By: Daalaas
Death is Inevitable
It was the same for every being within the universe. However, dying is a scary thing for this young man.
Under the moonlight he gazes down from the thick branch of the tree. He looks at the people beneath him as if he were the god of the world. However, his perspective is entirely different because he views the world as a pit of hell.
He is scared of Death, let alone that death has an uncertain outcome. He cannot accept such an inevitable thing.
He doesn't have any talents unlike his siblings, who are blessed in different fields: swordsmanship, magic, alchemy, and more. He has none of that; rather, he is just called the trash of the family.
His name is—
"Vanitas!"
Someone had called his name. In response, he just turned his head behind him and saw a woman, clenching her long dress, hurriedly walking toward him.
"Vanitas, what the hell are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the study hall studying the history of the kingdom?"
However, Vanitas shot her only a glare before sliding down from the tree and walking through the woman.
"Vanitas!"
"Shut up."
He glared at her once again before turning his back to the woman and continuing to drag his heels out of sight from her, while the servant and maids watched the scene; however, their eyes were completely shut to what was happening between the two of them since their lives were at stake if
this kind of relationship leaked out from the Manor.
"... What's wrong with that child?" she sneered. She glared at the servants, who keep doing their chores.
Vanitas stormed out without thinking about what was in front of him since he was the youngest son of Leywin Family.
He was a young man of 17 years, and only a month away from becoming a legal adult; he needed to follow Leywin's protocol or
Leywin's cultural trial to rightfully be part of the Leywin Family.
Their cultural trial is known as the Journey of the Lost Lion, where the direct line goes on a long journey for two years, and once they return, they must report their achievements, feats, and anything they can show off in front of the Patriarch.
Vanitas is on his way to prepare his things. He knew that his stepmother, the woman from earlier, intended to mock him while cloaked in her outward intention of having a good relationship with him, but it only fueled his desire to punch her in the face. However, he chose to walk away and ignore her
since that was the best option he had.
However, before Vanitas could step inside his bedroom, a person emerged from the shadows; his face was completely covered by bandages like a mummy that rose from the coffin.
"Young master." His voice was solemn and cold; however, there was a hint of past warmth and carefulness in his tone.
"Good work," Vanitas spoke earlier before the man could speak.
"Erm... Young Master, I haven't yet reported." The man was curious about the sudden compliment.
But Vanitas was not a fool; he was a coward when uncertainties came up, but he wasn't someone who suddenly made a work and was uncertain about the outcome. Because uncertainty was what he despised the most.
He was confident and not arrogant when making decisions.
"Then, Young Master, I'll estimate the amount of money you have gathered within your bank." The man pulled out a paper listing the current money in his bank account.
"The Garden has made a large profit this month, exceeding the last income we had made." With that, Vanitas grinned, and on his face, there was no innocence but a pure grin plotting something this man couldn't comprehend.
"Young Master... It's almost your Cultural Trial, and in a month, Young Master would become the youngest ever to return to the manor of Leywin with achievements and feats."
However, Vanitas looked at him with a curious glance and then, in a few seconds, spoke. "I don't intend to do that; if I did, I would certainly be killed a few days after I went home."
"Why though?"
"Jealousy, envy, anger, and many other emotions and intentions would be directed at me, and the next moment they would be going to assassinate me. Even my personal shadow wouldn't be able to
protect me."
Vanitas took steps approaching the man. "Even you."
He looked at Vanitas, but instead of getting confused about what he was saying, he listened to him properly. He was listening to him to learn what he was lacking, but instead of what he must do, everything Vanitas said was slowly carving itself into his head.
Young Master... I will protect you until the moment you reach your dream—no... I will watch and witness the Young Master's dream become a reality, to the point that dream won't be able to slip through his hands.
He looked into Vanitas's pale gray eyes along with his silver hair. He could only see the majestic figure of his master.
Knock! Knock!
A loud banging sound could be heard from where he was sitting. The man disappeared, hiding himself in the shadows around him, then Vanitas stood up. He couldn't guess who was behind the door, but an extreme eerie feeling was creeping up his skin.
"Who is it?" Vanitas did not quickly open the door; instead, he called out to learn who was behind it. If it wasn't someone he knew, he would immediately pull the weapon from his left waist.
