Leonel stirred awake. His eyes blinked for a moment before he sat up far quicker than he should have, something that he instantly regretted.

However, the sharp pain he expected from his ribs never came, causing him to look down at himself in confusion.

'My injuries are healed…? Wait, where am I?'

Leonel was bombarded with a sudden wave of sensory information. The limestone beneath his butt and hands, the odd wind that gently blew against his exposed skin, even the ancient smell in that hung in the air, almost reminiscent of a copy room with a slight mustiness to it.

The feeling made Leonel keel over, vomiting out the contents of his stomach. It was just that his belly happened to be quite empty at the moment, so he could only dry heave.

By the time his body finally stopped convulsing, Leonel was left with a bitter feeling of confusion. Everything seemed too loud, too bright, too textured, all at the same time.

No matter how much Leonel willed it away, it didn't seem intent on disappearing. He sat there for hours, feeling sicker than he had in all his life.

The world had suddenly become too detailed for him take in. It was as though he was staring at an optical illusion puzzle, one that if you gazed at long enough, it would appear to be moving. Yet, this wasn't an optical illusion, it had become his reality.

Half a day later, Leonel felt his throat burning. He felt a thirst he had never felt before in his life, but there was simply no water here, there was nothing but ancient ruins and the unconscious bodies of his friends. He would go look for water if he could, but every time he tried to stand, his head would spin.

Not only did the world give him more detail than he could handle, but his body did as well. He could almost feel thoughts forming in his mind, he could feel the electrical pulses going from his brain to his limbs, he could feel the powering of every cell as they contracted. Just simple movements felt worse than even observing the world around him.

Out of desperation, Leonel slowly slung his backpack off of his shoulder. Luckily, when he had been forced to use his coat to bind that girl, he had taken his backpack off and hung it from one arm. If not for this, he didn't think he could manage to do even this simple task.

Taking out a familiar bottle of green sludge, he brought it to his lips, drinking shakily. Unfortunately, he could only feel a wave of despair, remembering that he had finished the rest of it after Coach Owen reminded him to.

Never in his life did he think he'd miss his dad's vomit brew.

Parched, he still tilted the bottle as far back as he could, licking up the faint drops that touched his tongue. He didn't know if it was because of this sickness that had taken hold of him, or the stress of the past day, or maybe it was just pure frustration, but Leonel's chest welled up with rage, his eyes watering.

'Dad… I miss you.'

Why was any of this happening? Why did the world suddenly collapse? Why was it that his friends wouldn't wake up no matter how hard he shook them?

Leonel laughed self-deprecatingly. How pathetic of him. He didn't know how long he had been out for, but as for how long he had been awake, it was not even a full day, yet he was already breaking down like a fragile baby.

At that moment, something fell from Leonel's tipped bottle and left a paper-cut on his nose, causing him to wince. That was nice to know, apparently his pain was amplified several times over too. A little micro cut and he felt worse than when his ribs had cracked.

With slow movements, Leonel once again lowered his arm, delicately picking up what had fallen. It seemed like a rolled up piece of flexible fabric.

'Wait… Is this paper?'

been made obsolete a long time ago. In fact, it was all but illegal. Though paper itself wasn't banned, the use of trees and other plant life to manufacture products had been heavily restricted in the Nature Protection Act of 2046. How had his dad gotten

education. If others knew he had this, both him and his dad would be in a lot of

in right now, Leonel couldn't be bothered to care. His wrist

wiping the bits of green sludge that

time you read this,

Leonel's heart stopped beating.

"Dad…"

I died right? Be honest, you started

mouth hung open for a moment before he started gritting his

old man! Don't let me catch

his father relentlessly, but the smile of

no one on Earth who can threaten me. Those folks haven't dared to bother me

raised an eyebrow, but he

much I can tell you here. I was tempted to make like a father in anime and

to refute, but remembering the mental breakdown he almost just had, he swallowed his words. In the end, he just laughed, his poor mood dissipating

big anime fan, they often watched all the oldies together. Still, only he

I will

before them, and they won't wake up for at least several months. Focus on yourself for

Leonel's expression flickered.

Just know that your mother isn't dead, nor has she abandoned you. I also

and the scar across your right hip isn't there

near where his liver would be. But, he hadn't thought about it in a long time. In fact, most people would miss it even if

alive took over his thoughts. He felt an agitation he hadn't felt in a

of his mother. His father had never explicitly told him that she had died, so he always assumed that it was to spare his feelings about her death. Or, maybe to spare his own

hadn't even known he was holding onto fall from his

since I had to suppress it in your youth, but

wasn't complicated, it was just about emptying your mind. The military taught a version that allowed you to sleep and

father had learned it while he was a Four-Star General and taught it to him because he was curious. He hadn't used it in years,

feeling dissipated, replaced by a sharpness that stunned

the fact it felt he was reading the words through a magnifying glass.

in the basement. One is the truth behind what is happening here and the second is an heirloom of our Morales Clan. Unfortunately, until the Metamorphosis begins, taking these things out to hand to you directly is too dangerous. So just take it as this

before. I've taught you some things, but I definitely haven't

'Love, dad.'

long while. He lost count of how many times he re-read his father's words. Unbeknownst to him, he had actually completely memorized it the first time, a fact he didn't realize until maybe the sixth or

memory had always been good… but it

first and that it had somehow happened because his constitution was different from others. At least that's what he gathered from his words. Since that was the case, sitting here for any longer would be throwing

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