Bro, I'm not an Undead!



It had all happened too fast for Setkh to glimpse, or even gain a sliver of comprehension as to how or why it had all gone down.

All he knew was that he had been sitting in the lounge of his new home, awaiting the silver spatial light that would take him to the Venue for the Premium Age Royale when a torrent of pain suddenly assaulted his body in fragmented bits of time.

Or, was it that he experienced how his body got diced in spaced out intervals of time?

He didn't know which was which.

It was a pity, really.

Here he had been, anticipating another uncomfortable stretch of hours where he would have to sit with Stylla who would be carrying clouds of gloom, most of them stabbing at his skin from a seat away.

The sheer tenacity of Stylla's hatred was impressive. It had persisted with the same muscle for six straight weeks. Actually, it grew stronger as time passed, while for Setkh, he had grown used to its intensity. Honestly, he didn't expect Stylla's rage to simmer down anytime soon, so he had tempered his tolerance. It wasn't too hard.

By now, the number of excuses, reasons and justifications he had piled up had thickened his skull considerably, and he was getting more and more convinced that he... that he had been in the right.

Unfortunately for him, an unforeseen dose of reckoning had suddenly descended upon him before the monotony could continue, with Karrun whom he kept at his side just in case, being caught in it too.

Unfortunately for the Mind Caster who was very good at tweaking the minds of his opponents, making them fail to discern his presence with their senses, the reckoning, which was the advent of a seriously super powered Stylla, had been particularly aggressive towards him first.

By the time Setkh's mind had begun to dissect everything that had happened, all that remained of Karrun was an eviscerated corpse with barely any bones or flesh left to its name. It was as if Stylla in this form remembered that the bugger was annoying if given time to use his technique, and had thus crushed him first... and then gotten to Setkh.

At the moment, the male redhead was groaning in pain, with all his limbs torn from his body and sprawled on the floor, his torso forced to lay on its belly while he grovelled for mercy.

What seemed more phenomenal about Setkh's dismembering – and even the pleading young man had noticed it – was that it wasn't just his body that was cut up.

His soul had been split too!

Something alien seemed to have turned Setkh into this legless, armless thing attempting to roll on the floor, but there was nothing in Stylla's hand. In fact, she had barely moved since suddenly spawning here.

Yet, with all this damage, and the excruciating pain, Setkh remained alive and conscious, much to his own disbelief.

The radiant redhead with a taller frame and a more bombastic presence, while dishing out this cruel justice, had erected a glowing barrier around Setkh's house which effectively changed its entire appearance, making it look like they were somewhere else entirely. As soon as this barrier emerged, an devastating force so mighty that Setkh had felt all the air in his lungs vanish, as if he had been hammered violently on the back, masked this entire area from the world with frightening efficiency.

It was only when Setkh saw the Control Seal on his severed arm glowing but with nothing happening that he realised... Stylla was trying to prevent him from being saved. It wasn't just a powerful mechanism to resist the Control Seal, but it shut off all artefact effects and left no room for intrusion by any good Samaritan... or even a convenient one.

Stylla's new powers were ridiculous, but one was perceptive enough could tell that it was taking all she had to maintain such a powerful construct.

But still, she held on.

...And then Setkh truly went into despair.

"Stylla...!" he called. "Stylla!"

His sister offered no response. She only gave a cold glare which weakened Setkh's bowels.

eaglesnovɐ1,сoМ It was as if he was talking to a beautiful porcelain doll that reacted on the whims of someone else, but Setkh didn't have the luxury to make an analysis of how Stylla had become this way.

He took deep breaths while tears streamed from his face, his heart pounding like a drum. He shivered in fright when he met Stylla's uncaring eyes that promised his death and looked back down, searching what to do.

Finally, when he confirmed that Stylla didn't want to end him quickly, he thought to try and appeal to the loving and forgiving nature he knew she had.

"Stylla... please understand. I never asked for any of this... I, I was just unfortunate is all. I left the Family thinking that I could make a name for myself. I was never that impressive with the Family technique... and I was never as well liked as you... I didn't want to live in yours or father's shadow! I thought if I explored the wider world... I would find something that you all hadn't seen before and... and then... I could.... I could..." Setkh glanced up at Stylla, the stinging pain slightly impairing his speech pattern. The redhead merely looked down at him without changing her expression.

Setkh shivered and gritted his teeth.

"I thought I could then return as someone worthy of all your respect, alright?! What was so wrong about taking all I owned and setting out to...to make my own path?! It wasn't my fault that I got mixed in with the wrong crowd and used every... every single bit of information I had to try and bargain for my life!"

The man sobbed as he remembered aching regrets that weighed him everyday.

He cared for Stylla a lot and was glad that she was as strong as she was. Father always favoured her because she showed talents that he never manifested in his life. Yet, Setkh was never jealous of Stylla. In fact, he was pleased that she was strong. While he lacked a great deal, he didn't look down on himself and actually looked to the future. When the day came for him to rise, he wouldn't be growing alone.

That had been his sentiment.

However, his growth wouldn't work in the Bryne Family environment. That was what he had thought, coming up with the idea to take all that was his and leave, forging a path for himself outside the Family.

He remembered Stylla pleading with him not to go from a sentimental perspective and from a rational one.

There were too many dangers that could befall a stray noble born young man without his Family to support him.

Yet, Setkh ignored it all and left anyway.

This was his first regret, and now, it had lead him here, back to Stylla, but the difference was... she didn't see him as someone she cared for anymore.

Only the cold call of murder was brimming in her eyes.

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