I figured staying here wouldn't get me anywhere. I needed to find somewhere safer.
Following the trail north, I left the bones behind and began moving forward.
This world wasn't kind. If I was truly stranded here, I'd have to figure out how to survive.
Not that I wanted to stay far from it, but wasting another life? That wasn't an option.
If I wanted to survive in this place, I'd need to build a foundation. With the memories I carried, I knew I was poor no, not just poor.
I was weak, significantly weaker compared to others.
The scariest part? All I had was this sword, a gun, and a bag of scraps.
The currency here was something I had suggested one gold coin, ten silver coins, and fifty copper coins.
It was basic, but it seemed Natalie had followed my instructions to the letter. Not exactly unique.
I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it all, but that wasn't my primary concern.
When I stumbled upon a small puddle, faintly lit by the light of two moons, I finally got a good look at myself.
Black hair tousled slightly.
Sharp blue irises shimmered faintly in the pale glow, with pupils as dark as shattered glass almost reflective.
They were unique eyes. For someone like me, though, I couldn't begin to understand why.
My skin was slightly darker not much, just a mixture of tan and fawn. Slim, fit enough to keep me from hating myself too much.
Sighing, I kept walking along the road, hoping to reach the nearest town or village before encountering any more monsters.
Along the way, I knew I'd need to start preparing for encounters just in case.
The person who once held this body seemed a lot like me someone who hated people, with no living family.
He looked just like me different eyes, but otherwise a mirror image and he seemed to have died at that very spot.
Why, though? I still wasn't sure. All I knew was that when I arrived, I was fully healed.
If I was going to use this body, I'd need to harness its abilities.
This world was a strange mix of magic, monsters, death, and aliens, with no clear deity at the top of it all.
It was an unfinished story, and my only hope lay in rising above it.
Still, I wasn't sure how to achieve that, especially since she hadn't created a new time metric just reshuffled our own.
Each month had thirty days, twelve in total, with the same names as before.
It was currently June 5th, 1326. They started counting after the fall of the first king.
Much like her, Natalie preferred a world with a complicated political structure. The first king marked the man who united the world.
Now, the world was fractured, with countless kingdoms divided by water, mountains, and hatred.
King Nicholas. That name surfaced the very same from the memories. It felt like a merging of souls.
Natalie had told me about him, about his power.
A man who could hold the sky, shift the seas, and carve paths through mountains, shaping the very world around him.
But his reign ended. A mana illness a sickness of magic and decay overtook him.
Natalie drew inspiration from her own battle, as she too succumbed to the same affliction.
After what felt like hours of walking, I finally saw it: civilization. The kingdom lay before me tight and controlled by a foolish king.
A king who wielded power recklessly, yet kept it firmly, too afraid to lose it.
His hubris would be his downfal inevitable, as the signs suggested. Five years from now, this kingdom would crumble.
But I stood here, six years before the story truly began.
The main character a young noble from the kingdom of Grandia was still far from the figure he would become.
I had no desire to go there. I was too old, and I despised schools.
There was nothing they could teach me that I hadn't already learned, at least not in terms of history and knowledge.
Fighting? Perhaps. But I had no plans to throw myself into battle.
No, my approach would be subtle, calculated steering events from the shadows.
Everyone in this world seemed absurdly naïve compared to me and, of course, compared to the main character, who was bound by a similar fate.
As I walked up to the settlement, it revealed itself a small village, showing the signs of neglect and poverty.
The defense was almost non-existent.
Two guards stood at the gates, their swords barely more than jagged steel, their armor chipped and patched together with whatever scraps they could find.
They yawned, disinterested and tired, their post nothing more than a formality.
As I approached, they shifted slightly, swords resting loosely in their hands.
The one on the left, with hair the color of blood and dark, weathered skin, was the first to speak.
His voice was rough, yet strangely calm, almost soothing.
"What business do you have wandering around at night?" he asked, his tone edged with disapproval. "Aren't you afraid of the dark?"
I stopped a few feet from them, my gaze steady. "I got lost," I said, rummaging through my bag at my side.
I pulled out a small token, a badge, simple in shape but intricately engraved with a holy crown at its center.
The red-haired guard examined it closely, his expression tightening. The other guard, too tired to speak, simply sighed, his shoulders slumping.
"Just let him in," the fatigued one muttered. "What's he gonna do?"
The red-haired guard let out a weary breath, his gaze still locked on the badge.
"Fine," he said, lowering his sword with a reluctant sigh. "Go ahead. I'm too tired to fight. If you're gonna kill anyone, at least wait until daylight."
I nodded slightly in acknowledgment, though I had no intention of harming anyone.
The tension between them was palpable, and I had no desire to escalate it.
Walking past the guards, I entered the village.
The streets were dimly lit by lanterns carried by wandering villagers.
