I had managed to survive the first day of the year. Around the time the sun had entered its slumber, I slithered into my dormitory and tucked myself in. Waves of comfort washed over me under the weighted blanket, but I resisted the temptation to fall asleep.
Searching through the few drawers in my room, I managed to find a weary notebook, the often use being evident through the small tears. There wasn't much to my actions—I simply wanted to formulate a more solidified plan. Time was limited. If that precious resource was spent without direction, the only thing I'd leave with was regret.
"...Oh? He had a journal?"
Turning a page revealed a date, followed by small details about his days.
"304, 8, 22. Today I met with him. He brought along a strange woman. It felt like she knew me from before, but she denied it when I asked. Weird. For this though, I don't mind going through a few strange things."
Indeed, a small figment entered my head recalling Arlen meeting a friend; even the act of writing this down was in my head.
However, the next sight was inexplicable. Pages had been carelessly ripped out, and not in small quantities. Although not the entirety of the journal, a fifth of it had simply been torn.
Flipping further into the journal, I found another entry.
"304, 11, 13. I'm a little hesitant, if I'm being honest with myself. It sounds great. Too great. Isn't that what father said? No. What matter is it to me whatever that man has to say? An imbecile who ruined his own family and vented his anger out on me. A fool. Change is always scary. This has to be the way."
Little pangs of discomfort invaded my head as I attempted to remember what this event was recalling. One thing was certain—Arlen was a horrible writer. Hardly anything could be understood unless I had the memories of the day itself, and unfortunately, nothing had come.
As I reached further in, the size of the entried became smaller and smaller. Each word became more and more erratic, and I sometimes noticed droplets of cracked blood on the pages.
"I'm lost. I'm really lost. I need help. Should I really do it? Is that right? Ignoring even that, can I do it?"
Slowly, the details Arlen added reduced. No more did he neatly add the date at the top, nor did he sign off. He merely scrambled his worries into the book.
"I made a mistake. I should've persevered. I should have accepted their beatings for a little longer. I knew there was something wrong with it. He fucking tricked me."
"Everything is meaningless. Ha, hahaha! T■■s ■■ a■l a■ ■l■■si■■."
"305, 1, 1."
Flicking to the very last page in the book, I saw a sight similar to the first entry. A crisp handwriting, perhaps even surpassing what I first saw. What caught my eye wasn't the orderly writing, but the change in colour. He had written only in black so far, so what had prompted the change to red?
My eyes trembled as I read the paragraph that followed.
"To you whom reads. You have been denied the right of existence itself. I apologise. Perhaps, it was my own meddling that caused all of this. However, all I can do now is try fix what I have done. Regardless of cost. Do not reveal your [Pillar]. [He] is watching every being in this world. Escaping the web of [Fate] is both fortune and misfortune. You have but one single chance. If you are found to carry the [Pillar], then your [Fate] will be sealed. Tempests will befall you and calamity will strike you relentlessly with every step you take, and that is why I beseech you. Remember one thing. What awaits you if you are discovered cannot be described. Be cautious. There is no worse [Fate] across the myriad worlds if you are found with the [Pillar]."
Nothing followed, apart from a stream of dried blood. At the corner of the page, the traces of scratches could be discerned.
—
"..."
A tide of drowsiness had overcome me after reading the final page, and by the time my eyes awakened, the sun had risen.
"...What does this mean? I mean, I guess it makes sense now that I think about it…what happened to the original Arlen Droder when I transmigrated? But how? How could Arlen know that I was going to transmigrate into his body? Had he made a deal with the god?"
Starting with the intention to get some clarity over my situation by writing things down, I was instead left with a plethora of new questions. Who was Arlen Droder, really? Someone who knew about a god was the clown of the Bastion?
Trying to get memories from this time also proved fruitless, providing nothing but extreme headaches.
"Shit…I can't get a grip on anything…"
[Pillar]. And [Fate]. What did these things refer to? Why was Arlen so fearful of me revealing whatever the hell my [Pillar] was? And fate…? Was the concept of fate a real thing in this world?
