Leaves rarely fall alone, drifting in the wake of something greater. Like them, we, too, are carried by forces beyond our control.
---
The world felt distant, a blurred half-reflection on a wind-kissed lake.
Maple lay sprawled on warm sand, his toes buried in the grains. The rhythmic crash of waves echoed faintly, a steady cadence that matched the rise and fall of his chest.
A soft smile tugged at his lips as he rolled onto his side, the sand clinging stubbornly to his skin. But as his grey eyes fluttered open, tranquility gave way to confusion.
The sunlit beach, so serene moments ago, began to twist and warp. Stillness turned suffocating; the silence, unnerving.
Above him, a shattered moon loomed ominously. Its jagged fragments hung frozen mid-fall, glinting like shards of broken glass caught in an eternal moment of cosmic violence.
Maple's heart thundered in his chest. He scrambled upright, the warmth of the sand replaced by a chill that bit into his skin.
'Where am I?' The thought pierced his mind, sharp and unrelenting.
Fragments of memory swirled in a chaotic storm. 'I was crossing the street… A flash. A man holding something shiny… a cab. And now this?'
His fists clenched as frustration bubbled. 'A rival gang member? Is that how I went out? Shot dead in the street? Damn it!'
A rustling sound snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. From the nearby thicket, something darted out.
Small and green, barely reaching his knee, the creature gripped a knife far too large for its scrawny, leathery arms. Its beady eyes darted around until they locked on Maple.
The creature's pupils shrank.
Maple froze, disbelief washing over him. 'A goblin? What kind of joke is this?'
The goblin snarled, baring its jagged teeth. It raised its blade, its intent clear.
"O-oi…" Maple stumbled back, panic rising in his chest. It's going to kill me!
The creature lunged, its movements wild and erratic. Maple sidestepped instinctively, narrowly avoiding the swipe of the knife.
Before it could recover, his foot lashed out, slamming into its head with a satisfying thud. The goblin crumpled to the ground, gasping for air as its weapon slipped from its grasp.
Without thinking, Maple snatched the knife and drove it into the creature's chest.
A cold, hollow voice echoed in his mind, disturbingly excited:
---
{Goblin Scout has embraced the Light.}
{Your soul has grown brighter.}
{You have received a Fragment: Worn Dagger.}
---
Maple stared at the lifeless goblin, his breath hitching. A faint warmth stirred deep within him strange yet oddly familiar, as if a forgotten ember had reignited.
"Fragments? A brighter soul?" The words felt cryptic, hollow, dangling just out of reach. None of this made sense.
Then, the world tilted.
Darkness consumed his vision as searing pain exploded in his skull. Memories not his own flooded his mind in overwhelming waves.
Years passed in mere moments.
"These… These are the memories of this body," he muttered, his voice tight with disbelief.
He inhaled sharply, forcing his thoughts to steady.' I am no longer Caspian Loveheart… From now on, I am Maple. Just Maple.'
The distinction felt necessary, anchoring him in this surreal reality.
Yet something brushed against his consciousness. Soft, almost imperceptible. A presence.
Focusing, he willed it to reveal itself.
---
{Name: None}
{Gift: None}
{Curse: None}
{Affinity: Moonlight}
{Souls: 1/100}
{Fragments: Worn Dagger}
---
Fragments of memory, scattered but vivid, began filling in the blanks. His confusion ebbed as he absorbed the remnants of this new life.
'The Goddess's Brand… I'm officially marked by the Great Mother.'
His throat tightened as understanding dawned. Branded humans received power, but the Goddess demanded a share of their spoils.
In return, her chosen champions were gifted names, affinities, and weapons stored within their souls. All she asks is that we cleanse the filthy monsters from this world.
---
{Worn Dagger: A pitiful goblin once chanced upon a feral human. Frightened, it attempted to defend itself, yet its light was cruelly extinguished. May it find rest in the embrace of the Light.}
---
Maple turned the blade over in his hands. The steel was worn, its dull surface catching faint moonlight as he twirled it experimentally.
He exhaled and pulled lightly with his soul. The dagger blurred like wet paint, vanishing into his chest. He summoned it back, repeating the process until the motion felt natural.
A pang of disgust flickered through him. The scent of goblin blood clung stubbornly to his skin. He trudged to the shoreline, washing the blade and his hands in the cold, salty water.
For a fleeting moment, guilt pricked at him, a trace of the real Maple's lingering influence.
'But why? Why feel bad for a creature so clearly intent on killing him?'
His reflection stared back from the water: taller, stronger, unfamiliar. Rugged features framed by cherrywood-brown hair.
He turned inland, his grey eyes sharp and resolute.
---
The desolate shore gave way to dense jungle. Spiderwebs glistened under moonlight, vines twisting like iron bars.
"Stuck in another world… Unreal," Maple muttered, hacking through the undergrowth. "How do I get back home?"
He paused, his brow furrowing. 'Did I kill the real Maple? Erase his presence?'
'No… If that were the case, why could he still feel faint traces of the man's influence?'
He didn't like it. He didn't like any of it. 'First, I get killed and sent to this hellhole. Now I have to deal with a dirty conscience?'
"Tch." His frustration simmered. At least here, I have a chance at something. 'If I can collect more souls i can grow stronger…'
Hours blurred as the musty scent of decay mingled with the salt of the sea. Eventually, a makeshift watchtower emerged from the jungle.
