NOVEL WEB Sebas Aren - The fuck do you mean by Jail? (Chapter 34)
“What the fuck do you mean by jail?” Sebas asked, squirming within the arms of the heavily decorated soldier, despite the
“It means you’re going to jail.” The guard said while affixing a pair of manacles to Sebas’ restrained arms. It was extremely easy for the man to take him down, and a single hand was able to hold onto both of Sebas’s wrists while he cuffed the adventurer.
“On what charge?! This is abuse of authority.”
“On the charge of Assaulting the Heir to the Future Trihan-Aren alliance,” a familiar voice said.
Standing above Sebas, with white hair in a neat bun and adorn with a white-purple officer uniform is Ito Jella, he crouches down over Sebas, lifting his chin up off of the ground.
“If I knew my joke would have come true, I would have joined you while you caused problems for Disel.”
Sebas looked up at the man with contempt, looking around on the ground below, putting the pieces together in his mind, before snarling and looking at the false merchant, “You son of a bitch.”
“The proverbial cat is out of the bag then?”
“You work for my father?” Sebas growled at the man while he held Sebas by the chin.
“Indeed young master Sebas, will you come quietly to see your father? He’s quite unhappy about the infighting.”
“I will not,” Sebas said with defiance, before attempting to bite Jella’s leg.
A swift kick to his jaw slung Sebas’ head to the right, and a hand grabbed his red hair, pulling it back while Jella placed a black boot on his shoulder, and slammed his face into the paved rock path.
Sebas’ vision became blurry, and his body became heavy.
[Notice: You have failed to resist
“A-… Y…” Sebas was unable to make proper sounds, a swift jab with a needle into his chest and throat caused him to sharply inhale.
“I apologize young master, but orders are orders,” Ito Jella claimed.
Sebas, choking on saliva and drooling that he was suddenly conscious off, muttered a final expletive before Jella’s hand chopped his neck, and his body went limp and unconscious.
Inside of a small room, made of bricks, deep underground, Sebas Aren lay against cold walls of gray dilapidated brickwork with shackles that strung him up against the wall.
Sebas’ prosthetic arm had been removed, medically and mechanically instead of brutishly and forcefully, however he was unhappy about it.
A single iron bar made up a window where the sounds of waves could be heard crashing into the wall of the… wherever the hell? He wasn’t sure where, this is a bit new when it comes to “daddy’s house.”
Sebas braced himself, and ripped the shackle out of the wall, without much strain other than needing to brace his legs against the brickwork to use the force of his lower body to pull the restraint free.
A small metal plate with two bolts sat on the end of his new chain whip, and Sebas took his bearings. A small room, a metal table with a chair (nice,) a single window, a metal door, a lot of metal, bricks… There was some moss in the corner, and that was cool.
“Please refrain from destroying the holding cell,” A voice said from the ceiling, “yes, I can see you, please don’t destroy anything else, the family head will see you shortly.
Sebas responded with an impromptu unhealthy avian that rested on his fist (he flipped off the voice,) and wrapped the chain around the bar of the window, and began pulling.
Sebas' father came into the room, a young adult with one arm, pulling with all his might to remove the window out of his holding cell. Sebas looked at the man who suddenly opened the door, and thought to attack him, but he chose to flee past him.
A large hand grabbed his shoulder and slung him into the wall in a resounding crash, the rubble rained down from the pile of bricks he pulled himself out of. Sebas’ Father closed the door behind him as his son tried to destroy him with a small fist to his father’s Kidney, but the man showed little interest of his son’s defiance.
The large blond man took the metal chair that had been set aside, lie sideways, and picked it up and took a seat at the table. Sebas, in his animalistic rage grabbed the chain and in one swift movement he wrapped it around the man’s neck, and began to squeeze.
A sigh came from his father, who simply grabbed the chain with a light-purple hand with arcing electricity, and Sebas began to convulse as his muscles rapidly contracted. A sizzle came from Sebas’ right arm, where a dozen scars formed around his wrist, as if lightning bolts began to infiltrate his veins. Sebas laid on the ground afterwards, eyes, nose and mouth bloody from the liquid fire that just ran through his body.
Montgomery Aren snapped his left hand, and a bullet appeared with a serving tray, removing the cover revealed Medium Rank Recovery Potion and a bottle of whiskey and a small drinking glass on a silver platter, presenting it for his lord.
Montgomery sat for a moment waiting while Sebas bled from each orifice, then took the whiskey bottle and the glass and pointed at the near-dead man on the ground.
“Fix it.”
