The Crimson Tyrant {Rewrite}

Chp 7

Atticus laid on his bed looking at the ceiling. It had been a week since that god awful party. Atticus was still trying to figure things out. Anybody who could get the title of Marquis should be smart, right? So, why was the late Marquis Moore so goddamn stupid. Why did he feel like something in soul was missing? Why did he feel some sort of impending doom? He had so many questions but not enough answers. Looking back at his experience in this life, he realized a few things. He was being way too impatient, reckless, and doing way too many unnecessary things. Why was he so desperate to become king and rule the world? 

Was it because he had no idea what to do in this life. In his last life, he was oppressed and almost destroyed by people in power. So, was that why he was so obsessed with gaining power? Or was it a way for him to cope with these new feelings? The feeling of something important missing from his soul. The feeling of pain he feels from time to time. The feeling of almost uncontrollable mana running through his body.  Atticus felt just as confused and helpless as he did in his last life. Was it because he did something wrong? Seeing how he acted like a reckless child since he came to this world, he probably did do something wrong. 

He lost a loyal asset, Jonathan, in a bout of anger, annoyance, and recklessness. He could've just played with the two brothers and all of this could've been avoided. Atticus covered his face as he remembered everything he did. He was far too reckless in eating the Eyes of Drae.  Now he had way too much mana and almost uncontrollable mana. Although he knew a few spells and such, how could he use them when he could barely use Mana. God, he was reckless and stupid.

Atticus clenched his chest as intense pain came from his heart. These uncontrollable and random bouts of pain started a few hours after the party. Sometimes there would be intense pain in his chest, sometimes in all parts of his body, and most of the time there would be a terrible headache. He didn't know why he was in pain or what was causing the pain. But he did know that this pain was incredibly bad. It hurt like a bitch. 

Maybe this was what he deserved. He wasn't happy with a rich family, a loving family, and people who cared for him. He wanted more and more. He was greedy. Why wasn't he just happy with having a father who loves him, two stupid brothers that loved him, and a useless mother who also loved him? Why was he so damn greedy? 

It was like people were fighting inside of him. One was angry that he didn't cherish everyone that loves us while the other was screaming that he needed to get the throne to not die pitifully like he did in the book and in the last life. The problem is, which one was right? Which one did he need to choose? The pain he was feeling got stronger as if ripping apart his puny mortal body into pieces. 

Was he wrong? He was? Wasn't he? Maybe he was a hypocrite as well? A scum perhaps? Maybe he was just a little rude bitch who couldn't live in this world without hurting people?  Was the people in his last life right? That he had mental problems? That he was a demon in human skin? O r m a y b e h e w a s j u s t a p u p p e t…?

It hurts. It really does. Atticus rolled onto his side and tears of blood fell from his cold emotionless eyes as he looked at the mirror on the side of his bed. His beautiful red crystal like blood stained his white silk sheet. His cold emotionless red eyes stared at himself as if mocking him. God how much he hated his eyes now. He once thought that they were beautiful. That they made him who he was. His while skin turning paler as sweat appeared in the absence of the usual redness that told everyone that he was alive. Cracks appeared on his thin red lips. It seemed like he was dying. Maybe it was for the best. He was just an old demon that could only live by hurting people.

A few seconds before he blacked out, he heard two voices. One voice familiar and one unfamiliar. The familiar voice screamed Atticus in a worried tone while the Unfamiliar voice spoke to him differently. "Mike. I'm sorry. The rest of your soul will come back to you. Just handle the pain till then. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't suffer in both lives like this. I failed you. Your Guardian Angel has failed you." The voice spoke with an incomparable holiness and sadness. Angel? He had an Angel looking after him all this time? What a shitty Angel. Then Atticus blacked out.

Note: He suffered.