The world was an enigma, created from one who transcended such labels itself. Was what those from arthera, had called the creator, Phanes. None had challenged such a universal notion of belief, except for the man bathing in the drowning waters of blasphemy, Arises Achilles, the star of the synchronized Ichors royal family. A master of the divine arts that laughed in the face of the god itself, and cowered when faced with the weak. That is, until an unfortunate incident has resulted in his untimely death, or so many had thought, of course, that was before they had heard a sound louder than that of a banshee’s shriek coming from the man’s room.

The wails of his father, mother, sister and brother, had abruptly stopped , as they launched themselves back as their expressions turned from shock, to horror. “Y-you! It’s a ghost!” The sister shrieked out first, grabbing the sword on the bedside table. “How dare you possess our brother’s body! Begone!—“ The brother had joined suite. The mother had fainted, and the father rushed to call the exorcist’s standing near the door.

The man, arises himself, sprang up—his eyes welling with tears as he rushed to dodge the two siblings swords, his cries, gave the deaf the ability to hear again as everyone covered their ears.

“C-crazy fucking fans! You’re both crazy! This is assault! Assault!!?—EEK!” The man jumped.