He first started hearing things while on another dungeon excursion. The voice had shouted at no one in particular, just shouted how unfair life was. He jumped when he heard the voice, before one of the adventurers asked him what the holdup was. He didn't say that he heard a mysterious voice come from nowhere, so he kept quiet about it. The next time he heard voices, he was eating dinner with his father. The voice was a kind womanly voice, telling him everything was going to be alright. His father asked him why he turned so pale and he told him. The confusion on the man's face was enough to stop him from elaborating it as the voice turned into a goading one, egging on to kill his father. He promptly left the table after that, meal unfinished. The voices continued to come and go after that, not coherent at all. Sometimes they were helpful, sometimes they were abusive, sometimes the voices didn't even know he was there. They became more numerous as the days went on and he had to go back into the Dungeon, blasting at full force when he was trying to concentrate his aim. He hit an adventurer's back because of them and had to suffer retribution for that grave error. At least they had a healer that was able to mend his wounds, he didn't want to have blood on his hands because of it. He began to act more oddly too, sometimes walking down a street faster while covering his ears while at other times he shouted "Shut up!" at nothing. Eventually he took note of his behavior and tried to act normal so people wouldn't look at him oddly, mostly his father and his familia. There were some slip ups here and there, but so far he was able to deny that anything was wrong with him. He didn't want to get carted into an asylum. The voices made it hard to concentrate on firing his arrow at the right thing. He'd had to shoot a little bit away from a person in case he accidentally hit them, which he didn't want to repeat. Overall, his performance within the Dungeon had taken a nosedive and he found himself on the short end of the stick, which stressed him out more and made the voices stronger. It was a vicious cycle. Honestly, the poor kid didn't know what to do about it. He wanted to speak to someone about it, but to who? Not his father, he would be too worried about his son and beg for him to stop being a supporter. Not to Briareus either, he would be worried too. Maybe one of the members of his familia? But even that seemed like a stretch. In the end, he kept silent as he tried to figure out what to do with his new condition. Sometimes he would find himself wide awake in bed, thinking about things while trying to ignore the many voices that came and went. Most of his thoughts centered on them nowadays, wondering if there was a cure for it or if the only way to get rid of it was through death. He would always dismiss the latter notion as ridiculous. Still, it would be nice to get rid of it so he can go back to the way things were. Just as the currents ebbed and flowed, so, too, did the voices. It was driving him mad and making him feel useless when the voices took on the same tone that many adventurers said to him. He just wanted to be free, is all. But he didn't know how to go back. Will I ever be back to normal? he thought to himself as he continued to do his work, supporting the very adventurers that were causing him stress.
