[The next round shall commence in:]
[04:11:04]
[Chapter Two, You Are Who You Are]
I had only gotten my restlessness settled and was about to go to sleep after rolling and trying my best to do so when I felt some otherworldly presence creeping up from behind.
I won’t claim that I am skilled in sensing other people’s presence. I don’t have some sixth sense or whatever, but these people—if they even were people or if it was one single being—were glowing.
It was hard not to notice them, even through my eyelids.
Though, I was not able to take even the tiniest of glances of them, for their very existence made me black out.
Even in my dreamless sleep, I could still see the faint outline of the timer of the upcoming round ticking.
[The next round shall commence in:]
[01:24:10]
[01:24:08]
[01:24:06]
[01:24:05]
And it went on for so long to the point that I found comfort in its sound that was akin to the beat of a metronome.
Monotonous, almost relaxing.
Eventually, I fell into a deep sleep.
When I awoke, I was still where I was before.
A corporate company’s former building that looked to be aged by more than a decade as if it had been in this state for years when the apocalypse had yet to last a week.
[The next round shall commence in:]
[00:19:11]
The second round was nearing.
Before that, I went to a nearby abandoned convenience store in hopes to find breakfast, ending up with a rusty can of pork and beans and a rice ball.
I did not bother going to the nearby river to wash myself since I had taken a shower at the hospital yesterday at noon. Can you blame me? It was difficult to maintain my hygiene in the middle of an apocalypse.
For a moment, I thought of how Art and Johnny were doing.
The Federation had elementary classes, I recalled. Was Art keeping up with the classes? How about Johnny? Is he getting along with his peers?
While Art was younger, I was mostly worried about Johnny. I truly did hope that he wasn’t being isolated as he was during his internship—
The realization hit me as I munched on a rice ball, sitting where I had slept that night.
My knowledge about the kids did not go beyond even a week.
Who am I to suddenly act like a parent?
I was sure that Johnny wouldn’t want me to act like this at all.
As Harry would have said it, it would be cringe.
For once, I chuckled.
It was kind of a narcissistic laugh.
Even though Harry was strange and sometimes uncomfortable to be with, I slightly missed the comfort that The Federation gave me.
It was an unusual relief in the middle of the apocalypse. It took another world’s invention to calm our state of mind.
Sighing, I gathered my trash and scraped the misdirected grains of rice from the floor, standing up.
Afterwards, as I waited for the next round, I gazed out of the shattered concrete walls, a rod of metal that was used to reinforce the building was poking out.
Sipping a cup of melted slushies from a convenience store, I looked down from where I was. From below, there was a redheaded knight, fighting behemoths with his sword. He no longer held a rapier as he did when we first met. Instead of a thin blade that looked like the type to be used in fencing, it was as wide as his own thick-fingered hands. It had a titanium black handle, adorned with grooves of designs, and, near where the hand met the handle, was a red jewel.
It reminded me slightly of the red-eyed Ben, but, right now, this Benedict Leyendecker had blue eyes, so I brushed the thought aside.
As I stared at him fighting behemoths, it clicked.
He really was the protagonist of Imperfect Knight.
Imperfections of a Knight was written in third-person omniscient point of view, so it was difficult to say what was going on in that big head of his.
What’s more was that even I, the writer, had no idea what was going in his mind.
I won’t say I disliked his character, but I only honored and regarded him as the protagonist of Levi’s Imperfect Knight.
I used to call him my son once upon a time.
But the more I continued writing Imperfect Knight, the more I loathed him.
And yet, I could not help the grin that formed on my lips with every sight I took of him.
He may have been a rash, conceited character but it was I who brought him to life, after all.
Like a parent and their delinquent son.
Ben slashed a rat-nephilim behemoth who had managed to crawl onto his foot, of which was wrapped in his metal armor. Crimson purple stained his armor.
I smiled slightly at the sight, hand cupped in chin.
I knew just what he would do to me once he realized I had written his whole life starting from when he was nine and up until the present nineteen-years-old.
The things I had to force to happen just so he’d end up miserable...Truth be told, I was in a dark place when I was writing that novel.
And the thought of it turning into reality had not struck me at the time.
If I knew this would’ve happened, I would’ve made it easier, less heartbreaking.
There was no use regretting everything I’ve done up to this point now.
A lion-nephilim behemoth had begun approaching Ben. Its mane had turned into a charcoal black, its eyes a fiery red, growling towards the protagonist.
The lion-nephilim hybrid walked with confidence and terror, taking a gradual step and another.
It was as though the behemoth was stalking its prey in a field of tall grass.
Benedict does not hesitate.
His hand dug for his syringe and stabbed it deep into his stomach, veins becoming more explicit.