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Surviving in a haunted world

ArthurMoraud
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Synopsis
Young Master Arcas came from the future. He was a young master from a sect, he has high cultivation and owned everything one would wish for. However, the one thing he wanted was the one thing he was denied: parental love. He is sent to another world due to a unique artefact. Now, he wanders across a new world, creating a new identity and purpose for himself.
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1

Winter was fast approaching in the town of Lington.

The weather was already cold and humid - people swarmed in the streets: going to their workplace, visiting shops or just taking a walk.

After the royal palace made an investment proclamation on the "border settlements", many hunters, peddlers and warriors came to visit the town. This influx made it much easier for denizens to get a supply of items they previously viewed as luxuries.

Many new shops were still being built, people could be seen walking on the street wearing warm, pretty fur clothes.

The whole town seemed lively, bustling with activity.

Only the poor workers leaving for the copper mine in the south left with light garments. Even if they could afford warmer clothes, they wouldn't wear them as the temperature in the mine combined with the heavy labour made more than a dozens fall asleep on the work, some, never to wake up again.

The town was far away from any other settlement, and apart from wild forests extending beyond view and some agricultural fields outside the town's wall, there didn't seem to be anything special to this town.

However, mysterious phenomenons could appear even in the most typical location, where strange things never happened.

For example, the sudden appearance of a person.

Oresus Arcas wasn't a denizen of this town, nor a traveller. He couldn't be farther from a merchant and he never crossed the checkpoint at the town's gates.

Yet, he was currently standing in the middle of the street. His head moved left and right, glancing with wariness at the pedestrians passing by him.

His feet didn't move, but his muscles already constricted, ready to flee or fight at the first sign of danger.

He kept standing there, unmoving till there were fewer people in the vicinity. He was like a horse among a crowd of a donkey, he was sticking out so much, that if people paid attention to him, they would be shocked by the numerous injuries on his body, the ragged, torn apart clothes and dishevelled air that smelled like rancid waste.

But strangely, nobody seemed to notice his existence. Even people walking so close they could almost touch his clothes never gave him a glance or a sniff.

When he appeared to have come to a decision, his muscles relaxed and he started walking east. He didn't seem familiar with this town, as shown by his constant scrutiny of the shops and houses on both sides of the road.

Soon, he came upon a crowd that seemed to be watching something.

A few whispers made its way to his ears, he heard: "horse, darkside, old man, dead."

He couldn't see what was going on, but he seemed interested in knowing more so he made his way to the front. Pushing the crowd on both sides, as if they were non-existant.

It was at this moment that the pedestrians became aware of his presence.

People reeled away from him, holding their noses with disgust and stupefaction on their faces.

Yet, his expression remained calm. His actions easy going.

When he came close enough, he saw an old man lying on the ground.

A puddle of blood was under his head, one of his arms seemed fractured, hidden under his back.

He gave a glance around before coming to the wounded man's side.

As soon as his hand was placed on the man's head, a dim green light appeared from a round bead he held. After a few seconds, he held one finger under the old man's nose to feel his breath.

Nobody had seen what had happened clearly, some people had already alerted the guards, those close to the scene only saw a faint glow coming from the young man's hand before it disappeared.

If a doctor could observe the wound, he would have found that the wound had stopped bleeding and was slowly closing up.

Only a few seconds passed but the old man's breath seemed more stable.

Oresus stood up and prepared to walk away when suddenly, a hand grasped his trousers.

He frowned instinctively as the hand directly touched a wound that he didn't treat yet, the pain seemed to have awakened recent memories.

His eyes glowed with a harshness that made one's hair stand on end.

[Thank...yu...]

Surprisingly, the dying old man spoke!

The crowd stood back in shock and fear. It appeared they had already concluded his death and were waiting for the guards to bring his corpse away.

[A revenant! He spoke!]

A middle-aged man wearing padded clothes of good quality exclaimed in horror. Neither Oresus nor the majority of the people present understood what he meant, but the dread he felt was quickly transmitted to everyone. Making them run away as if there was a murder taking place.

