The next entrance depicted a mural of a woman in labour, her eyes filled with tears of joy, her sorrows washed away at the delight of her child.
But the longer his eyes focused on the mural, the more it seemed to change.
Slowly her smile began to fade and over time her expression became more bitter filled with [Sorrow].
By this point Reaper had fallen into a deep trance and couldn't seem to pull himself out.
He had yet to find what he was looking for, but soon enough forgot his purpose.
He called them murals, but they were in fact runes. And the first thing to know when dealing with runes, was that they were dangerous.
The technique he was using was known as Rune Reading. It was a technique all humans were forced to learn from childhood.
Due to their unique circumstances humans have no choice but to learn extensively about runes. Afterall the path of Concepts and Conceptual Magic was based on almost runes entirely.
Due to this, maybe the greatest Runesmiths to exist came from the Human race.
But even amongst humans, at least of those on the same level, Reaper was on a level all to himself.
Unfortunately this wasn't always a good thing, especially when one got over immersed.
It was possible for one's very foundation to twist to match what was hidden in the runes.
The mural continued to shift. At this point the woman's tears had turned to blood.
'NO!' His heart pulsed, the effect forcing him awake.
'Huh?' He fell weakly on the floor.
Touching his cheeks he felt a warm red liquid running down them.
'Blood!' He couldn't help but recall the last scene where the woman held a knife to her throat, only to realise that he had picked up a sharp stone at some point.
He started hyperventilating. Was this possible as well?
It wasn't until several minutes later that he managed to calm down, the fear still evident in his eyes.
He looked down towards his chest. It seemed that he found himself doing this more and more often.
Truthfully he didn't grasp the intentions behind his mural.
It seemed to depict the raising of a child but before he could understand what happened he had almost lost his life.
'How…' Reaper was shaken, something about this whole thing felt off.
This level of Rune Manipulation. Was it still human? Just what had he gotten himself into?
Was he even supposed to choose? What was the purpose of this choice? What was he being forced to remember?
He forcibly calmed down. Panicking wouldn't do him any good.
It became clear to him at that moment that he had been looking at it wrong.
This wasn't a conventional maze. Or rather it wasn't the full aspect. The maze he was navigating was… himself?
His mind fogged over. Truthfully he was a bit fearful to observe the last mural. Should he just chose randomly?
[Weak].
The word his father spoke to him rang in his mind.
No!
He wouldn't be weak!
As soon as he made this realization, he stood up, focusing on the next door. He would navigate this maze.
His visage uncammy with blood running down his cheeks and
The last entrance.
He paused almost as soon as he saw it.
It had a mural with a lonely figure smiling. An earnest smile.
His heart skipped a beat, his blood rushed through his body.
What was it?
He stared in hopes of seeing more but… no mattee how he looked it was like the answer was veiled from him.
Why couldn't he remember?
Why couldn't he remember where he had seen it? How could he lose something so precious.
No he hadn't lost it. It was always with him. The only thing that allowed him to cope with the cuts, bruises, pains, hatred…
The [Lies] he told himself. The stories that left his lips, the deciet that covered his face.
The [Mask of Remembrance] he wore.
SNAP!
He recalled the happy times that never happened. He recalled his father's smiling figure that wasn't true.
He recalled the true nature of what they did to him.
He was treated no different from a lab rat. Their secondary name for him, as if he were no different from a different spanner size.
No. 9
The last of their experiments. They blamed him for their failure.
He laughed.
He laughed…
He… His soul wailed. The depths lf his sorrows like that of seas resonating with the surroundings.
Was this the shadow he lived in. Was this the man he looked up to. Was this the world he remembered.
Was this him.
He wasn't asking, simply stating.
Once again he recalled the words. Despite what he'd done for him that man only ever called him.
[Weak]
"No… I'm not weak." Once again he felt great rage running through him.
Without even so much as a thought, he rushed in.
He was certain of it. This was the [Path] he would [Choose]
HE, TRISTAN HEART, WOULD NEVER COWER!