It was a handgun with a
sleek and normal design, manufactured by one of his underlings. It was built for him because he wasn't suited for hand-to-hand combat or even in terms of swordsmanship.
"Open your fucking door or I'll kick it," a familiar voice spoke from the other side of the door.
He placed his hand on the door's knob and twisted it, unlocking the door. He pulled the door open, letting it swing by itself as he turned his back.
"What do you want?"
A girl stepped inside his room. Without turning around, she grabbed Vanitas's hand.
"Vanitas... Can you look at me for once?" It was gentle and soft at the same time.
She was Theresa Von Aspen, engaged to Vanitas, but he knew there was something behind this girl's approach, as she always ignored Vanitas's presence when they were at public gatherings.
"You know it's inappropriate to have a woman who hasn't yet married step inside a young man's room."
He tried to shake off the girl, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she tightened her grip on his hands.
"What's your purpose for coming all the way here?"
"That was..." She paused, and then she suddenly reached for something between her chest.
Her grip on Vanitas's hand was strong, imbued with mana.
She then, aimed for his forehead, but before the a dagger pierced his head, he surprised Theresa by his sudden but barely dodge, as she had expected him to die the moment she drew her dagger, but it only give him a simple cut on his cheek.
"Arghhh!!" Vanitas screamed and spread his palm behind him, stopping the man from moving on his own.
In response to his scream, two shadows appeared, daggers in their hands. They aimed for Vanitas's vulnerable back to attack, but a magical barrier blocked their assault; it was a small sphere barrier,
enough to fend off the two attacks from behind.
Basic Barrier?!
They thought to themselves, as they had expected Vanitas to be unable to use any magic since he hadn't been taught any kind of magic. But their certainty was their downfall; because of Vanitas's fear
of death, he prioritized learning how to make a barrier, even with a small amount of mana inside his body.
Vanitas drew his handgun, pointing to where he could sense the presence of the attackers from behind, and quickly pulled the trigger, releasing a loud banging sound that could be heard a mile from his location, alerting the guards on patrol and even the personnel in the shadows patrolling the area
miles away.
Bang! Bang!
Shit!Curses from the two attackers before they leaped back, Vanitas didn't try to pursue them because having the advantage was in his current location.
Theresa released Vanitas' hand and tried to escape, but Vanitas grabbed her hand and stared into her eyes, widened in realization that she was part of the assassination.
"Don't run, or else the assassin might target you," Vanitas spoke to Theresa gently but coldly, instilling fear in her due to his response to the assassination.
False information and people's rumors were really useful. Even those assassins were surprised to see me using a basic barrier.
He grinned while grabbing the dagger that Theresa intend to use, and then grinned widely thinking about how the assassins responded with their eyes to his basic barrier.
What just happened? We were supposed to kill him easily, but why... Why has he become an entirely different person?!
Theresa's mind raced at the same rhythm as her heart, feeling the eerie atmosphere surrounding Vanitas.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Footsteps rapidly ran toward the direction from where the gunshots came.
"Y-young master?!" The men in armor with their swords unsheathed stopped as soon as they saw the cut on Vanitas' cheeks. One suddenly turned on his heels and ran, calling for the clan's exclusive doctor.
"Assassination?!" Once this word left the armored man's mouth, the others behind him dispersed, intending to locate the assassins, along with the shadow patrols.
"Young master, are you alright?" One boldly asked. Vanitas looked at the armored knight. His gaze turned cold as soon as he met the gaze of the knight.
"What do you think?"
"We apologize for our late arrival." He turned his head and, with a commanding tone, said, "Hey, one of you prepare a room for the young master to stay in tonight. Make sure to send someone to report this to the patriarch."
"Yes, sir!" Another knight ran off.
"Could you prioritize Lady Theresa?"
"But, young master, your safety must be—"
Vanitas just gave them a cold gaze, much colder than before; it was a look that would definitely send them to death if they tried to resist.
"Alright, but I'll be standing guard for tonight, young master."
"Do what you want."
Tch...
Internally, the knight who spoke clicked his tongue, given a troublesome job.
But before he could get close to Vanitas, his throat was struck by a dagger that Theresa had used in her earlier attempt to assassinate Vanitas.
Vanitas killed him.
