Outside a small cottage inside a little forest, sitting upon a rock while staring at the crystal clear, light orange, water pond was a small child. His skin was pale as snow. Eyes gray, duller than any shade of ash. And gray hair befitting an old person's.
He wore a simple, brown wooly tunic t shirt. And brown pants to match with his top. Leather sandals clung to the child's feet, thereby protecting it from the angry sharp rocks that occassionally littered the ground.
Splish! Splash!
Fishes swam in circles. Racing through the pond's clean water. Some went near the pond's edge, eyes buzzing with intelligence, they congregated near the rock the boy sat in. Observing the child's actions.
The little toddler was playing with a marionette. Twiddling, moving, or even spining his hands. Controlling a small wooden puppet using strings tied to one cross. Sweat dripped down his forehead. Extreme concentration written on his scrucnched up face.
Dominic sighed. Coiling his strings on the cross and putting the wooden doll inside his pocket.
3 years had passed...
The body formerly serving as a soft, fleshly cage for my adult mind had grown. Growing bigger, enabling movements. Even going as far as to being able recognize words by listening intently to my grandmother. And even somehow managing to make her take me with her for trips in the village. It was easy as pie.
All I had to do was cry whenever she seems like she would leave.
This was the power of being a baby or a child.
I have mixed feelings about this.
I feel like a goddamn manchild. And technically I am. This sucks.
Shaking my head, I began reading through my memories once more. A common act in order to make sure I wasn't mixing up any details.
On my 2nd year here, I have learned the language of this world. It was somewhat similar to english. But everyone spoke extremely formally. The use of slangs were widely frowned upon by the other villagers. Anyone who used slang language was likened to be a hooligan or to have a lack of manners.
I couldn't care less about that. I cared more about that unreasonable hatred burning in their eyes. Gazes that could kill. Gazes all directed at me, all wishing for my disappearance just by their eyes alone. To them, I was an eyesore.
A stain that couldn't be removed on white silk. As a man trapped in this body of a child, those eyes, opinions or even attitude towards me had fazed me not.
But it made me angry.
I was not able to go into the village without my grandmother. Else I would be tailed, led to a dark alley and even be killed.
This was the reason I could only sit on this rock. Wander a little around the small forest surrounding Grandmother's house.
Grandmother whose name was Antionette was feared by them as well. She was called by many names.
Witch.
Demon.
Old Hag.
Old coot who refuses to die.
All of these monikers were unkind. Everyone hated me for a reason I knew not.
I know that it isn't because I was Granny's relative. If it was because of my relation to Granny, then they should fear me instead. Yet they do the opposite. I didn't know specifically what it was. The reason behind their anger at me.
"Is it because of you?" Glaring at my status window, my eyes locked onto my trait.
=====
Trait: [Ill Fated Star] (Mythical)
=====
An ominous trait that spelled disaster. Paired with my abysmal negative 1 luck.
I shook my head. It didn't matter.
I was angry. Annoyed.
Frustrated even.
Picture this. Spending hours making a house of cards. Where upon completion, a strong gust of wind sends it all crashing down.
Or maybe that didn't explain how I felt properly.
Imagine playing a game. After so long. After so many hours had been spent searching for diamonds, your sibling straight out chucks you into lava and mines the diamonds using a stone pickaxe.
That was practically my life.
My past life.
From rags to riches. But upon becoming rich, some asshole decided to run me over with a truck.
I was denied of enjoying riches and fame.
And now I have to deal with this new world.
Other people may have rejoiced at the prospects of an isekai. But not me. I'm not that shallow...
I had a life. It wasn't perfect. But I made it a good one.
Blurble! Blurble! The fishes in the pond started jumping.
Plop! Plop! Plop!
And they were jumping at me. Going as far as to try to get inside my pocket.
Swatting the fishes away, I pulled out some powder from my other pocket. Sprayed it onto the pond, the poweder rapidly expanded into bite sized pellets.
Pellets that the fishes ate.
Kicking back the fishes that got stuck on land, my eyes trailed over to the water.
It was a clear pond devoid of any murkiness.
Water was transparent. Akin to a mirror.
And that mirror of water was reflecting a slight, deep red orange color.
Night was closing in. The sun was setting.
I looked up into the sky.
Fluffy nimbusses the color of orange. A sky eternaly dyed in the color of a sunset.
In this world, there was no daytime.
There was only the two stages of twilight. Dusk and Dawn. And finally, True Nighttime.
The skies would remain the color of a sunset for a good remainder of the day. Transition into deep red orange color at the break of dusk. And at night, darkness swallows the land.
It was so dark that one wouldn't be able to see anything without a lamp.
But why was it like this?
The answer was slowly disappearing into the horizon.
A faraway sphere that moved.
It was the sun.
