Re:Zero False Fate

Prologue

It's been a long day. It's only 7:00, but it's already pitch black outside and my mind is exhausted. I let out an obnoxious yawn, making my eyes water in the process.

"Maybe I shouldn't have benched all of Fate last night. I kept on dozing off in public and I'm honestly surprised I didn't pass out in the car."

I glance at my bed, it's currently a mess, but then again, what's the purpose of making it in the first place? I understand when there's a guest coming over, but when it's just you, is there really a point? It's going to be a mess again eventually, why bother?

"Yawwn"

All this thinking is making me even more tired. Before I crash onto the mattress, I look out my window.

"I should probably close it."

I hastily close the curtains, then proceed to nosedive onto my pillow. I let out a mix between a yawn and a sigh of relief. Wait...I'm forgetting something. That's right. Even with my eyes entrenched in the pillow, I can still make out a bright light from the corners of my closed eyelids. Ugh, so much work! I tap the lamp on the side of my bed. Honestly, it would be more accurate to consider it a slap. This aggressive tap is followed by a tired grab. I'm tempted to pull myself up using the lamp, but I already know it's a bad idea. It does feel nice in my hands though. Its cold touch is almost refreshing, much like drinking water or pouring refreshing liquid on your skin during a hot day. However, the longer I hold the lamp stick, the faster the refreshing coldness disappears. I let out a petty whimper in response.

"..."

I look at the lamp and my hand. It almost looks like I'm holding a staff. This tired thought leads to another, and I start to imagine a fight between myself and a bunch of armed opponents. This thought is given further shape when the staff transforms into the mystical spear, Gáe Bulg. The scene then changes to me fighting my favorite iron-wrought archer. Bright sparks of red and blue colors take center stage. I soon realize that I'm no longer holding the spear or even fighting for that matter, but watching the epic clash instead. I don't see my body, but neither do the heroic spirits before me. I feel like a camera in a football game, with the only distinguishable part of me present is my voice. The scene keeps changing, not the fight itself, but my perspective of it. It jumps to different angles, from seeing it from the side, to right behind the combatants, and so on. Despite being separated from the action, I still feel like I'm a part of it. I'm moving my nonexistent arm as if I'm holding the legendary spear. But I am only a mere spectator of the action. As the fight continues, the red combatant's weapons break, but this is not alarming to him or his foe.

"-------!"

I repeat the red warrior's words like a child repeating a hero's catchphrase from his favorite show.

"Trace on!"

Two new swords appear in existence in front of the red warrior's hands as if heeding their wielder's command. The blue warrior responds in kind by lunging and thrusting his spear into his opponent's chest. As he proceeds to do this, I feel my own nonexistent arm repeat the same action, only-

"..!"

I open my eyes and stop myself from shaking the metal rod in my hands.

"Jeez..."

I release my grip on the abused light source and scratch my forehead.

"I seriously need to stop getting into shows this much."

I am slightly alarmed by my actions. Had I shaken my lamp any further, it most likely would've landed right on top of me. Still, my behavior is not that surprising, considering my mind regresses into that of a 10-year-old whenever I enjoy a movie, book, or show that I like. I pretend I can shoot lasers out my hands, fly around my house, or even act like a master of martial arts. I have a truly vivid imagination, to say the least.