A young man, perched atop the structure, leaned over the edge. His anxious blue eyes darted across the treetops.
"Oi! Maple! Get inside the walls! There's a goblin swarm on the way!"
Maple smirked faintly. "Aye," he called back.
As Maple approached, towering wooden walls loomed ahead, encircling a ramshackle village.
The walls, though sturdy at first glance, bore signs of weathered planks, uneven patches, and hastily nailed reinforcements.
Two guards flanked the gate, their armor mismatched and rusting. One sneered as Maple drew closer, leaning forward with a mocking smirk.
"Run along, little one," he taunted, his tone dripping with condescension. "Go hide with the women and children."
The other guard chuckled, elbowing his companion. "Leave him be, Joan. You know he's... not blessed."
Maple's lips twitched in faint amusement. 'If these half-wits can survive here, I'll be fine.'
Inside, the village hummed with a frantic, uneasy energy. Crude torches lined the pathways, their flames flickering in the growing darkness.
The sharp, salty tang of drying fish mingled with the acrid smoke wafting through the air.
Villagers moved about in hurried, disjointed motions, their hollow eyes darting nervously. Most carried crude weapons pitchforks, rusted blades, or even sharpened sticks.
Near the village center, a tall woman with flowing green hair and priestly robes stood atop a wooden crate.
Her voice, clear and commanding, cut through the chaos as she addressed the frightened crowd.
"Hurry! There's still space in the church's bunker! Get below ground now!"
Her presence radiated calm amidst the panic, her robes shimmering faintly under the torchlight.
Maple's steps faltered as his gaze locked onto her. His face flushed, and his heartbeat quickened. 'Damn it, not again.'
The woman was Gwen, Priestess of the Great Mother. The memories of the real Maple crashed into him with startling clarity.
He had followed her around like a lost puppy, clinging to her every word and praying daily to be 'blessed' by the goddess she served.
No wonder he was so desperate, Maple mused. Only about a quarter of the village enjoyed the goddess's blessing a privilege as rare as it was coveted.
Forcing himself to look away, he pried his gaze from the kind priestess and climbed the nearest wall. 'How annoying. Why does my heart hurt when I look at her?'
From his new vantage point, the extent of the village's desperation unfolded before him.
Below, villagers armed themselves with whatever they could find, their faces pale with fear. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on.
Suddenly, the earth beneath him shuddered violently. From the dense jungle beyond the walls came a shrill cry, piercing the air like a knife.
Snarls and guttural hisses followed, growing louder with every passing second.
Maples body tensed his heartbeat quickening. He clenched his jaw to stifle his nerves. He wanted to run, to leave this village to its doom.
'Time to harvest some souls' He sighed resigning to his fate. To live in peace one must be strong. To be strong one must fight in this world.
A twisted wave of goblins surged from the trees, their wild eyes glowing with malevolent glee. Twisted claws and jagged weapons gleamed under the faint moonlight as they charged with reckless abandon.
Around him, the defenders gritted their teeth. Many cast fearful glances back toward the village, their confidence wavering.
But then, a single voice cut through the rising panic a low, powerful command, steady and unyielding.
"DO NOT FALTER!"
All eyes turned toward the village commander.
A broad-shouldered man stood tall atop the rampart, his presence radiating fierce determination.
Clad in battered yet serviceable armor, he gripped a sword and shield that gleamed faintly in the torchlight. His back was straight, his gaze sharp and unwavering.
He clapped his hands, the sharp sound drawing the attention of every defender across the wall.
"We built this haven with our own hands," he bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos.
"And we will defend it with our lives! We are the only thing between them and the ones we love! Remember what you fight for! Stand strong! Stand together!"
The villagers, once trembling with fear, straightened at his words. A fierce light kindled in their eyes, spreading like wildfire.
The command rippled through them, swelling into a collective roar that echoed across the wall.
The tension hung thick in the air, the weight of impending battle pressing down on them all.
As the commander's voice rang out, a dark thrill surged through him. This is the chaos I thrive in. They may cower, but I will prevail.
For the first time, doubt flickered at the edge of his mind. In the worst-case scenario, I could always flee. These people aren't worth my life.
They poured from the treeline in a frenzy, tripping over each other in their desperation to reach the walls. Arrows whistled through the air, striking true and felling several of the creatures.
But the goblins didn't stop. For every one that fell, two more surged forward, their maddened cries filling the night.
Maple ducked just in time as a swarm of black arrows rained onto the ramparts, cutting down several soldiers.
The scent of blood filled the air. Several soldiers fell head-first, splattering onto the ground below.
'These are not soldiers... just scared villagers.'
The battle had barely begun, yet already the villagers were falling like flies. Screams of pain and terror mingled with the clash of steel and the guttural snarls of goblins.
Maple scanned the scene, his confidence starting to waver. The goblins were savage, relentless and innumerable. The opening charge had already torn through the villagers' ranks like a storm.
'No. I can't let this happen. This is chaos, but I'm not ready to lose yet.' His thoughts were sharp, cold, but the weight of the carnage was pressing on him, sinking into his bones.
For the first time, he considered the very real possibility of failure. The goblins seemed endless, their numbers overwhelming.
I can't hold this village on my own, he thought bitterly. No matter how much power I want to claim.
His face turned ashen as the scale of the battle became horrifyingly clear.