I pushed the corpse aside and wiped the tears and blood off my face.
"Oh? What do we have here?", A different voice -human sounding and mischievous- rang through the chaos. I looked at the source. Walking right through the flames, a woman in a white cloak took gentle strides towards me.
Only two features of hers stood out to me in that moment. Her left hand that was aflame from the wrist to her fingers; The same white flames that burned the child. And her face: One half was beautiful, eerily flawless, even and the other was a bloody mess. Like her skin had been torn, possibly clawed out even. Pieces of her skull stuck out through the fleshy openings.
Even with such wounds, she didn't show a hint of pain. Instead, she tore out her left hand and threw it to the ground.
Already, I could see her face starting to fix itself. Muscle tendons slowly attached themselves back together, hiding the bone.
Her eyes glowed red.
She licked her lips and bared her teeth, as if to show me her inhumanly sharp and long fangs intentionally.
'A vampire?!'
But before I could move or do anything, she was already in front of me, holding me up by the neck.
I was scared. No, not me. This body was. This blasted, weak body was terrified. Almost to the point of wetting itself. But I absolutely wouldn't allow it.
"I usually prefer women, but a little boy as cute as you is good enough." She whispered as she brought her mouth closer to my neck.
I tried to throw a punch, but she easily caught that without even acknowledging it. Instead, her teeth sunk into my neck, like two large injection needles. It was strangely euphoric. I felt my limbs relax, letting it all happen. Thoughts like "This isn't so bad" and "Yeah, I like this", filled my mind.
"NO!", I screamed. Without my will, my body moved on its own. A strange heat flowed through my body from my heart, causing my muscles to tense. This heat pushed to my palms, then forcefully ejected itself out. Bright orange flames funnelled through my palms, hitting her right in the face.
She dropped me and clawed at her face, shrieking. I thought of running, but I was not in control of this body. My hand lifted up, spraying more flames at the woman, bathing her in its warm embrace.
The body could win. I could win. We could win.
"ENOUGH!" She shrieked, and my body was paralysed. A powerful pulse spread out, instantly quelling all the flames, including the one that surrounded them.
She struggled to lift herself up. Her skin flawless pale skin had turned black and hard. A sticky, black substance oozed from several cracks in her charred body. She wheezed – her mouth wide open and saliva spewing out –, as if the very act of breathing hurt.
Through it all, was her glare. A resentful, annoyed glare. Her eyes trembled in their sockets, as she moaned and groaned, moving one foot at a time.
A tense, blood red aura emanated from her body. I could sense waves of bloodlust aimed at me she trembled greatly. Albeit at a terribly slow pace, her body started to fix itself. The darkened parts of her skin started to shed off, replaced by newer, softer parts.
"I was wrong." She said, through bated breaths. "I hate this. I hate all of you. I hate this stupid trial. I hate that vile witch. I hate you filthy ignorant peasants. I hate you stupid human scum. I hate all of it!"
And just like that, she continued her feeding. Sucking me dry till my eyelids shut.
I died.
There was nothing, silence. Then – a child, crying.
He was a young boy, no older than 10. His name was Belfry. He lived a humble life – well, when compared to mine. To others, this boy was unique. He lived most of his life bed ridden – with a body that couldn't even withstand the gravity of this world, to eyes that saw too much for him to comprehend. He first crawled at the age of 6. He first walked at the age of 7. And he first spoke at the age 8. But the first spell he casted, was at the age of 3.
The boy was too gifted for his age. He could already manipulate the basic elements. From the moment he first walked, his father, unaware of his magical talent, forced him to learn swordsmanship. Something anyone with such a body would have found impossible. But not Belfry. Belfry thrived in swordsmanship. It was like he was built to learn the sword.
He had a remarkable future ahead of him. Be it as a swordsman or a mage, perhaps even a legendary hero.
But that was short lived. He was dead, and I was here, in place of him.
I walked up to the crying child and placed my hand on his shoulder.
He looked up at me and I shuddered under the intensity of his glare. It was different from the woman's just a moment ago. I'd seen many eyes like these in my lives, but there was something about this that resonated with me. I felt his rage, his hatred. I knew what he said. What he wanted.
It was at this moment that I knew this wasn't a simulation or punishment from Him. This was real.
"I promise", I said, his anger boiling within me.
Then the boy faded. Once more, I was in the darkness, alone. A voice whispered, "31."