Dealing with catastrophe…

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Arthur Ishviel POV…

What does it mean to save someone? To help them escape from an incurring disaster? But that does not mitigate their presence in the disaster, only lessens the time spent there.

The only way to truly save someone is to keep them away from harm in the first place.

Keeping this in mind, I lacked the ability to truly save anyone. Rescue was the only word suitable… and barely, at that.

Most of my attempts at heroism only resulted in the recovery of bodies. I had nearly vomited upon the first body, having never experienced gore personally besides watching my own arms be severed.

And now, Istantetzia has a new holiday. In honor of those who have died, the Cleras Festival has become a national holiday.

Now, I'm attending a large funeral whilst hearing many victims cry. I can't cry since I knew no one personally, but I sure as hell feel sad. To say that the atmosphere is heavy is a colossal understatement.

This was an attack on our nation, on our people as a whole. The perpetrator hasn't been identified yet… apparently his body self-destructed or something.

Clara finally showed up since she dropped me off… and as it turns out, she was the one fighting. I should've assumed that since the ice magic, but whatever.

I'm sat in my chair, looking at the stage. Clara is currently on stage, giving a speech. The black dress she's wearing looks very funeral-esque… because it's a funeral.

"As we all know, Cleras was attacked on the 7th of December by an unforeseen threat," She starts, leaning against the podium. She's using a minor spell from the front of her grimoire, common voice projection magic. "This threat was bolder than Istantetzia could've ever expected, taking place in the heart of our dear nation. Countless lives have been lost, families torn apart from a callous invader."

I begin to simply tune her out. I feel this dull aching in my chest looking at all of these grieving people, these people severed from a connection that should've spanned years.

Gram is sat 2 seats over to my left, hands clenched to his thighs. He looks disappointed in himself, angered by his inability to change the situation.

Variel is to my right, looking solemn yet… a little detached. She doesn't have a personal connection to Cleras or Istantetzia as a whole since she's an exchange student, so I can see why.

Pridwen is to Variel's right, crying into her own hands. It's entirely possible she lost someone in this incident since she's been a lifelong resident of Cleras.

Then, on the farthest right of our group, we have Pierce. He looks… numbed, like he's lost a lot of people before this… but also confused.

I look down at the ground now, not bothering to keep looking at crying people. This is way too heavy for me right now.

What am I supposed to do? Say "arise" or some shit like that and bring them back from the dead? No. The best thing I can do here is use it as motivation to get stronger.

Eventually, Clara retreats from the podium and sits back down next to me. She looks like she's holding strong… stronger than when I went into a coma, weirdly.

"If you don't feel safe in your dorms, you can come stay at my house again," She says, not looking over at me.

She seems serious this time, as if she's expecting emotional trauma and fear from the attack. I won't lie… it doesn't sound like a terrible idea, but I can't just reclude back into my room.

"It's fine," I say simply, not providing a real reason for declining.

Maybe if I pretend that I'm not scared, then I won't be scared. That's how that works, right? This attack was my first taste of how catastrophic later stage fights will be at the higher levels and, even then, it was far tamer than it could've been.

If a person of high enough mana rank deemed it fit, I could be wiped off the face of the earth in seconds… and that's bad. I just have to get stronger… get stronger, survive and prove my existence.

"Are you sure?" Clara asks, wanting to make absolute certainty about my decision.

"Yeah," I nod, letting silence resume once again.

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Vajra POV, several hours later…

What does it mean to be human? I've wondered for some years, but haven't quite cracked it yet.

Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and wonder something… am I normal? Why does everyone insist on showing these silly things they call emotion… like they're better than me?

It makes no sense. To put someone else above yourself is to forsake living for yourself, is it not? In a game of survival, why play for more than 1 side if not for your own benefit?

I cut my chin slightly, having lost focus on my shaving. I wipe off the razor and take a towel to my chin, dabbing up the drops of blood that slowly fall out.

Those people, they acted like they cared. Why? No one actually cares, right? It's all just a mask to seem more "charitable" or "kind", so why do they never pull it down?

I take the razor back to my face, resuming where I had left off. My pupils are dilated, staring into my own eyes rather than at my face.

I never fully understood people, whether in this life or the next. Sure, you can grow attached to a tool, but it's still a tool. Other people just serve to further your own goals… so why act as if they're more than that?

Regardless of all these thoughts, I keep shaving. Pridwen seemed… devastated. Even when she had no reason to keep up her mask, she refused to let it fall.

Even I let the mask fall sometimes, so what makes her different? She can't possibly be better than me, right? I'm the best at what I do ever since I came here, so why would that change?

I wasn't special in my first life, but I should be now. I am normal. I am the most normal human, yet the most extraordinary. I am prophesied, so why do I feel… lesser?

I cut my face again, resulting in another dab of the rag. I'm beginning to think that I should pay attention while shaving.

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