When Nicholas woke up, all he could see were varying shades of darkness. It seemed that the explosion had robbed him of eyesight. Flat on his back and still weak, he could only wiggle his fingers and toes, and to his surprise, they do respond. He couldn't help but shed tears and cry with relief as he felt the warmth brought by the strange tinge of happiness deep inside his chest.
His limbs and appendages survived the tragedy, but his movements were still clumsy and restricted, which could have been a byproduct of shock. That led him to think of what he heard from war veterans that severe damage to the nerves could cause such disfunction.
The little bud of happiness that just sprouted in his chest soon withered as fear and anxiety came to him. He still couldn't have his hopes up of recovering until he heard from a doctor.
Next, the first sounds of the world came back to him. Nicholas rejoiced hearing women talk. It was suspicious that he did not only survive the blast with his body intact, but with hearing fully preserved and very sensitive. From the deafening rings of silence now comes the cheerful voices of women, and he couldn't be more grateful.
Bored of nothing, he was itching to hear the news about the explosion from the TV, but much to his chagrin, these women had never thought of tuning in. Whenever they came, they happily chirp gibberish at one another, while feeding and nursing him back to health. He did not understand the language they use, but he felt the warmth and dedication they poured into such thankless work.
What puzzled Nicholas even more were the size and strength of these people. With his vision still ablur, he could only imagine how a single woman with thick and ginormous hands managed to turn over a fully grown man like himself and sometimes even lift him out of bed to take care of his filth. Being incapacitated, he could only feel sorry for the woman who had to do all the dirty work.
Screaming at the tragedy of his being, his pessimistic thoughts ran again and again in his head, making him feel depressed and ashamed. As a living vegetable, he regretted surviving the blast, but at his current state, you sure can't blame him being remorseful and anxious. He found it hard to be optimistic. He still couldn't say if he would recover or spend the rest of his life being a vegetable, incapable of any complex movement and blind.
"Hypocrisy! What's with all the pessimism?" He thought of the days he taught kids to be grateful being born at the pinnacle of civilization, where famines and plagues are rare, jobs are not back breaking and laborious, and mortality are all time low due to advances in science and medicine.
After a few daws, clarity of vision returned to Nicholas, but the rabbit hole only grew stranger and deeper. There weren't any bright electrical lights at the ceiling for him to complain about, but a roof made of dried leaves and branches, which imperfections sunrays pour through, illuminating the floating specks of dust in the air. The walls themselves were made of dried grass and earth, and the flooring too were made of 100% organic dried mud and gravel. Most notable was the absence of any electronic devices.
As he was lost in thought, a woman enrobed in plain white linen entered the room. She stared at Nicholas motionless as he was sitting up on the bed, stunned.
Confused, Nicholas thought, "How could things look so large? The woman, the shack, and the bed as well. Rather, it's my hands. They shrank! And my fingers, sausagey like those of infants. How could this be!"
Waking up from her stupor, the woman runs out of the room screaming something out loud. And in a moment's notice, a blonde beauty, dressed in a more noble fashion, storms the room bringing with her several men and women.
In silence, her curious sapphire blue eyes scanned Nicholas' naked form from top to bottom. She held his cheeks in her soft hands. With her eyes still focused on inspection, she traced every contour on his face and other body parts. She carefully picked him up from the bed and held him in her arms, caressing him gently, whispering softly to his ears foreign but familiar words.
From this point on Nicholas realized that he must had been reborn with his memories intact. It was very unlikely for him to have survived the bomb blast unscathed. With severe damage done to his body, even death is not out of the question.
"For what purpose am I brought in this world?" thinking of the question robbed him of sleep.
While the devils of the imagination bothered Nicholas, the blonde woman picked him up from the cradle and sang him a lullaby.
Being held, the infant mindlessly fiddled with her curly soft golden locks. Somewhat, it helped put his mind and body at ease.
"Mother. You seem to be aware of my discomfort even without being told. With words still incomprehensible to me, this bond is the only common language we share." Nicholas muttered to himself.