Scratching my head wasn't giving me any answers. How could it? I hardly even understood the most surface level of the words in the journal, let alone the deeper meaning.
Like I had been doing from the very moment I entered this world, I had no choice but to shove the thought deep into my subconsciousness to be assessed on later days. At the very least, there was a chance I could learn more about [Fate] if I lived a little longer.
—
Without any lessons, I chose to finally go test something I had been curious about from the very start.
Was I able to use mana?
Certainly, Arlen was able to, albeit very poorly. But would that carry on to me, who arrived from another world?
I tried to get a sense for some of Arlen's memories of using mana, and perhaps see how he had used it in hopes of copying his method.
Before that, it would be smart to leave my room lest any disasters occured to me and my safe haven. The Bastion provided a training facility just outside the dormitories, making it an easy travel; furthermore, they even gave private rooms for each student, so I wouldn't need to worry about others once I arrived.
Only getting there was problematic. Peering out my windows for some time, I made my valiant adventure once the coast seemed clear enough. It had become habitual for me to spell out some chants whenever I left my room, and this time wasn't any different.
"Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off.."
Ivory walls that were spread to make a dome greeted me. Instead of appreciating the majesty it imposed, I crashed the door open and looked for a private room.
Safe! Another victory!
Without the blade of regression over my neck, I finally allowed myself to observe my surroundings. A brown dummy was placed dead in the center, directly opposing holding multiple different weapons on display. Although I wanted to run my fingers across to get a feel for the metal, there was a chance I'd bleed and regress—such a foolish regression was impermissible.
Towards the side, one would see three targets hung on the wall; a thin line was drawn a few meters in front of them, most likely being where one was to shoot.
Shoot arrows, or magic.
Placing my feet just behind the line, I tried my hardest to call upon any memory that could aid me. According to my current knowledge, humans stored mana as rings inside their body that circulated around a central point.
The mana core, as it was called in this world. By the 4th year in the Bastion, the average student would have formed their 5th ring and be on the verge of forming their 6th.
Though every ring granted an increase in mana storage and purity, the rate at it which it did so was exponential.
The rings would be 'negatively' charged with mana, whereas the mana stored a positive charge. How they managed to store a different charge, I wasn't familiar with. But I could start to understand why the rings gave exponential growth.
What allowed humans to flow mana through the body was the attraction between the ring and core. The rings would circle around the core and simultaneously be repulsed and attracted to the mana core, producing active mana that could be utilised. With every addition of the ring, the strength of the negative positive interaction would increase manifold.
"Ah…" The exponential factor arrived due to something called 'purity'.
Once the second ring formed, the two negatives would begin to react with one another and repel; they would push away up to the furthest possible distance whilst still being in range of the attractive force of the ring.
This was where 'purity' came in. At the first ring, the mana stored was murky and impure, though still functional. At the second ring, the mana would become more cleansed and potent, multiplying the negative charge of the ring by itself.
Like that, the difference in charge would begin to grow larger and larger, making the active mana produced by this polarity of greater quantity and quality.
So how many rings did I have in this body?
Fucking 2.
The average level of a second year.
Though I was tempted to curse Arlen, the experience just a few moments before were still fresh. Rashly calling him a fool wasn't right.
Still. Placing the utmost attention on the two rings, I began to place effort into rotating them faster. These rings would have a natural, passive rotation cycle, but the output was significantly less than active spinning.
Like a poorly oiled machine, they began to slowly speed up. With it, I had finally managed to detect the concept known as mana.
Right near my navel, a warm feeling was wrapping itself across me.
Mana.
The path was long. I didn't know how many times I would have to regress to finally finish my task.
It was undeniable that I'd have to uselessly start over again in the near future.
Mystery had also even descended on the owner of this body.
Thousands of questions remained, and none were to be answered quickly.
But this. Perhaps, this was a small respite.
Exhilaration flooded my body.
"...[Fireball]!"