“God dammit… Who made these doors so heavy?…” Dyon leaned all of his weight forward, pushing with all of his might. Doors that should have taken him nothing but a finger to obliterate had suddenly become the hardest obstacle of his life.
Dyon had a mind to give up. He was looking around for people, but wouldn’t a room filled with people have some kind of noise coming from it? He had even opened the door a crack, and yet he still heard nothing.
With the limited amount of energy he had, he wasn’t even clear if he would fall asleep again the moment he took his next step. He couldn’t afford to be opening heavy doors that led to nowhere.
Dyon’s feet slipped backwards, causing the door to slam shut.
Everyone in the hall looked at each other. That voice, was it who they thought it was?
Ri, Madeleine and Clara immediately snapped their attention toward the door.
Dyon, however, was standing outside breathing so hard that it seemed his lungs might combust at any moment. His eyelids fluttered, threatening to close, but that was when a wave of anger came over him.
“Who the fuck made this bullshit door?! MOVE!” Dyon’s voice roared through the quiet hallway. He had irrationally lost his temper at a completely innocent inanimate object. Maybe it was because of his weakness, or maybe it was because he still felt a lingering melancholy over remembering what happened, but either way, he was pissed.
The black band on his arm immediately became 6-foot-long sword, scraping against the ground because of Dyon’s weak hold on it. But, that didn’t stop Dyon’s demeanor from completely changing. Sealed soul or not. Sealed wills or not. Sealed energy cultivation or not… He was still a weapon’s master. And right now, this weapon’s master wanted to hack this door to pieces.
Regardless of the seals still being on the Dragon King weapon, it was still countless times sharper than a regular grandmaster weapon. Even the weakest of babies could slice a hot knife through butter.
Dyon’s arm swung with all the might he could muster, slicing the door three times before the sword morphed away. Even it seemingly realized that if it stayed, Dyon would collapse.
The booming sounds of pieces of door tumbling away filled, resulting in a flood of light landing on Dyon’s hunched over figure.
The beating of Dyon’s heart was fast, it was almost as though one more push would cause it to burst apart completely.
He instantly regretted his actions. He could barely walk, what was he doing going around yelling and slashing doors?
Dyon’s eyes threatened to close again as waves of fatigue assaulted him. But, that was when an aroma wafted past his nose, catching his attention.
‘Food?... Am I just hungry?...’ Dyon looked up. It was as though he didn’t see the hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at him, or the figures rushing toward him… All he saw was the endless food on the table.
“Food…” Dyon’s voice was weak as he tried to stand up straight only to be rewarded with losing his balance.
Dyon fell forward, his eyes completely incapable of keeping up with the speed he was falling to the ground at.
Dyon was completely deaf to the cries, he didn’t even realize that someone had caught him moments before he hit the ground…
Dyon’s lips twitched as he felt the drip of a sweet liquid touch them. It flowed slowly into his mouth, filling it with a blast of overflowing juiciness that shouldn’t have been possible for just this single drop.
It continued to rain downward, allowing Dyon taste after taste of its delicious nectar.
Dyon’s eyes lids were heavy, and no matter how much he tried to open them, it seemed that they’d always apply more force to stay down.
His arms reach up, trying to grasp at something to sit up, but that was the moment he realized his head was lying on something particularly comfortable, even more comfortable than the large bed he had just been on.
Dyon’s hands paused, instead choosing to rub his eyes open. Slowly, but surely, the blurry image of his surroundings became clear enough for him to notice that something was hanging in front of his face.
In confusion, he weakly reached up, trying push it away, but almost immediately became frustrated when he noticed how soft it was. It gave way so much that he felt like all of his effort was being wasted.
‘At least it feels nice…’ Because of that, Dyon didn’t feel the urge to slash it apart like the door. Instead, he continued to try and gently push upwards as he struggled to sit up.
Suddenly, a familiar voice filled Dyon’s ears followed by giggling.
Dyon’s brows furrowed as his vision cleared. He could suddenly make out that the softness blocking his vision was actually what looked like a mound of purple with gold embroidery.
An instant later, the image clicked in his mind, causing his vision to go from surprise to a smirk. He shamelessly pretended to not understand the situation as he played with the softness, closing his eyes as a wave of comfort overcame him.
Madeleine giggled, slapping Dyon’s hand away. “You’re awake… We missed you.”