This story has no aim

Chapter 6: Imagination 1 – Wat (3)


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Lucas woke up with a start.

Seeing the brightly lit room, he determined it to be at least midday.

Feeling the start of a throbbing headache, he looked around for a bottle with some liquor left.

Having found none, he dragged himself to the portable cooling box by his bedside.

But even there, no bottle liquor can be seen.

Frustrated, he kicked the box away from the bed, hitting the table where he once spent his last 3 years writing and brainstorming.

Paying no heed to the scattered papers, he ambled towards the door, indifferent to his disheveled fashion.

Out of his room, he turned a deaf ear to the murmurs of the servants he passed by, his eyes only forward, his aim only for the liquor storage.

As he was nearing his goal, he noticed at the corner of his eye a man in parade dress, formal military uniform used for official and ceremonial matters.

While it piqued his curiosity, his piercing headache and desire to return back to his room pushed him to move to his goal, alcohol.

A few minutes later, Lucas was dragging behind him another portable cooling box, sealed tightly within it all sorts of liquor, from old, vintage brews that are 4-5 times his age, to modest, light drinks that a 10-year-old can consume.

Chugging at the bottle on his free hand, Lucas finally felt his headache dull, and the light feeling return to spirit.

After a few more gulps, Lucas broke out in a smile, finally free from the throbbing he felt a few minutes prior.

But his smile was short-lived, as the man he noticed a while back was standing in front of him.

The man then asked if he was Lucas, which Lucas ignored.

After that short pause, Lucas continued on, walking on a collision course directly towards the man.

Unperturbed, the man stood there, his eyes remaining on Lucas.

Lucas couldn't help but frown.

Even so, he refused to be the one to adjust.

The man, too, never wavered.

Standing tall, without any ripple in his face, he simply stared at Lucas, looking directly at his face.

Finally, Lucas was face to face with the man.

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Lucas commanded the man to move, but the man stood like a rock.

Instead, the man countered by repeating his previous question.

No longer able to hide his irritation, Lucas's faces contorted and repeated his command to move, this time increasing the volume of his voice.

Even then, the man simply looked at him and asked him his name.

Lucas rolled his eyes, after which a flaming swirl engulfed the man.

But to his surprise, the man simply looked at him, not bothering to even extinguish the magic surrounding him.

Anger and morbid curiosity getting the best of him, Lucas then added a few more strokes to the current formula, which then started draining the heat of the surrounding areas in order to increase the fire's own heat.

Still, the man did not budge. Looking even more closely, he was not burning, his clothes were left unscathed, and he wasn't even sweating.

But Lucas was drunk enough not to notice these. Instead, he started feeding more and more heat to the fire, not noticing that the covered walkway they were on was starting to catch fire.

It wasn't until the man started speaking to him did he realize what was happening.

Quickly, Lucas drained the heat from the rising flame, extinguishing it before people started raising alarm.

Then, he noticed.

There were no people around.

While the fire wasn't large, it should've left out enough smoke to cause a ruckus within the main house.

And yet, no one came to check.

Finally sensing something was wrong, Lucas began to cast the spell for blink.

But faster than he could cast, he felt a sharp pain in his gut.

Unable to breath, Lucas toppled forward.

Expecting this, the man stepped aside, his face passive and undisturbed.

The last thing Lucas saw was the pristine condition his shoes were in.

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