Home.
'Something you must protect whatever the reason and the cost.' Mr. Ridge's words echoed relentlessly in my head.
A home can be perceived differently by different people and points of view. Most common of all will be: the dwelling of one's loved ones and treasured.
This is where my conflictions arise.
I don't possess any form of lingering attachment or connection to the village or its people. In contrast I feel distanced and detached, like some kind of visitor.
If I had to best describe this thought, it'll be like watching a movie or a play in a theatre. I am and remain an observer, an audience, and in the case of a book, a 'reader'. I can relate to the characters of the aforementioned, but I am not among them.
It would be something along those lines.
And it took me a few hours of patrol around the village to realize this. I held no sense of home here.
During the patrol, I had limited time to think and mostly sort out my thoughts, and came to a variety of certain conclusions on my side. I reviewed maybe the reason for this sense of detachment exist from my initial life back on earth. Specifically, from my memories.
It couldn't be helped, I still had vivid memories of my past life, and all of the people I had crossed throughout that time. I very well still remembered my initial parents and family, where we lived, where I grew up during my childhood, the little friends I managed to grow up with, the certain park I'd visit after school, the certain toy shop, only a few blocks away from our home, I'd pester my mother for us to visit each time we passed by; and eventually, the big city I decided to start my career.
'No. That's not it.'
The truth was, I never really held any emotional attachments in my last life either. Not a sense of home or a sense of ownership.
'Everything was just...there.'
If I had to say, I'd judge I lived a very mundane life. A fairly average one with nothing special or unique to write home about. I was entirely absorbed into the 'matrix' like many others. I couldn't break it.
'I never tried to.'
Heck, I died even fairly averagely.
And from the looks of it, I was transmigrated with that habit also. From the moment I awoke into this world, without considering any of its endless possibilities, I had already dictated how to continue my insignificant role in the 'matrix' system of the universe.
I didn't think of changing it. I didn't think to break it. Instead I instantly decided my life and fate were fixed in place, abandoning all other potential this opportunity of transmigration gave to me.
I was born in a world of myth and dragons for God's sake!
And all I decided to do was live a cramped predetermined life!
That was perhaps why, I never truly paid any attention to the 'home' I was given. It's been five years since my reincarnation and I barely know nothing about this village or the kind of people in it, till today.
The sense of not belonging was further compromised by the emotions and perspective nutured after the events of the incident that followed. After that, I subconsciously decided to retreat into my shell that was myself wallowing in self pity and deluding myself into getting stronger to 'protect' what I hold dear, when all this time I should be asking myself:
'What... exactly matters to me?'
'What do I hold "dear"?'
I had nothing. In the five years I was transmigrated, I had no lingering attachments or sense of home or belonging.
Was it Cliff and Layla?
All I could say about the two was that I held a vague and sincere gratitude and sense of debt towards my 'parents'. I never forgot the day Layla picked me up outside. I wasn't born from them, I was saved and rescued, and treated well like i was theirs.
Even when they found out I'm not exactly 'normal'.
But if I had to place, in order, the aspects of my life what could be considered that matters to me, more or less, then it would be as thus:
Cliff and Layla.
Myself.
Then Don and the others.
But it's still all vague.
Now I'm sincerely not sure why I had to get stronger. But something inside of me urges me to, like a part of me is terrified of losing 'it' all.
'But what is that "it"?'
It had been like this ever since the moment at the altar. A vague and undying rage and sadness was ignited inside of me.
It was a separate and ambiguous emotion that opposed the 'matrixed' system I had forced upon myself. It's like it was screaming at me, surging and threatening to tear out.
'I WILL NOT BE TAMED!' that was the best way I could describe it in words.
And then there's the village.
It was small but warm. Tiny but welcoming. The villagers each living comfortably with bright smiles and cheery gazes. I felt lost among them.
But I felt at peace, also.
***
And slowly, before Reo could realize, what could be his first real and sincere attachment slowly blossomed and formed as he gazed down at the full scale scenery of the village before him.
Reo's thoughts were still heavily conflicted. He struggled to find his place among his many thoughts, faltering back and forth, wavering among each.
The feeling of being lost among the warmth of the villagers still persistently existed, but he also couldn't deny the warmth and tingle he felt each time he recalled the words: 'My home'.
Reo had still been hung up on Earth, wether he realized it or not. It was subtle, but it was there. He still saw himself as Trevor Williams, the mundane editor of a publishing company with a plain life, looks, and personality.
When instead he was Reo Bellar. First and only child, son of Clifford Bellar, Blood Knight, and Layla Bellar, daughter of the house hold of Dé LàForte; born in a world of magic and myths, dungeons and dragons! And the one to tip again the scale of balance among the worlds. Ember of ruin and Prince of Woe.