The Only Blossoming Flower

Chapter 11: The Dungeon Floors

The Ball continued on regularly as everyone danced, talked, or just ate the delicacies on the side. Though everybody else was having a good time that night, something in me remained detached from the crowd, I couldn't explain this… weight in my chest. This weight made me feel tired of everything, as if all my stress hit me like bricks all at once. With Shion and Diablo by my side I tried to feel calm, but even when I sat with Milim who kept rambling about the history in this world for some reason, I remained stiff. Though I knew her information would prove to be useful someday, I felt too tired to listen, my mind was elsewhere, wandering around to find something that could light up my silent smoke. Maybe it was Guy I was looking for, but I couldn't find him anywhere near, nor his presence within the venue. Was I looking for him or was I anxious to see him? I couldn't tell, my thoughts were confused. I asked Milim about it, but she replied with huff saying, “Guy? That idiot got bored and said that this event is boring on all counts.”
   I couldn't help but chuckle, at some point I felt relief, yet a mix of disappointment was added to the potion as well. In the end, my night ended early with Benimaru as my replacement for that late midnight. How dull to plan the entire thing and not even last a full hour. It took a while before Milim noticed my discomfort, surprisingly so. She urged that it's fine if I left early, and that if I didn't feel well, it'd be better to rest for the night rather than spending it tiredly with a supposed big day tomorrow. Though I knew it would be embarrassing for a ruler to leave his own Ball earlier than should, she was right at some point. I never imagined myself listening to Milim of all people, but I felt like doing so at that moment. It seemed that in certain times, she knew when to joke or when to be serious. I couldn't help but think that her childish outfront was just something she displayed.
   So then I did leave that night, my head ached like I was being burned at the stake in nefarious flames. The needless requirement for air had then become such a privilege to breathe into. Both Shion and Diablo were worried sick about my sudden change in demeanor, thinking something had poisoned me. Though of course, that wasn't the case, I just brushed it off, saying that I was fine and just needed some rest and certain I'd be better the next early morning. For a glimpse, I caught a slip in Diablo’s worry, as if his face was woven with anger for a second then anxiousness the next. But because of how I felt, I couldn't address it nor did I feel the need too.
   I felt quite guilty as I began undressing myself, knowing I loved the fit I had on and only wore the noble garment for about an hour at best. But who cares, the moment I stepped into my bedroom, stripped my clothing, and transformed into my slime form, my consciousness faded faster than breath on glass. I didn't even bother telling Raphael-sensei “goodnight” for sweet dreams.
   That night, I dreamt of something, like a scene played in my unconsciousness of a memory that wasn't mine. I could only perceive a few things, the crimson sky commemorating death, the floor drenched in the blood of the fallen, the sight that reeked of demise and it felt like… like I was part of it as well. Though bodies were piled in a scattered manner, their faces were too unrecognizable to be even called a body, the horror, the graphic vision of war. However, even in that grotesque graveyard, a man kneeled. He was speaking to himself or to someone I believe, muttering things to keep his sanity steady. The man was painted in red, just as how that world became of red. He was smiling, not a proud smile, but a maniacal grin. Then after that, I awoke, finding myself out of my bed, it seemed that my heavy fall from the perch punched me awake.
   Though dreams like these are usually normal nightmares, I never had a dream in my years after reincarnation, not even once had it happened. This, this was the first time, and it felt too real to be a dream. I previously asked Raphael-sensei why I couldn't dream anymore, and she responded by telling me some science on how a human’s brain makes up some schematics to produce visions within the unconscious, and that without a physical brain, it was impossible. That definitely made sense, since a slime body doesn't possess any sort of internal organs unless I modified it to have one, although it wouldn't be as exact as a true organ. However, now that I experienced it again ever since my death in the weirdest way possible, it felt different, something to be wary of, like my dream was a warning of something I wasn't aware of.
   I was usually someone who feigns ignorance to occurrences like this, but for something so bizarre it feels like a grave mistake. However, I can't really do anything with just a silly dream, for now I'll think of it as a warning and be more cautious. That vision reminded me of war, and war is the one thing I take great measures to avoid at all costs.
—
   In the early morning.
   -Founder’s Festival Day 3