Back To The Beginning

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In a place located far from the slums, in a room that seemed to ooze luxury from it's very essence. The room was incredibly well lit despite the curtains blocking any sunlight from entering. In the middle of the ceiling, hung a gorgeous crystal chandelier, its luminescence, easily highlighting the striking oak flooring. Towards the side of the room, built into the wall itself, stood a lofty and grand piece of furniture with horizontal shelves that was filled to the brim with books and texts of ancient origin. Opposite this, stood a worktable that seemed to be made from the most finest of materials. At the centre of the room taking the most space of the furniture, was a king-sized bed that was covered with sheets made from fine linen. On the wall just above the bed, suspended in the air was a jet-black katana, clearly of the finest metals and made with the hands of the most skilled craftsmen, It's sheath too suspended adjacent to it

On the worktable, boxes filled with various books and clothing could be seen, a book different from all the others seemed to lay fixtured in the middle of the desk.

A black haired teen stood in this room, in clear contemplation. His cold facial features could very well start a war, his intimidating scarlet pupils, like rubies made from the blood of thousands of lives. He stood there in silence seeming to observe the contents of his room until finally his gaze landed on the ancient book that was laid on his desk. After a few seconds of continuing to observe that book, he sighed and continued taking his essentials and personal items and placing them in boxes.

Without notice, the broad surface of the book flipped open as light began to shower from it and it began to levitate in the air, alerting the teen as he turned to face the book. However, before he could attempt to do anything, fractures and cracks began to appear on this book before it shattered in a completely soundless manner, It's pieces disintegrating before it touched the ground.

The boy's crimson eyes began widening, his brows creasing in shock of the events that just took place, his mind engulfed in panic at what happened, contorting his ever so cold expression into one of alarm

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A cool sensation began to occupy the left side of my face, waking me up from my slumber. The drips of water from the ceiling rained down upon me as I lay there. The bucket that had been filled with weeks' worth of water was left sprawled, its content vanishing into the dirt below it. As I pulled myself up, a single droplet seemed to run down my cheek, unsure as to whether it was water or my own tears.

My mind was clearer now than it had ever been, yet at the same time, my soul felt more lost than it ever was.

Despite, Raymond's proclamations that all the suffering was his fault, could such a being be held responsible. Was Raymond a god that created this world through a book. But if he did write such suffering and pain, then didn't he also write happiness and joy. My mind ran deep into questions as I pulled myself to my feet, unsure of my exact feelings towards Raymond. At the very least I didn't seem to resent him.

Almost instantaneous to the moment I pulled myself up, words began to fill my head. 

My knees buckled as I tried to process so much raw information going through my head all at the same time. A red fluid began to drip from my nose as I widened my eyes. It was too much.

My eyes glistened like diamonds for a moment as I used them. The atmosphere surrounding the room underwent a brief change as my eyes began to draw in mana. My mind close to breaking completely from the information, I increased the speed at which I was drawing mana, taking a toll on my eyes as they began to glimmer brighter and clearer while the pupil trembled in agony.

Finally, enough mana had been drawn for me to use a technique that I learnt long ago. As I began to circulating mana around my eyes, slowly connecting it to my brain bit by bit until my neurons and nerve endings were fortified by mana and I began to pull my consciousness out of my brain for a moment. It was a technique that I had learned which allowed me to remove my consciousness out of my body and view everything through my mind as a third person, meaning that I could remove my emotions and pain from affecting my logical thought process. Such an ability would normally take the average warrior decades to learn if they even had the ability to do so but due to the exact nature of my eyes abilities I was able to master it much faster. I began calling this ability, eyes of indifference.

I opened my eyes, in this cognitive state, words scattered carelessly and messily around my mind like the vines of a tree in a jungle biome , leaving me unable to read them despite how I much I tried. Eliminating the possibility of reading the information by itself, I decided to organise it first.

I reached out, pulling the words to where I want them, directing them in the contents I want them filed in. I couldn't be certain how much time had passed as all my other senses had faded in its sensitivity in this state as I continued to pull the words together. with every second the strain got worse on my mind, the more the difficulty in maintaining this state became.

At first, I tried to simply list them out in an order but due to the congested nature of the words, this failed rather quickly. I then changed the strategy I was using attempting to perhaps completely lock them away so as to ease the strain it caused my mind. This time a more adverse reaction could be seen.

The words were resisting me.

Frustration went as quickly as it came, forgetting that I had such emotions in the first place.

Think logically, I told myself, these words aren't just taking a toll on my mind for no reason, there was a reason they resisted me when I tried to organise them. They don't just want to be put in any form, they want a specific form they want to be shown in, I thought, changing my train of thinking and acknowledging these words as sentient creatures.

A small idea occurred to me, which immediately turned into conviction as I began to rearrange these words and sentences. This time they flowed with me, falling my guidance and consenting towards my use of them. Finally, as the last few syllables, landed upon the intangible page, the strain on my mind relaxed. I looked towards the newly formed object in front of me. Its primordial essence seemed to seep out of it as I observed it. It was my third time seeing this book. 

The book that holds reality.

The story of this entire world showed itself before me.

However, It was incomplete, I noticed as I melded words and sentences into the pages, there were gaps and crevices that made it's information incomplete. The words, the Raymond of the future told me rang in my head as I thought this

Despite that, Logically, It seemed important to prevalent to understand the contents the book held. The future it held and the past it hides. Slowly, I reached out towards the end of the book until my senses returned to me and I stopped myself. Running out of mana, my eyes of indifference subsided as my emotions returned to me.

I couldn't read the future.

Doing so would essentially be admitting the truth of this world I don't want to admit. That the entirety of this world, all the pain and suffering, all the happiness and joy that I've ever experienced, the only warm embrace of my mother in the freezing frost of the night which threatened frostbite was all predetermined. That everything was simply created on one man's desire. I began to resolve myself to only use the book for the present and near future no matter the challenges I may have to face.

What I didn't know at the time, was the changes that were happening to the future due to this single decision.

My eyes, though weary from the strain it had under gone to collect more mana that it's present capabilities, burned with a shine of sheer determination and conviction. Its glow causing a subtle light in the now darkened storage room as night had come to pass. 

"The actions I take now will bring me towards my own end", I spoke aloud once again to myself, as I remembered Raymond's words to me. There were still so many things shrouded in mystery about him, so many questions. 

This world may perhaps be a novel but I refuse to accept it to be one in my eyes.

Though the truth was glaringly apparent, I chose to ignore it.

Ignorance is bliss after all.