How did it feel? What was the sensation? The answers existed in my memories but remained unreachable, as if covered by an impervious veil, flexible yet unmoving.
Happiness, anger, sadness, grief, envy, greed. All were facets of the obscure thing referred to as emotion.
With sentience comes emotion. And by emotion, sentience continues to exist.
Yet here I was, sentient but devoid of this key aspect of autonomy.
I exist but I do not live.
Since falling into this monochromatic mental state, I questioned myself, why do I act? Why did I want to be free? What was the driving force behind anything?
The answer wasn't too obvious, but it dawned on me nonetheless. I used to be a being who had ambitions, a member of the most emotional race known to exist.
I was once a human.
Humans, at least as I knew them, were odd creatures.
They were beings born with intense ambition and drive to influence the world around them, but they were bound to weak, fragile bodies. Their state of existence being paltry in the grand scheme of things.
I was one of these people, I used to possess wants and desires, the drive to make something of my once short lifespan as a human.
But the mortality of the human race was an undeniable reality, and as a manifestation of this truth, I met my end.
Memories of my past life were easily accessible. Memories of family and friends, good and bad times, times when life felt fulfilling and times when it felt futile. I had a vague insight into what these memories entailed but there was a disconnect.
I could see the emotions, I could hear the laughter and the tears that accompanied them, but I could not feel them.
From a fragile but vibrant body to a strong yet unfeeling one, an interesting change in state.
When I woke up in this world, I was consumed by pain. I remember my body being battered and torn beyond any repair my human sensibilities could visualize. My only companion being the cold mechanical voice that kept declaring ceaseless statements about restrictions being bypassed and skills and whatnot. And even that didn't stay for long.
And then the armed men came. Back then I still held on to my humanity, I was scared and alone, gladdened at the sight of vaguely familiar life forms.
But they did not share the unbidden kinship I felt with them, all they saw was an opportunity.
Now, with full understanding of this world I understood what had transpired.
It was the end of the Tenma war and a lone angel was found in a peculiar state. Soldiers of Ingracia in charge of clean up had found something that could be useful to their kingdom, and like the patriotic humans that they were, they took me to their ruler.
I remember feeling confused and dazed as my body healed from obviously life ending wounds, amazed as I could feel the strength my soul held, and scared as I saw through the intentions of my new caretakers.
“You are now our weapon.” They had said.
And then I was bound, passed down through generations like a heirloom.
I remember murdering droves of sentient beings on command, humans and monsters alike as the natural inclination of my body to be devoid of emotion overwhelmed my human mind.
I remember the massacre against the Kingdom of tempest as I rained Disintegration on their armies.
I remember the scared and hopeless faces of the Pneuma clan as I ripped apart the souls of elders and children alike.
YOU ARE READING
Archive Of Potentialities.
AdventureA description that covers all aspects of this fic does not exist, as it's essentially an amalgamation of various different short stories and oneshots, with the latter being a noticeable minority. Each has Rimuru Tempest (obviously) as its protagonis...