Days, months, and years pass by, the boy turned ten. He learned that this world was not as advanced and civilized as the one in his past life. He found it hard to get information about anything in this primitive land. There were no books to turn to, and knowledge were only passed down to the next generations in the form of myths and legends. Writing was reserved only for keeping accounts.
To learn more about the world, he got in contact with traders, be they small time peddlers or big-time merchants. Time after time, they come and go, bringing with them their precious wares and more importantly, stories and news about the surroundings. Fortunately, they were able to supplement Nicholas with what he already learned from his parents and what more he needed to find out.
From these conversations, the merchants introduced him to a storyteller, Gordon, a man whose frizzy long white beard, graying hair, and missing teeth attest wisdom he acquired over the years. From time to time, Nicholas invited the old timer to tell him and the other kids stories in exchange for a few stone coins. Of course, the old man couldn't refuse the offer, and he couldn't be happier.
Folklore aside, the old man helped the young boy learn about culture, geography, and even economics. Although his parents already told him about the existence of cities other than their own, the town of Solus, Gordon filled him on the details about other cities. Like how tall their walls were, and how much cheaper and abundant grain and other goods were in the port city of Nexus, the capital of the Alliance of Northern Nozul Island.
Inside the hut, the flickering flames from a lamp cast dancing shadows on Gordon's wrinkly old face. In a raspy voice, he slowly told his tale.
"Mardock picked up his legendary bow of a hundred weights, and shot its massive arrows, impaling the demonic monsters. After dismantling the demon forces, Mardock demanded the demon boss, King-Yu, to surrender the tablets of destiny…"
Bang! The door opened violently and a man stormed the room, interrupting the storyteller. "Linus! How can you become a warrior worthy of your pedigree if you keep on wasting your time listening to these myths? Go send your guest away!"
"Father, I have much to learn from the stories. Courage, friendship, cunning, and heart, where else have I heard of these virtues but from these story tellers? If anything, the people of our settlement should learn of these things."
"Julius, he is right. Don't children deserve to know these stories." The mother intervened.
"Not even you, Lina? You brat, getting your mother to side with you. Send the children and the storyteller home, we've got more important matters to do."
"Wait, we're almost… Ouch!" a knuckle descended on the boy's cranium, leaving a small bump.
Julius dragged Linus in the boot camp, leaving the children and the story teller no choice but to go home.
"Listen child, it is until you perfected the bow and arrow that you will get your time back. The great Mardock himself is a master of the weapon. Pirates in the sea, bandits in the mountains, and wild animals in the fields, we have plenty of enemies, and every man in the settlement needs to learn how to defend himself and his family.
"Here's my present to you, you're very first bow. Go shoot the marks I drew on the wooden posts." Julius handed Linus the bow.
"Won't you give me pointers? It's my first time."
"Just draw the bow. Copy how your tribesmen do it."
Linus' father, Julius Stannous, is not by any means ordinary. With just a glance, one can tell he's a military man to the bone. He stood nearly six feet tall, which makes him a head taller than anyone else in the settlement. He is well built, although not as buff as a body builder, but more like a pre-requisite of his position, the Champion of Solus.
A champion, supposedly is the hero or the best warrior a settlement has, but in the small town of Solus it means much, much more. The position automatically makes him the settlement's chief, with broad powers and responsibilities. He is the settlement's problem solver, lawmaker, judge, and leader. It supposedly makes the Stannous family noble, but not at all. The position cannot be inherited and can be forfeit by challenge.
"Let me show you how easy it is." Julius picked up his bow, a longbow made of a dense single piece of wood towering over six feet. Its arrows were almost as long and thick as a throwing spear. He could kill a bear with that thing from its draw weight alone.
He notched the arrow, drew the bow like it was nothing, and momentarily aimed at the target. Swoosh! The arrow swiftly flew and sliced the air at its release. It found the target, splitting it and knocking it down.
With a smirk, Julius looked at Linus 'that's how it's done'.
"I get it, you don't have to say anymore." Linus said.
"Go pick up your bow and shoot." Julius barked.
"Aye sir!" Picking up the bow and a quiver of arrows, Linus prepared to shoot the targets.