Era of Madness

The truth that is left

(Tyler's point of view)

A while after Camilia's death, Ethan arrived and bringed me to my room, before leaving after realizing I'm feeling even worse than he thought at first. Ahh... if I'm honest with myself, I don't really hate or even dislike him. It's just that right now, any presence is insuffurable for me. Including mine, obviously.

Without any strength left, I crumble on the bed and abandon the idea of restraining my thoughts, which I did every second since my resurrection, finally letting them run run wild.

So that is my life now. A criminal arbitrarily chosen to be a puppet leader. Without thinking, I approach the fingers of my left hand near my right elbow, now the end of my arm. As the tips of my fingers brush against it, I clench my teeth and groan under the atrocious pain. Is this what people call phantom limb pain? Argh, that really sucks.

...

What is gonna happen now? Even if my existence has been deemed so many purposes, as much by me than by other people, be it according to my will or not... after all of this, they all feel hollow.

I died. I really died. It is a miracle that I could come back, but it doesn't change anything about it. This feeling I experienced... and then, this feeling of navigating across the spatial void as my body was slowly torn into pieces upon my revival.. am I supposed to act as if it didn't happen? AM I SUPPOSED TO ACT AS IF ALL OF THAT WAS JUST A DAMN, FUCKING NIGHTMARE?

Gods... Angels and Great Sins... saints and... apostles... so what if some superior entity I didn't even know about made me one with its Blessing? I am human! I am not a fated hero, so why be so cruel and make me this kind of chosen one? It's not fair...

But has the world ever been fair? Yes. Toward me? Of course no.

Yet the only one I can blame is myself. I should have known better, I should've just stolen this damn ship the moment John and Erica got outside. Erica... where was she, in the first place? I died trying to get us out alive, and she wasn't there!

Now, I escaped my greatest fear, being to be the one to cause a war between the Stellar Grand Order Republic and the Paradise Council... but in the end, I will still be used to cause a civil war inside the Andromeus-Silveren Empire?

Maybe that's what a realistic chosen one is: someone who is chosen, but never get to truly make their own choice.

The phantom pain is still there, persistent. After a bit of research, I manage to find what I want the most at this moment: a bottle of beer, that I immediately snatch away. Well, that sure is not really on par with what I got to experience in the last month, but it's not like I'm a taste-enjoying drinker anyway. Right now, I just want to feel at peace.

I pour myself a glass, and look at it. I see the deformed reflection of my own face.Tired, pale, and even my beard and hair are messy. Most of the time, even before leaving Glactia-62, I always made sure to look decent but, ironically, that is actually a more appropriate appearance. I look at the reflection of my dark green eyes that I got from my mother. I gather my will and close my eyes as I take a sip and, when I open my eyes, I see that they turned gray.

"FUCK!"

In rage, I throw the glass at the floor, where it shatters in a hundred bits. I look at the puddle of beer at my feet, but I can't distinguish their color in it. I grab a long shard of broken glass, and head toward the bathroom. I sit in front of the mirror, and look at my eyes, still gray. Am I even human anymore?

"No... no longer... I'm a monster"

I approach the shard close to my throat, as its tip brushes against my skin, making a small drop of blood flow out. With the Blessing activated, I clearly feel every aspect of the pain, even for this small, insignificant cut. I keep pushing the shard, millimeter by millimeter, as I keep looking at my own eyes.