229 Weird Nostalgia (1/2)
Muria continued to tremble in my arms, but her condition appeared to have improved somewhat after a few drops of tears flowed down the sides of her face. In my mind, there was a bitter feeling of disdain and anger that was, for some odd reason, directed at the man in the painting. I looked over at the painting and frowned, feeling that fire burn within me.
Slowly, I retracted my arms from Muria, surprising her somewhat, and started walking over towards the painting. This gesture of mine elicited a confused expression from her as she seemed to have ceased weeping and simply followed me with her gaze. I looked around the room once again, surveying the surroundings as I stood before this disgusting painting that made me rather irritated. Without thinking, I grabbed a nearby stool and threw it with both hands at the painting, imbuing my entire body's strength into the throw and causing the old, wooden stool to shatter upon contact. I stumbled somewhat to recover my balance all while keeping my eyes fixed on that painting. The stool had managed to puncture the canvas of the painting, causing a hole to appear in the man's face.
”...” Muria seemed astonished by my actions, but no words of disapproval came from her. Rather, it would appear that she was also somewhat glad that I did that. On her face, there was a small smile as she wiped away the tears staining her face with her fingers.
Satisfied with my work, I took a step back to observe my masterpiece. It was a satisfying feeling to see this carefully preserved painting of the man destroyed. Even though I do not know this man in the painting, but...what I saw in that vision, it was enough for my hatred for him to multiply and develop into a desire to obliterate anything that has to do with him.
With my mind now recovered from that earlier flustered state, I looked around the room to observe what else was present and whether or not there were anything else relating to that man. After a quick scan of my eyes, it would appear that this room was a display room of some sort, with many glass display cases lining the two sides of the room. Contained within those display cases were ancient Vilheim relics that must have been sent here to be displayed.
What was on display was what these Jorzan people had stolen from my people, things that would be considered national treasures. There were also something important to my nation that they had stole and have here on display, something that can be considered the soul of the nation: a gold-plated Symbol of the Royal Family. And as if to mock any Vilhemians, the description was also written using Vilheim writing.
”The Symbol of the Destroyed Nation”
”Guess who's laughing now?” I muttered to myself as I walked away from that display case, finding comfort in the fact that the Era of Humiliation for the Empire is over as we experience another golden age.
”Alevian.”
I heard Muria calling my name. Looking over, she was standing by a display case on the opposite side of the room, and it would appear that she want me to come over. In the display case that she was standing next to were weapons, rifles that were used during the Great War.
”Can these still be used?” Muria asked as she crossed her arms before her chest.
I scanned the display case, seeing for the first time the physical representation of the weaponry that I had saw in the textbooks. There seem to also be ammunition for the weapons in the display case as well, so if these rifles actually work, they will be usable. I looked up and around the room in search of anything that I could use to break the glass but was unable to find much of anything aside from fragments from the wooden stool that I had thrown earlier. However, the wood has decomposed too much and is simply to fragile to break the glass.
”Is there a way to break the glass?” Muria muttered to herself.
”Stand back,” I said to her as I approached the display case. ”This is going to make lots of noise.”
I first made sure that Muria was far enough from the display case before I proceeded with my plan. After surveying the display case, I found a suitable spot near the top of the display case, using the concepts of torque to push the display case so that it toppled over and shattered the glass. Sharp shards of glass shot out from the impact, scratching and tearing the legs of the pants that I was wearing. However, they did no damage to the flesh underneath. I looked over at Muria and applauded myself for having her back off. She was wearing shorts, so it was very likely that the glass shards could cut through skin and draw blood.
With the display case glass now shattered, the rifles in it was free for the taking. When I first saw the bunch, I already could tell which rifles belonged to the Jorzans and which belonged to Vilheim soldiers. Even though the rifles may appear similar on first glance, there were still subtle differences. In addition, there were fewer ammunition for the Vilheim rifles. Without saying anything, I knelt down and picked up the Vilheim rifle as well as the two clips of ammunition used for this gun.
Immediately after picking up the rifle, I felt a rather familiar feeling in my mind. It was almost as if deja vu of some sorts, but my body automatically cleared the chamber of the rifle by pulling back on the bolt before releasing it and allowing the top cover of the chamber to snap back into place. Without thinking about what I just did, I pulled back on the bolt once again and inserted a clip of ammunition into the chamber, using the side of my palm to hold the bolt in place as I pressed down hard on the clip with my right hand to insert them into the rifle.
”You know how to use that?” Muria asked me.
”I don't know,” I muttered in response. ”My hands just started moving.”
”Is it usable?”