Staring down, there was a seed that was situated in the center, the light shining down on it.
"So how does this work?"
Raven asked, crouching down and looking at the seed from all sides.
"Am I supposed to...."
Extending his hand, mana began to pour out of Raven and into the side, his hand emitting a dark–purplish glow, a hue similar to his shadows.
It was then.
Brandon scrutinized the sight with his arms crossed.
The seed began to sprout, tiny green tendrils pushing through the soil.
However, the next moment, despite Raven's efforts, the sprout started to wilt.
"...."
Its green leaves turned yellow, then brown.
Raven's eyes widened, frustration creeping in his face.
"Why is it withering..."
Brandon frowned and stepped closer.
"Your emotions, Raven. Even if you think you're calm, maybe there's something deeper affecting you."
Raven clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the annoyance. The sprout withered further.
"Damn it..."
Raven muttered, taking a shaky breath.
He forcefully shut his eyes. Sweat began trickling down his face. Stay connected via m-v l|e'-novelhall.net
But the seed continued to wither, and Brandon could only watch, his brows furrowing.
"This isn't working. Let me try."
"Hold on."
But Raven, giving it his all, found no success.
"Stop! The seed's going to wither further."
Hearing Brandon's exclamation, Raven pulled away and took deep breaths.
"What's the problem?"
Brandon asked.
There might've been discrepancies between them during their ascensions, but Raven should've been the best shot they had in the emotion department.
Realistically, if Brandon were to tackle this floor all on his own, there was no way he would clear the objective.
His mind was a mess. The only reason he could hide it all under the surface was due to the pills and relaxants he took.
That, and he would often force himself to act normal in front of everyone.
Even Amelia.
He didn't want to worry her.
"I don't know."
But Raven couldn't find an answer to the question he posed.
Squench.
The sound of roots echoed from somewhere.
"...!"
Brandon looked around. The flowers around them seemed to have withered along with the seed.
They took a distorted form, then further contorted into something unexplainable.
Squench.
"...."
Brandon's eyes widened as the once withered flowers twisted, morphing into grotesque creatures.
Squench. Squench.
The sound of their transformation echoed around them as they contorted, rising up into monstrous forms, thorned vines moving like limbs.
Brandon's grip tightened around his blade, the amethyst flames still flickering, searing his veins.
"Huu...."
He ignored the pain, taking a deep breath.
"Raven, focus! Keep your emotions steady!"
Brandon shouted, his voice strained as he dodged another lunge, slicing the creature's limb.
Slash—!
***
"Tsk."
Raven gritted his teeth, desperately trying to regulate his emotions.
The seed sprouted, the tendrils pushing up, but each time, it would wither, turning brown before dying entirely.
"Huu...."
Raven took a deep breath, closing his eyes, trying to clear his mind.
But the sounds of the ongoing battle—the crashing of monsters, Brandon's grunts of pain—broke his focus.
The flower sprouted, only to wither again.
Raven's frustration grew, and time sped up. The growth was too fast, the plant fragile and weak.
It collapsed under the pressure.
"No.... no...!"
Raven muttered, panic setting in. He clenched his fists, but it only got worse.
Time seemed to be at a standstill for Raven. However, time only moved forward.
Memories of his childhood overlapped in his mind, he couldn't find it in himself to settle his mind at ease.
Especially so, because of the objective pressuring him.
Keep a calm and collective mind?
Emotions?
The further the objective echoed in his head, the more it pressured him, the more bad memories flashed in his thoughts.
His childhood—when his mother left him.
That was how Raven interpreted it.
His mother leaving him.
Leaving him alone in this cold world.
A life with no luxury, no money, scummy adults taking advantage of his vulnerability.
Forced to do labor just to feed himself at the tender age of seven.
Forced to do "favors," just so he could get a raise—a mere three copper raise.
However, his resolve never waned. Raven knew he would see the light at the end of the dark tunnel.
He was living exactly that life now.
Living under a warm shelter, loved by the people who took him in.
Reina, the other Special Force guild members, Amy, the first person to have ever confessed her feelings to him.
But Raven, afraid that he didn't deserve her, never responded to those feelings.
He lived a life of hardship.
His aspirations, only to live.
To live a decent life.
Was his life actually decent now?
'Yes, way better than where I was ten years ago.'
'Five years ago.'
'Three years ago.'
But the trauma.
"Haaa...."
....It ate away at him.