The butler nodded and carefully poured the potion down Sebas’ throat, who came alive with agony in the voice of his screams, scars healed from his body within an instance, surgical or otherwise, yet the burns from the enchantment he triggered, along with the wound that came from his father’s power, [Thunder Hand]
He scowled and looked up, his father sitting at the table with a self poured glass of some brown dark drink. He threw himself at his father again, but the moment he reached to table, electricity scoured his hand that began to vault over the table, and before he could do anything else, he would become near death, before his father would have his body “fixed”, however, a brand new scar showed up each time he did it.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
And Again, Sebas would whip at his father with the chain and stake that would eventually break against Montgomery’s head, although no damage was visible. He threw bricks at the monster; the only efforts made to dodge were that which would cause his drink to spill or break. Sebas resorted to slashing at him with his small mutated claws that have since replaced his fingernails, each attack was simply negligible in the face of his opponent.
When he finally ripped open the top button of the uniform he wore, a golden plate stood out, and it read:
[ Montgomery Aren]
[ Level 96 ]
[ Lightning-speed Sword Dancer ]
[ ☆ ]
Sebas recoiled a bit at the flash from the ID, convinced it was another unavoidable purple and white hand of violent electricity ready to ruin him once more.
Montgomery was patient during the 86 attempts on his life, albeit they were attempts made by a flea to suck the blood from a troll. He sat upright in his chair, and handed the bottle to his son, who hesitantly accepted it.
“Here, it’s empty, try with this now.”
Sebas smashed the bottle on the desk and began to stab the man, although it felt like stabbing steel with a feather and it crumbled on the third stab. His teeth began to glow red from his skill activation, his rage to strike at his father shined openly, however as soon as he was about to bite the man, his hand caught the attack mid strike.
Sebas was electrocuted once again.
His father held up his hand, where the pointer finger dorsal and palm began to bleed out of four very tiny red dots, a single drop of blood each. He stared down at the blood droplets and with a thoughtful expression, pondered.
“Gregory… fetch me a handkerchief.”
“Right away sir.”
Sebas fell unconscious.
Sebas awoke, not on the cold and hard rock floor, but in a bed… it was very small, extremely small, like his old bed.
This was a dream. yep. a dream. wait, no. nightmare. Anything having to do with the Aren(-Trihan) estate was a nightmare. This is a nightmare.
He laid back down in the cozy bed, waiting to wake up back in his cozy prison cell… any… any second now.
Sebas made his way throughout the room, it was everything a young boy could want, wooden swords, small magic devices that could connect to other small magic devices, books about family secrets, like sword dance formations, electrically conductive alloys, ah, and of course, a smut novel, who could live without one? If he used it right, he could probably make three dozen Molotovs!
Sebas stopped at the full length mirror across from the bed, a small chest with a layout of clothes, along with his magic storage, his key trinket, and his ID.
When he first grabbed the small object, a blast of light came as electricity arced off of the small black metal, and Sebas sneered at it, picking it up with his reinstalled prosthetic.
The layout of clothes was a set of leggings, a vest, an undershirt, and a coat, all with his family’s colors. He introduced them to the floor with the swipe of his arm.
Electrical scars lined the entirety of his arm, and some surrounded his ankles, which Sebas didn’t mind if it didn’t mean he was getting branded by his father.
Able to fish out a white tunic and a pair of pants made of flax, Sebas changed out of his bedside clothes (Charred blank canvas pants) and made his way through the door where he was greeted by an armored Ito Jella.
“Young master.”
“Old dickhead.”
Sebas closed the door, and something was preventing him from hiding within, a clunk sounded as metal a boot were struck.
“Young master.”
“What? What do you want! Don’t fucking call me that!”
“The lord wishes to see you.”
“The lord can lick my electrically scarred asshole.”
“The lord's wishes are my command, will we be doing this the hard way again, young master?”
“YES!” Sebas said, while a fist slung at Ito. Suffice to say, Ito Jella was really good at pretending to be a weak servant, as he immediately placed Sebas within a headlock.
“Would you like to continue the hard way, young master?” Ito asked while giant rippling pale muscle threatened to sever Sebas’ neck.
He shook his head from within the restraint, although he didn’t move, Ito acknowledged the effort.
“Please follow me young master.”
Sebas ran as soon as he got his breath back, unfortunately, the sound of loud shuffling metal armor clanked behind, and a pair of guards were able to intercept his escape towards the main hall from the west wing of the building. Sebas began to run up the wall and jumped over the pair of plump fascists disguised as housing staff.
He began to round corners, throwing potted plants or disc throwing art pieces at Ito, who surprisingly caught and replaced each individual item in its place, while keeping pace with Sebas.
“I NEVER ASKED TO COME BACK HERE,” Sebas yelled at Ito, slinging an ornamental vase at the “white haired two-timing son of a bitch”.
“The Aren Lord has deemed it to be an order.”
“FALLACY!”
“I disagree, young master.”
Maids would attempt to assist Ito with the assignment, using bed sheets as tripwires, Or using lingerie as an obstruction device.
Sebas managed to escape each of them by leaping through each of them, or managing to catch himself on the tripping each of them caused and flipping himself back to running.