He took a glance at the old man struggling to catch his breath on the ground, his dirty hand had already released Oresus's trousers, but he didn't move away.

A hint of hesitation appeared on his pale face. He lowered his body, and carried the old man in his arms, walking hurriedly on the road, as if trying to hide something.

Luckily for him, he didn't have to carry the sick body of the old man for long, a carriage was standing nearby, waiting for customers.

He managed to get inside the carriage using a silver coin he took out of his ragged clothes.

It only took the driver one or two glances to recognize who the sick old man was.

As for what happened to him and who was the young man carrying him, he didn't seem to care as long as he was paid.

This mentality didn't change even though the town got more wealth coming in. If money could buy you anything in the kingdom, money could buy you anyone in this town.

The old man house wasn't a house. It was an old wooden shack in a dilapidated neighbourhood.

Yet, Oresus didn't seem to stick out in this place.

His style and perfume weren't very different from the nearby residents.

There was no lock on the door, Oresus just opened the door with his feet, placing the pale body in his arms on the only bed in the room.

The shack was small but tidy, the wooden planks were old but they seemed well maintained

Once he came close to the body, he hesitated a second before taking out a pill out of thin air. He put the pill in the old man's mouth before bringing a cup of water to his throat.

Only then did he start treating his own wounds. Applying a yellow cream on the wounds, rinsing his hair with lotion and water.

A new set of clothes appeared from the same place as all the other items before, nowhere.

He quickly changed into it, only exposing the countless wounds on his body to the air for a few seconds.

Only soldiers who came out of cruel wars had this kind of disfigured body.

Oresus remained in the room for 2 days. Silently cultivating on the floor. Twice a day, he would make the old man drink water and inject healing energy inside his body using the green bead. He did not utter a sound even when the old man broke into fits in the middle of the night, muttering and crying.

He was currently staring at a white nameplate in his hands.

The plate was pure white, seemingly holding a liquid within, a white drop could be seen drifting joyfully inside.

A word in black was inscribed on the plate: Arcas

A mysterious majesty and calmness permeated the air around the nameplate.

His eyes remained unfocused as he stood with the nameplate in his hands. Seemingly recalling old memories.

[Cough, Cough.]

As if the world he had immersed himself into broke into pieces, the unfocused eyes slowly emerged into a sharp glare.

Seeing it was the old man, his expression returned to indifference.

[Where...am I? Where's Nillhi?!]

The mutter turned into into a loud voice, the old man tried to get out of bed in a hurry, almost reopening his wound in the process.

[Isn't this your own house. You had an accident, I brought you back. Stay in bed, you're still recovering.]

Oresus spoke without even giving him a glance. His head faced the sole window of the shack, which consisted of a hole covered by a thick piece of yellow paper.

[Ohh...Nillhi...who are you? Did you bring me back? Thank you. Yes I remember, you saved me.]

The old man seemed to remember something as he got out of bed by straining himself, to give a bow of gratitude to the young man sitting on the ground.

Only then, did Oresus focus on him.

[Go back to bed, don't make all my effort go to waste by making this bow your last action on Nirvwat.]

[I'm better now. Thank you. I can live a few more years. Nirvwat? I'm sorry I lack education, I don't know what that is.]

Oresus creased his eyebrows at the old man's stubbornness.

Then he seemed to realise something.

[Nirvwat is how I call this world, how do you call it?]

On the outside, nothing seemed different on Oresus's face. But his heartbeat has already accelerated to a hair raising cadency.

The memories of the streets, of people's clothes and the weather, made him think of an absurd hypothesis.

[Maybe I'm still a bit confused. I've never heard of Nirvwat, everyone calls this place Seeminar.] he said while patting the ground.

[I see. I remember now, you're right.]

Oresus stared at the ground. His inner eyes observed the treasury of his clan that stood silently in his chest.

It revealed no movement, however, Oresus's inner eyes continued to examine it, as if trying to peer into its secrets.