Chapter 319: 'Him'

Chapter 319: 'Him'



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Emir waited for a reply.

He received none.

He remained in his bowing position, waiting patiently. But then, after a few moments, he remembered that he needed to interact with one of the pawns on his sunglasses to call for Mr. Player, and that was what he proceeded to do.

Picking it up off the ground, his hands then neared his head, intended to wear it. Yet as his hands got to his ears they grazed his... beard?

Right, it appeared that he grew a beard while immersing himself in a world so far different from his own.

It wasn't only that, his hair had also grown by a lot, reaching his shoulders in length.

Just how long had he spent starved?

As that question surfaced in his mind, another came with it.

'And why do I not feel hungry anymore?'

'Do I have my Aether back? I can't feel it still...'

Leaving that for later, he chose to not wear the shades and his right pointing finger touched

the side, the temples, as he folded it by the two pawns, putting it back into his pocket.

"Thank you, Mr. Player."

And finally, a response arrived after a second or two, sounding as majestic as always:

"I've only fulfilled my part; there's no need for thanks."

Emir nodded.

"I just wanted you to know that I appreciate it."

The Class-Two chuckled, his every high and low sounding to be a perfect pitch.

"... What is your starvation?"

He corrected his posture as he thought about that question, his mind returning to all he had gone through.

Leaving his home, coming to the A-11 sector, hoping for a life worth living, and believing in what obviously was a lie.

That was an act of starvation.

With words that left him broken, he begged all the passersby for credits, yet he gained none. No matter how demeaning, how vile, he did what they asked with a smile, for they have given him hope to live another day and to feed his family.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

That was an act of starvation.

A gang asked his wife to work as a prostitute, he said no, yet regret didn't stop hounding him. That was an act of starvation.

On days that they received no money, he had to go through many obstacles to gather whatever scrap he could find, even lamenting at how lucky the junkies had it, able to inject themselves with nanobots and all manners of drugs without a care in the world.

That was an act of starvation.

They, whom he felt slight envy for, beat him up. He almost died for their entertainment. That was an act of starvation.

He smacked his own son across the face, and he cried for what he did, a guttural scream leaving his throat.

That was an act of starvation.

His wife, the mother of his children, became a prostitute. He failed. Though happy that no one bought his wife, he slowly grew silent anger at her uselessness, until eventually... all went away as he heard her cries for help.

He turned his back on everything and slept on the cold, cold floor, his heart frozen to ice.

"I'm a puppeteer, once a puppet now someone who tries not to be, someone who tries to be in control. I weave people and events into place with my threads, but I have a flaw. A flaw where if any of my strings gets cut loose, or if my puppets are positioned incorrectly, I experience backlash, the severity of said backlash depending on the mistake."

Mr. Player hummed an almost excited tune as he listened, only speaking after a long second of

silence:

"Interesting... I never heard of a Celestial gaining a flaw, only Holy Relics, but that tells me your path is nothing ordinary. Perhaps this is a result of your lineage, but I can't say for sure, you're the first Najma I've met. Anyhow, it's apparent that this is needed to balance your existence, both body and soul, for without that flaw you might die. Embodiment is dangerous

after all."

Showing a face full of hesitation, Emir looked back up again and asked:

"You... Mr. Player said that you enjoy fairness, no? Then may I receive a gift for this knowledge I've shared with you? I've still not received the third freebie I've been promised."

"..."

Emir received no reply.

He waited quietly.

"..."

But nothing changed; it seemed that Mr. Player ignored him-

Fshshshshshshsh...

A portal suddenly appeared in front of him, and Mr. Player materialized from it, causing a

purple 'fog' of insane magnitude to bathe their surroundings.

Calmly, he began to float towards him.

Emir flinched and looked down, not daring to look Mr. Player in the face.

"Child, raise your head."

Struggling with his instincts, he did what Mr. Player asked and slowly raised his trembling

head.

Now, their faces were only two feet apart, with Emir looking up at the floating mass of 'fog,'

his inky eyes on Mr. Player's colorless, almost invisible ones.

"W... What brings you here Mr. Player?"

'Fog' neared Emir's hand, and then, without warning, his bracelet was flooded with

information, requesting their path to his brain to open.

Emir showed momentary surprise, but he didn't reject the trade, allowing what Mr. Player

sent to reach him.

'Ah... N-No. I...'

He immediately realized why Mr. Player didn't say anything out loud.

This... it wasn't to be spoken about, even within this Celestial Realm for if 'He' heard, 'He'

would come, knocking, no smashing the door in, no matter where they were-

Click!

He looked at where the sound originated, the door, it opened before his eyes, allowing

someone in.

It was a blurred figure, not by 'fog,' by Aether, but simply a blurred existence.

It was 'Him.'