Forgotten Memories ( TBATE )

Chapter 6

Then it happened—something I never thought I would ever see. The lights in the hospital began to flicker, as if we were caught in the middle of a raging thunderstorm, even though the night outside was calm. The air grew thick, suffocating, and I felt an overwhelming sense of disconnect, as though the world I knew had been ripped away, leaving me adrift in an unfamiliar reality.

I was already on the ground, having collapsed in despair earlier, but when I looked up at Arthur, my heart stopped.

His body, once so familiar, began to rise slowly from the bed, defying gravity as if he were no longer bound by the same rules as the rest of us. The sight was otherworldly, terrifying, and awe-inspiring all at once. It was as if a deity had descended, casting judgment upon a mere mortal.

Arthur's dark, reddish-brown hair started to change, the color fading as if being drained of life, until it became a pale, almost ethereal blond. His eyes, which once held the warmth of life, began to shift in hue as well, turning into a piercing, luminous gold that seemed to see through everything—including me.

I wanted to say something, to call out to him, but the words died in my throat. My body refused to move, paralyzed by a fear so primal it left me breathless. Arthur—no, this being before me—was transforming into something beyond human, something divine.

The change didn't stop there. His body began to shift and contort, his form growing more imposing, more majestic with every passing second. Dark, metallic tendrils started to emerge, wrapping around his limbs, covering his torso, and spreading out like the roots of a great tree. The armor that formed was a deep, obsidian black, but it wasn't just black. Subtle streaks of purple and gold accented the armor, shimmering faintly like veins of power running through it. The armor fit him perfectly, molded to his form as if it had been crafted by the hands of the gods themselves.

Then, as if to solidify his divine transformation, two small horns emerged—not from his head, but from the armor itself, curving slightly upward in a way that added to the otherworldly aura surrounding him. A white hood accompanied the armor, draping over his shoulders and adding a stark contrast to the dark, .

He wasn't Arthur anymore—at least, not the Arthur I knew. This was something far greater, something that made me feel insignificant, like a mere insect before an almighty power. The presence he exuded was suffocating, an overwhelming force that crushed any semblance of self-worth I might have clung to.

I was already on my knees, but now I collapsed entirely, my forehead pressing against the cold, hard floor as if in reverence to the divine being before me. Tears welled up in my eyes, unbidden, and began to stream down my face. They weren't tears of sadness or fear; they were tears of utter despair, born from the realization of how small and meaningless I was in the face of this overwhelming power.

My mind was blank, unable to process what was happening, unable to comprehend the enormity of what I was witnessing. I was nothing. Less than nothing. The only thought that managed to break through the haze of my shattered consciousness was a single, humbling truth:

"I'm not worthy."

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I looked around, trying to make sense of where I was. The room was pristine, all white, almost unnervingly so. How in the world did I get here? I wondered. Just moments ago, I was in the Relictombs, fighting for my life. Wasn't I in the Relictombs a moment ago? I tried to piece together the fragmented memories of what had happened, what could have possibly led me to this strange place.

I took a deep breath, focusing my thoughts. Stay calm, assess the situation. I scanned the area more carefully, searching for anything that could give me a clue. Was this another floor of the Relictombs? A trap? It didn't make sense. The air felt different, the atmosphere too sterile and controlled, unlike anything I'd experienced in the Relictombs before.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a figure on the ground. A kid, curled up and shaking like a frightened animal caught in the rain. His small form trembled violently, and for a moment, I hesitated, unsure of what to make of him.

Could this be another illusion? The Relictombs were known for their cruel tricks, preying on the mind, twisting reality to break your spirit. My instincts sharpened, and without a second thought, I called upon my aether, summoning it to my hand. The familiar weight of the aether blade formed in my right hand, its energy humming with barely contained power.

If this kid is a monster or, worse, an Alacryan in disguise, I won't hesitate. I steeled myself, ready to strike if necessary. But something made me pause. The kid's trembling wasn't just fear; it was something deeper, something that tugged at a part of me I had long buried beneath layers of survival instincts.

Could this really be a child? I took a cautious step forward, keeping my sword raised but allowing myself to study him more closely. His clothes were modern and unfamiliar—nothing like the attire I was used to seeing in Alacrya . They were clean, but the style was entirely alien to me. His face was free from dirt, but his expression was one of intense fear. He didn't look like a warrior, didn't have the aura of an Alacryan or any kind of magical creature. He just looked...lost.

But I couldn't afford to lower my guard, not yet. I needed to figure out what was going on here first. My grip on the aether blade tightened as I weighed my options. Was this another test? Another cruel game by the Relictombs?

"Hey," I called out, my voice steady but not unkind. "Who are you? How did you get here?"

The kid didn't respond, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at the weapon in my hand. Damn it. I softened my tone, trying to coax him out of his fear. "I'm not going to hurt you...unless you give me a reason to."

I waited, every muscle in my body tense, prepared for whatever might happen next.