The air was heavy with the scent of decay mixed with the faint glow of shabby magic lights that flickered and flickered again.
I glanced around briefly before making my way toward the building that appeared to be the most like an inn.
As I stepped inside, a faint bell chimed above the door.
The noise caused a brief pause a few drunken patrons momentarily halting their laughter and clinking glasses but the atmosphere quickly resumed.
The tavern was a familiar scene: dimly lit by flickering lanterns and lined with worn wooden tables and stools.
Most of the patrons were drunk, their laughter hollow and their conversations slurred, lost in the haze of alcohol.
A few sat quietly, nursing their drinks while staring into empty spaces as if searching for something they could never find.
It was a fantasy tavern, complete with the smoky air and rough-hewn charm.
Yet, something felt off like the beauty was tainted by the story's unsettling darkness.
A beautifully crafted world, yes, but written with a kind hand.
I moved deeper into the inn, the creak of the wooden floorboards beneath my boots the only sound aside from the muted chatter.
The warmth of the fire flickered in the corner, casting shadows that danced across the walls.
A few of the more sober patrons glanced my way as I passed, their eyes lingering on me with a mix of curiosity and caution.
At the bar, a young woman with auburn hair and tired eyes wiped down a countertop stained with old spills.
Her gaze flicked up as I approached, a flicker of recognition flashing across her face before she returned to her work.
"What brings you here?" she asked softly, her voice calm but guarded.
I set my gaze on her, noting the way her hands moved gracefully, despite the exhaustion etched into her features.
"Just passing through," I replied simply, placing a few coins on the bar. "A room, if you have one."
She nodded, picking up the coins with a practiced motion and handing me a key. "Upstairs, the second door on the left."
As I took the key, my eyes briefly scanned the rest of the tavern.
The drunken patrons had mostly returned to their revelry, though a few still watched from the corners.
I turned away from the bar and climbed the creaky stairs, the wooden planks groaning beneath my weight.
Each step seemed to echo in the quiet of the upper floor. At the door, I unlocked it and stepped inside.
The room was modest bare walls, a worn bed, and a single window looking out into the night.
Dust motes floated lazily in the pale moonlight that streamed through the glass.
It was a place meant for rest, though I doubted much rest would come tonight.
I set my belongings down and drew the sword from my side, laying it against the wall.
The room felt almost too quiet, too still.
Sitting on the bed, I lay back and allowed my thoughts to wander.
This world followed a few harsh laws first and foremost, power meant everything. If you were weak, you were nothing.
Beyond that, strength granted autonomy.
As long as you were strong, you could claim your place in this fractured world.
Considering my circumstances, I needed to grow stronger.
But that wasn't as simple as it sounded. Magic, while accessible, wasn't the ultimate solution.
Everyone could wield magic hell, even my current self had memories of utilizing it.
Fire, maybe even water… but it hardly mattered anymore. That kind of magic was weak compared to the forces at play.
No, I needed to carve out a different path.
Power wasn't just about spells; it was about control advancing technology, gaining influence, and building a foundation that could withstand the chaos.
My goal was clear: the capital. Veritas. The heart of this kingdom's survival. Without it, everything would crumble.
Slowly, my eyelids grew heavy, and my vision blurred.
The weight of exhaustion pulled me down, clinging to the dark embrace of the night.
With each passing moment, I surrendered to sleep.
But even in the haze of slumber, something shifted.
A flicker of consciousness. I was aware, aware that I wasn't truly asleep, not fully.
My mind was detached from reality, yet it lingered, aware of every breath I took every heartbeat.
It wasn't until my awareness fully consumed me that my eyes fluttered open.
I found myself standing in a place that defied reason a library, its walls stretching infinitely high, fading into an unseen ceiling.
Every inch of space was packed with books, their spines forming a kaleidoscope of colors and textures, whispering secrets I couldn't hear.
Nearby, a ladder leaned against one of the endless shelves.
Its wood was ancient, moldy yet sturdy, exuding a strange, almost comforting warmth as my hand rested against it.
Reluctantly, I let go, taking an uneasy step forward.
The moment I moved, however, the world itself seemed to resist me.
It was as though an invisible force pushed back, urging me to stay still, to remain rooted where I stood.
And then it happened.
A book tumbled from above, landing squarely on my head with a dull thud.
Its weight was more than physical it seemed to carry an unnatural heaviness, like it had been waiting for me.
When I looked down at it, the cover was there, yet not there.
My eyes couldn't fully grasp its appearance; it flickered in and out of focus, defying my attempts to comprehend it.
Still, I knew it was real. I could feel it.
Despite every instinct in my body screaming at me to leave it untouched, my hands moved on their own. Slowly, I opened the book.
The pages were worn, the paper crackling faintly under my touch. Written in a language I couldn't recognize yet inexplicably understood were the first words:
The miracle of birth.