Chapter 1: Azure Butterfly (III)
"Grandma?" I muttered, slightly inaudible as the figure turned their head in my direction as if 'the' person heard me.
But then, I came face to face with the dreadful truth
When I was around 7, I lived a slightly impoverish life in the middle of the woods. Living in a rustic cottage with just me and grandma was pleasant but sometimes why I was bullied.
Yes, I did not have an attribute so I couldn't manipulate mana to a certain degree nor form. But there was no reason for them to do something as dreadful as bully me to the point of suicide.
Every day coming home with bodies filled with bruises and bloody scrapes, it was easy to deduct what was going on and so my grandma started training me the way of the sword as self-defense.
I was a prodigy in the arts, but in situations where I still was bullied, the fear of death still remained. My hands and feet trembled with fear but the pulsating sensation of vengeance never seemed to protrude through. In the end, my training was only fruitless if I simply couldn't fight back.
Sometimes, I ask my grandma how did her legs end up to be paralyzed but I always got an indefinite answer. An answer that either lacked truth or lacked perception as it deviated from what we call 'an answer.' My curiosity only grew when she started me teaching
Either way, she was still paralyzed and could no longer stand. If that was the case, then how could I explain the silhouette that stood on top of my cottage's stairs.
If it was my grandma was the silhouette, then would contradict that her legs were paralyzed. Obviously, whoever was standing up there was the culprit.
Paralyzed with fear, I shared the same fear I had shared with the bullies previous days ago. My legs ached with tenseness as thump rang out.
The perpetrator jumped from the top steps and landed all the way to the bottom, letting out a heavy thump with his iron shoes.
Standing in front of me, was a man no larger than me and was the same age as me.
"L-leone sir?" I quivered with fear as I fell to the floor with my world set ablaze. The rooms and the furniture were lit with flames as woods and the wood of the house deteriorating with ferocious greed. The sick crackle of fire let out a wave of pummeling fear as I could not stand before the sight.
"Well, well, I didn't think you would come home this early," Leone smirked with a wide grin. With a confident strut, he walked over and kicked me in the chest, sending me flying out of the house.
Coughing, a searing pain emerged from my chest as the pain lasted for seconds without end.
Why me? Just why? I did nothing wrong.
Crying and weeping, I watched watch the wonderful house shatter into a million pieces as if everything was a fabricated illusion. It would soon become a sullen pile of ash as the fire had encompassed the whole entrance roof as parts of the house had fallen ill.
Agony engulfed me as I knew that everything that I wanted was lost. Why would he do that?
Strutting outside, Leone walked up to me again and squatted down to me with an arrogant glint in his eyes.
"You must be wondering why I am doing this," he said with a pretentious look. He was taunting me. I know it. Anger boiled as if steam would erupt from my body but once again, it seemed to suppressed by something.
I remained silent and somber, awaiting my fate. The cracklings of the flames around my house and on my house destroyed me, as it was a continuous reminder of what I had lost.
"Well… It's fun." He said with an absentminded shrug.
Fun? Was that the reason for burning down everything and my grandma?
"Anyways, you got nothing now, so I am going to take my leave. Also, meet me at the Vagard Gardens tomorrow at 8 AM sharp. I'm going to borrow you again."
Chuckling haughtily, he sauntered away in long strides back into the burning cinder of a forest.
"Fun?" I murmur abruptly.
Leone stops in his tracks. I messed up. I feel vengeful but I let a little tint of seep through into my words.
He stops for a moment as if he is pondering at my words before continuing his path— leaving me in devastating agony.
Observing him, I noticed that he was far more… patient than usual. I knew tomorrow would be an eventful day. Far worse than today's
Trembling with a monsoon full of anger and fear, I was left devastated and bitter as my anger hadn't been satiated thoroughly— although none of it had been satiated at all.
A minute after he left, the dam that took place in my eyes broke loose. A tidal wave of tears flowed down my face I cried. I cried for minutes which turned into hours of more watching the facade of a world burn down to its very roots.
It rained too, putting the end to the embers as all that was left was just the ashes of the prior. It seemed that even the weather reflected the mournful yet vengeful atmosphere as the bleak rain pounded the floor with great catharsis. A thunderous boom signaled the start of the weightful moment as I cried solemnly.
However, even if tears of pain streak down my face, the butterfly still remained.
I question how the butterfly knew that this was happening? Why did it help me? What is its connection with me?
Even so, its presence was enough to comfort me and help me get back on my feet.
There were no traces of my grandma ever, not even her compatible wheelchair could be fond as it remained amiss.
I wanted to do something but I simply couldn't. I was too weak…
However, the fence of the perimeter had yet to be touched by the putrid flame and left a metal sword as its bequest.
Swinging the metal sword, there were no simple emotions that had appeared on my plastered face. Was there any meaning to swinging the sword? I thought as the routine that I followed in a week had been simplified and converted into a routine of 7 hours.
Hardened calluses emerged from my hands as blisters followed suit. Why grandma? Why, Why, Why. I thought as I continued to swing the blade in the many techniques that my grandma had taught but had never been used.
It was like a discarded tangerine tree. The tree continues to bear fruit of its offspring— which are tangerines. However, is there truly a point to continue the practice when no one is around to eat nor use it.
Soon the amethyst blue night invades the late summer skies as its filled with the river of stars. I continue to swing as the emptiness of my soul subtly reflects the stars— along with the azure butterfly as a supportive ally.
The vast shroud of the night sky can only avail a glistening crescent moon. Waning and waxing, the spectral moon reveals itself from the palace of clouds it hides behind.
The night's wind along with the perpetual howling cast an eerie yet ominous atmosphere as there was nothing more but the repeated repetitions swung all throughout.
The night feels bleak yet crisp, like a parched leaf that desperately clings onto the branch, despite the wind gnawing at its ankle.
Fatigued and weakened from the endless hours of training, I fall back and collapse in a fit of sorrow. Falling into a dreadful somber literally in the spot where I was training earlier.
Comforted by an invisible embrace I feel in my dreams or in real life as if she is still alive.
Soon a new day arrives from the east.