Chapter 1: 1. Noosfera: World of Comfort—End

1. Noosfera: World of Comfort—End

The entity came upon yours truly. As I read my book underneath the largest tree in our mansion's courtyard, the entity known as Rubicon Allfather, my sister, made her presence known. With her fists to hip, the sway of her white-old lady hair—which she often applies with her old lady performances in coming up with excuses, it trimmed perfectly to align with her choker, and in addition to all that perfection, is her faultless life at the hands of God. Though I cannot say I'm not blessed either, to put it bluntly—my sister is too fucking blessed. I often compare her to one of those Mary-sue characters—as I am the opposite, no not a Gary-sue—the male equivalent to a Mary-sue, but instead the shit stain that doesn't come off, or at least, to the rest of the family, I believe I am.

"Duel me brother!" she sprung to my direction with a right fist. I dodged, so her fist hit the tree instead but she may as well hit a pillow.

Because of her annoyance and bullying I was forced to get up. "What do you want Rubi?" I asked.

Rubicon's forearm held a Space-calling sigil. "Space-calling: [Void Storage]," she announced. I observed the warping of the sigil—a rippling force. Beyond the warp, at its centre, I saw complete and utter blackness. A dark, so dark—the light spectrum from which we see felt wrong. Rubicon watched her left arm return to normal, as a sword appeared on the same left hand, short and wide. It mirrored a falchion.

Already manipulated into having my guard up, I chose to go along like usual. "Where's mine?" I asked.

By the hilt she chucked the falchion in her other hand. "Be patient, brother," her forearm warped again, this time she surged a thin and flexible sabre that mirrored a rapier.

Rubicon hurled the rapier, I caught it by the blade with the clap of my hands—holding it by the hilt to stare at its blade, I asked her. "Hadn't Dad told you to use a rapier instead to take advantage of your speed?"

Rubicon's expression soured. "My speed? You dodged my fist. If even you can dodge me, what speed am I taking advantage of?" Rubicon asked. She obviously held back but being a power progression-imbecile nothing's enough for her, so even if I didn't dodge, I'm sure she would've made a similar excuse, power over speed—she believed.

"It's not all about power, Rubi," I said, and Rubicon ignored—wildly driving her blade forward to close the distance. I knew she wanted to use her fists instead but being light on my feet—I easily kept a respectful distance away, splendidly flicking all my sister's attempts to get close with the falchion.

We continued for a couple more moments, I was getting incredibly knackered, but for someone who rarely isn't sitting for most of the day I think I put up a good fight. At this point I was moving like a slug, although I'm decently muscular my cardio just isn't there. To the point where Rubicon used the distance I created from evading her attacks for a dash—utilising her truest speed for elevation with a swing from above. My weakened clench to the sword's handle, the block meant nothing. The swing was powerful enough to take the rapier out of my hands.

"Got you." Rubicon threw her sword away, swiftly transitioning to a guillotine choke. I tapped her elbow twice. But she didn’t stop.

When I came to again, I rubbed the ache on my neck. "You battle junkie bitch," I murmured like a bitch.

"Get up bitch," said Rubicon, she expressed pointing as if trying to pierce with her nail from a distance.

I got up and told. "One day Rubi, one day you'll learn that your actions have consequences," affirming that to her, I dusted myself off, though that action wasn't necessary, we all wore spray-on clothes for convenience, and my detached clothing—a plain dark blue shirt and grey joggers also made of a material impervious of dirtying, with the additive bonus of temperature regulation. A perfect convenience you might say.

If you have clothes that don't get dirty, a body that doesn't get clammy, what is there to lose or even complain about? Well besides my sister, its my place within this sovereign family. Picking up the rapier, I held the hilt tight with both of my hands, thinking of the dreaded day I’d be disowned, the fear was apparent even to a faultless dummy like Rubicon. She picked her falchion, and I was eyed by her with a disinterested squint to my whimpering expression, that same glance other members of my family have given before, a look of dissatisfaction.

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"Are you done?" Rubicon asked, now pointing the falchion instead of her finger, and there it goes again, 'you'. You might have noticed I call my sister by a nickname—Rubi, but to them its always, you, never by name and rarely does Rubicon call me brother—unless she wants something, it's always 'you'.

"Void Storage," Rubicon announced again and furthered her mockery. "Perhaps you want me to put you out of your misery?" she said—a switch of the weapon she possessed, the falchion returned to the void storage, and in its place, what came out was her GEM sword known as—Reckless, a [Graviton Emitting Module]—'G.E.M. Sword'. Gifted in glory of her winning the [Gradus ad torneamentum], a series of tournaments held every five years by another pioneering family. The Reckless—a thing of beauty, a longsword of purple radiance, the sword itself had an aura of a higher entity, an additive one too, which made my sister look even more authoritative as she looked at the blade painting her face lavish violet. She readied for further violence.

