Ansel didn't flinch. With a swift motion, he waved the sword aside and took it from Andrew's hand. He said, his tone was flat but firm. "Just stop bragging."
He turned and headed toward the backyard, Andrew following closely behind, tension thick between them.
Ansel held the sword in his hands, admiring its craftsmanship. The blade was beautiful, almost mesmerizing.
Then, with a sudden flick of his wrist, he wagged the sword quickly toward Andrew. The movement startled Andrew, causing a flicker of fear to cross his face.
But instead of a quilt, Ansel simply smiled. He was satisfied to make Andrew frightened.
"Ansel, do you really want to kill me?" Andrew asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Ansel pulled the sword back, lowering it as he began to explain the transformation he had undergone. He replied quietly. "I have managed to control water crystals. Now, I no longer have similar feelings as humans. That's why I changed. I'm no longer Ansel who you knew before."
Without hesitation, he stepped forward and embraced Ansel tightly. His voice was filled with raw emotion as he spoke words that pierced the silence but failed to reach the coldness in Ansel's heart. "I don't care if you change. Whoever you are, to me, you are still Ansel. You are my buddy."
Despite the warmth of the embrace, Ansel's heart remained distant, untouched. Andrew, still wary of the sword in his hand, slid it back into its scabbard, the metal sheathing making a soft, final sound.
"By the way, tell me how you can control it?" Andrew said, trying to lighten the mood.
Ansel's answer was brief, almost casual, but carried a dark undertone. "I just killed a few dogs."
The words hung in the air, heavy and unsettling, revealing a glimpse of the price Ansel had paid for his newfound power.
Andrew took a cautious step back, his eyes widening in disbelief as Ansel's words sank in. he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and incredulity. "You are not kidding me, are you?"
Ansel's calm response only deepened Andrew's unease. he said quietly, as if offering something ordinary rather than something so unsettling. "The meat is stored by Grandpa. If you want some meat, I can give it to you."
Despite his fear, Andrew's curiosity got the better of him.
"Okay, show me." He said, his voice hesitant but eager to see for himself.
Ansel led him to the freezer and opened it. Inside, neatly packed and chilling, was a considerable amount of dog meat. The sight was enough to make Andrew's stomach churn.
"How many dogs have you killed?" Andrew asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Probably, it's about ten or twelve." Ansel replied without hesitation.
The weight of that admission hit Andrew hard. His legs gave way, and he plopped down onto the floor, overwhelmed. He muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "Seems like I don't want to eat fragant meat anymore. You really are like an assassin."
Ansel gave a faint, almost imperceptible smile, then quickly shifted the conversation. "What do you think about the name of this sword?"
The question was enough to snap Andrew out of his shock. He stood up immediately, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He asked eagerly. "Do you have a list of names?"
"I did. I only thought about one name." Ansel said.
"What?" Andrew pressed.
"Viorenving. What do you think?" Ansel said softly.
Andrew's face brightened with admiration. "This sword is made of purple crystal diaphanite. Vio means Violet. It's a fitting name."
Ansel carefully drew the sword from its sheath and held it up, examining the blade's shimmering surface. He looked at Andrew once more, though his expression remained unreadable.
Deep down, he was certain that if he hadn't changed, he would be filled with joy at this moment.
****
From that time, Ansel felt that he could understand his brother. How did it feel like to lose feelings as a human being at all?
Hansel once said to Ansel, his voice tinged with a bittersweet tone. "Ansel, you seem so very happy about the gift that I gave you."
It was Ansel's ninth birthday, a day that should have been filled with laughter and joy. His brother, Hansel, had given him a scarf.
A simple yet precious gift, carefully knitted by their mother's hands. The scarf was soft and warm, woven with love and care, a tangible piece of their family's bond.
Ansel's eyes sparkled as he accepted the scarf, wrapping it gently around his neck. He replied with a bright smile. "Of course. But, why do you look sad? Do you like this, too? Do you regret giving this to me?"
Ansel's gaze fell to the ground, his fingers nervously tracing the edge of the scarf. He said softly, handing the scarf back to his brother. "I will give it back to you. So don't be sad anymore."
Hansel shook his head slowly, a shadow crossing his face. He said quietly. "Ansel, I am not unhappy. I just don't have the same things as you have. I don't have the same feelings as humans. One day you will understand it."
At that moment, Ansel didn't fully grasp the weight of Hansel's words. But as the years passed, the truth revealed itself in the most profound and painful way.
What had happened to Hansel, the loss of human emotion. The cold detachment had now happened to Ansel himself. He finally understood what Hansel had lived through, what it meant to be caught between worlds.
It was like being immortal, yet trapped in a human body. Immortality, Ansel realized, was not a blessing but a curse. Immortals did not feel the warmth of joy or the sting of sorrow. Their hearts beat, but their souls were numb.
From now on, he would walk among mortals, carrying the burden of endless years and empty emotions. Yet, deep inside, a flicker of hope remained. A fragile belief that this numbness would not last forever, that one day, the eternal coldness might thaw.