Lesley Dorn, a retired soldier, eventually took a seat on the back porch near the spot where Brandon Wilson was killed. His ears were elongated and sharp like an elf, and his eyes were a deep blue that matched the ocean. He was occupied with examining himself in the reflected surface of the trashcan top, His hair was pure white with black at the tips of the short hair.
He touched the hole at the back of his skull, and another burst of memories appeared in his mind. A bedridden guy with long white hair, stretched skin, and a stick-like frame, all of which indicated that Lesley had managed to grasp the circumstances surrounding him.
First of all, he died on Earth and moved to this fantastical future world where humans, elves, and monsters are among the many races. Second, the deceased Brandon Wilson, who was the original owner of this body, was brutally murdered and is now the new owner of this body.
"So I have been transported to the otherworld heh, damn those Webtoons and Web novels were kind of right huh" he laughed loudly.
"And in those Web novels that I used to read when I was fifteen, the MCs are given a cheat skill"
Lesley shouted as he rose, extended his hand, and said,
"Shoot"
When that failed, he tried again, saying the same thing in (1) Zulu, French, German, Dutch, Spanish, Japanese, and Mandarin, among other Earthly languages.
He shrugged and remarked, "Guess I don't get a cheat skill or magical powers," but while he was saying it, an idea suddenly occurred to him.
"Perhaps I have a system, that's it," he said, letting his body loose and reciting "System show my statistics."
Nothing had happened at all.
Lesley gave up and wanted to go somewhere secure straight away when he heard the same murmuring thoughts again. He reached into Brandon's pockets and removed a few things, including a small pager, a bunch of keys, pennies, and a student ID.
Lesley glanced at the pager, which indicated the time, 19:56 AM, and included a few messages. He examined the messages, both opened and unopened, in an attempt to piece together the owner of this boy's life story.
A message from Jerry informed him that the grammar lesson had started at 09:08. Based on the warning, it appears that the owner was running late—possibly oversleeping or forgetting that he had a class.
Another message from a doctor instructs him to come pick up his father's prescription at 17:30.
The pager suddenly beeped; he had another message. It was addressed to the owner's father and said:
"Bran, where are you? You just left and said you were going to get my medicine and you have been gone for two hours. Hurry, I need my medicine.
love
Dad"
Lesley grinned as he read the letter and wrote his own:
I apologize for being sidetracked; I will return in fifteen minutes.
Lesley added, "Looks like I live here now, I have a father in this life," after hitting the send button and grabbing the plastic bags. He then gave the reflecting surface another glance.
He laughed and began running down the busy street, blindly following his instincts.
The original owner understood where home was, and even in death, he did not forget.
'Thank you, Brandon Wilson's muscle memory'
After a time, Lesley came across an Edo-style house with white paper window blocks and a wooden porch. There was a beautiful and wet lawn that had been watered during the night, as well as a pathway lined with white, blue, and lime-reflected pebbles that led to the entrance.
Lesley approached the porch's bright light, sided the rectangular door to open it, and immediately removed his shoes and put on some socks. A feeble voice attempted to be heard:
"Bran, B…r…a…n is… that… you?" With small pauses.
Hearing this, Lesley saw a door corner corridor near the kitchen and gently pushed the door to the side. There was a bed with many covers and an old guy coughing with long white hair as he stood to sit, coughing furiously.
Lesley hurried over to the elderly man and took one of the plastics, reached inside, and took out a tiny green inhaler. He took out the tube right away, shook it, and placed it over the old man's lips.
After pressing the inhaler twice, the elderly guy started to cough slightly, and his breathing returned to normal.
Lesley glanced at the elderly guy sadly and thought, "Poor Brandon." After assisting the elderly guy in lying down, he uttered quietly,
"That will help your breathing for now, I going to make our food okay, can you hold on to a bit?"
The elderly man grinned and spoke in a raspy, choked voice, saying:
"I can hold"
Lesley nodded and grinned.
"Good"
With a gesture toward the door, the elderly guy said:
"Bran"
Lesley paused and answered:
"Yes Father"
Lesley still found it difficult to address this stranger as his father. The true son who owns the body passed away, and when he did, resentment struck him like a wave of feelings that would eventually break saying I am not your son. He persisted, however, curious to hear the elderly man's words.
Grinning, the elderly guy said,
"Thank you for everything, and I apologize that I burdened you with this sickness and bloodline."
He was quiet for a while.
Lesley grinned while shedding a few tears:
"No problem and save your energy, you will need it for food"
The tears in his eyes startled Lesley, and he brushed them away with his palms out of sheer surprise. Lesley moved out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen as the old man fell silent.
There was just a stand-alone stove, a little wooden table with two chairs, and a sink made out of cardboard in the tiny kitchen. Lesley delved into the plastics and pulled out a few things that he knew and didn't know about:
A can of sugar, cereal, sour milk and cream, ramen noodles, soy sauce, rice and flour packs, green eggs, butter, cheese, glue stock, jelly fuse candies, and a pen with an appealing woman on it.
'Creep' he thought.
he stared at the pen and said, "The owner is interested in this, not a bad kid," As he got ready to make the man some ramen—since it was becoming late to produce something that would take time—Lesley complimented himself inwardly.
As he filled the pot pan with water and turned on the stove, a surge of memories returned, reminding him of everything about the owner.
He lived with his father after his mother vanished. His father worked as a guild hunter, and it was his responsibility to hunt down creatures with ill purpose and keep them from interfering with everyone's peaceful life in the city.
Hollow's peak is the name of the city, which was formerly surrounded by a lake once a long time ago.
This location was a united city that welcomed all races from throughout the globe, including goblins, humans, vampires, elves, and werewolves. Though there were other unified cities like this one, Hollow's Peak is the biggest and most tranquil because of its low crime rate and high security.
Even while this city appears to be wonderful and flawless to some visitors and bystanders, residents soon discover that it conceals a sinister truth.
Due to events that occurred during the Lost Ages, a rebellion led by some Half-breeds nearly wiped out the entire world's population, which is the root of the city's racism problem.
Because of the War, the World Council outlawed interracial unions and breeding to prevent such an incident from occurring in the future.
To prevent the recurrence of this catastrophe, the World Council banned interracial marriages and breeding after that war. A person who is born half-breed will be cursed, preventing them from using their powers, known as factors.
Therefore, if a half-breed is born with an influence that could bring the Lost Ages back, they will be watched closely and considered a threat.
After studying Brandon's memories, it was revealed that he was beaten to death for one reason: Brandon Wilson is a half-breed and is at the bottom of the food chain, but he will not be viewed as the weakest link, but as a calamity waiting to happen.
(1). Zulu- It's one of the official languages of South Africa, mostly spoken by the Zulu people in the province of Kwa Zulu Natal.