'''Curated universes are a stain on reality. An ordered universe with a story-line to follow? No. Universes should thrive on randomness and chaos.'''
-Seeker of Chaos
Eloise and I talk, truly talk, for the first time in what feels like ages.
Time passes in a blur. The sun that once peeked shyly through the eastern window now bleeds behind the western hills. Just being near her, hearing her voice again, it's like a balm over wounds I forgot I carried. The dread of an uncertain future melts away.
In that moment, I make a vow to myself that I will drag the gods from their thrones if it means keeping her safe.
"Do you want to come to supper with me?"
"Okay." I nod, already planning how I'd bring up the assassin to Father. Supper is the only time he's even remotely approachable.
We walk side-by-side down the long, stone hallway. The Illumination pearl lighting the way.But my thoughts drift.
The titles.
Watched by: £#@&-@-++(@@ (Unknown)
Second Life (Hidden)
The second one I understand. A second chance. A rare, precious rewind of fate. But the other... who is watching me? A benevolent god? A cosmic prankster? Was this regression a gift or a new form of torment?
But... he warned me. He told me about Eloise.
He gave me the chance to save her. Was that mercy? Or manipulation?
"Are you even listening to me?"
I blink. "Yeah, I am."
"So who do you think will win the tournament?"
"...Which tournament?"
"I knew it!" she groans. "The Spring Festival Tournament. You used to go on and on about Trisha, the Ice Maiden."
I scramble for something. "I think Justin, the Juggernaut, will win."
She narrows her eyes. "Who? He's not even on the list of potential champions."
"Berserk. Southern Tribal Clans." I answer too quickly.
She cocks her head, suspicious.
I glance ahead and blurt, "There is Venison for dinner"
Her face lights up. A sparkle of excitement flickers in her eyes.Crisis averted.
"Greetings, Father."
Caspian Kolson Demure, Marquis of Solvein. Steel in his gaze. Dignity in every breath.
He nods without rising. His eyes soften only for Eloise, who runs to him and kisses his cheek. He actually smiles, briefly, and kisses her forehead in return.
Rare. Almost sacred.
"Sit down for dinner." His voice is always an order, never a suggestion.
I take my seat to his right. Eloise sits on his left, practically bouncing in anticipation.
Father studies me for a long second, then speaks more softly:
"You did well. You became a man today. Protecting your sister is a virtue praised by the Church of Tolsky."
His praise warms me. But the mention of the Church, that hypocritical machine of control, leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.It was they who branded father a heretic. It was they who lit the torches that nearly consumed us all.
"Thank you, Father. But it wasn't anything noble. It was simply my duty."
He grunts, a sound of approval, and gestures for the food to be served.
Eloise's eyes light up as venison is placed before her. I hadn't even realized I'd been holding my breath.
As I eat, my mind churns.
What events are close? The Spring Festival. A skirmish between two minor barons?And the World Quest: Slaying the Wyvern of Corruption. But most of that time is a haze, back then I was a prankster, a good for nothing, always angry at the world.
But now, I need to level up. Fast.
If I can reach Level 10 and unlock the "Gifted Child" title...Two Tier 2 combat skills are required to even have a chance to acquire this Rare Title. And moreover you need to be under age of fifteen too.
I can train Swordsmanship. But I'll need another.
And the elements. Basic mastery of four elements is the prerequisite for the "Elements of Chaos" the watcher mentioned.
Could this watcher truly be an ally? Something beyond the gods? Something older?
And can I save Father this time?
"What will dessert be, Uvar?" Eloise asks, a sly grin on her lips. "You knew it would be venison."
I freeze.
Father raises a brow. His stare pierces deeper than his sword ever could.
The delinquent son who never steeped near a kitchen, suddenly guessing dinner? Not a good look. I really was a bad son in the past.
"Milk pudding." Father answers.
Eloise claps her hands with joy, letting the moment pass.
As we eat dessert, I lean closer to Father and whisper:
"Did you find out who sent the assassin?"
He glances at Eloise, smiling, carefree and responds in a voice only I can hear:
"You don't need to know who sent him."
His eyes are hard. Unyielding.
Which means he knows.
And whoever it is... they're dangerous enough to keep even Caspian Demure tight-lipped.
.
.
.
Alone in my room, surrounded by silence and shadows, my thoughts began to spiral. Ideas collided and tumbled in my mind some reckless, others ambitious, all of them urgent.
I could ask the knights to spar with me, demand they treat me like a proper trainee, not some pampered noble. Or I could ask Father to hire a mage tutor, someone competent enough to teach me the foundational spells. And then there's the more dangerous thought, sneaking out through the old servant tunnels beneath the estate. The ones that lead to the lower city. To the slums. To him. The crazy mage who muttered truths nobody wanted to hear. The only one I know who might teach me Divine Resistance.
But all those ideas circle around one glaring question: Who sent the assassin? Father won't tell me. His silence was absolute. Which means I need to seek answers elsewhere.
The Solitary Inn. The broker there, he always knew more than he lets on. If anyone knows who placed the contract on Eloise, it's him.
I sat up in bed, back straight, pulse rising. I needed a plan. A real one this time. No more aimless anger. No more regrets.
My eyes fell on the desk, the pen still resting where I'd found it earlier. I couldn't help but laugh.
The same pen I once used as a weapon. Pathetic. Desperate. I give myself a pained smile at thought of me charging with a pen. But tonight, it would serve a better purpose.
I grabbed it and began to write on paper in desk.
Plan for the Second Life
1. Train Swordsmanship. Ask the knights, insist if I must. I need to reach Tier 2 skills as soon as possible.
2. Request a Mage Tutor. Use Father's goodwill from the assassin incident. Learn the basics. Reach basic mastery of four elements.
3. Investigate the Assassin. Visit the Solitary Inn. Speak with the broker. Pay in coin or secrets, whatever it takes.
4. Find the Crazy Mage. He's my only shot at gaining Divine Resistance.
Last time, I ignored him until it was too late.Never again.
That last line lingered in my mind.
Divine Resistance. My greatest regret. My greatest weakness. If I had it in my first life… maybe I could have fought longer. Saved more. Saved her.
But this isn't the time to wallow. Not when I've been given this chance.
I stare at the list. Simple. But behind every line is pain, blood, and hard-won truth.
This time, I will be ready. This time, I'll walk a different path. This time, I won't lose everything.
I stare at the list one final time. Each word, each inked line, is a declaration of rebellion.A warpath. A promise to never walk blindly again.
But paper is weak. Paper can be stolen. And secrets, secrets like mine, must never fall into the wrong hands.
Without hesitation, I take the page. Fold it once. Twice. Then place it between my teeth.
The ink bites bitterly at my tongue. The paper scratches at my throat. But I chew, and chew, and swallow.
Because secrets such as mine must be buried deeper than memory. So deep even the gods can't dig them up.