The knight behind the man took a step back while the blood from the man's throat spilled onto Vanitas' face, chest, and down to the floor as he stood, still gripping Theresa's hand. He looked at the terrified knights who had mocked him for so long; Vanitas grinned and spoke in a solemn tone.
"Scram, pussies." Then the knights turned on their heels and started to run away from Vanitas' gaze.
"Now, what should I do with you?" With wide eyes and unblinking, he looked at Theresa; she was clearly terrified the moment their eyes met.
Cold sweat began to drip down her face, her fingers trembling enough for Vanitas to feel the shaking in her hands.
"Are you scared? Don't worry, your time isn't up yet."
His eyelids narrowed as he smirked, scaring her even more to the point that she passed out.
"Young master..." A man covered in bandages appeared in the shadows as Theresa went unconscious.
"Track those guys down and isolate them underground; after a month, I will personally go to them."
He commanded, followed by a slight bow from the bandaged man, who then disappeared into the darkness.
"If you want to play, let's play," he whispered, picking up Theresa, and brought her to his room, following by dropping her onto the bed, covering her with a blanket.
But behind Vanitas' actions was a calculation down to every second. He had completely get the gasps who were the one who sent those assassins and even use Theresa for it.
While sitting in the chair beside his bed, he closed his eyes for a second and suddenly opened them.
He glanced at the sleeping girl beside him, but his face was filled with disgust.
If she wasn't under my stepmother, I would probably call her beautiful with a straight face, but thinking she's under that bitch makes my stomach want to throw up.
He thought to himself. But his eyes slowly shut as the exhaustion finally caught up, but he didn't sleep yet, stared at the ceiling.
Despite his ability to pull off such feats, they came at a severe cost. His body was frail, his stamina nearly nonexistent, and he had never received any formal training—neither in physical combat nor in magic. Despite being an heir to his clan, he had been completely neglected, left to fend for himself
without any guidance.
But in a way, Vanitas believed this was for the best thing they had done to him. Fear of death had driven him to live in the shadows, keeping a low profile. While others trained sought for recognition, he immersed himself in books.
He read various books, it could be a myth or logically, but his interest fell down to the concept of Immortality.
Anything related to the concept of eternal life captivated him. He devoured every text he could find, absorbing every theory, legend, and fragment of knowledge on the subject. It wasn't just curiosity; it was desperation.
He knew he was a coward, terrified of death, but instead of letting that fear consume him, he turned it into something else. He studied confidence, dissecting what made others fearless.
He explored strategies, theories, and philosophies, though his plans were riddled with flaws and unpredictable outcomes.
But uncertainty was unacceptable. So he studied how to eliminate it, how to bend possibilities in his favor. He trained his mind to consider every angle, to craft scenarios where there's only a certainty
and became inevitable.
Little by little, he refined his thoughts, sharpening them like a blade until
there was no room for failure.
And even now, before Theresa was able to attack Vanitas, he could predict many possibilities upon placing his hand on the door.
This kind of incident were simply a test for him, in other words a begining. He knows that many things similar to this or even something else, he was prepared enough what was coming.
The path he had chosen was long and akin to endless road before him, an unforgiving road paved with ambition and obsession.
Immortality, a dream of fools, a curse wrapped in the guise of eternity. He
knew this pursuit could very be his downfall, but the thought of turning back was more unbearable than death itself.
He had invested too much. Built too much. Planned too carefully. The idea of abandoning it all was not just unthinkable but also unacceptable.
"Regret?" he muttered under his breath, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I crossed that threshold long ago."
Failure was not an option. Uncertainty was an enemy. If sacrifices had to be made and so be it. His own body, his soul, even the last fragments of his own humanity he would cast them all aside if they stood in the way.
The path of immortality was not meant to be easy; it was designed to break those
unworthy of eternity.
It was a trial of suffering and pleasure, of agony and euphoria. He had read of those who sought the same goal before him—legends, madmen, gods, and fools. Some perished, others vanished, and a
rare few achieved what they desired, only to find eternity an unrelenting prison.
Would he be different?
He exhaled sharply, shaking off the doubt. It didn't matter. The path of immortality was about understanding both sides of the coin—the triumph and the tragedy, the burden and the blessing. Good or evil, right or wrong—such concepts held no weight in the face of eternity.
All that mattered was the journey.
And he had already taken the first step.
To be continued…