Alioth still remembered when he was in a coma. A torment, a torture.
The fear of being locked in his own body, of not being able to move, of hearing around him and not being able to do anything.
That frustrating helplessness that would have made him lose his sanity if it weren't for his brother.
Yes, his older brother had kept him sane. Going to visit him and telling him stories.
Sometimes it was about light novels or anime he watched. Other times, it was about myths and legends.
Alioth definitely preferred the latter. He loved the myths his brother told him.
They were the only thing that kept him sane.
While his brother wasn't there, Alioth used that kingdom of darkness in which he was locked to give form to those mythological elements.
He gave them an appearance, molded them until making them practically tangible, and then stored them in his memory.
Thanks to that practice, he could generate a mental space.
Thanks to that, he managed to create the tree of Ished.
"But how does it work?" the boy wondered as he reflected.
He had tested that tree twice, with Abzu and with Caligo.
Though the latter hadn't experienced apparent changes, at least that Alioth knew of.
"Maybe this is like what the dwarves do. Artifacts."
Giving a name to weapons so they develop a soul.
Giving the name of a legend to a weapon so it inherits its destiny.
If that process was true, then Alioth could grant destinies from the mythology of his old world.
Or perhaps, he really wasn't doing anything.
"I must investigate," the boy commented calmly, with a look of determination reflected in his black eyes, deep as an abyss.
He stretched out his hand, taking an elongated wooden stick, slightly curved at the tip, with a second branch protruding slightly.
Upon closing his eyes and concentrating, Alioth began to hear how the tree of Ished began to grow behind him.
While doing so, he reflected on what name to give it. A name immediately came to mind.
Lævateinn.
Also known as the "twig for harming" or "wand of destruction," it seemed the perfect name to test on a branch.
However, there was still the possibility he would forget that story.
If he did, he would be wasting the opportunity to use such an important weapon again.
"Nah, whatever. Even if I end up forgetting Lævateinn, I'll surely remember Hævateinn. I suppose that's enough to have a backup."
Hævateinn was another way of translating Lævateinn from Norse poems. While Lævateinn was considered a wand-sword, and the same one Surt used, Hævateinn is interpreted as the mistletoe dart that killed Baldur.
Being both interpretations of the same element but with different forms and names, it was likely that remembering one would allow him to remember the other.
Though there was also the terrible possibility of forgetting both, something that wouldn't please Alioth.
"Well, enough chatter. This will be all or nothing," the white-haired boy said, while extending the branch. "Lævateinn."
The tree trembled. Alioth could hear it, how the wheels of fate began to turn.
The leaf where "Lævateinn" was written began to burn, while for a small instant the wand emitted a slight reddish pulse.
"Mmm, did it work?" he wondered, as the branches of the tree of Ished retracted.
The boy brandished that stick in the air. Upon doing so, he noticed something.
Small specks of red light began to be attracted and absorbed by the flame.
'Interesting. The stick seems to have the ability to absorb thermal spiritual particles. Does it have fire affinity?'
Upon asking himself that question, that's when he noticed it.
He had forgotten the meaning of Lævateinn. He had forgotten its story.
The boy snorted, disappointed. He had wasted a good name on a simple branch.
How frustrating was that?
Though Alioth couldn't continue lamenting about the topic, because the room door burst open, letting in an angry Nora.
He felt how Caligo, who had been sitting beside him all this time without making noise, startled.
Though fortunately, Regulus, who had been asleep all this time, didn't wake up.
"What happened?" the white-haired boy asked while observing the furious Nora.
The latter's face was frowning. Her eyes glared at everything that crossed her gaze.
"Nothing that concerns you," she said with agitated breathing.
Alioth raised an eyebrow. He was going to comment something, but on the other hand, he couldn't deny she was right.
However, Lisbeth entered behind Nora. She seemed calmer but her face reflected concern.
"Tata went to the temple to ask for help but they didn't take her seriously as soon as she said that those who had been attacked were..." Lisbeth ceased speaking, as if what she was about to say next was delicate.
However, Nora didn't hesitate to continue the demon's sentence.
"Xenos! They called them xenos! They're like that. They won't do anything. They only despise those who don't have keter in their veins," Nora roared angrily.
Alioth's lips twisted slightly. Xenos was a very derogatory word to refer to fairies and demons.
It was a fact that fairies and demons now had rights, but society still treated them like trash.
Proof of that was the very building they were in.
To create a business you need a permit from the ministry of administration. If you were a fairy, the permit was very likely to be delayed indefinitely with stupid excuses.
If you were a demon, they directly told you not to waste your time.
The problem was that legally, it was still possible to ban races in a locale.
Few locales in Aurudil allowed entry to fairies. Much less to demons.
The latter could only access the market, where others of their same race would serve them.
The Winged Pig was one of the few establishments that allowed demons and even hired people of other races to work.
But not everyone was as tolerant as Betty.
"They won't help us," Nora finally said. "So we'll have to do it ourselves."