After departing from the station, we opened the train’s window to let the air in.
The train tracks alternated from caves and open-air. Sometimes we would be outside, earning the ability to see what the world had become.
We went past darkness and light in less than seconds alternately. From zilch to buildings caught on fire. From abandoned schools and buildings to empty spaces.
This really was the world we were now in.
A ruined wasteland of a bygone civilization.
And this was the world that I, someone with no memories of the past, ended up in.
What were the chances that this was the world I was from beforehand?
The thought crept up to me like a shadowy thief, but I put the thought aside.
Being half-naked and with the cool air coming in, the derelict we brought in had clothes to spare. So I ended up wearing a white, slightly discolored white shirt and a black button up and some slacks. No underwear. Full-on commando.
Thankfully, they were friendly and were not at all people we could call our enemies.
We played some itemless games as we passed the time such as word chain.
It was interesting to me that they did not have any idea what word chain was, so we ended up playing house.
"You’re the mother," said the child, whose name I had heard was Ren.
He couldn’t have meant me, right..? Though, his pointer finger was pointing directly at me.
"You’re the mother—"
"I heard you the first time." I sighed. "I’m not sure if you can tell, little boy, but I’m a man.
"Jesse, please tell the child that."
A carefree teenage girl named Jesse, who had brown eyes and hair and skin, laughed.
She laughed without retaliating or elaborating to Ren.
"You..." I massaged my temples. "Adam—"
"I wouldn’t mind being the father then," said Adam.
Hey? Hey? What the hell?
Do I just not have a say anymore?
Ren chirped:
"That’s it then. I’m the devil."
"Why are you the devil, Ren...Why do we even need a devil; we’re playing house."
Jesse choked out a laugh.
Then, Johnny, black hair and cobalt blue eyes, and was around the same age as Jesse, spoke:
"Can I be a necromancer, then?"
"Why do we need a necromancer...Do I have to remind you that we’re playing house?"
I pondered for a moment
"How about being the mother, Jess?"
Jesse looked at me in disgust, averting her gaze to Adam for a short moment.
"I don’t like old men."
I flinched.
"Adam doesn’t have to be the father. What about Johnny..."
She glared daggers at me.
"Really shouldn’t be telling your names so carelessly, my friends," said Bunny.
Adam, a blond middle-aged man, spoke with a freedom that can only be seen with an alcoholic:
"Why’s that, Bunny Wunny?"
Four-Eyes, who had yet to tell us his actual alias, who was also less stoic than before, burst into laughter.
Bunny sighed.
"Wouldn’t want you to get hexed, would ya?"
"What’s "hecks?""
Ren, the youngest of us, raised the question.
Bunny left the train cab and passed it to be driven by Four-Eyes.
"Well, my child, a "hex," H-E-X, is a bad thing done by bad people.
"But it’s not always bad people who hex. Some good people do it accidentally."
This...This was quite nice.
"So when you compliment someone—"Ah, what beautiful hair!"—you may accidentally cause hair loss as a result."
I wondered if this was what it was like to have a family.
I wish I had known.
"Those types of hexes can be done without a name. We call it a "jinx."
"Hexes that need names are even worse."
"Worse than being bald?" said Ren, with glimmering red eyes.
Four-Eyes gurgled laughter.
I was still having difficulty understanding what the world had become. But if it meant experiencing moments like these, I wouldn’t mind living a life anew.
"Yes, sir, yes, sir. There are things worse than being bald," responded Bunny. "For instance, if you write someone’s name in ancient runes or a script and their cause of death, then conduct a sacrifice something to a nephilim with a cause of death slash curse to be done relating to their title like Bachulus, who is the angel of waters, Bachulus would make them drown or whatever curse you had written."
"Eh," said Ren. "Sounds tough."
There was a silence that befell us.
"Then," said Johnny, "can a nephilim be hexed? We have their names, don’t we?"
"That, I’m not sure."
"What about a god?"
I didn’t know what had gotten into me then, but I spoke without warning.
[Regulus is following the script.]
[...]
[...]
[Character introduction, Child Martyr, is in session.]
[Chapter 0, Prologue, is ongoing.]
Was this the Narrator? There wasn’t a voice, though.
"Reggie? You good?"
"Regulus?"
The concerned voices of my comrades fell into deaf ears.
Before I knew it, I was caught in a sea of nil.
An empty, empty darkness.
My eyes took a while to get used to the darkness.
Before long, I realized that I was in a bedroom.
And there was a figure of light so bright that it dimmed the surroundings. The light was unable to be processed by mortal eyes such as mine.
It began to mouth words.
It called my name.
[Regulus.]
My neck began to itch.
The ruckus at the quadrangle garnered a crowd of both students and school staff.
The death of a mage wasn’t new, so why was everyone gathering?
There was no blue moon to be seen on this tower floor. Instead, it was the white sun that was looking down on them. It was almost cocky, the way the sun gazed down.
Braham slivered into the cracks of the crowd, finding himself to be in the front.
A wavy, raven-haired man stood in the midst of it.
He wore a discolored white shirt and black button-up and black slacks. These slacks were now tattered on the part where the knees were, revealing bony skin that was bloodied and scratched.
The child’s red eyes had lost all light in it and, his pupils trembling, were of terror.
"Hello, Bunny," Regulus said, looking down on the child before him. Then, he turned to Braham. "What does it take to hex a god?"