'Alright... let's not panic and proceed step by step, just like I was taught,'
Probing, Aelon sent a mental command to himself to summon his runes, and just like imagined a blue screen appeared before him.
Name: Aelon
True Name: —
Rank: Aspirant
Soul Core: Dormant
Memories: —
Echoes: —
Attributes: [Focused Existence], [Faint Remembrance], [Soft Carapace, Strong Flesh]
Aspect: [Beholder of Souls].
Aspect Description: [You are strengthened by the many, but will your perturbation of them come in the way?]
...Sacred?
That couldn't be the case. He had never even heard of someone with that aspect rank.
There had to be a mistake or something–– but he didn't complain at all.
The happiness faded just as fast as it came though, after all he had to survive this nightmare first to even gain access to the powers that came with his aspect, and his... flaw.
Aelon wanted to accept his fate already, there was no chance he— a thirteen year old outskirts rat, that had been frail since birth, would survive this. Yet he felt indignant. After years of suffering in the outskirts, barely clinging to life, he wouldn't resign to fate that easily. He would fight it.
Gritting his teeth, he continued, and focused on his attributes.
[Soft Carapace, Strong Flesh]
[Your mind is weak, and frail. Anything interfering with it will have higher effectiveness. In turn, your soul stands stronger than other's. The effect of soul based attacks, including corruption is significantly reduced, and you have a high natural resistance towards them.]
Honestly, Aelon didn't know how this would be of any help. He didn't know anything that could attack his soul, but a frail mind... that was devastating. Neither did he know what this 'corruption' was.
[Focused Existence]
[Your presence is naturally ignored unless actively observed or mentally anchored. You function as a "low-priority" presence.]
[Faint Remembrance]
[Those who form a lasting positive impression of you struggle to forget your existence. Your presence becomes amplified in their mind, and around them.]
These two seemed like they synergized well, as if made to couple together. The only of his attributes that seemed to have a positive effect. He just needed to make sure that he focused on not making an appearance too grand on people, and stay in the background. Or the opposite, if he wanted to catch the attention.
'All three of them feel... worthless at first glance. But I kind of can't help but feel that they will come in handy at some point.'
Suddenly he heard climpering and steps resounding through the hallway before his cell. Someone wearing armor.
'A guard?'
A broad shouldered frame slowly appeared in the darkness. He had a pale candle that surrounded him in a warm light, and a tray in his hand. He was entirely clad in metal armor, a helmet hiding his face, with a sword hanging from his waist. The guard stopped before the bars that were locking Aelon in, and opened the cell before him.
"Food. You'll be fighting in the colosseum in five hours. See yourself lucky."
The person in the cell that was opposite of Aelon started whimpering, and crying.
"P-please not the colosseum! I'll do anything. ANYTHI-"
The guard hit him square in the face.
"Shut up before I injure you more. You surely don't want to fight beaten half to death?"
The silhouette of the prisoner cowered back immediately.
Closing the cell, the guard raised his candle, so the light would shine on what seemed to be a piece of paper.
Then immediately, he turned around.
"You."
'Fuck'
"You're a new one eh? Paper tells me to give you the instructions."
'If I don't receive the instructions, I'll be really damned. And technically I am new here...'
"Y-yes I am."
The guard nodded.
"Very well. Not much to say. You were captured. You are now a combat slave. You are now our property, and will fight for our entertainment."
The way he was staring at the paper made it seemed like he was reading out a clause.
"You have two options here: Fight in the colosseum, or rot in your cell. You can choose to fight, or if you have bad luck, at random, people will be picked, and if you are amongst them you'll have to fight as well. There are no rules in the fights, other than waiting until the horn announces the start of the fight. The fight is to the death, and if you win, you'll receive a better cell than this, and better equipment. If you win enough, you'll regain your freedom. Ah, I forgot to tell you. As long as you are down here you won't receive any food."
Aelon bit his lip. He could really feel the amplified mental vulnerability taking it's toll on him. All he wanted to do in that moment was cry.
But tears... tears never saved him in the outskirts. Neither would they here.
'If I want to make it out of the nightmare it seems that I have no choice but to fight.'
Fighting. Something he always was bad at–– just like any other physical task. Aelon's frail body betrayed him when he tried to do something like exercising. The two years of good food in the orphanage were nothing compared to the cost of being constantly malnourished in the outskirts.
Even though he told himself that it wouldn't have any benefit he still cried.
Tears silently slipped.
'I have to make it out of this Nightmare no matter what.'
"D-dear Guard."
At the sound of his voice, the guard, who was already striding away, turned around.
"I'd like to put myself up to fight in the colosseum."
Although he could barely see the guard's face, he could swear that he saw the corners of his mouth lifting.
"Very well. I'll sign you up. You'll receive your food soon, and fight tomorrow. Tell me your name first though."
"Aelon. My name is Aelon."
With a nod, the guard departed.
'I need to see this positively.'
The orphanage told him that the Spell never assigned first nightmares that were unbeatable. They were all beatable.
He had a chance, and instead of dragging it out, and growing weaker by the day, he would fight now–– when he had the most energy.