At this point instead of counting days for how long I'm going to be a part of the family, I counted for how many seconds I was going to be alive. Though if I did die here, I doubt anyone would bring anything up again after about a week. A week… that would be the permeating resonance of the story of Nodin Allfather—the useless son, then again, I never thought I'd even make it past twenty years, yet here we are—a victim of continuous. I continued a victim of my circumstance and said. "Rubi this isn't fair—you're using your best against me."

She nodded in agreement. "I was trying to get a reaction out of you, and the reaction I got was the reaction I predicted. You are easy to read like a children's book with pictures. Perhaps if you became less easy to read the rest of the family wouldn't continue to treat you like an old dog with no new tricks," said Rubicon. I completely approved with what she had to say. But the idea of being a pioneer much like my forefathers and brother—which granted the opportunity for I to live so carefree, why would I reject that? Why go out of my comfort zone? The struggle that my ancestors have already had to go through, can I not rest for them? Is it such a wrong thing to have no goal, to simply exist?

For a second I saw a look of sympathy from my sister, no, not sympathy but a solemn pity of my pathetic nature and laziness as the twin of the beloved first born, and as her second big brother, someone she's supposed to look up to, someone who can reassure her despite this warped world, instead, what she saw is the results of a world of comfort. Sometimes I wish I had her aggression for progression, but why do so? Why do I not have that? Is it some sort of gene that didn't activate whilst I was relaxing in my mother's womb? Perhaps that is it, we are born of different mothers. My mother—kind and gentle, a beautiful passive flower in carnal form, 'hope in corporeal' as my father described her, and my sister's mother—a former villainess witch that simply got subdued and seduced because of our father's greater power, and somehow Rubicon has the best of both worlds, but no, not me, my world is being a beautiful stationary flower, feeding of the soil, but making little to no impact on it. But what should I do? Your undoubtedly thinking get off your ass and start doing push-ups, but guess what—I do, I do-do those, in fact, I have an incredibly well-trained body, and I also read a lot, so to an extent I do like progression, but what I was missing—that's right. The aggression.

With a gritting of my teeth and a solid clench of the rapier's hilt. "I'm not done yet," I said and in thought back to all the times I've been knocked out and left for dead, I wouldn't be surprised if I had some form of brain damage because of how much she's done that. I asked myself the question which I withheld; How can I let my little sister be stronger than me? A surging anger within my body. I'm pathetic, but this time when I said it, I didn't feel pity for myself, it was a matter of grace, how I carried myself and—if all eyes were on this corporeal, how that world would end up viewing and judging the actions I've taken throughout my life, even if it was for only a week. Though many would say, he did his best, or he could have done more—but that's exactly it, this corporeal form known as Nodin, will only live once, shouldn’t I make the most of it? If making the most of it comprises no longer slacking, reading systematic books of philosophy, and generally keeping to myself—that's fine, and having a family that wants to disown as by law and for not being my best and having failed them, that was fine as well. But what wasn't within that sudden surge of aggression…

—My little sister being stronger, that is not fine, that is not graceful.

With a yell—I charged forward.

"Oh?" Rubicon sounded, surprised.

I suddenly had faith in my skills. I am older, and at one point I was the admired child, or at least—my twin brother made them see it that way, but his sacrifice, his superior heroic nature that had I live and he die, awoke the distaste of the once good food that they thought deserved admiration, and Rubicon—in a way, surfed the waves of the fresh cup of water that cleansed their soured taste of the once good food, and became the new main course. But where does this course lead?

Beside being disowned for generally sucking, there's a rule within the House of Allfather. A law—that once a child of the previous head sovereign becomes the new head, all siblings of the current Allfather must leave and renounce their Allfather surname and to their mother's maiden. My mother's maiden name was Talehart, so disowned I'd no longer be Nodin Allfather. The idea here is to not have them do what I'm doing—lazing about, to be forced to start their monomyth and not be overly blessed by the comfort of their superior sibling. With the passing of my father the current Allfather, our father, and the passing of my brother, the choice is between Rubicon, myself, and my blood-related cousin Markya, though she's of the Kresnik family, which is what my Auntie Songya pioneered, making a pioneering family of her own, Markya would surely continue that. So, in truth, the choice was only between my sister and myself.

In age we were ready to take the responsibility unlike our little brother. We're both adults, five-year difference, Rubicon's eighteen years, and I was twenty-three years. For that same reason, I was certain I wouldn't fall short against her in terms of swordplay, I've done it for five years more than her. What I had to worry about was her [Noumancy]. To illuminate this nous phenomenon, which changed Homo sapiens—Humans, to Continuus sapiens—Consurge. I will have to take a detour from the current.

Not to the origins of Noumancy as you yourselves will come upon it in due time, but the increased understanding of Noumancy I got because of my deceased twin brother, Junius Allfather.

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