But it was not the sun.
The more one looked at it, one would be able to make out cracks and a lot of dark spots. It looked more like a ball of magama than anything else.
And the light it emitted even when it wasn't setting just paled in comparison to the sun of the earth I used to know.
"Grandmother. Why is the sun shining so weakly? Why is it so dim?" I asked Granny this question in the past.
And she merely chuckled at me.
"Where did you get that idea my cute little grandson?"
"What Idea?"
"The idea of an existence of a sun."
"I haven't told you that tale yet..."
That thing setting, slowly disappearing into the horizon that gave off a poor excuse of a light even when it was high up in the clouds.
It was the moon. A moon set ablaze by the flames of a deity. In a lazy attempt to replace the sun.
The sun had been destroyed. It was recorded by scholars. The method, or cause of the sun's destruction remained unknown.
Some reasoned that it was due to the gods fighting.
Some said a dragon ate the celestial body.
No one really knew. All that the records said was that during the year 21167, darkness devoured the land as the sun suddenly disappeared.
This piece of information was common knowledge told by the elderly to the young along with the warning of not committing heresy.
Gods exist in this world. A lot of them.
Their game had already started.
This was the year 44003. Three years since the start of another cycle.
Seven years from now, all hell would break loose. Humans have two choices.
Stay in their current location. Preparing to widthstand the horde. Or descend into the hollow earth. Going deeper and deeper until safety is found. Or until we had grown strong enough.
Everyone. The villagers. Granny.
And even me.
Were linked to one system.
A game like system that issues out quests, shows our status, updates said status, and giving access to a class' skill tree. I stared at my status screen again.
=====
[Dominic Remington]
Sex: Male
Age: 3 years old
Class: (Undecided)
Subclass: (Undecided)
Trait: [Ill Fated Star] (Mythical)
Attributes:
Str: E+
Ten: E
Dex: E
MI: E-
Spirit: E-
Invariable Attributes:
Charm: 7/10
Luck: -1/10
Willpower:8/10
Int: 7/10
Skills: (None)
=====
This was another reason why I was frustrated. I was angry with myself. I know full well that these seven years left before everything blows over is just the mere calm before a raging storm unlike any other.
A world with gods and magic. And a cycle starts every one thousand years. I've done well in accumulating information. Knowledge achieved through the use of my young appearance. An excuse generated as a stereotype.
Children are curious. Thirsty little saplings hungering for the satisfaction of their curiosity.
How long can a spider live when it's body had been nailed onto a tree?
What will happen if I step on a l*go?
Am I gay?
Why are mommy and daddy so loud when wrestling at night? Why won't they let me join them?
Those were examples alright...
Children would always ask questions. They are fascinated by the most mundane things. It was all natural, for they only know how to see the world in a splendid, warm light.
The reason kids stop being pure is because the darkness of the world corrodes them. Like drops of water erroding a rock.
I made full use of everything I have now. Questioning granny over the smallest of things. Upon where she would happily answer.
I needed a class. And currently, I had no class.
Classess were the back bone of strength in this strange world enveloped in the dimmest of lights.
Warrior. Archer. Cleric. Rogue...
You are what your class is.
People die when they are killed.
It's that obvious.
I had no class. But I desperately wanted one right now. Upon receiving a class, I would be able to grow stronger more quickly. The clumsy bird must fly before the others. This stupid [Ill Fated Star] trait might not be doing much right now. But it would screw me over in the future.
I needed to grow strong for survival. Strong enough to weather any oncoming disasters. If I die, I only have my own incompetence to blame.
I still want a peaceful life.
I won't hesistate to blow up anyone who gets in the way of my peaceful life.
For that I require strength.
Grandma's class. I wanted it. It was strong and readily available. Yet Granny never really told me what her class was.
"If you can make this wooden marionette move like a real person can. Then you have fulfilled the first requirement. Then you should work on making the marionette dance fluidly." It was all she told me with a warm smile. A smile that radiated confidence in me.
Not gonna lie. I got bashfull at the sight of grandma silently smiling at me with warmth and faith.
I never had a family except for my little sister.
It was a new experience.
And that was why I had spent a lot of time trying to make the wooden puppet move like a human.
Make it walk. Make it pick up stuff.
It is harder than it looks or sounds like.
If I don't properly control the strings, the puppet would look all gloomy. The legs becoming jelly and the posture bent over. Just like a nerd that got rejected by their crush.
I don't want a depressed moving marionette.
I pulled out the marionette from my pocket and tried controling it again.
Hey marionette.
Stop being depressed...
I miscalculated my control of the strings and the wooden marionette fell to the ground face flat as if it had given up on life.
Damn it.
I wanted a marionette that could move as I commanded and that could dance.
So why...
Why is this so hard?