Ito was propelled forward by a pair of maids with animal ears… bear ears? Either way Ito was launched at Sebas, and Sebas simply ran towards an alcove and smashed a vase against him when he rocketed past. Looking up above the small room they were in, there was a skylight that was slightly opened, the room was a greenhouse on the north wing, right where the building’s zone transitioned into another ell.
Maids, guards, and Ito joined him. He was slowly encroached by the staff, all of them clearly wanted a piece, so he would give ‘em a piece. He grabbed his boots from his magic bag and placed them on his feet.
The first maid made for a takedown, attempting to go for his waist with a shouldered charge, the second attempted to subdue him with a frying pan, which he jumped off of, and barely managed to grab onto the rotating skylight’s edge, he flung his feet backwards and shoved his lower body towards the opposite panel right as Ito Jella grabbed wisps of his hair, and he began to run across the glass rooftop and disappeared from the staff sight.
Ito held the hair in his hand with a smile, pulling out a small crystal tablet, and spoke into it.
“Sorry sir, he escaped.”
“Where to?”
“Above the north greenhouse, eastbound towards your second daughter’s terrace.”
“Leave him be then, I’m happy with the results.”
Sebas continued his freerunning across brick mansion floor, where multiple messages appeared in his mind at a rapid fire pace.
[You have escaped a pursuit by a party outnumbering you]
[
[Pursuer outranked Player by more than one rank]
[Pursuer has exceeded Player level by more than 20 Levels]
[Upon fighting 25 or more enemies at a time, the trait (Risk-Taker) has been activated]
[Skill: [Parkour] LV 1 -> LV 2]
[Skill: [Parkour] LV 2 -> LV 3]
[Skill: [Parkour] LV 3 -> LV 4]
[Skill: [Parkour] LV 4 -> LV MAX]
[Skill: [Parkour] has reached Maximum level, consume a
Sebas climbed up atop a balcony, where he was able to get a vantage point of the rectangular mansion, the north held a spire that held a small balcony where Disel’s land and the cliffside ocean began, the east held a library and the ocean continued down the shore until it ended at a small beach, the south wing was the commons and the grand hall, and the west was where the utility functions were.
Sebas felt a small hand touch his back, and he nearly fell to his death from the giant spire that the balcony sat on. He scraped his claws on the side of the brickwork, while his metal hand managed to burrow into the cracked mortar that was once solid.
Sebas looked up at the small hand that peered over the balcony to look at him, a blond girl with a small face met his.
“Are you a burglar?” The girl asked.
“Yes, yes I am,” Sebas responded.
“I’m supposed to call the guards if there’s a burglar.”
“Well,” Sebas began,” that makes sense, imagine if they stole something.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Adam Rynard, I’m a famous thief.”
The girl oooed and asked “so what do you steal?”
“Money, weapons, whatever I can.”
“Do you think you could steal something for me?”
Sebas double took at the odd request.
She smiled, although it was a sad smile, but she smiled nonetheless, and asked, “could you steal my eldest brother?”
“The one named Lucas?” Sebas asked.
“Nope, I need the one named Sebastian.”
“Sebastian? Why would you want a nerdy brother named Sebastian?” He asked.
“Well, I don’t remember much of it, because I was little, but when I was, he would always play with me. It may sound childish but the times when he was here, there was something special about this place, me and my other brothers and sister all think the same…”
“Oh?” Sebas asked while placing his hand underneath his head to make a curious gesture, his mechanical arm managing to easily hold him upward, making the absurd action possible, “and say I would bring him back, how would you pay me? I don’t exactly make the big burglar bucks?”
She sat cross legged and thought for a moment, “how about my family ring? It has the seal and crest that would give you Aren authority?”
“Nope, been there, tried selling one, turns out they don’t add up to much!”
She frowned, looking back into her room.
“I have a necklace that my late mother gave me… it’s probably the only thing worth anything… but I don’t want to sell it…”
“Nah, your mother clearly wanted you to have that, I’m not so heartless as to rip away such a thing from you.”
“I thought you were a thief?”
“Eh… I’m a thief with standards.”
“Well, I suppose I could steal your brother for you, for a first free pilfer…” “but I’ll charge you for the next one… Miss?”
“Kaite Aren.”
“Well little Katie Aren, you’ll get your brother back one day, but I can’t promise when.”
“Is it because you’re on the run?”
“No, I’m just a really bad thief, I end up running my mouth whenever I’m caught.”
She giggled, “it doesn’t seem like a great business practice.”
“What can I say,” Sebas began to talk with his hand, “a little bit of words here, few there, and I’m not in jail… yet!”
She smiled, and held a pinky out.
Sebas locked his pinky with hers, let go, and dropped from the balcony, scowling at his lies towards his sister.
He gritted his teeth when his emotions began to waver and made his way towards the south of the mansion.