Ethereal Paradigm: Pseudo-Sociopath In Another World 96 True Waltz Of The Revered

-Ufuoma

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In the coliseum, which is now enshrouded by Jaiden's stygian charisma, everyone was thrown into a panic, not believing the comforts of the Tarragonian armies and not resorting to hoping that the crystalline Aegis laid before, would protect them from anything. All were considering it a mere smokescreen, as they comprehend that Jaiden's current ability in the display, to be more superior and can ultimately deem the aegis, powerless at will.

"That's the young kid earlier, right?" A middle-aged woman, asks... while everyone in the group has relatively the same question, seeing the lad's re-emergence in this form that's utterly unrecognizable when compared to his previous countenance which still clearly incorporates him, being a human.

"I-is that, Jaiden?" The Cla.s.s rep, Daerenji, stunned of what he's seeing, asked, which is meant to be for himself alone as he was unable to bear it inside.

"Yes. It's him..." Celes, hearing it, answered undauntedly while making sure that the still hibernating s.h.i.+ro is close to her while also maintaining and strengthening the Aegis.

"But... what's this aura. T-this murderous intent...Is, is he one of those said Herrschers?" The cla.s.s rep affixed, gulping in nervousness and shallow despair just by the presence of Jaiden alone. Celes, however, just stood silent in that question.

It is also apparent as to how the others have the same amalgamated feeling with the innocent cla.s.s rep... Its fear and despair coalesced with this vile aura that's literally everywhere in the venue which somehow adds humidity to the atmosphere, making it harder for them to breathe...even for Celes, and especially the armies in their heavy armory.

And then there's the source... An asocial youth in an unworldly form, surrounded by these exclusive dark celtic crosses weaponry, in an Overlord's attire, black scleral eyes with eclipse-like irises, pale skin, and burnt hands, and with an irrelatively unfathomable amount of power en ma.s.sing towards him, which is partly from the audience's current negative emotions and mostly, in his incursion to outmaneuvering a natural law, that he himself is not certain with the specifics...

The pain, that he experiences, also has no signs for subsiding from him, of which he also speculates, that will only end, once he will depart from that form and cease the s.h.i.+ft... one thing that he should do as quickly as possible if he wants to be freed from his pang and before he might spell the truth that he's holding physical agony deep within.

He then took a glimpse towards Celes, non-verbally conversing that they should get out from here, as hasty as they could while hoping that the Prima Donna would somehow understand the situation... which is likely to be the case.

"Let's go... Everyone, we should get out! Please evacuate everyone now" Celes responded, giving instructions to the array of armies, as she also was given an epiphany how subjective the choice was of even coming inside the venue.

"Evacuate? But how? This is a realm, for Momus's sake! There are no formal entrance and exit gates even if you're willing to explore the whole place down! The only way to get out of here is through asking consent from the Patriarch himself!" Asked another. Yet, Celes, however, was not willing to submit to the statement, which she finds to be satire.

"Eh? Did you actually believe that this is a realm?" She said.

"What do you mean?"

"There's no time for an explanation... Just follow me." Everyone, especially the commoners and the humans with her, did not resort to any despicable hesitations, but on the other side of the social caste was the narcissism that the elites would choose even if it would mean possible death...

"Us n.o.bles? Following mere humans? Unthinkable."...

"Then die... No one cares." She savagely responded, not even looking them at their directions as if, if she's planning to do so, she would see, not demi-humans in high-valued apparel, but a collection of cheap cat manures in one sandbox.

Everyone then continued to follow Celes towards the ground floors, while the armies also continue to a.s.sist them... and the n.o.bles, deeply ashamed that their narcissism did not fly for the very first time, also found themselves bashfully following the majority, being behind the slums, which is for them, a threat of their sovereignty as they should have been the first... too bad, that Celes is unwilling to hearken another balderdash.

The King, however, still in his cage beside his special seat in that coliseum, awaiting his people's final judgment was unable to do anything... He tried to call for help, but none would answer him... One saw him but ignored him literally as if that individual wants him to die for good. He was left helpless and will likely be caught up in the duel.

"I never intended that to be of resonance that you should understand what I was trying to say... but I'll properly repay you later, Celes. After all. I also don't want to bare reciprocity. But for now, prioritization takes into account." Jaiden, in his soliloquy, muttered, whilst fully s.h.i.+fting his focus to the age-advanced Patriarch who is ullaged in deep awe of the scene, which for him is rather nostalgic to witness...

"Now this is one monochromatic art indeed... So, I, Durandal, the Patriarch of the kingdom, ought to respond in his fullest as well... " The Patriarch exclaimed, while once again, taking the stance of a martial artist, ready to gush a big bang. Yet, his pose is a little bit less aggressive than his primary wind waltz, which is without question, mediocre as he was trying to lose in purpose... Moreover, this time... it's different.

"Yeah... Whatever. just hurry up..." Jaiden answered as if he's a VIP in a hurry due to his hectic none-existent schedule, but he just plainly wants to advance the duel into its climax... "

"How persistent for a youngster like you who still have a lot of years to experience..."

"Yeah, but you do realize that we've just taken a year off from it, right?" Jaiden self-murmured, as he was not willing to say another word, to save every bit of strength he can have to help endure the dying sensation he's in...

"But very well then, an agreement is an agreement. Negotiations are negotiations. Incentives are incentives... This, that I'm about to show you is indeed the true waltz of a revered Patriarch... Waltz! Stance number 999... Paradigm s.h.i.+ft... Illusory Valhalla!"