Death.
The battlefield was the equivalent to certain death, no matter the possibility.
Magic, weaponry, history, every single subject in this world, he was ignorant of. Time
was never on his side, would never be. And for he was not blessed, he was cursed in
this aspect.
And for ignorance at times was bliss, but at times ...
Ignorance was not a blessing, not even a curse, but an inevitability. It simply
equaled=
The antithesis of life, or rather, its continuation.
Death.
------------
Humor at times appears in situations that do not require it. And the purpose of
humor, is as a defensive mechanism for the brain from collapsing.
How odd of the human mind, no?
-------->?
"Wait, wait, Mrs. Elias, objection, o-b-j-e-c-t-i-o-n !"
Crossing his arms into an 'X', Noel's mind raced with thoughts, his neocortex
switching on and off in a logical sequence like a logic gate would have processed.
His black eyes looked at the two individuals in the room observing him in an
inquisitive sequence, one flipping through the page of her book, the other standing
at the doorway, with his cane indifferently, unaffectedly by any of his outburst.
As if it was expected to not be quietly this simple.
Yet his heart was unable to settle down, his emotions in haywire, his mind in
scrambles.
He may have not been calm after finally coming to terms with his situation, but that
did not mean that he was unable to cope with it despite being in an undesirable
situation.
Cognitivly, he knew that his life was the most precious thing to him.
Emotionally, it was not equivalent, but logic has the ability to overwrite emotions at
important times.
He had time to ponder over his complex thoughts later; his current situation required
urgent focus and resolvement.
The battlefield. A field of endless rivers of blood, weaponry, and corpses.
Where the children became orphans, the women becoming widows. The land
becoming apocalyptic, where the value of life plummeted.
Something that Noel would not dare to come in terms with, no matter how many
times he had to be forced to hear it, to fathom it.
And so he used the last of his excuses, the last of his arguments that could be
utilized fathombly as a justification for his narrow yet perilous situation, his
precarious circumstance.
"Although your words ignite my heart, in accord to Mr. Friezdzals words, I cannot
leave. He had entrusted me to teach his children in the artistry of-"
"I've already spoken to him before you came, Noey. Do not worry about such. I'll be
handling your position"
Noel's open mouth slowly closed, his lips into a thin line, his eye's ponderavative,
with a tilt of his head.
"So you had predicted that I would come, what he would ask, and what I would
respond ... with?" He spoke, his voice low, yet his anxiety evident.
This ... is not something possible, not by human standards, not even by human.
Something outrightly ridiculous.
She predicted and calculated the outcome that easily? Simply? She knew I would come,
what I would ask, and what she reply, like that?
And she ... never have an intention to go to the battlefield in the first place? Wait, wait.
How did she know I was from another world in the first place? I never mentioned that
to her, unless she was notified. No, or perhaps she was the one who suggested the idea
to Frietzdal to summon me?
I don't understand anything. Things are happening too fast.
What is happening?
Why me?
Was my death on purpose?
Why was I transmigrated?
Why?
His blood pressure that had begun to slowly decrease slowly spiked once more, his
chest rising in shorter turns.
Not good.
Not good at all.
His vision began to lighten, and he felt sick to his stomach.
I feel sick
He would be forced to kill, or be killed.
Live with blood on his hands, or die like the fool he was.
And neither of those options satisfied him.
Neither of them did.
"I can't do it" He whispered, his voice low as he held his stomach in pain with an arm.
"Noel, you will go. My words are final" Elias replied apathatically, her eyes not
moving from the pages she was reading. "You will go, and you know you will do it.
Because you have no choice"
"No, I refuse. I will not go, not even if you force me to. I don't want to go to the
battlefield, I don't want to kill, I don't want to do anything. I just want to live. I.
Refuse"
Usually, Noel's mind wouldn't be this weak.
Yet his sudden death, his sudden situation he was thrust into with no prior
explanation ...
No matter how much logic can overwrite emotions.
Emotions are a foundation. They are not so easily overwritten by temporary logic.
He raised his eyes in hesitation, looking at her, yet she merely responded by simply
sighing, closing her book with her eyes closed.
Exile finally spoke after a moment of silence, casting a gaze that suggested his ddep
revulsion of Noel.
"Elias, leave it at that." He spoke, his wrinkling face exhausted by all the banter that
had not led to a spec of conviction. "The boy is useless for me, for himself at that. I don't need a useless tool, something that can't even function on its own, much less
by orders. I will be taking my leave"
A useless boy.