By the time it dawned on me, I couldn't react. Like a worm struggling from the grasps of a bird, I knew what was transpiring, yet, I was helpless before it.

[!kWIF ixec i2fmcpwdx weedpaedjp]

I could already imagine what was happening to me—or rather to my body. Like how Eddie Brock is consumed by Venom, the shadow was enveloping me, showing me love I had never seen before. Was it so wrong to compare love and death together? After all, they both grasp hard at first, but they release just as fast.

'Meaningless thoughts again...'

Watching the black mist engulf me, I for some reason did not feel anything though I knew I was likely fated to die. It was similar to the feeling—the state I was in when I killed at the Magic Tournament. Nothing. Maybe it was because it was something out of my control that I felt helpless about it.

'Was I always this psychopathic?'

My first time killing someone—it was murder, wasn't it? Whether it was right or wrong, I don't think it mattered. It was unlike what they said. I felt no remorse for having killed someone. But being killed and killing were two different things. Yet, why does it feel so similar?

Radical? No, that wasn't the right word. Humane was definitely not it, far from the word I was searching for. Was there even a word that could describe this sensation? Unhinged? Deranged? I don't even know anymore. Being aware of myself is—a chore. To think is like a chore.

'Cur nos putamus?' Why must we think?

'Cogito, ergo sum?' I think therefore I am?

'Mr. Descartes, why must we prove our existence?'

Isn't it better to not know?

'Whether it is innocence or ignorance, nether is blissful when you are aware.'

If only I were naive.

'Thinking, is to be aware.'

I am aware.

'Therefore, to think is to not be blissful—to be miserable.'

Thinking is miserable.

Maybe it's better to die again

Maybe it's better to not remember

Succumbing to death doesn't sound too bad

My plight will be answered

I won't think

I will finally

[!eorfbco IVchcbiwpcibcj covcnwe oc]

End?

[Recovering...]

Maybe I hadn't noticed it before, but I did now.

'Was the system being affected by me?' Probably not.

'In the first place, was the system somehow affected by that black mist?' An unnerving thought...

[Assisting in the assimilation process...]

'What nonsense is this?'

The darkness suddenly faded away as I was suddenly able to see again, chained back up.

'So the system won't let me die off just like that huh?'

I chuckled to myself, 'What kind of overpowered plot armor is this?'

But still, that thing—whatever it was, somehow attacked the system as well as me simultaneously.

'Just what was it?' Something capable of fighting an abstract existence known as the system. Just what exactly was it that attacked me?

Then again, I had a lot of things to think about and this wasn't nearly that important to consider.

I didn't know why it so suddenly struck me, but that wave of depression was uncalled for. Was it puberty? I was around that age right now so it probably was...

'I need to get myself together.'

As I said that, a sudden sharp pain struck against my head.

[Assimilation...0.1%]

Assimilation? Wha—

...

"I hurt myself today.

To see if I still feel.

I focus on the pain.

The only thing that's real.

The needle tears a hole.

The old familiar sting.

Try to kill it all away.

But I remember everything.

What have I become.

My sweetest friend?

Everyone I kno—"

*Vzzz

The springs of the bed made a crisp noise as I shuffled to the edge. Reaching my hand under the pillow, I found my smart phone and put it on snooze with a light flick. Wanting to return to sleep, I closed my eyes only to find, to my discomfort, a ray of light preventing the hibernation process. In between the small gap of the curtains, came heaven's retribution as if readying its arrowhead to strike an eagle soaring through the great skies.

I laid there for a good while, allowing the divine light to molest me under the bedsheets; for there was no liberation in knowing it was a weekend.

"Huuuuhaaaauu~" Exclaiming my existence with my one yawn, I got up to sit on my bed.

'Waking up to Johnny Cash isn't too bad, I guess...' I thought, scratching my head. I was still quite groggy.

'What did I do again last night?' Ferrite, martensite, damascus...

'Oh right, I was studying some useless things again.' I reminded myself while heading to the bathroom.

Turning the water up, I felt an icy cold texture rub against my arm which involuntarily sent chills down my spine.

It was the metal handle that opened the doors to the shower. Seriously, why does metal have to be such a good thermal conductor? Especially in the winters, why do people use metal for building handles when it'll literally freeze your hand?

Anyway, after washing my face and brushing my teeth over the sink, I took a quick cold shower before drying myself with a towel. I found that cold showers, though disturbing, were extremely good at waking my body up. When I first started cold showering, I would always shiver with every spray of water. But now, it has gotten to the point in which I could at least endure it without too much reflexive movement. After putting on deodorant and some random article of clothing in my drawers, I chugged down a whole bottle of water that was sitting at my "work desk." I rarely worked or studied so it was really a prop I used to put things on; my parents bought it with the intention for me to be a good and studious kid.

Going downstairs, I fetched the large pitcher of distilled tap water and refilled my plastic bottle. My family had a pitcher meant for water, but really, I was the only one using it since I was the only one who drank water in the family. With how far society has evolved, it was literally easier to find a carbonated beverage than a glass of water; or rather the carbonated beverage was favored. I mean, when was the last time you went to the corner store and chose to buy a sugary carbonated can of soda over a bottle of water that probably costs the same? Then again, it didn't matter. If people didn't want to take the healthier option, it wasn't like I'd give a damn. As for why I drank distilled water, my parents had a heavy skepticism against water filters and tap water. Though I am pretty certain that tap water had more minerals and all that. Either way, water was water so I didn't really mind. It was important to drink water when your body was dehydrated: which is usually in the morning.

From the amount of "quiet" in the house, I would assume my parents were probably at work. As for my sister, she's her own person. I don't see why I should care what she does over the weekends.

'Why am I at home?' I suddenly remembered.

'Wasn't I supposed to be in the boy's dorms?' That's right. I should be on the college campus right about now.

'What time is it?' I looked over to the clock hung on the wall beside the staircase.

The hour and minute hands were moving strangely. They were both too fast to be accurate and the more surprising thing was how the hour hand was moving clockwise while the minute hand was moving counterclockwise. The second hand was stuck in place—at the 12.

'It's probably broken.' No, you dumbass. Even if it's broken, it wouldn't be like that.

Realizing that, I zoomed straight up the stairs and into my room seeing the mess that was on my bed. Doing the bed was a chore for never as I wasn't going to waste my leisure time on something like tidying the bed covers or blanket. Besides, there was a more pressing matter at hand.

'What if it's some sort of supernatural phenomenon.' I thought. It wasn't like I was excited—I was f*cking throbbing; throbbing for anything that would release me from this routine of boredom.

Tossing my pillow aside, I grabbed my phone to check but the oddest thing was apparent. Maybe I hadn't noticed it before as I was still half asleep at the time, but there was no digital clock or any sort of number that signified the date on the screen. That confirmed that. But the biggest question I had still remained.

'Why do I know it is a weekend?'